Page 14 of Steel Vengeance

She quieted down, and he slowly removed his hand.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he grunted. “But I had to be sure you didn’t have anyone waiting for me.”

“Who would I have waiting?” she asked, her confused mind still on Omari. Then she blinked. Duh. The CIA, of course.

“No,” she said quickly. “Nobody’s here but me.”

“I know. I checked.”

He stood back, giving her space, and she scrambled into a sitting position. The thin strap of her gold nightgown had slipped off her shoulder, the silky material barely covering her left breast. Hastily, she pulled it up. Thankfully, it was dark in the room, except for the annoying red flicker from the building across the street that the gauzy curtains did nothing to block.

“What time is it?” she muttered.

“Half past eleven.”

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

No reply. Instead, he backtracked to the small wooden table and sat down. The outline of his hulking frame pulsed red, in time with her pounding heart.

Leaning over, she turned on the bedside lamp. The amber glow replaced the pulsing red light.

She ran a hand through her hair, fully aware she must look like a wreck, but he was staring at her with a heated intensity that took her breath away. She cleared her throat, and the heat vanished, replaced by the cool, distant look she was used to.

“Anything interesting to report?” he growled.

“No, nothing unusual today.”

“Tell me where he went.”

She sat up, the sheets tangled around her.

Great. Exposed, vulnerable, and unprepared. This was becoming a pattern.

Still, if she got up to get dressed, she’d have to walk around in front of him in her nightgown. Again. Why did he always catch her off-guard like this?

“Do you think we could arrange a time for these meetings in the future?” she asked, pulling the sheets around her waist. “So I can be prepared?”

“I like to keep things unpredictable,” he said. “Less chance of an ambush.”

She sighed.

“You were saying?”

She gathered her thoughts. “Omari left home around eleven, as usual, and was driven into town by his bodyguards. He walked around, spoke to a shopkeeper and a few locals, then went into a restaurant for lunch around noon. I waited for about half an hour, but no one else showed up, so I left. I had to be at the community center by one.”

“Ah yes, your cover story.”

“Actually, Iama teacher,” she huffed. “Or I was before the CIA recruited me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A teacher who speaks fluent Urdu. I can see why that would be appealing. When were you recruited?”

“Ten months ago.”

“For this assignment?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I did a crash course in D.C. and was assigned this mission.”

He nodded.