The Equalisers. Debra Webb
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sit right with that scenario. Her attorney hadn’t been able to give her an answer to that question. “Since the law protected his right to custody, why ship me out of the country so secretively?” He’d kidnapped her off the street and sent her to L.A. with two of his goons. They’d left her there, with no money and no ID. It had been a nightmare. Why had he bothered? Was the act meant to humiliate her? To frighten her? That he’d later denied it only added insult to injury.
“To justify his claims of desertion,” Anders offered as if that answer should be crystal-clear. “Though you had no right to custody, you could have challenged the divorce as long as he had no legal grounds against you. Dumping you back on American soil made you look like the bad guy and gave him exactly what he needed—legal grounds to support his accusations and sympathy.”
Anders was right. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d been duped from the beginning, but this last was the ultimate betrayal. He’d charmed and seduced her, then tied her hands with sweet words of understanding.
How stupid and blind she’d been.
“So what do we do?” She appreciated that he had been able to clear up that question when her attorney hadn’t been able to, but she needed more. She needed this man to lay out a plan that would ensure her son’s safe return to her.
The sooner the better.
For one long beat she held her breath. Whether it was the cool distance she saw in his eyes or the apprehension compounding inside her, overriding her momentary burst of anger, she was afraid to breathe. She needed him to say he could make this happen.
“I have more questions related to your ex-husband’s family and living arrangements as well as his financial dealings. It’s essential that I have as much information as you can give me before walking into this situation. Information is power, Ms. Harris. The more I have, the better prepared I am to accomplish my mission.”
“You’ll be going to Kuwait, not Mr. Colby?” That she sounded disappointed was not lost on him. She hoped that wouldn’t prove a strike against her, but she was a little disappointed. Jim Colby had been so sure he could get her son back. Was this man capable of the same promise?
“I’ll be handling your case,” Anders verified. To his credit he kept any resentment at her question out of his voice as well as his expression.
She’d let her feelings be known, no point beating around the bush about her bottom line. “Can you make the same guarantee Mr. Colby made?” She needed his reassurance. More than he could possibly fathom. This was far too important for her to be dancing around the issue.
Spencer wasn’t sure he should answer this woman’s question the way he would prefer. Jim Colby had put him in an awkward position. Yes, Spencer was relatively certain he could make this happen. He’d spent a decade in covert operations and a good deal of that time in the Middle East. He knew how to get in, accomplish his mission and get out. Not a problem.
But this wasn’t as cut-and-dried as a military operation. And it damned sure wasn’t black or white.
This was a child. A small boy, whose life and future hung in the balance.
As good as Spencer was, and he was very good at his job, stuff happened. A stray gunshot, unexpected extra manpower in a standoff—way more variables than he had time to contemplate could come into play. It wasn’t as simple as going in, nabbing the child and getting out.
Khaled al-Shimmari wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill Middle-Eastern rich guy. The man had connections, major connections. His family was extremely powerful, more so, Spencer felt certain, than this lady suspected. He didn’t see any reason to go into that with her just now.
There was one glaring detail in particular he planned to keep to himself for the moment: the fact that her ex was suspected of supporting terrorism. Spencer had logged into certain FBI files with the help of the new receptionist Jim had hired. She might not have much personality, but she could hack into anything. That skill could be very useful and at the same time extremely dangerous. But that was Colby’s problem, not Spencer’s.
Willow Harris stared at him expectantly. She wanted an answer to her question. Yes or no. He understood what she was looking for.
“I can tell you that I have extensive experience in the Middle East. I’m former military and my unit specialized in hostage retrieval. I have a perfect record, no failures whatsoever.” He hoped that answered her question without actually answering it. Being evasive wasn’t his intent, but he couldn’t make her the promise she wanted. Not in good faith anyway. Colby had put him in a hell of a position. Spencer wondered if his new employer really had that much confidence in him or if he was simply that desperate for business.
With her hands wrung together in her lap, she bit her bottom lip and analyzed his response for a moment. He took advantage of that time to do a little analyzing of his own. She was young. Twenty-eight according to his research. She had a degree in marketing with an emphasis on foreign trading. She’d been recruited right out of college with a firm that catered to Middle-Eastern investors.
Willow Harris had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. She’d graduated college with honors and appeared to be very conservative in behavior and dress. Her navy skirt went all the way to her knees. The white button-up blouse was buttoned all the way up. Silky blond hair fell around her shoulders. She was pretty and clearly too naive for her own good. Those big green eyes watched him now as if he were the only man on earth who could save her from a fate worse than death.
Poor kid. That bastard al-Shimmari had taken total advantage of her. Spencer had a bad feeling about just who al-Shimmari really was. The fact that he was on the FBI watch list might very well be only the tip of the iceberg.
He had his doubts as to whether this case was as straightforward as it appeared from a distance.
She inhaled a big breath, unintentionally drawing his attention to her lips. Nice lips. Soft, full. Spencer snapped his gaze to hers and gave himself a swift mental kick for being an idiot.
“Your military history is impressive, Mr. Anders.” She licked those distracting lips and seemed to struggle with her next words. “Can you… will you tell me why you’re no longer in the military? I mean, you look too young to be retired and I… well, I was wondering why a man like you would walk away from such an impressive career.”
Not as naive as he’d presumed, apparently. He considered lying to her. He was relatively certain she wouldn’t want to hear the truth. But she’d been lied to enough already. Six P.I.s in as many months. Nope. This lady deserved the whole truth.
“My superior officer accused me of being a traitor.”
Her pupils flared with surprise.
No turning back now. “He claimed that I sold information about an operation to the enemy. Since he couldn’t prove it, I wasn’t court-martialed to the degree he’d hoped. There were, however, other lesser charges backed up by supposed eye witnesses. In the end I was charged with insubordination and behavior unbecoming an officer. I was demoted and given the opportunity to start over. I opted not to.”
That was the condensed version. It was also all she would get from him.
Even those few sentences had bitterness and fury churning in his gut.
She blinked rapidly, concealing her initial reaction. “Oh.”
He knew better than to expect her to be anything other than shocked or appalled, maybe both. And yet he expected more somehow. He was sick and tired of people judging him wrongly for getting screwed by a ranking officer. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
But she couldn’t know that.
She would only understand one thing: her newest hope for getting her son back had been labeled a possible traitor to his country by the United States Army. That had to be a little scary.
“Well.” She cleared her throat delicately and sat up a little straighter, but didn’t look directly at him. “Were you…? A traitor… I