They returned to the room, but this time Melody was the only one waiting for them.
“What’s going on?” Grant eyed Melody like she might bite him.
“We need to talk about Erin and our instructions,” Riley said.
“What about them?” Grant turned so Riley was on his left, Melody on his right.
“I caught her trying to sneak out. She’s not going to stay put, and we can’t hold her against her will. Even if it’s in her best interest. The only way we bring her home—willingly—is if we work with her. All she wants to do is go by her office for twenty minutes.”
“No,” Grant snapped.
“You want to lose the asset?” Riley threw up his hands.
“She doesn’t know what’s good for her,” Grant said.
“Pull your head out of your ass, man.” Riley met Grant’s glare with his own. “She’s an American. We can’t treat her like a prisoner. If we call Zain or Crawford and run this by them, you know what they’ll say.”
“Orders are orders.” Grant shook his head.
“Fine. Then we vote on it. Or, we call home for further instruction.” Riley knew Grant wouldn’t call if he didn’t have to. Not for something like this. He’d take additional instruction as a slap in the face or a critique of his work.
“I vote we give Erin an armed escort to her work place, then back here.” Riley held up his hand.
“No,” Grant snapped.
“I’m with Riley on this one,” Megan said. “Holding someone against their will is a federal offense. Erin is smart and pissed.”
“No one asked you,” Grant said.
“According to the leadership hierarchy, she’s your equal. That means her vote weighs just as much as yours.” Riley couldn’t look at Grant. Riley knew this was the right call. If he didn’t push for this Erin would leave. Then where would they be? What would happen to her?
The room descended into silence.
Riley could feel Grant’s stare, the betrayal. In Grant’s eyes Riley was siding with Melody. The enemy. Riley didn’t understand what their deal was or why Grant couldn’t play nice with her, but as of now it was getting in the way of the job. At the end of the day Riley had to do what was right.
“Incoming,” Brenden’s voice bellowed through the house.
The word sent an electric charge of panic up Riley’s spine. He whirled and bolted for the door. Incoming could mean anything, but in that tone? It meant an attack.
“Get Erin out of here,” Grant barked.
Riley bounded down the stairs.
Erin stood near the doors, her dark, wide eyes on him.
She wasn’t wearing a vest. Neither was Riley. And they had an incoming threat.
“What’s going on?” Erin asked.
“We’ve got to go. Now.” Riley scooped up his vest and the smaller one sitting on top of the gear.
He drew his hand gun and pulled the door open.
The security gate was open.
It shouldn’t be open.
“Get in. Get in. Get in,” Riley chanted. He shoved Erin toward the passenger door.
“What’s wrong?” She climbed inside.
A bright flash of light went off inside the house. Riley ducked his head before the flash grenade blinded him.
“We’re under attack.” He started the SUV and shifted into reverse, slamming his foot on the gas.
Riley twisted, and they bounced out onto the road.
Riley twisted the wheel, sending them out into the near lane at an almost perfect ninety degree turn. His only goal was to get Erin clear. The others would draw the attackers; keep them distracted while he and Erin got away.
The headlights glinted off the black body armor of a trio of people carrying guns. In Erbil. For a moment, they stared at the vehicle and Riley stared back.
“Fuck,” he spat.
Those were mercenaries.
“I NEED EYES ON that vehicle.” Mark watched a pair of tail lights whip around a corner and disappear from view.
Fuck.
With any luck, the target was still inside.
“Go,” he barked at the forward team ahead of him.
This whole plan was a risk. Striking in the heart of Erbil would bring the full power of the combined military forces down on them if they didn’t make it out fast.
He had to stop that woman. He needed her off the playing field.
The two men in front of him proceeded through the open gate. There was enough space for two vehicles to park, and two entries to the house.
The lights inside were off, casting everything into shadow.
Shit. The targets knew they were there. These weren’t a couple of hired bodyguards. Aegis Group had stolen a couple plush contracts out from under him. He wouldn’t mind getting his pound of flesh back.
“Find her or don’t bother coming back,” Mark said.
The two men in the lead moved forward, toward the glass doors.
“Making our approach from the front,” the other team chimed in.
Mark finally stepped through the glass doors into the swanky house. Plates sat in the kitchen. Cords were on the cream-colored sofa.
They hadn’t known he was coming.
Something made of metal hit the tile, the musicality of the impact causing the hair on the back of Mark’s neck to lift.
He ducked and turned moments before a blast of light erupted, chasing shadows away. The ring from the explosion pulsed behind his eyeballs.
Hands grabbed him, yanking him around.
Mark swung his fist, punching a man in the shoulder.
The man—Thomas—gripped Mark by the face and pressed his mouth to his ear.
“She’s not here,” he yelled as though at a great distance.
Mark stumbled back.
Fuck.
The slippery bitch was gone again.
A bullet whizzed past him, shattering the glass at his back, showering shards down on him.
“Retreat,” Mark bellowed.
He turned and ducked through the blown-out window.
It was every man for himself. They all knew that. It was the first thing he said to the guys who came to him looking for the lucrative work. The shit that paid better than anything else.
6.
SATURDAY. AEGIS GROUP Safe House, Erbil, Kurdistan.
“Grant? Grant, talk to me.” Riley turned, always heading north and west, away from the safe house.
“What’s going
