Wednesday. Nour Delivery Service, Damascus, Syria.

Rafat Nour didn’t believe in coincidences.

He stroked his chin and stared out the window onto his domain.

This had never been his goal in life. He’d taken over the family shop selling rugs in his teens, expanded their store, opened others and had built a nice business before the conflict began. His business had died then, but not his means to make money. Smuggling had become a way of life. He worked with the government and military to move goods they couldn’t get through normal channels, not with so many sanctions on their country. Rafat did good work.

But this business had an expiration date on it. In the future, the very hand of the government that allowed him to work freely would crush him in the name of honest commerce. Which was why Rafat had plans in place.

Plans that were now slipping through his fingers.

“Sir?” A man hovered in the doorway leading to Rafat’s office.

“The soldiers didn’t find anything?” Calling them in had been a calculated move on his part.

“No, sir.”

“Two white people can’t just disappear in this city. Find me that old woman.” Rafat didn’t bother turning around.

He’d bought the old cow and intended to use her to his own gain. He paid attention to the news, to the coverage she was getting based on what was going on in the United States. He had their Kurdish friends across the newly drawn border lines to thank for that.

It was the law of supply and demand.

The Americans wanted the woman.

If Rafat had the woman, he got to set the price.

He wasn’t interested in money. What he wanted was an agreement, a promise in writing that would allow him to profit from the future commerce that would happen. Syria would not remain the black mark on the face of the earth forever.

Rafat had a plan. A big one. Owning the smuggling paths around Damascus had provided him with a wide network of connections from suppliers to the government and intelligence communities to the secret vices of the wealthy. He knew it all. And when the time came Rafat would separate his businesses, operate them under two directives. One above board and one that still catered to the forbidden desires.

But it all hinged on having power.

He needed the old cow to secure a connection in America. Without that he knew some of his infrastructure would not hold up.

Rafat turned from the window toward the man still waiting for instruction.

“Price has new men, doesn’t she?” Rafat had long since accepted that Vara Price was not just a smuggler, but whatever her game was it didn’t bother him.

“She does. Three new men.”

“Make friends. I want to know where her weak link is.” Rafat figured if the rescue didn’t go off smoothly the Americans would turn to their other resources. In this case, Vara.

“I’ll make sure it happens.”

“Go and close the door behind you.” Rafat glanced at the clock.

He waited for the man to leave and the door to snick shut. Then Rafat waited longer.

When the conflict had hit Damascus, he’d moved his family out into a suburb, somewhere safe. Or so he’d thought.

His wife and two children were dead. On a night much like tonight his wife had warned him she wouldn’t be making their evening call. She was attending a dinner party at a friend’s house. A bomb had struck, miles off its target, killing everyone.

At the time Rafat couldn’t afford to show weakness, so he carried on this farce. Each night he shut himself in this office and waited for a phone call that never came.

He circled around behind his desk and pulled out his cell, swiping his thumb across the screen.

The longer his prisoner was out of his custody the less likely it was he could recapture her. If she was in Syrian borders Rafat was confident he could reclaim her. But if the Americans got her out of the country he was screwed.

There was one person he could turn to for help.

Kolya Sokolov

The former KGB agent was now a feared boss in the Russian mob. Rafat had made himself familiar with Kolya’s history when the man reached out to broker a deal some years back. Since then Rafat couldn’t help feeling like Kolya had hooks in him. Business had intertwined their interests and now Rafat knew his best option for securing his prisoner was Kolya. But turning to that man only deepened the hold.

Rafat wasn’t sure he was willing to answer to anyone, even a man like Kolya.

ALEC WAS SWEATING DESPITE the cool evening. Every voice in the night had him positive they were about to be found out.

The minutes ticked by and still Vara didn’t return.

What would they do if she abandoned them? How long could they hide here before they needed to make their move? What about the rest of his team?

No, he couldn’t think about them until after the op. Chances were the others got out just fine. The bad guys had thrown everything at Alec. It was Jules they wanted.

He glanced at the older woman sitting next to him.

They’d barely said anything to each other. It had been Ryan who broke the chain barring the door where Jules was held. Alec had been the getaway driver. It was only when they’d begun taking fire that Alec became Jules’ keeper.

“How are you doing?” he whispered.

She didn’t respond for a few moments, but then she whispered, “I keep waiting to wake up. You are real, aren’t you?”

“Last time I checked.” He smiled at her in the darkness, but he doubted she could see it. He reached over and laid his hand over hers. “My name’s Alec, ma’am.”

She squeezed his hand. Everything about her was small and shrunken. Time in captivity had not been kind to her.

His internal alarm dinged.

He checked his comm again, but the only thing he heard was silence. He’d begun to wonder if the unit hadn’t shorted out when he’d gotten hit with the electric baton. It was the only thing he could think of that might render it dead. Still, he couldn’t give up hope someone was listening or tracking him through the device.

His cell phone was an option, but he didn’t dare piece it back together. Not until he’d cleared the city and very likely the country. Zain had been firm on that point, spouting something about a new technology.

Which meant Alec was cut off from everyone.

What was Vara doing here?

His gut still told him there was no way she was a smuggler. She was up to something and he prayed their arrival didn’t ruin that.

God, she’d looked good.

But he wasn’t thinking about that.

“Who was that young woman?” Jules asked so softly he could barely call it a whisper.

“Someone I used to know. Someone I hope will help us.”

There was a day when he’d known Vara intimately well. She’d told him her dreams for the future, how she wanted to see the world. He’d loved that free spirit of hers, how she only saw opportunities.

The light crunch of gravel reached his ears. He lifted a finger to his lips and Jules nodded.

He bent, peering out from under the canvas strapped over the top of the truck and drew his weapon. He could barely make out a pair of slim legs in cargo pants headed his way.

Vara?

Alec raised his gun and waited.

“Coast is clear. Get out now,” a voice from his past whispered.

He swallowed and dragged his left hand across his face.

Alec glanced at Jules who was watching him.

His heart wanted to trust Vara, but what if he was wrong?

It wouldn’t just be his life. Jules would suffer as well.

“Come on,” Vara said with more force.

“I’ll go first,” Alec whispered to Jules.

He crouched and walked to the back of the truck. A small hand pulled the canvas out, allowing him to slip down in the cover of its shadow. Alec hit the ground and turned, scanning the shadows for threats or people. He didn’t look at Vara, not yet. If he did he’d be lost in memory and what could have been.

“Move,” Vara snapped and reached to help Jules down. “We only have a few minutes.”

Alec holstered his weapon and lifted the older woman out and set her on the ground.

“Keep hold of me.” Vara looped her arm around Jules, who was still unsteady. “Stay close.”

Alec nodded.

The skin across his shoulders felt tight and his ribs ached. Still, he kept from meeting her gaze or looking at her directly.

“This way.” Vara steered them toward one of the long, low buildings running along the side of the yard.

They made it to a doorway flitting from shadow to shadow without anyone calling out an alarm. No one shot at them. It was all perfectly fine.

Then why was he still sweating? Why couldn’t he shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach? Was it the op? Or his ex leading him to possible salvation or damnation?

“Over here.” Vara turned right. There wasn’t a whole lot of building left that way.

“Where are we going?” Alec asked.

“Out of here.”

“We can’t go out there.” Alec reached out and grabbed Vara’s elbow, turning her around. The sizzle of awareness sank into his skin and he held on tighter.

Their eyes met for the first time since the shadow shrouded moment when she’d first discovered them. That didn’t really count because he’d been blinded by the flashlight. Now, he fell headlong into her whisky brown eyes flashing with emotion. Frustration was the most obvious one with the set of her jaw.

“You can’t stay here. Rafa’s people will notice you and after tonight you do not want him to notice you.” She spoke in a rush, her voice low.

“We can’t go out there.” Alec couldn’t keep running and carrying Jules. She was too frail and too tired. His mind was also focused on her, the shape of her lips, the little scar on her chin, all the tiny ways she’d changed.

“You aren’t. God, Alec, just keep up and shut your mouth.”

“I like her,” Jules muttered.

Vara pulled out of Alec’s grasp and kept going to the very end of the building leaving him no option but to follow.

“Come on, muscle, push that shelf out of the way.” She nodded at a stainless steel unit on rollers.

He had come to her for help. He couldn’t be picky how that help was given.

Alec braced his shoulder against the shelves and rolled them out of the way, revealing an almost seamless trapdoor. He knelt and pulled the door up. A ladder led into the darkness below.

He crawled down next followed by Jules. It was hard to discern anything about the area except a feeling of great space and a general chill. He spied a few lanterns along the wall and grabbed one, flipping the switch. Vara brought up the rear, coming slower as she somehow managed to roll the shelves back into place, plunging them into total darkness save for the halo of light provided by the lantern. She leapt to the ground and blew out a breath.

“Okay, we should be safer down here.” Vara studied Jules and didn’t look at Alec once. “Are you okay to walk a few blocks?”

“I’ll manage,” Jules said. Her voice was strained, and she had to be at the end of her strength, but she was willing to keep going.

“Good.” Vara’s gaze flicked to Alec for the briefest of moments then she turned. “Let’s clear out of here, just in case.”

Alec wanted to keep pace with Vara, look at her, but Jules was his mission. He offered the woman his arm and settled for watching the way Vara moved. She made next to no sound, and she didn’t so much as...flow. It would have been mesmerizing did he not need to pay attention to their surroundings.

They had to be in some kind of drainage system, but judging by the debris it was more of a hidden highway. Every so often he heard a car rumble overhead, but they were otherwise alone on their silent highway.

Alec relaxed as the blocks passed.

If Vara were going to sell them out, she’d have done so by now. Putting this much work into getting both him and Jules somewhere safe was counterproductive. Unless someone was willing to pay more.

No, he wasn’t going there.

Vara was helping them. They were going to get Jules home at long last.

Sometime later Vara directed them to turn, winding their way away from the main route. Jules was hobbling slower and slower by the time Vara stopped at a ladder. If it weren’t for Jules’ insistence, she would walk he’d have carried her.

“Give me ten minutes to make sure the place is secure,” was all Vara said before she scrambled up and out of view.

Alec had a lot of questions. Getting them would likely mean giving answers himself, and he couldn’t afford to do that unless he knew he could trust her completely.

The grate covering the exit lifted and Vara’s head was outlined by the night sky.

“It’s clear.” Her voice echoed off the concrete and stone walls.

Could he trust her? Did he dare? Were there other options?

He had to trust the woman he’d known.

“Up you go.” He guided Jules to the ladder and steadied her as she began the climb.

Alec glanced once more into the darkness, but he was alone. He clicked the lantern off and left it on the ground, much in the same way they’d found it in the first place, then he climbed the ladder.

The grate let out in a narrow alley barely big enough to allow a vehicle to pass. The street was quiet. A TV played somewhere nearby, but other than that the breeze was the only thing that moved.

“Come on, almost there,” Vara said and took Jules’ arm.

She led them through an open gate into a walled off courtyard of a tall, narrow building. It was newer, like most of this part of the city, but it also bore the marks of war. Plaster patchwork showed where a second floor had been repaired.

Vara led them through an ornate iron door into the building.

“What is this place? Where are we?” Alec kept his voice low.

“My home.” She shut the door and twisted the locks on both the iron and interior doors. “We’re alone. It’s secure.”

A security system beeped at them and she waved them into another room where the panel was mounted on the wall.

Alec stepped away from her, peering into a salon that sat facing the road then the kitchen and dining areas at the back of the house. It seemed comfortable with throw pillows and rugs softening the tile and stark walls, but there were no personal touches.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Vara strode past them into the kitchen.

“Jules, come sit here.” Alec guided the woman to an ornate sofa in the salon where he could keep an eye on her from both rooms. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m just so tired.” In the dim light it was easy to see how time and captivity had marked her. The deep lines on her face and scars along her hands and arms were just the beginning.

“There are bedrooms upstairs.” Vara put a kettle on the stove then turned toward them. “I have a few things here to eat and tea will be ready in a moment.”

“Just let me rest a minute?” Jules slumped to the side, propped up by pillows.

“You sure?” He knelt next to the sofa.

“Go see your old friend, sweet boy.” Jules patted his hand.

Alec was torn between caring for his charge and seeing Vara for the first time in years.

Jules wasn’t going anywhere. She looked like she wanted to sleep more than anything else.

Vara might slip from his life without any notice.

He crossed the salon and into the kitchen. She stood leaning against the counter. The scarf she’d worn around her head now sat in a pile on the counter. Her hair was pinned up, not hanging loose or in a tail. It was different. Like the rest of her. She studied him in turn, her brown gaze roving over him. She wore a bulky vest over a long sleeved T-shirt with cargo pants. Not exactly feminine clothing, but he was willing to bet that move was intentional. Her work was dangerous, and probably not friendly toward women.

“I want to ask what the hell it is you’re doing here, but I don’t think I want to know the answer.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“You know how it is.” He shrugged.

“Christ, Alec.” She rubbed her hands on her face. “What the hell?”

“Look, I know dropping in on you like this is all kinds of wrong. I hope we aren’t messing anything up for you, it’s just...” He glanced over his shoulder at Jules. Was she snoring?

“That’s Jules Neilson, isn’t it? No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Vara sighed and lifted the kettle off the stove and poured water into a pot with fragrant tea. Mint if he had to guess on smell alone.

She knew who Jules was on sight?

Was that from her days working alongside her mother before she retired? Or because Vara was plugged into some sort of intel network?

He couldn’t ask her those questions.

Alec braced his hands on the counter at his back and watched Vara as she made three cups of tea.

He’d seen her twice since they broke up. Neither time had allowed for more than a stilted greeting before he was called back out again. Back then he’d told himself it was for the best. Her mother wanted them to separate, and he’d known if their relationship continued it would get serious. Vara was a one of a kind woman, and he’d recognized that from the start. But he was also a SEAL intending on serving many more years. He hadn’t known that he would be out in four. They’d still been dangerous years. He’d seen enough people killed that he didn’t want to tie up her heart all the while knowing he might never come back to her. He couldn’t do that to her. So he’d broken it off and regretted it ever since.

“Here.” She passed him two cups. “I’ll get something for you two to eat.”

Alec’s attention shifted to Jules and the immediate need of getting liquids and food into her. He had to help her hold the cup, and she was so tired that a simple meal took the better part of an hour. By the time she’d consumed as much as he could get her to, she was so utterly tired she could hardly move. So Alec carried Jules up the stairs to the smaller of the two bedrooms for her to get some rest.

On the stairs he paused to consider his options.

Calling for help was off the table. If the Syrian military was involved in Jules’ imprisonment, he couldn’t risk making a call that might get traced or tip anyone off. Which meant he had no contact with the outside world beyond this house.

The thing he’d wanted most was in this house.

The day he’d broken up with Vara was still burned into his mind. The way she’d looked at him. The utter surprise.

They’d discussed how it could be difficult upon their return to the embassy, but things had gone south fast. His hand had been forced. Looking down at her struggling to hold it together, to not shed tears, it had broken him. He’d been a piece of shit, even if his intentions were good.

He wanted to go downstairs and peal back the layers of the woman waiting for him to find his Vara. But he didn’t have that right. Not after how he’d hurt her.