Chapter Six
It was all too much. A storm Sarah had no chance of weathering…without Rand.
What was she going to do if he got reassigned?
This whole thing was so far over her head.
Could she trust him? He wasn’t that same “goofy smiles and too literal sense of humor” boy she’d grown up with. He was harder. Different. A touch scary.
Right now she needed scary on her side, but more than anything, she needed this.
To be held.
Sarah buried her face in his chest, soothing her frazzled nerves in his scent and the feel of his arms around her. She’d always looked to Rand and Matt for guidance, learning by their example. Now was no different. She couldn’t curl up into a ball, cry, and hope someone else fixed the problems. If she did that, she’d have been dead in some dark alley in Seoul.
Tomorrow. She’d focus on learning what she needed to know then.
Right now, she just wanted to feel safe. The only time in the last four days she’d managed that was when Rand held her. When he was with her.
Maybe it was a lifetime of trust or maybe she was simply stupid to believe in him after he’d shown her how fickle he could be, but she wanted to hold onto this. Him. Now. It was a desperate sort of feeling.
She rocked back on her heels, peering up at him.
His hair was redder, more of a chestnut brown-red than it once was. The stubble had turned into a very short beard. It was strange seeing him with facial hair. He and Matt had tried to grow mountain men–style facial hair in high school. Matt wound up looking like a lumberjack while Rand’s was patchy, scraggly, and sparse.
Eight years made a whole lot of difference in a person. She’d changed. So had he. But deep down, weren’t they the same?
Screw it.
If things were going to hell, she’d rather act instead of waiting for shit to hit the fan.
She grasped a handful of his shirt and rose up on her tiptoes, yanking him closer. Either he wasn’t prepared, or he let her pull him down.
Sarah met him in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. She bit his lower lip, ready to devour him, and hooked her arm around his neck. He wasn’t the only one who had wants and desires. He made a sound low in his throat that might have been a growl. She swiped her tongue over his lip and tilted her head, sealing her mouth to his. It wasn’t just her that wanted this—he did, too.
He leaned into her, driving her back against the wall with his greater bulk, but he didn’t touch her. Not with his hands. His lips parted, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth and his thigh between hers. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding onto him, pouring all of herself into that kiss.
Click. Scrape. Growl.
She could feel his nails digging into the textured wall, sliding over the ridges. Like he was trying to hold back, temper his lust. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him.
He wanted her. She’d felt the depth of his desire in that one-room apartment, and she could sense it now. It didn’t matter if it was a them-thing or simple need.
“This isn’t a good idea right now. Later.” His voice was strained now, as though an invisible fist was cutting off his air. “We need to talk, Sarah.”
She swallowed. She didn’t want to.
“About what?”
“Us.”
“Is there really an us? Is that a good idea? I don’t know, and…maybe we need to talk about that after we figure things out.”
Rand’s gaze narrowed, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I don’t leave things hanging. There is an us.”
Sarah pushed her hand through her hair and gritted her teeth. If this were any other man telling her they were a thing, she’d have thrown something by now or called the cops. Rand’s stubborn streak was a hurtle all its own.
“There isn’t an us, Rand. Not right now. We kissed. We had sex. It was fun, but anything more than that is just not a good idea right now. We have too much on our plate to figure out our personal problems.”
He turned.
“Rand? Rand—”
“What? Need something else while I’m here?”
God, why did he have to be so pigheaded? “No, nothing. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and flung her hand out toward the door.
He stalked toward the door.
She wanted to reach out and strangle the infuriating man. Let him go stew in his own stupidity for all she cared.
Sarah watched the door shut behind him. “Gah!” She turned, hurling the remote onto the bed, and stalked the length of the room. “Stupid, ridiculous, self-righteous asshole.”
He didn’t even have to be in the room for her to hear his arguments, his voice uttering this or that excuse.
They were undergoing some seriously stressful shit. Why pile on top of that? Why add more complexity to what they were already struggling to deal with? Couldn’t hashing out whatever hormones that had sent them boning like crazy wait until later?
She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
“Need something else while I’m here?” she parroted into the empty room. “My foot up your ass.”
…
Irene watched the nurse slowly press the plunger, sending something else into her sister. She hated not being able to ask, to communicate with the hospital staff, but if she wanted the ghost of a chance for this procedure to work, this was how it was going to be.
This was their last hope. The last thing that might stop the spread of the tumor and save Anna’s life. Irene squeezed her sister’s hand.
Drastic times called for drastic measures. She regretted none of her decisions, only that she hadn’t gotten Anna here sooner. If she’d had had this treatment a month ago, a year ago, where would they be now?
“Hang in there, baby sister,” Irene whispered.
Anna was all that Irene had left. If she lost her… She couldn’t contemplate a future without her sister in it. “She’ll be okay?” she asked in slow, carefully enunciated English.
The nurse glanced at her, brows up, a clueless, sweet smile on her face.
“Goddamn it,” Irene muttered.
As much as she wanted to stay here, she couldn’t. If things were to progress, if she was going to do her part in this, she had to get on a plane and head home. Sarah’s job would be over and Irene’s waiting for her.
“I’ll be back soon, Anna.”
Irene leaned over her sister and kissed her brow. She had to tell herself that she’d be back, that Anna would be alive, that this whole thing wasn’t a waste.
…
Mitch hit redial on his phone. The call rang through the Bluetooth speakers in his car.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered under his breath.
He’d seen the photographs just like everyone else today. What the hell was going on? If someone would just let him in on things, Mitch could handle this, spin it. Hell, he’d been spinning his own life since the day he realized who his father was.
If Mitch lost his people in Asia, it would devastate what they’d been working toward.
The call went through to voicemail. He’d already left a dozen messages on six different phones. He jabbed at the end call button and leaned his head back against the seat.
This was bad enough he almost wanted to go back to politics.
No, he didn’t, but at least then he could count on everyone to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Here, he was supposed to be working with the good guys. Now, he didn’t know who he could trust.
…
It was late, but Rand’s body was still stuck half a world away in a different time zone. Or at least, it thought it was. He left the workout room light on, sweat soaking his clothes, and headed down the empty halls back to his bunk.
Goddamn Sarah.
He’d hoped a good run or some weights would work out his frustration, but no. He had the urge to go in there and give her a piece of his mind.
What the hell?
His stomach was still in knots, the stress load resting between his shoulder blades was worse than before, and now he had a wonderful pounding headache. Seriously awesome stuff.
Thanks, Sarah.
What was her deal? There isn’t an us. Yeah, well, there could have been. In his imagination.
He’d been weak back in the apartment, hungry for another human being. This time…this time he didn’t have an excuse. He’d just wanted, so he’d taken what she’d offered, all the while losing himself in thoughts of what might have been or could still be.
What a fucking mistake.
Why would Sarah want him? After the hell he’d put her through, he should have known better. She was right, there wasn’t an us, just a right now. Sure, he’d been the man of the hour before, but never for someone who mattered. That it was Sarah, that she was the one rubbing his nose in it, sucked.
The light on the room phone blinked, indicating he had some sort of voicemail.
This place might not be the Ritz, but it was damn sure a step above where he’d been before.
He jabbed the button and listened to the pre-recorded lead-in while he snagged his dirty towel to wipe off the sweat still clinging to his brow.
Damn, his face was starting to itch. The beard had to go before it took over his whole face.
“Hey, hit three-three-zero-nine and call me back.”
That was Hector. What the hell? It was the middle of the night.
Rand crossed to the receiver, hung up, and picked it up again, dialing the four-digit extension. The call rang three times.
“Hey.” Hector sounded tired.
“Where are you?”
“Downstairs. Meet me in the lobby.”
What else could possibly have gone wrong now?
Rand passed by Sarah’s room, pausing outside to listen for any sounds that she might be awake, but darkness and silence remained his constant friend.
Maybe Hector had a new gig for him. It’d beat sitting around here waiting for more bad news. But then Sarah would be alone and unprotected. They didn’t know who they could trust outside of Hector.
By the time Rand made it to the lobby, Hector was there already.
“Walk with me.” He gestured to the front door and the darkened grounds. “Your assets are on the road to their extraction. They’ll be in the UK by this time tomorrow.”
That was good to know, but Rand doubted Hector had stayed up most of the night to tell him that.
Rand fell into step, gaze scanning the far reaches of the parking lot, the lawn stretching away from them. They meandered out onto a path that circled a decorative pond, the spray of water a decent deterrent to eavesdroppers.
“Tell me about your history with Sarah,” Hector said.
Rand started at the beginning, the day her family moved in across the street, and ended with the last day he’d seen her in her brother’s hospital room. He kept it brief, sticking to the facts, but even that made the ball of tension inside him worse.
“Someone has deleted or hidden a large part of her record, and I’d like to know why,” Hector said.
“What do you think Sarah’s involved with?”
“Nothing.”
“Then—”
“It’s what I think someone might want us to assume she’s involved with that worries me.”
“What Mitch thinks?”
“I don’t know what Mitch thinks.” Hector gazed up at the stars. “He’s not telling us everything.”
“You think?”
“I got a hold of his file for a few minutes while he was on the phone. Made these copies.” Hector handed a few sheets of folded paper over to Rand.
“What are these?” He peered at them, but it was too dark to read.
“An assessment Mitch’s man Charlie made of Sarah’s field performance.”
“And?”
“Charlie seemed to think that Sarah could be more than a courier and advised that someone look into training her.”
“They want to recruit her for full-time. What aren’t you telling me?” Rand could hear it in his voice.
“Charlie makes reference to Mitch’s instructions to…seduce her. Get as close as he could. See if she was everything Irene claimed she was. That was almost two years ago.”
Sarah had mentioned Charlie a number of times. She’d been concerned about his safety, if he’d made contact.
“Charlie was found dead a few hours ago on a side street near his apartment in Hong Kong. The call came in while I was standing there with Mitch, or else I’m not sure that he’d have told me. He doesn’t want Sarah to know, and I agree. She seems to be made of some strong stuff, but she’s not a field agent. She’s not really built for this.”
Like Rand was. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Because…the number of people who knew about the briefcase is shrinking.”
“Sarah. Charlie. Mitch. Irene.” Rand ticked the names off on his fingers. “Who else? What committee or board is over our operations there?”
“I don’t even know that.”
“There’s at least one unknown name, and Irene is still MIA.”
“No, she’s not anymore.”
“Where is she?”
“Switzerland.”
What the hell?
“Stop here.” Hector turned to face Rand. They were at the farthest point of the pond, the fountain between them and the building. “You’re going to have to trust your gut on this. Someone is either after Sarah for what she knows, or will try to kill her, or worse. That’s why I’m telling you everything I know, so that when the time comes to trust your instincts, you’re prepared.”