Whispered Lies

  He unloaded four shots in succession...all into the lower hips and genital area. Not the spot a marksman of his ability would normally aim for, but Turga didn't deserve a bullet between the eyes.

  Turga hit the ground, hands grabbing himself. Guttural howls rocked the warehouse for several seconds, then he just cried, rolling from side to side.

  When Carlos turned back to Lee, the kid's lips were moving, his eyes bright. Carlos leaned his ear close to Lee's mouth.

  "Thanks" wheezed out, then one hard shudder racked the broken body before Lee's soul passed on.

  Carlos dropped his chin to his chest, breathing hard. His eyes stung. There was nothing more helpless than feeling the last breath of someone he held, knowing he couldn't do anything to save that person.

  Just as he couldn't sixteen years ago.

  Pain knifed through him, dredging up a memory from the past with brutal clarity. He'd held another battered body, that of the young girl he'd loved with all his being, as she'd drawn her last breath.

  His heart beat erratically, aching in his chest.

  Light footsteps approached him. Not Turga, who had finally silenced. Dead at last.

  Lee was no longer in pain. Carlos still had a job to do and another woman to protect. He eased Lee to the floor. With one phone call, BAD would have a cleanup crew here in a half hour. He couldn't wait that long and risk one of Turga's people coming back.

  Leaving Lee uncovered just seemed wrong, but Carlos couldn't expend the time to put his clothes on him.

  He stood and turned to Gabrielle, the informant everyone wanted. She'd stopped on the other side of Turga. Chestnut brown hair scattered from having gone overboard and drying in a wild wind. Face white as a ghost and hands trembling, she sure as hell didn't look the part of an international operative. The baggy workout clothes underneath her open trench coat were still damp.

  Turga lay dead on the floor between them, the room littered in carnage.

  She lifted misery-filled eyes to his, punching him in the gut with her suffering. "Is he, is he dead?"

  Carlos wasn't sure which he she referred to, but since they were all three dead he just said, "Yes."

  The blank stare worried him. They had to go. Chances were they'd have to interact with someone in the public once they were out of here. He needed her lucid.

  When she showed no real signs of coherence, he stepped over Turga to reach her. He held her shoulders, careful not to get blood on her. Considering everything, she should be screaming her head off right now or completely catatonic. Her eyes drifted past him to where Lee lay silently.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Me, too. He was a good man." Carlos shoved his mind back into gear. "We have to go before someone else shows up."

  She nodded, but when he started to move around her, she pulled out of his grasp.

  "What?"

  Gabrielle didn't answer. She just took her trench coat off as she stepped over Turga, then draped the coat over Lee's body.

  Nothing could have endeared her more to Carlos in that moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and waited until she returned to his side.

  She stopped short and stared at him. "Is any of that your blood?"

  "Not enough to bother with." However, he couldn't walk around in public like this if he didn't want to draw attention. "Go get your bags."

  She took a deep breath that seemed to fortify her, then she walked past Izmir to where she'd been sitting.

  Carlos grabbed the towel already soiled with Lee's blood from when Izmir had cleaned his hands. He made quick work of wiping the worst of the blood off his arms and searched the floor beyond the table for Lee's clothes. Ignoring the twist of guilt over taking Lee's clothes, he yanked off his turtleneck and pulled on the long-sleeved T-shirt that had been tossed aside. He exchanged his jeans for Lee's, which were close in fit, and spread his bloody shirt over Lee's face, then walked back to gather up Gabrielle and her belongings.

  No point in worrying about DNA at this point since his blood was in the mix and BAD should get here first to clean up.

  He reached for her computer bag and she came alive.

  "No." She snatched the bag to her chest. "Thank you, but I'll take it."

  That reminded Carlos of just whom he was transporting. The Mirage. A woman with a bounty on her head, including one from Durand.

  Right now she was a woman he didn't believe had ever been this close to guns or killing. His informant needed fresh air soon or once her shock passed, the sick smell of death would overtake her.

  "Don't look at anything but the door." He pointed that way to get her moving.

  The slash of disbelief she cut at him brought a flare of color back to her cheeks. "What? You think I'll have nightmares? Like I missed seeing any of that?"

  He sighed. She might have seen gunshots and some bodies hit with bullets, but her eyes had been glazed when she stood within inches of the blood surrounding Turga and the lower half of his mangled body. She hadn't actually seen the gore.

  "Do you want to see it again?" he challenged, sure of her answer.

  "No, of course not."

  "Then keep your eyes on the door." He walked her to the exit and opened the door halfway, then dropped her backpack on the floor. "Stand here, breathe in some fresh air, and close the door immediately if you hear a car or see anyone."

  She grabbed his forearm right where the glass had cut it. He managed not to curse, but snapped at her, "What?"

  "Don't leave me," she pleaded in a whisper.

  "I'm not." He gently pried her fingers off his gash that would now seep blood again. "I'm going to get Turga's phone and make a call."

  She exhaled a sigh that partnered with the relief in her eyes. "Okay."

  Carlos moved carefully around the bodies to stay out of the blood. Turga had kept his cell phone in his right pants pocket. The one shredded to pieces. Part of the phone had fallen out of his pocket into the plasma puddle.

  Well, hell.

  He checked Izmir, whose phone had been in his vest pocket before Turga blew that to shreds.

  What did it take to get just one break on this freakin' job?

  Carlos shoved his weapon inside the front waistband of his jeans and strode back where Gabrielle faced out the door opening. He could hear her taking deep breaths. When he touched her shoulder, she yelped and bumped her head against the door.

  She turned a panicked face to him.

  "Sorry."

  "What now?" she asked.

  Underneath the fragility glistening in her eyes, she made a damned impressive effort to pull herself together.

  "We leave." He opened the door. "Let's go."

  "What about...them?"

  "No one's phone works. I'll send someone to get Lee and deal with this as soon as I get a phone."

  "Where are we going?" She finally started walking when he put his hand to the small of her back.

  "Somewhere safe." Guess he'd earned the dubious look she gave him, but she continued without question until they reached the end of the building.

  Hallelujah. A break.

  A dual-cab pickup truck was parked beyond the security lights that shone over the lot.

  "Stay here." Carlos eased her against the wall in a deep shadow, then hurried over to the truck. He dug around to all the normal places a guy would throw a set of keys if he didn't want to carry them. The key ring was under the driver's seat. Probably Izmir's truck since the interior stank of strong European cigarettes and the goon would have left his keys in easy access in case he'd had to run.

  Carlos waved Gabrielle to the truck. She rushed forward and climbed in on the passenger side. He tossed the backpack on the rear seat.

  Once he pulled the truck out and motored to the opening of the industrial center, Gabrielle said, "We're in Tyrone."

  "Yep. What's the fastest route to the library in Peachtree City?"

  "What? You've got an overdue book?"

  He couldn't believe the spark of sarcas
m in her voice. "No, that's where I left my car. I figured you might know a quicker way since you live down here."

  "To the right, then stay on this road. It will merge into Highway 74 southbound."

  "Thanks." Carlos gave her points for not trying to steer him the wrong way. "Dig around in the glove box, under the seat, anywhere you think someone might stick a cell phone."

  She started searching. "Who leaves keys and a cell phone in their vehicle?"

  Anyone who lived on the wrong side of the law. "All of Turga's men," he answered, speculating as much as lying.

  "Really?" She paused, seemed to process that, then kept searching. "Unbelievable."

  Carlos did a double take at her soft curse. "What?"

  She stared at him with new respect and pulled a cell phone from the glove box. She handed it to him.

  "It's not that unusual. These guys carry three or four of everything they need." Carlos flipped open the phone and damn. A signal. He punched in numbers for Joe's direct line.

  When the ringing stopped and no one on the other end spoke, he said, "It's me, Carlos."

  "Glad to hear it," Joe snapped. "What about Lee?"

  Carlos didn't say a word.

  Joe muttered, "Shit."

  Carlos gave him the address in a coded phrase. "If you don't get there first-"

  "Hold on." Joe rattled the address and orders to someone, then turned back to the phone. "We'll get Lee and handle cleanup."

  "What about the first bunch?" Carlos asked, indicating Baby Face and his backup's body plus their SUV at the place he'd found Gabrielle.

  "Already gone. You on your way in?"

  "No. The source is in rough shape and I need some sleep. We'll head in tomorrow."

  "Going to our secure location?" Joe asked, indicating the safe house in north Georgia where Carlos had been heading earlier.

  "Yep. I'll text a new contact number in about ten minutes." Carlos also had another phone in his car.

  "Want backup sent to meet you?"

  "No." Carlos didn't want another human being to keep alive for the moment. "I've got this. I'll fill you in later on everything."

  "Your call," Joe said, letting Carlos know he understood until they had the chance to speak over a secure line.

  Joe would let him know at that point what he planned to do with Gabrielle. Carlos doubted it would make any difference she was a female if Joe and Tee, Joe's codirector at BAD, decided to lock her up tonight.

  In spite of how Joe had left their conversation, there could very well be an unmarked van with two armed security guards at the cabin waiting to take her into custody by the time Carlos reached north Georgia.

  For the first time since signing on with BAD, he faced having to make a decision he hesitated on. Could he really hand this woman over to guards after all she'd been through tonight?

  Carlos ended the phone connection and glanced at Gabrielle. He read her body language-arms wrapping her body, eyes staring ahead, rigid posture-as withdrawing.

  Why that pinched him, he couldn't say.

  "What are you going to do with me?" she asked, turning her head to finally look at him with suspicious eyes.

  "We need to talk to you."

  "Who wants to talk to me?"

  He didn't answer at first, debating on how much to say. No point in trying to get anything out of her right now when she was probably holding herself together with sheer will.

  "I can't get into all that until tomorrow," he said. "You have to know by now I'm not going to harm you or let anyone else. I'm taking you somewhere safe for the night. That's all I can tell you."

  She didn't make a sound of acknowledgment or to argue.

  Carlos kept his speed within the limits. The roads intersected, just as she'd said. Once he was on the main highway, he knew where he was going. A thought popped into his mind.

  Was anyone waiting to hear from her?

  "Gabrielle?"

  "Yes?" That answer came out on a weary sigh. She sagged against the passenger door, a rag doll that had been dragged through the muck and run completely out of batteries.

  "Who knew you were living in Peachtree City?"

  "No one but the man I rented from and I never see him."

  The mumbled answer combined with her sad voice tugged at his insides. She was connected somehow to all of this. That put her squarely on the wrong team.

  A sigh escaped on a cough...or a sob. No, she hadn't cried yet. He hoped like hell she wouldn't now.

  The adrenaline power charge he'd been relying on was spent. He rubbed his forehead, aching from jet lag, seventy-two hours of running a mission without sleep, and the last few hours of fighting for their lives.

  Not to mention finding out the informant everyone wanted was a woman who could more easily pass as a schoolteacher than someone involved in international espionage.

  She leaned against the door, her head touching the window. He fought the urge to draw her next to him and tuck her close out of reflex.

  Not exactly protocol for taking a felon into custody.

  They both needed sleep tonight, but he didn't know what waited for him at the cabin.

  He also couldn't allow her to see where they were going.

  The throb behind his eyes pulsated. Taking down an armed felon would be easier than treating her like a prisoner once they reached the safe house, but he still had a job to do and couldn't risk letting his guard down.

  Not after finally capturing Mirage.

  She slumped back against the seat. He shouldn't have looked over at her.

  The tear running down the side of her face started a war between his conscience and his duty.

  SIX

  WHERE IS HE taking me now? Gabrielle sat upright as Carlos pulled into the Peachtree City library parking lot. He obviously knew something about this area.

  She swiped away the tear, hating the show of weakness in front of him, but images from tonight kept bombarding her. Such as that poor guy in the warehouse they'd tortured who had died.

  And the way Carlos had held the young man, comforting his partner as he drew his last breath. She had a strange feeling few people saw that side of Carlos that conflicted with the hard man who had fought all night to keep them alive.

  Where was he taking her and what did his people want with her? Was Durand Anguis at the center of this game she'd become a pawn in? Carlos knew of Durand. Was there a chance anything Carlos had said to Turga was true? That he was delivering her to Durand?

  She didn't think so. Baby Face had clearly been surprised to see Carlos at her rental house.

  One thing was clear. Carlos had saved her life. He'd treated her decently even if he had threatened to strip-search her at one point. In hindsight, he'd only been trying to find the Jeep keys so they could get away from the house quickly.

  "Hope my car is still here," Carlos muttered.

  "Be serious," she answered absently, hooking the strap for her laptop case over her shoulder.

  "What do you mean?"

  She glanced up at his surly tone. "Peachtree City has to be one of the safest cities in Georgia." She frowned at him. "At least until you came to town."

  The truck's headlights fanned across a lot three-quarters full of cars when Carlos turned down a parking lane. He studied her for a minute, then winked at her again.

  Her heart did a skip.

  That was so wrong. He was the enemy.

  Gabrielle searched for anything to look at besides Carlos. Her insides did a crazy somersault routine every time he looked at her. Must be a post-traumatic stress syndrome of some sort.

  She closed her eyes. That was a mistake.

  Images pelted her of Carlos charging Izmir and Turga shooting his man with the clear intent of sacrificing Izmir to kill Carlos. She blinked her eyes open and found a normal scene of teens clustered outside the entrance to the library on the other side of the fountain, oblivious to any danger.

  She'd been just as naively happy at that age and hoped they never had
to face what she had.

  They would be much safer once she left this city.

  Carlos parked the truck in a spot and lifted her backpack from the backseat. "Let's go."

  Gabrielle almost smiled, getting used to his standard limited directions. She followed him to where a silvery blue BMW 750i was parked. Didn't it just figure a man so hot he could stun women with a glance would drive that land rocket?

  "Stand here. I'll be right back." He strode to the front of the car and ducked out of view. She'd seen enough tonight to know better than to think she was ever out of his sight.

  Besides, she was both too exhausted to try anything and needed that backpack to survive. She doubted he worked for Durand, but that didn't mean Carlos was completely trustworthy.

  He said he was taking her somewhere safe. She could extend that much trust, to believe he hadn't lied to her about tonight.

  Fatigue slugged what energy she had out of reach. With the adrenaline rush wearing off she was both hungry and nauseated to go with a headache that refused to quiet down. All she had to do for now was to stay alert and put a lid on the irritation bubbling up. Then watch for a chance to escape.

  Carlos returned with keys and a remote car-door opener in his hands. A soft click sounded before the trunk popped open next to her. He reached in and lifted out a blanket, then dumped her backpack inside.

  "Put this on." He held the blanket out to her, patiently waiting.

  She would have snapped at him for giving her another order if not for the concern in his eyes. But she was tired of being dragged around against her will. What was this man's organization? Now that they weren't dodging bullets, she should start questioning more, like why he was being so considerate. What did he want from her?

  Living on the edge for so long had changed her, but not as much as having married a manipulating liar.

  Was all this nice-guy routine just Carlos trying to lower her defenses, invoke a false sense of security? Sadly, it was working. She might keep her mind better focused if he didn't wink, smile, and comfort her.

  They were adversaries and she had best remember that.

  He'd keep chiseling at her defenses unless she backed him off. Put some emotional distance between them. She'd never cared to be a shrew, but that was one quick way to chill a charmer.

  Gabrielle held her hands out and used clipped words. "What? Worried I'll catch pneumonia at this point and you won't get as much for me?"

  His dark eyes went from warm-brown patient to black pits of irritation.