let’s dunk.”
Lina gaped at him. “Dunk?”
“Trust me.” He couldn’t help the smile at the way her face almost froze in that expression. He’d seen a lot of that over the last few weeks as they navigated the perils of holding a secret nobody wanted leaked. Neil slid into the water and let the cool liquid rush over him. It felt good, after so many hours of walking dusty, dirty, rubble-laden roads.
He emerged from the water, dripping. Pushing the water out of his face, he grinned. “Ready?”
“For
what?”
“C’mon.” He took her hand and led her up the street to the Djibouti Palace Kempinski.
The bellman’s white eyes shone with surprise as he raked them over with a disapproving glare. “May I help you?”
Neil gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Sorry. We took a bit of a late-night swim. When I left my wallet on shore, someone stole it.”
“Very bad luck, sir!” The man opened the door and ushered him to the counter, but his expression warned Neil that he didn’t believe them. “Your name, sir?”
“Neil Crane.”
The girl behind the counter typed his name into a computer. “Ah yes. Welcome back, Mr. Crane. We were concerned. It has been several days.”
“Sorry. We were visiting a missionary in the area and decided to return for some privacy and a bit of luxury.” He winked at Lina, who stood beside him playing the coy girlfriend. “Could I get a new room key?”
“Of course, sir.” She placed the plastic card on the counter then handed him a piece of paper and circled some names. “Here are the names for the American embassy so you can report your stolen wallet. Your passport—”
“In the room safe, thank God.”
“Very good. Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.” At the elevator, with Lina plastered to his side, he smiled at her. Kissed her for the benefit of those watching. Once inside the car, he dropped back against the wall.
“How long do you think we have?”
He eyed her. “Thirty minutes.”
Nine
Camp Lemonnier, Combined Joint Task Force—Horn of Africa Republic of Djibouti, Africa
W heels touching down saved him from the void of her acceptance. At least, that’s the way it felt—a void that he could vanish in. She accepted him, trusted him….Innocence bathed her fresh confident face. Not naïveté as some might presume. She wasn’t naive. He could see it in her mannerisms, in her dealings with others. But she
did
believe people were good.
A fatal mistake. Not that he would intentionally hurt her, but who was he kidding? Manipulating her, playing this game—how could she
not
be hurt? All the same, he had a job to do.
Backpack in hand, Cardinal hustled down the metal stairs and disembarked the plane, leaving behind Aspen Courtland and the baggage of guilt that came with her.
Four men emerged from a building and crossed the tarmac, warbling with heat waves. Compliments, no doubt, of both the heat and the plane’s engines. The screaming whine of the jets slowed as the plane shut down.
A tall man with dark hair strode toward him, dressed in his desert camo and a pair of ballistic Oakleys. “Lieutenant Markoski?”
“Yeah.”
“Captain Watters of ODA452.” He shook Cardinal’s hand. “Welcome to Djibouti.” He angled a shoulder and pointed to the soldiers. “My team will escort you and the others.”
Cardinal gave a curt nod then glanced up the flight of stairs where Aspen appeared with a leashed Talon. Due to anxiety, he’d been crated and sedated during the flight. His strong body hovered at the hatch. Panting in the oppressive heat, he looked down the flight of steps. Then his soulful gaze struck Cardinal and the military unit. Immediately the yellow Lab turned. Tail between his legs, he scurried back inside the cabin.
“Talon.” Aspen’s gaze darted to Cardinal before she hurried back in after the dog.
“That could be a problem,” Watters said as quiet descended on the tarmac.
“Let her worry
Lina gaped at him. “Dunk?”
“Trust me.” He couldn’t help the smile at the way her face almost froze in that expression. He’d seen a lot of that over the last few weeks as they navigated the perils of holding a secret nobody wanted leaked. Neil slid into the water and let the cool liquid rush over him. It felt good, after so many hours of walking dusty, dirty, rubble-laden roads.
He emerged from the water, dripping. Pushing the water out of his face, he grinned. “Ready?”
“For
what?”
“C’mon.” He took her hand and led her up the street to the Djibouti Palace Kempinski.
The bellman’s white eyes shone with surprise as he raked them over with a disapproving glare. “May I help you?”
Neil gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Sorry. We took a bit of a late-night swim. When I left my wallet on shore, someone stole it.”
“Very bad luck, sir!” The man opened the door and ushered him to the counter, but his expression warned Neil that he didn’t believe them. “Your name, sir?”
“Neil Crane.”
The girl behind the counter typed his name into a computer. “Ah yes. Welcome back, Mr. Crane. We were concerned. It has been several days.”
“Sorry. We were visiting a missionary in the area and decided to return for some privacy and a bit of luxury.” He winked at Lina, who stood beside him playing the coy girlfriend. “Could I get a new room key?”
“Of course, sir.” She placed the plastic card on the counter then handed him a piece of paper and circled some names. “Here are the names for the American embassy so you can report your stolen wallet. Your passport—”
“In the room safe, thank God.”
“Very good. Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.” At the elevator, with Lina plastered to his side, he smiled at her. Kissed her for the benefit of those watching. Once inside the car, he dropped back against the wall.
“How long do you think we have?”
He eyed her. “Thirty minutes.”
Nine
Camp Lemonnier, Combined Joint Task Force—Horn of Africa Republic of Djibouti, Africa
W heels touching down saved him from the void of her acceptance. At least, that’s the way it felt—a void that he could vanish in. She accepted him, trusted him….Innocence bathed her fresh confident face. Not naïveté as some might presume. She wasn’t naive. He could see it in her mannerisms, in her dealings with others. But she
did
believe people were good.
A fatal mistake. Not that he would intentionally hurt her, but who was he kidding? Manipulating her, playing this game—how could she
not
be hurt? All the same, he had a job to do.
Backpack in hand, Cardinal hustled down the metal stairs and disembarked the plane, leaving behind Aspen Courtland and the baggage of guilt that came with her.
Four men emerged from a building and crossed the tarmac, warbling with heat waves. Compliments, no doubt, of both the heat and the plane’s engines. The screaming whine of the jets slowed as the plane shut down.
A tall man with dark hair strode toward him, dressed in his desert camo and a pair of ballistic Oakleys. “Lieutenant Markoski?”
“Yeah.”
“Captain Watters of ODA452.” He shook Cardinal’s hand. “Welcome to Djibouti.” He angled a shoulder and pointed to the soldiers. “My team will escort you and the others.”
Cardinal gave a curt nod then glanced up the flight of stairs where Aspen appeared with a leashed Talon. Due to anxiety, he’d been crated and sedated during the flight. His strong body hovered at the hatch. Panting in the oppressive heat, he looked down the flight of steps. Then his soulful gaze struck Cardinal and the military unit. Immediately the yellow Lab turned. Tail between his legs, he scurried back inside the cabin.
“Talon.” Aspen’s gaze darted to Cardinal before she hurried back in after the dog.
“That could be a problem,” Watters said as quiet descended on the tarmac.
“Let her worry
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