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Authors: Sidney Bristol
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his room. He’d adjusted the cameras so there wasn’t a clean shot of the door, no way to place him as a guest and an employee, not that anyone would confuse the two personas, but he needed to be ultracareful.
The lights remained off.
He picked his way through the room to the dresser and picked up the phone with the red tape. It hadn’t been used yet. He’d saved it for this purpose.
He dialed the one contact saved in the phone and waited.
“Omar Natsheh.” The man’s voice was bored. Jordan’s intelligence department hadn’t proven near as exciting for the former spy.
“I have information on a woman named Yael.”
Something squeaked in the background. Hassan could imagine Omar with his feet propped up coming suddenly to life.
“Who is this?” Omar asked. He’d never been a particularly good spy.
“She’s going to set off a bomb. Tonight. If you’re willing to make a trade, I can ensure you capture her.”
“I’m listening…”
The noose was around her neck, now all he had to do was pull.
Abigail strolled around the perimeter of the suite. The hotel staff had busted butt all day to change it into something that would suit the Smiths’ tastes for this dinner party. It was extravagant, with the complete attention of the hotel’s head chef, plenty of bubbly, music, servers…
No wonder Ethan and Luke were sweating bullets. It was precisely the kind of situation they couldn’t control. There was no way for them to vet the staff or guests, especially since they were denied a guest list.
If she had time to play her role properly, she’d be fretting right along with them. Unfortunately, she’d spent the entire day pulling out her hair, trying to figure out an opening when Luke wasn’t distracting her.
Being near the man scrambled her brains.
She’d thought the solution was working him out of her system. It hadn’t worked. If anything, she’d become some sort of addict, hooked on his smell, the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around her…
Distractions got people killed.
And Luke was a delicious distraction she couldn’t afford.
Case in point—she should not be peering through the front doors at his ass. She could all too well recall just how muscular he was, the way they felt under her hands when he flexed…
Abigail shook her head.
What was wrong with her?
She’d been undercover for far too long, that was what. She craved human connection. Someone to know her, to touch her in a way that was all her. She wanted it so badly, she’d screwed up.
This morning she could have eliminated Mrs. Smith with no eyewitnesses, no casualties, nothing to weigh on her conscience, but she’d forgotten her secondary weapon. Besides, she wanted both Mr. and Mrs. Smith dead. One was only half of the equation. It wouldn’t do. So she’d waited. And now she might not get another chance. She couldn’t blame it on Luke, though it would be convenient.
What was it about the man?
She positioned herself nearer the entrance and studied the first few guests to arrive. As a bonus, she had a nice view of Luke chatting with more guests on their way into the suite. Three were familiar to her, the others new faces.
If she had no heart, no soul, she’d do it here. Now. With all of these people around. Just blow up the entire suite. But that wasn’t the way she’d been taught. If even one innocent life was at risk, the cost was too great. It was one of the tenets she’d held fast to, even now that she was on her own. So far she’d pulled off a dozen hits with no one the wiser as to who was behind it. At least not that she’d heard, and her network was large. Expanding. It was amazing the kind of information readily available for the right price.
Ethan emerged from the master suite, his gaze sweeping the room.
She stilled, barely daring to breathe.
This might be her chance. When the Smiths came out, if she could get in, rig something in their rooms… There would be too many eyes to place
The lights remained off.
He picked his way through the room to the dresser and picked up the phone with the red tape. It hadn’t been used yet. He’d saved it for this purpose.
He dialed the one contact saved in the phone and waited.
“Omar Natsheh.” The man’s voice was bored. Jordan’s intelligence department hadn’t proven near as exciting for the former spy.
“I have information on a woman named Yael.”
Something squeaked in the background. Hassan could imagine Omar with his feet propped up coming suddenly to life.
“Who is this?” Omar asked. He’d never been a particularly good spy.
“She’s going to set off a bomb. Tonight. If you’re willing to make a trade, I can ensure you capture her.”
“I’m listening…”
The noose was around her neck, now all he had to do was pull.
Abigail strolled around the perimeter of the suite. The hotel staff had busted butt all day to change it into something that would suit the Smiths’ tastes for this dinner party. It was extravagant, with the complete attention of the hotel’s head chef, plenty of bubbly, music, servers…
No wonder Ethan and Luke were sweating bullets. It was precisely the kind of situation they couldn’t control. There was no way for them to vet the staff or guests, especially since they were denied a guest list.
If she had time to play her role properly, she’d be fretting right along with them. Unfortunately, she’d spent the entire day pulling out her hair, trying to figure out an opening when Luke wasn’t distracting her.
Being near the man scrambled her brains.
She’d thought the solution was working him out of her system. It hadn’t worked. If anything, she’d become some sort of addict, hooked on his smell, the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around her…
Distractions got people killed.
And Luke was a delicious distraction she couldn’t afford.
Case in point—she should not be peering through the front doors at his ass. She could all too well recall just how muscular he was, the way they felt under her hands when he flexed…
Abigail shook her head.
What was wrong with her?
She’d been undercover for far too long, that was what. She craved human connection. Someone to know her, to touch her in a way that was all her. She wanted it so badly, she’d screwed up.
This morning she could have eliminated Mrs. Smith with no eyewitnesses, no casualties, nothing to weigh on her conscience, but she’d forgotten her secondary weapon. Besides, she wanted both Mr. and Mrs. Smith dead. One was only half of the equation. It wouldn’t do. So she’d waited. And now she might not get another chance. She couldn’t blame it on Luke, though it would be convenient.
What was it about the man?
She positioned herself nearer the entrance and studied the first few guests to arrive. As a bonus, she had a nice view of Luke chatting with more guests on their way into the suite. Three were familiar to her, the others new faces.
If she had no heart, no soul, she’d do it here. Now. With all of these people around. Just blow up the entire suite. But that wasn’t the way she’d been taught. If even one innocent life was at risk, the cost was too great. It was one of the tenets she’d held fast to, even now that she was on her own. So far she’d pulled off a dozen hits with no one the wiser as to who was behind it. At least not that she’d heard, and her network was large. Expanding. It was amazing the kind of information readily available for the right price.
Ethan emerged from the master suite, his gaze sweeping the room.
She stilled, barely daring to breathe.
This might be her chance. When the Smiths came out, if she could get in, rig something in their rooms… There would be too many eyes to place
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