Covert Danger: Mata Hari Series - Book 1 Page 7

  Sadie touched Dee’s arm. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Jeremiah would be pissed if Dee broke their connection to him.

  “Stop whining,” Dee said, blowing another foul, gray plume of smoke in the air.

  “Think about it, Delilah. There’s nothing to stop them from marching in here and taking it.” A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts.

  “That’s why we have guns. Guns stop everyone. They’re great equalizers. I’ll take one of the amulets and give it to them for good faith. I don’t think they know there’s more than one, anyway. They referred to it as a treasure. You stash the other two and take care of yourself.”

  Sadie swallowed. “You’re not passing them all on?” In her mind, the image of the head of Anubis’s wife stared at her with dead eyes. She could taste the sand of the desert. Okay, this was turning into a twisted mission.

  “Trust me.” Dee stubbed her half-smoked cigarette out on the glass table top.

  To get us both killed. Shit. Her op was blowing up in front of her and there was little she could do about it. She didn’t need to be stashing amulets from Bakari al-Sharif. She needed to gain his trust. There had to be some way she could get to him. “When do I see the money?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get your share. And it’ll be bigger now that I know what we’re holding. You’ll be able to keep yourself in pretty shoes for some time.”

  Sadie put her hands on her hips. “You said his messenger is dangerous. Let me come with you.”

  “Bakari al Sharif is wickedly smart. He reads people in an instant. If he doesn’t like you, you’re dead. Let me handle him. Like I said, you need to trust me. I’ll take care of both of us. I’ll offer him a fair deal and he’ll come across. He is a business man, after-all.”

  “Dee, I think the cocaine’s talking. Give your head a shake.” The dead wife’s eyes kept staring at her.

  “It’s not how big you are in this game, it’s how smart you are, and I always play smart.” Dee looked cockier than a rooster in a hen house.

  “Sounding pretty stupid to me right now.”

  Dee’s eyes flared. She threw her half-full wine glass at her. “Shut up, bitch.” Without a second look at Sadie, Dee stashed an amulet in her purse and headed for the door.

  “Listen to me.”

  Dee’s eyes widened.

  “Think about what you’re doing. Your plan is too dangerous for both of us.”

  Silence. Dee’s face reddened. “I’m not as stupid as you think. I’ll give him the bracelet and barter the price for the scarab. I won’t mention the third amulet until we have a deal on the second one. I’ll work one treasure at a time. The less he knows the better. Keep them safe.” Without another word she grabbed her jacket and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Sadie watched. How could she stop her?

  The door opened again and Dee leaned in. “If you tell anyone about our business, I’ll have you killed.”

  Great! Dee would know the right people to do that. She locked the door.

  Sadie put on loose PJs and spread out her yoga mat. After a few easy sun salutations she took a sitting position and grabbed her company phone. She punched in Jeremiah’s number.

  This op is sooo fucked.

  11

  Chapter Eleven

  Sitting in a lotus position, Sadie told Jeremiah everything that had happened at Eros, at least the parts he’d be interested in, and all about the crazy scene with Delilah afterwards.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  “What?” She blew air through her nose. “That’s all you have to say?” Her cheeks burned. Breathe in, breathe out. Yeah, she got that he had to stay cool, but his Buddha-like calmness made her mere mortal skin itch.

  She could visualize him sitting in his pristine office in Langley sipping a mug of Earl Grey tea out of a china cup. His black hair flecked with gray, trimmed so precisely it never appeared to grow. His amber eyes filled with secrets showed no emotion. A ragged scar ran down his neck from below his left ear to his collar bone.

  “Did you stash the other amulets?” he asked, as if he were talking about a grocery shopping list.

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t tell him over a phone, but she’d hidden the colorful scarab ring in a concealed compartment in her luggage and the ankh necklace swung from her neck under her T-shirt. Seemed as good a place as any.

  “Tell me about Sebastian Wilde.”

  Could his voice sound any more detached? Her heart stopped for a moment. “He owns the art gallery where the brush pass happened.”

  “My sources say he’s a chick magnet.”

  She didn’t answer, but she could feel his smirk. Damn his sources.

  “Sadie, you need to be focused.”

  She wriggled her nose. “I’ve never been more focused, but this mission is falling apart.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm? That’s all you got for me?” Anger rippled through her. She’d thought she’d been lucky to have such an experienced handler, but he sure wasn’t much help with this mission.

  He broke the three second silence. “Last we spoke, you said you thought Delilah had a devious edge. Now she’s proved it. When you play with people who live on the dark side, you have to expect the unexpected. I’m not sure why you’re so surprised, unless….”

  “Unless?” She pulled her hair behind her ears.

  “You’re distracted.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, looking at the screaming blisters on her feet. Mostly fine. “Don’t play me, Jeremiah. You know more about Delilah than you’ve told me. I can feel it.”

  He grunted.

  While she understood the reasons behind the CIA culture of need to know, it really burned sometimes. “What now?”

  “Stay in place. Don’t blow your cover unless you have to. Things will turn in your favor. They always do. Keep your eyes on the target. You have what he wants. He’ll come to you. Then you will find out all you can about his plans.”

  A lot of short sentences. She looked at her cell phone and grimaced. The dead eyes of Bakari al-Sharif’s third wife rolled in her head once more like marbles from hell. “I want you to be friggen straight with me.”

  “As straight as I can be, sugar.”

  “Okay, Jeremiah. I can do it,” she said.

  “I never doubt the Mata Hari,” he said. That was the nickname he’d given her when they first met and it had stuck like glue and become her code name. Being likened to a World War One era femme fatale was meant to be a compliment, but like everything with Jeremiah; it had a lot of layers. Mata Hari was famous for her sensuality. She loved men and they loved her. Sadie could relate to that. But the poor woman had been framed as a double agent, condemned for being an immoral woman because she liked sex with lots of men, and shot by a firing squad. Not something Sadie aspired to. Not a good fit at all, in her mind. But then other people’s impressions of you rarely do fit. She shrugged.

  “And, Sadie.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay away from the Dutch guy. His friends searched Interpol and FBI files looking for you. They discovered only your cover, but Sebastian’s persistence worries me. He may not be as harmless as he looks.”

  Worry? Hard to believe Jeremiah ever gave in to such a human emotion. He was more like a CIA version of Spock. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he clicked off before she had the chance. She looked at her cell phone. For a man of few words, he sure knew how to snap her bra strap.

  Left alone with her yoga mat, she took a deep breath. Something would break soon, or she’d make it break.

  Straightening her legs she leaned forward into a bend. So Sebastian checked her out. Interesting.

  12

  Chapter Twelve

  Loud knocking on her door woke Sadie. She checked the radio clock on the table: 3:00 a.m. Friggen hell.

  With Delilah’s gun in her right hand, she looked through the peep hole. A short, burly man dressed in a black, fisherman-knit sweater, bla
ck jeans, boots and a black toque stared back at her. Gahiji? This couldn’t be good. Ugly and mean—fitted Dee’s description. The short hairs on the back of her neck rose. “What do you want?” she said through the door.

  “I have something from Delilah.”

  Great. It probably bites. Leaving the door latched she slowly opened it and peered through the crack. The pungent smell of body odor mixed with garlic hit her nostrils. He had a knife in one hand and something else in the other. Doing her best not to gag, she made a throaty sound. “What?” She took the safety off the gun and prepared for a fight.

  His expression, cold enough to freeze a freaking river, sent an icy shiver spiraling up her spine. “This is for you,” he said in a voice that would wake the undead. Goosebumps rose on her arms, as he pushed a small, red, velvet jewelry box through the opening.

  In a swift, fluid movement she took it, closed the door, locked it, and leaned on it. The sound of his footsteps faded and her shoulders dropped.

  The box would have fit a diamond necklace beautifully, but considering the messenger the contents wouldn’t be so refined. Gingerly she lifted the top. Her breath stopped. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and her hands let go of the box. As it hit the floor the top fell off and a severed human finger spilled out.

  She stared at it. Fresh blood seeped from the cut end. Her throat constricted.

  Grabbing her cell phone, she knelt beside the finger and typed a text to Delilah with trembling fingers. “Message received.” She hit the send button. Message friggen received. The woman had gone too far this time. What poor person lost a finger because the crazy bitch wanted to make her obey? Delilah had become far too weird.

  One minute passed. Then another. No response. Dee always picked up her messages. And she would be waiting for this one. Expecting this one. An icy current ran through her blood.

  Sadie sat cross legged beside the box. Damn that woman. She’d get her out of her life, as soon… as soon as…. she connected with al-Sharif. Perspiration beaded above her top lip. She wiped it away.

  The finger was turning a nasty shade of dead. She took pictures of it from several angles, took its fingerprint and sent the data to Langley. Jeremiah would get the information processed. Whose finger could it be?

  Still warm. Another freaking shiver ran through her body. Still no word from Dee.

  Standing up again she stretched her aching muscles. Someone started pounding on the door! What now?

  She walked over and looked through the security hole. Sebastian Wilde. She ran back to the box with the finger and put it on her bedside table. “Coming,” she yelled out.

  Talk about catching a lady at a bad time! She couldn’t blow her cover. How should she play a late night visit from him? How would the model-turned-thief greet him? Maybe she should let her hormones take the lead. That wouldn’t be hard.

  She slipped the lock, swung the door open wide and grabbed him by his shirt.

  His eyes widened.

  Pulling him into the room, she threw her arms around him.

  Sebastian kicked the door shut.

  She liked his style. His muscular arms encircled her body and pulled her close. He smelled wonderful—an intoxicating mixture of expensive French after-shave and the musky smell of a man. She drank it all in: his strong body holding hers, the scent of his masculinity—him. The fire that had been simmering within her earlier rekindled in an instant.

  “And I thought you didn’t like me,” he said. His baritone voice seared through her senses like a fine whiskey—deceptively calming but knock-your-thong-off potent. She felt heady in a seriously hormonal way.

  But she had to stop. It didn’t matter how attracted she might feel, the timing sucked. Sadie stepped back. “I don’t,” she said flatly, “want this right now.”

  His eyebrows rose and collided in the middle above pale blue eyes.

  He must think her a complete idiot. A drop of sweat slid down the middle of her back. She didn’t need this Dutch guy with the impossibly high moral code getting in her way. Nor did she need to use or hurt him. She needed to get rid of him. Clearly it had been a mistake to let him in, even if it did perpetuate her cover. What was her sleep-deprived, sex-deprived body thinking?

  Sex, you idiot. Good sex with a handsome man. Not astro-physics here.

  It didn’t matter how he made her body feel, he’d never understand the complexities of her life. Besides, Jeremiah had made it clear she was to stay away from him and Jeremiah was usually right.

  He looked down at her with a puzzled expression. “Are you alright?”

  Her gut wrenched and she shrugged. “Let’s see, my blisters are bleeding and I’m tired. Yes very tired.”

  His eyes crawled around the room and he walked towards her bed.

  “Are Frisians always so nosy?” She followed him. No, please God, no. She grabbed his arm to try to control him.

  Stopping in front of her bedside table, an arm’s reach from the package containing the severed finger, he turned and looked at her.

  “I think you should leave,” she said, pushing as much indignation as she could into her voice.

  His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Damn it all. The man was a lot smarter than he acted.

  “Now,” she said.

  He sniffed the air as if he caught the scent of the dead finger and turned back towards the table.

  Edging her body beside him, she prepared to move in front of him, but she was too late. His eyes focused on the box. It had a red stain on the outside. Bloody bloodhound of a man. “Don’t touch it.” She pulled on his arm. It was like pulling on a tree trunk.

  “What is it?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Look, it was nice of you to come by to, uh… say hello, or whatever you came by for. Maybe we can have a drink sometime, but right now I want you to leave. Need you to leave.” Sweat trickled down her forehead. “I need my beauty sleep.”

  “You always look beautiful to me.”

  “Sebastian, please.”

  He bent over the box and then looked back at her with mischief in his eyes. She pulled harder. It would be easier to move a mountain.

  “Sebastian, no.”

  Their eyes locked in a tug-of-war. Then his face broke into a roguish smile that made her insides dance.

  “Okay,” he said. “Tell me what’s in the box, then I’ll leave.”

  His rumbling voice sent another warm wave of wanting through her body. The man meant well, but… She shook her head.

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “It’s nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Look, it’s late. I’m tired. We can do this another time. Please go.”

  His lips scrunched up. “There’s something in that box you don’t want me to see. Did you steal from one of my guests?”

  The sound of a group of people passing by on the street singing Abba wafted in on the night air. Stalemate. “I didn’t steal from you or anyone at Eros. Honest. What’s in the box is… personal.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Look, why don’t we go to your place,” she said. “It’s noisy here, and I liked your canal house.” A dangerous gambit, but she had to get him out of the room.

  “My place?” He scratched his chin. His bad boy, baby blues probed her eyes with a glint of playfulness in them. He gave her that killer grin again. “Sure, sweetheart, as soon as I see what’s in the box.” In one swoop of his long arm, he snatched it up and opened the lid.

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Nooooooo,” screamed Sadie, as she grabbed the velvet box out of Sebastian’s hand.

  He dropped it. What could possibly be in the box to make her so afraid? The fragility in her soft green eyes wrenched his gut. She physically pushed him away, or at least tried to. He took a step back. “What the hell’s going on?”

  She put the box into the top drawer of her nightstand table. “Nothing.” The drawer closed with a thud.

  “Nothing?”

/>   “Like I said, it’s personal. And I didn’t steal it.”

  Looking down on her, he gave her his best stare. But she didn’t even flinch.

  “Why are you here, anyway?” she said.

  Good question. “You left the show before I had a chance to…” Hmmm. What could he say? A chance to get to know you better? That sounded way too old fashioned, even for the truth. Hook up? Too blunt. He scratched his chin. “Say goodbye.”

  The light in her eyes flickered as she appeared to be processing his words. Damned if there wasn’t a hell of a lot of other stuff happening between them. Whenever he got close to her he wanted her. Badly. Her mane of red hair fell in waves down her arms. He wanted to run his hands through it and pull her closer, feel her curves against his body.

  “Good bye,” she said with a grin and offered her hand for a shake.

  A hand? After she yanked him into her bedroom, she offered him her hand and the door? He took it, and pulled her in for a good thorough kissing. As the warmth of her body moved toward him he heard that wee voice in the back of his head kick in, warning him to slow down.

  He pulled back. “Wait a minute. What’s in the box? And why is there blood on it?”

  “Junk jewellery from my ex. We had a fight.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, not wanting to get any closer until he had more answers. She had to be the most sensual woman he’d ever met. It was more than her cover girl good looks. It was the way she moved, fluid and graceful with hips that swayed like a goddess in a sailor’s dream. She even smelled sexy. He took a deep breath in, and then let it out slowly. “Bullshit.”

  She pushed his hands off her shoulders and moved back in front of the table where the box hid. So obvious. “How dare you swear at me?”

  “Honey, someone has to.”

  “Excuse me?”