Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (9 page)

Nodding slowly, Khalia broke eye contact and shifted on the bed to fiddle with the sheet. She was silent for a few beats before speaking. “My father knew the risks involved before he was kidnapped,” she began, surprising him with the turn in conversation. “He believed in his cause enough to come here in spite of them. Then he…died,” she managed, stumbling over the wording, and Hunter knew why. Her father hadn’t merely died. He’d been murdered—throat slit, then beheaded with a sword on camera for the US authorities to see. He hoped the hell no one had let her watch the footage. He hated that her life had been touched with that sort of violence.

“When he died he left instructions in his will that his work with the foundation be carried on,” she continued. “I’m a founding Board member in addition to being his daughter. I believe in what we were doing. He believed in it enough to
risk his life
for it.” She raised haunted eyes to his, and Hunter’s heart squeezed at the raw pain he saw there.

“I know I don’t belong here—for God’s sake, I’m a high school math teacher—but he
died
for what he believed in. I’m not proud to admit it, but I don’t want to be here.” Her expression was tortured. “But after what happened, the way he died, how could I not step up and try to make this dream come true for him now that he’s gone?”

The weight of responsibility on her shoulders, the grief in her eyes—they hit Hunter like a kick to the gut. He squeezed his fingers around the padded arms of the chair, fighting the urge to walk over there and wrap her up in his arms. For Christ’s sake, he was only human. To see this confident, polished woman so lost and vulnerable turned him inside out. She was clearly afraid to be here, yet she’d somehow found the strength to overcome it and do what she felt necessary.

“And these girls.” She pushed a hand through the tangle of her hair and blew out a breath, then drew her knees up to her chest and looped her arms around them. “They want an education badly enough to risk their lives by simply coming to school. How the hell can that happen in this day and age? I’m not brave, never have been. I’m scared to death about going into that valley because of what happened to my father, but if those girls have the courage to defy the Taliban and show up to school, I have to help them. What sort of person would I be if I stayed home in the States when they show that sort of bravery on a daily basis?”

A pretty normal one,
he thought
.
Few people had the moral conviction to take on something like this. Fewer still had the guts to see it through. He admired her for it. Far more than she’d ever realize. “I understand.”

Her eyes cut to him. “You…do?”

He nodded, thinking of Scottie. Hunter would have done anything for him. “But you’re wrong.”

She blinked in surprise. “About what?”

“You said you’re not brave, but you are. Helluva lot braver than most people, to be honest.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” she said with a snort. “I’m a homebody. I like my safe little world back home. I went almost catatonic this morning after the bombing.”

No, she didn’t get what he was saying. He leaned forward, conveying the intensity of his conviction with his body language, his gaze. “Courage isn’t about words or beliefs. It’s about actions. Going ahead with this even though you’re afraid, especially after what happened to your father and the bombings today? That’s fucking brave.
That’s
what real courage is. You need to remember that and give yourself credit.”

A startled smile crossed her face, as though he’d surprised her with the compliment. And maybe because she was starting to see that she was stronger than she realized. She rested her chin on her upraised knees, in that moment looking impossibly young and vulnerable. “Thanks.”

“For what? It’s the truth.” Jesus, he wanted to climb onto that bed with her and slide his hands into that thick mass of curls, then kiss the hell out of her. He knew exactly how she’d feel, all those soft curves cushioned against his body. He wanted to touch that fine, smooth skin, taste it, mark it with his teeth.

His muscles knotted with the need to go to her. But he couldn’t cross that line, and if she responded with even a fraction of the heat he thought she would, he’d want a hell of a lot more than a makeout session with her.

He reined in his wayward libido with a silent reprimand, mentally cursing the suddenly tight fit of the crotch of his pants. What the hell was wrong with him? In the space of a few minutes he’d gone from trying not to be a hard ass to wanting to jump her. He’d never had this sort of immediate, visceral reaction to a woman before, let alone one he was charged with protecting. If he wanted to do his job properly and keep his position as team leader, he’d better keep his head straight.

Neither of them spoke and a silent tension filled the space between them. He broke it by clearing his throat and shifting topics. “So. Any questions you wanna ask me?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah. How do you handle it? Things like this morning, I mean. You were so calm. It was unreal.”

He shrugged. “Training and experience. Panic only makes things worse. Over time I learned to slow my thought process down under stress, so I was able to make clear decisions. But don’t beat yourself up—you handled yourself just fine out there, and you’re an untrained civilian.”

“Well, I knew I had a kickass ex-SEAL there to shield me with his own body.”

Her smart mouth made him smile, but he sobered quickly. “Not just me, hon.” The endearment was out before he could stop it, though he wouldn’t take it back even if he could have. “Any of the other guys would have done the same thing in my place. Anyone thinking about hurting you is going to have to get through us first. And that’s not gonna happen.”

She smiled now, somehow making him feel warmer inside, and the set of her shoulders relaxed. “I believe you.”

He was glad he’d at least been able to set her mind at ease on that count. Couldn’t be easy, coming here and seeing the bombings after her father had been murdered. He was about to ask her more about him when the phone on the night table rang. Khalia jolted a little and leaned over to answer it.

She frowned at the response she was given and sat up straight, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Yes, go ahead.” The sudden tension in her body was palpable. On alert, Hunter leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, watching her closely.

A gasp escaped her and her head snapped up in alarm. From across the room Hunter could see the color drain from her face. He was on his feet and at her side before she responded to whoever was on the other end. Setting a hand on her shoulder, he sank down beside her on the edge of the mattress, close enough that their thighs touched.

“Yes,” she said at length, her voice a near whisper. Whatever the news was, it was bad.

She didn’t say much, mostly listened to whoever it was, but Hunter relaxed slightly when she reached up and set her hand atop his on her shoulder, entwining their fingers. Her skin was ice cold. When she finished the conversation and set the phone down beside her, he squeezed her hand in reassurance. Whatever was going on, at least she wasn’t alone.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was someone from the State Department,” she answered dully, her eyes fixed on the beige carpet at her feet. “They’ve been investigating my father’s death.” She swallowed and tightened her hand around his. “Apparently they found evidence linking a Pakistani official with the Interior Ministry to the company responsible for my dad’s security before he was kidnapped.” Her pale green eyes swung to his, devastation and disbelief clear in their depths.

Hunter’s muscles tightened in reflex, already fearing the worst. Her next words merely confirmed it.

“The Pakistani and the company’s owner made a deal to get a cut of the ransom when they took him hostage. They were working with the Taliban the whole time.”

Chapter Six

In the safety of his Rawalpindi apartment, Youssef sipped on a mug of hot coffee while he worked up the nerve to get in touch with his shadowy TTP contact. After two days of digging, he had nothing of consequence to report about Khalia Patterson. Except for what he’d learned in the online article he’d read less than an hour ago. Since it was in English and as far as he knew his contact didn’t speak it, Youssef hoped this early information was enough to satisfy him. At any rate, he was out of time. He had to report in tonight.

Setting the mug aside, he typed a message in Pashto and waited for a response. Three minutes later, a sharp ding announced a reply.

Did you get the phone I asked you to?

Yes
, he answered.

Log off, erase the data and call me at this number immediately.

Pulse thudding in his throat, Youssef did, wondering about the sudden urgency. They must be on to something big. What did they want with him, though? It made no sense for them to keep involving him, unless they had other plans for him in the future. Were they grooming him for upcoming operations or something? Testing his loyalty? His palms turned damp as he dialed the number on the throw-away phone and waited for the call to connect.

The man answered in Pashto before the first ring ended. “What have you found?

Youssef swallowed and glanced around the tiny apartment, glad he’d pulled the shades down. He kept his voice low, just in case. Had to be careful of the thin walls in this building. No telling who might overhear him, or if they could understand Pashto. “I wasn’t able to find her exact location, but I know she’s in Islamabad, or at least she was yesterday.” There were too many hotels in the twin cities for him to check individually. He’d started with the upscale ones since they seemed the most likely candidates. She hadn’t been registered as a guest at any of them. Possibly she’d registered under a different name, or maybe she was staying under someone else’s reservation.

“You’ve had two days,” the man reminded him in a flat voice.

Yes, and he’d been working for most of them, getting that project finished up for that bitch Faatin. “I did find out where she’s going, though,” he added quickly.

“We already know the location of the school.”

Of course they would. He scrambled for something else to say, settled on another tidbit he’d read. “She’s going to be at the opening ceremony.”

“Ah.” Youssef could hear the delight in that single syllable. “When?”

He checked the online article again to be sure before answering. The printed newspapers wouldn’t be out for hours yet. “Tuesday morning.”

“During Ramadan,” the man said in disgust.

“Yes.” Her timing couldn’t have been worse. Or better, for the Taliban. A western woman imposing her unwanted views on the population of the Swat Valley during the holiest month of the Islamic calendar would only fuel their anger and anti-American sentiment. “It doesn’t say anything about what time the ceremony will take place, but I would assume in the morning.”

“Obviously.”

Youssef decided it wise to shut up. He waited on the other end of the line, bouncing one knee up and down. On screen, Khalia Patterson’s smiling face looked back at him from where she stood beside the Pakistani Minister of Education. She looked young, almost innocent. He glanced away, uncomfortable.

“As you know, eliminating the woman is our number one priority at this time,” his contact continued. “We have sworn to kill her and anyone working with Fair Start Foundation here in Pakistan. God willing, we can eliminate the men protecting her also.”

She had a security detail? They hadn’t told him that. Made sense after what had happened to her father though. “Yes,” he said, mostly just to show he was listening. It unsettled him that the TTP had withheld information. How did they know she had protection and what else were they keeping from him? They needed someone who lived in the city who spoke English as well as Pashto. That’s what they’d told him when they’d first enlisted his help. And yet all these months later he still didn’t know what they really wanted from him. Maybe he was better off being oblivious.

“Our soldiers are ready to enforce Allah’s will. If it is His wish, you will hear of their brave sacrifice in the coming days. I’ll be in contact if we need anything more from you.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what they had planned, but he thought better of it. The less he knew the better and if anything did happen up in Swat on Tuesday morning, he’d hear about it soon enough. “I understand. Peace be upon you.”

“And upon you. Be sure to dispose of the phone right away.”

“I will.” Hanging up, Youssef fought back the wave of guilt that assaulted him. The image of Khalia’s face was burned into his brain, and he didn’t like it.

He rose and took the phone across his apartment to the galley kitchen to dismantle it, wiped the dampness from his palms and chided himself for his cowardly attack of conscience. The woman had it coming. She and others like her had to be stopped. It wasn’t like he was responsible for what the Taliban did to her after tonight. It wasn’t like
he
was the one harming her. He was merely standing up for what he believed in. For what was right in the eyes of Allah.

Such a model Muslim you are
, his conscience sneered.

Annoyed, Youssef started a fresh pot of coffee and took the phone apart. Going from sunrise to sundown without any food or drink for an entire month was hard but a small and necessary sacrifice. He intended to enjoy another hot beverage while he could.

* * *

After a restless night without much sleep, Ray answered Khalia’s door for her when someone knocked at seven a.m. She glanced up from the desk where she and Ray had their laptops running and piles of papers spread between them to find Hunter standing between the jambs.

Her welcoming smile faded and her heart tripped when she saw his tight expression. Even though she’d only known him two days, she already knew that look meant trouble. “What’s wrong?”

Striding to the desk, he pulled a copy of the morning paper out of his back pocket, unfolded it and set it in front of her to see. “This isn’t exactly the low profile we’re looking for,” he said, keeping his tone even despite his obvious irritation.