Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(59)
Author: Catherine Mann

“She’d died a couple of months before, but she would have only been a drinking buddy. Hell, so would I.” He set the coin on the bedside table by the elephant lamp. “Once we knew that Michael was going to live, I went to my commander and told him I needed to go to rehab.”

“And you’ve been sober every day since.”

He nodded, his fingers closing around hers. He turned to face her full-on for the first time since he’d started talking about his sister. His brown eyes darkened with intensity. “But I can’t do it, Stella. I can’t have children. I won’t.” His voice rang with conviction. “I know I would never be abusive, but damn it all, look at what neglect can do? I can’t risk a family, Stella. I just can’t.”

She did the only thing she could. She wrapped her arms around him and held him, stroking his hair until he stopped shaking. She loved him so damn much, but she felt her dream dying in that moment. Saying good-bye was only a formality. He didn’t want marriage. Didn’t want a family. Wasn’t ready to share in the things that meant so much to her.

She understood now. When he left Africa, he would be leaving her for good…

***

Stella traced circles on the windowpane overlooking the Mogadishu International Airport, the past and present wrapping around her as tightly as the wrap Jose had bought her a month ago in Kenya, the weekend they’d broken up.

After he told her about his nephew’s tragic accident, they’d gone through the motions of finishing out their weekend together. They’d even made love. They’d almost made it back to their quarters before an argument broke out. They’d quarreled over something silly and inconsequential. She couldn’t even remember exactly what now, other than it had to do with directions and getting lost for five minutes.

They’d fought, snapping out hurtful words as if that would somehow make it easier to say good-bye. Yet, here they were again, right back in the same painful place with her cocooned in the same wrap, having even fewer answers than before.

Her cell phone vibrated on the bedside table.

She reached behind her quickly, not wanting the sound to wake Jose. Only numbers flashed on the screen, numbers that were code for Agent Smith. Thumbing the on button, she shot to her feet, her legs tangling in the trailing fabric as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Yes?”

“We need you to report back, now,” Mr. Smith said with a tense edge that sent a bolt of fear straight through her. This man never lost his cool. Never. “Sutton Harper committed suicide in his holding cell…”

“What? Repeat that, please?” Shock iced through her—and surprise. She’d been trained to look for signs and Sutton had seemed more the type who would shout his ideology from a jail cell for years to come…

“Harper cut the femoral artery in his thigh. He bled out before anyone noticed.”

An injury like that would kill in about five minutes. Her head reeled with the image as she grappled with the need to make sense…

“Carson, we’ll deal with the ramification of that later. There’s more. Top priority and the primary reason for my call? The list is on the move. We have less than twelve hours to stop the transfer and find those responsible so this kind of leak doesn’t happen again. I repeat…”

“Got it. I’m on my way.” She disconnected, forcing her training to assume control, an icy focus sliding into place.

They had a lead—and twelve hours to stop the exposure of American agents across Africa and the Middle East. Twelve hours to catch those responsible in the act so every agent wasn’t compromised. Twelve hours to protect an intelligence network decades in the making—a network that had somehow failed her mother. Stella pushed that thought aside as she slid back into the hotel room, trying to decide whether to wake Jose or leave him a note.

Moot point. He already sat on the edge of the bed, his phone at his ear and from the narrowed look in his eyes, he’d just gotten the same recall.

Chapter 14

Déjà vu swelled over Annie in waves, as potently and vaguely nauseating as the scent of jet fuel in the back of the cargo craft. She’d ridden in countless military transports during her days as a field operative, slipping in and out of countries. Once she’d gone undercover, people hadn’t suspected the motherly looking aid worker.

At least not at first.

Even now that her new identity had been ripped from her, she couldn’t just become Melanie again—she still thought of herself as Annie, felt like Annie. For fourteen years, she’d lived as Annie Johnson, a widowed teacher who poured her energies into her work and her orphaned students. Severing all ties to Melanie Carson had been the only way for her to survive. The only way to keep her sanity after her world exploded. Now, somehow, her real identity had been exposed. Her life could be in danger. Her family’s lives could be in jeopardy because of her, even after all she’d sacrificed to keep them safe.

Her worst nightmare had come true.

And the only person she could count on was the man sitting next to her, a man who’d apparently lied to her every day for the past year.

Samir Al-Shennawi.

Looking through her lashes, she checked on him sitting next to her and thought of that horrible moment of disillusionment when he’d announced he’d been spying on her the whole time. The way she’d done in her former life as an operative. She’d understood the truth of his mission faster than most people might have in her shoes since she’d lived it often enough. That hadn’t made it hurt any less. But Samir had all the proper credentials. Intelligence authorities had contacted her and verified his story.

This CV-22 aircraft packed with U.S. troops erased any lingering doubts. Red lights tracked overhead with a hazy glow over people and gear. The nightmare was real, even though everyone around her seemed at ease when her world had been turned upside down. Soldiers slept and listened to music and zoned out with eReaders. Apparently they were on their way to an American base in Somalia where she would be protected until they decided where to relocate her. Starting all over again at fifty-eight? Saying good-bye to another man…

She swept a glance at Sam again, engines droning, filling the cavernous hold until noises from others faded away.

He met her accusatory look without flinching, already assuming a bolder persona than before, his shoulders broader, his strong chin tipped up rather than tucked down. “I understand that you are angry with me.”