Secret Agent Sheikh. Linda Conrad
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jumped up and stood as still as if she were at attention. It was barely twelve hours since the Nigerian had gone to his heavenly paradise and Jass hadn’t had much sleep. For most of the night she’d been too busy trying to interrogate the men who’d been captured in the hotel room and, when that became futile, working desperately to salvage something from the fiasco of last night. She had come up empty-handed on all counts.
For the last hour she’d been sitting quietly in the American consulate’s office waiting for her scheduled meeting with Ed. Jass had been going over all her moves from last evening’s sting, still trying to piece together how things had gone wrong. When she’d originally designed the plan for last night, she was positive nothing could prevent it from becoming one of her biggest career highlights. Capturing a man that the Agency had been seeking for the last three years had seemed the perfect path to advancement.
The fact that General Wainwright was here in Monaco—that he’d felt it necessary to fly in from the states, did not bode well for her rising career at all. The general motioned for her to sit and she took her first breath since he’d walked through the door. Somehow she had to survive whatever came next with her job intact.
Tarik Kadir plopped down in the seat next to hers. Her senses started reeling. She could actually feel heat emanating from his body, even considering his place at the table was well over two feet away. She scooted her chair a little farther to the side, but it didn’t help.
Glancing at the ex covert agent out of the corner of her eye, she found him staring back at her. Besides being insufferable, the man was also a rude bore.
He flashed her a crooked grin from behind his benign-looking black-framed glasses. Was he in some sort of disguise this morning? She knew for a fact that the man did not need glasses for his eyesight. Last night in a tux he’d been delicious to look at. Like the billionaire playboy sheik he was rumored to be. But this morning, the hand-tailored button-down shirt and soft suede jacket made him look unpretentious and conservative.
Bull. Did he really believe anybody would miss the aura of controlled power or the watchful intelligence hiding underneath the traditional cut of his coal-colored hair or in the eyes behind those ridiculous fake glasses?
“You still waiting for a thank-you for saving my life?” she asked while trying hard to sound unaffected.
“I don’t waste much time on fantasies.” The look he gave her was so full of erotic meaning it sent her pulse racing and made her mouth go dry.
She tried to inch farther away but found herself hugging the wall as Ed and General Wainwright seated themselves across the table.
The general’s forehead furrowed as he began, “Well, Special Officer O’Reilly. It seems your crack plan for capturing the Nigerian turned into a royal cluster f …” He stopped, looked slightly flustered about almost using the crude military expression meaning disaster, and then cleared his throat. “Either of you two have anything more to say about what happened last night?”
“Everything would’ve worked out if he hadn’t stepped in.”
“If the DOD had listened to me about the Taj Zabbar building weapons of mass destruction in the first place, we could’ve worked this sting together and nothing would’ve been lost.”
They’d both spoken at the same time and their words were more or less blown away in the confusion. Exasperated, Jass folded her arms over her chest and sat back.
The general pinned her with a steely gaze. “Did it once occur to you to ask what item could’ve been big enough to induce the Nigerian to come out of the shadows and attend last night’s sale?”
“I figured it was big drug deal or maybe U.S. counterfeit currency plates, sir. Rumor has it the Nigerian has been raising funds and buying into moneymaking schemes all over Europe.” Jass was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.
The general waved his hand dismissively. “My fault. I should’ve seen this coming when I approved your plan.”
Next he turned on Tarik. “You thought you recognized Special Officer O’Reilly in her disguise. Is that right?”
Tarik nodded once.
“And yet you went out on the balcony to rescue someone you knew to be a competent officer and turned your back on the briefcase containing a nuclear device.”
Tarik’s face paled and his jaw became impossibly hard.
The general surprised him by flashing a grin. “I guess we’re all treading in deep water over this screwup. Let’s see what we can do to make it right.”
Jass didn’t like the sound of that. She had no intention of ever doing anything with the infuriating sheik Kadir.
Tarik could see the frustration building on Jass’s face. He knew what that was like. He’d been trying for months to convince the DOD, and General Wainwright in particular, that the Taj Zabbar were a serious and growing danger to the world. Up until this morning, he hadn’t succeeded.
He forced his attention back to the general. “I just finished speaking to my brother at Kadir headquarters, sir. The briefcase has disappeared—along with the Elder bin Khali Taj Zabbar. We’ll pick him up again, though it might take some time. But Darin did get a line on that other matter you asked about.” He took a breath. “Seems our technical unit has been hearing the same rumors over the social networks that your units have, and we’re fairly sure the Taj Zabbar will be involved in that upcoming auction, too.”
“Then that gives us a place to start fresh together.” The general tilted his head to address Jass. “We caught a break when another DOD split task force captured an al-Qaeda operative in Pakistan last week. The Pakistanis have been interrogating the man and yesterday obtained a major piece of intel.”
Tarik watched as Jass’s expression went from resigned and frustrated to hopeful and eager. She was arresting to look at with her exotic mix of cultures. Not classically beautiful, but expressive and fascinatingly intense when she thought she wasn’t being observed. A man couldn’t avoid keeping his eyes trained on that face. At least, not this man.
“It seems our Russian from last night’s auction had another partner,” the general continued. “Someone still operating in the wind who supposedly has one more auction scheduled for next week.”
“Another briefcase bomb? Surely not. That’s—”
The general’s hand chopped the air to stop her words. “No, another bomb would’ve been impossible to sneak out of Russia, even for a genius like Karolek Petrov. But it seems there is one more item up for bid that’s worth paying a king’s ransom—at least for terrorists.”
Jass sat up a little straighter. “A detonator or timing device of some sort?”
“Good point. It’s possible. We don’t know for sure.” General Wainwright folded his hands on the desk and stared down at them. “Whatever it is, it’s big. All we know are the identities of some of the bidders and the approximate location and date. We need to know the rest.”
Jass’s eyes rounded and dilated. Bless her fiendish little heart. Tarik could see she was almost drooling over the potential of being given such a plum assignment. When she learned the truth, that this was going to be his sting—not hers—he had a feeling her expressive face would be speaking a different language.
“Do we have a way to firm up the location?” Jass asked the general.
She was starting to believe this would be more of a golden opportunity rather than the end of her career. She snuck a look at Ed, her handler, and was puzzled by his narrowed expression. He apparently knew something she did not.
“The auction will definitely be taking place in Brazil,” the general answered with authority. “The Russian’s partner, also one of the Russian mob but not as clever as Petrov, has developed a network headquartered in Rio. That much we know for sure. The Kadir family’s intel unit has put feelers out and we expect to have