True Honor

  And then he saw the cloud growing in the water, shadowing the shimmering underwater light. He lunged, his hands shooting down into the water to close like a vise around her arms. “You’re bleeding.”

  He hauled her out, water streaming from her dress drenching him. She was coughing up water, doubling up on him even as he tried to assess where she had been hurt. He needed better light. The blood was staining the left side of her dress, and he could feel her chest heaving as she tried to expel the inhaled water. Sam tried to move her hand away and she caught him with a backhand across the face, her ring cutting his cheek. “Easy! It’s Sam.” He pushed back the wet hair blocking her vision, desperate to get her to let him help. Holding her was like trying to grip a live wire—every muscle in her body was fighting his hold.

  “Sorry. Stop him,” she gasped. Her shoulder dug into his ribs as she clamped her hand against her side then groaned as she struggled to sit up. He looked around again, but for the moment they were alone.

  “I will. Let me see.” Just as soon as he figured out she wasn’t going to bleed to death, he was going after the guy who did this with a fury. Hurting women— The creep needed to meet a SEAL in a dark alley somewhere. Sam closed his hand around her wrist, and Darcy reluctantly let him move her hand. His first instinct had been a gunshot, but this was a knife wound. “What happened?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. He missed.”

  His gaze shot to hers. “Someone want you dead, Darcy?”

  She blinked at him, and the cloud of pain in her eyes crystallized. “Actually—yes. I think the bounty is now a million pounds sterling.”

  * * *

  Darcy forced herself to her feet, struggling against the wet fabric of her ruined dress, holding onto Sam’s shoulder to keep her balance. Oh, dear Lord, he tried to kill me. The shakes were starting. She forced herself not to double up again but to look around for trouble. Sergey had come close to putting that blade between her ribs and into her heart. She was sweating despite the dunking in the pool. This was awful.

  Breathe deep. Think. She tried, and both hurt to do. She turned her hand away from the cut to look at it. She was going to make Sergey’s life miserable. If she had to track him down to the ends of the earth, she would make sure he knew how stupid it was to try to kill her and miss. He’d retired from the job with honor. Why he would destroy decades of reputation in one foolhardy act made no sense, but at the moment, actions spoke louder than what she thought she knew about him.

  “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

  “I’ll live,” she muttered, ignoring Sam. The gash hurt something fierce, but it was shallow. She leaned down and snagged the portfolio. The leather was sliced down to the thin sheet of steel inside the front cover. It had taken the brunt of the knife strike and kept her alive just as it was designed to do. She slid her finger into the torn leather, disgusted. The blade must have been several inches long.

  Where were the book and the message? She’d lay odds it was a blank piece of paper inside the envelope, but she had to know. She’d flung her arm up and to the left and her book would have gone . . . She turned on her bare heel. Wonderful. She walked around the pool and waded into the shallow end to retrieve the book that had landed on the second step. Water streamed from it, the pages already curling and warped. “Sam, if he thinks I’m dead, I’d rather leave it that way.” She struggled out of the water. “Forget what you saw. I’m gone.”

  He cut her off and she rocked back on her heels at the abruptness of it.

  “Not so fast. What’s going on?” The man had planted his feet and the steel in his voice told her he wasn’t moving.

  She didn’t have time for this. He was a SEAL. Every one she had met through the years was inevitably as stubborn as a rock. The problem would be getting him to walk away from the mess now that he’d become part of it. “Fine, then let’s go.”

  He took one step back to let her pass. “Are you a cop?”

  She’d give him points for a great question. She wished she could say yes. “No. It would be much simpler if I were. Sergey, the man I was waiting for, is Russian, sixties, gray hair, wearing a tux, and built like a tank. Let’s try not to meet up with him.”

  Sam steadied her with a hand under her elbow as she clipped the edge of a table. “Can you walk without shoes?”

  His voice had smoothed out. She knew a shift-to-work mode when she saw it. She had just as much latitude to say what was going to happen as he decided to give her before he’d step in and do what he thought best. She patted his arm and used the movement to slip from his grip. “I hate shoes; they can stay at the bottom of the pool. I want to get away from this hotel.”

  He led her past the pool to the stairs going down to the beach. “Here.” Sam swung his jacket around her. Darcy appreciated the kindness. She was starting to shiver. Pebbles cut into the bottom of her feet and ripped her nylons, yet one more thing she marked up against Sergey’s account. She left the walkway for the softer feel of the sand and headed east.

  “My car is in that east parking lot. Let’s head that way and get you to the hospital.”

  “Not yet. I know where I’m heading.” Time was critical now and she had a plan to execute. She was grateful Sam didn’t push harder.

  Why had Sergey done it? Spies didn’t kill spies. It was an unspoken agreement between nations that ensured their most hard-won assets were not lost on both sides. By violating it, Sergey risked sweeping payback. The CIA could drop names in dozens of countries, and Russian operatives would be swept in by governments who didn’t have Miranda rights. Sergey had spent a lifetime building up his agency; it didn’t make sense that he’d risk everything in one rash act.

  The betrayal was worse than the injury. She had thought him a man of honor, but he had proven himself a man of opportunity. Had he done it for the million pounds sterling? It just didn’t fit. And he had taken a huge risk to attempt the hit in the States. He had to know the Agency would track him down and bring him in no matter where in the world he hid. What was she missing? She’d been out of the field too long. She should at least have an idea, but there was just the unexpectedness of an attempt to kill her by a man she respected. Did he hate her that much? What had she ever done to inspire that? She angled up the beach to the hotel.

  “Sam, when that cougar bit you, did you kill it?”

  He didn’t pause his scan of the area to look at her. “Since it wasn’t clear who would win the fight, we sort of agreed to call it a draw.”

  “He stalked off?”

  Sam glanced over. He gently wiped water off her face. “I suppose I didn’t taste so good.”

  She would have to trust him. She didn’t have many options. She needed to find Sergey, and that wasn’t going to be simple. He could have flown in, driven, come in by boat. She could guarantee it hadn’t been under his own name. If she called in the FBI, they would make a fuss about not being informed ahead of time about the meeting, and it would take too many meetings to arrange to get people in the field. It would take the CIA at least three hours to get enough people here. “Do you have friends at the reception who might be able to help me do a quiet canvass of the area?”

  “At least half a dozen guys. Who put the bounty on your head?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Try the CliffsNotes version. It seems relevant.”

  It wasn’t public knowledge but it wasn’t classified either. “I hunted down Ramon Santigo over thirty-nine months and ran him to ground in Paraguay. He’s facing fifteen counts of murder. His family doesn’t like me.” Ramon had killed two agents; she didn’t regret a moment of that hunt. She had been a bit insulted at the first hundred-thousand bounty on her head, but it had grown steadily to a million pounds sterling. If someone didn’t collect it soon, it would probably go up again.

  “Are you DEA?”

  Another good question. Darcy just shook her head rather than lie. He’d run through all the law enforcement agencies before long, and she’d have to
come up with something. She pointed out the small hotel where she had another room. She led the way to a side entrance, pausing to reach around the air-conditioning unit for the card key placed there.

  “First room on the left,” she directed. She let Sam open the door. A Do Not Disturb sign was on the doorknob. She had chosen the room for speed of access in and out. He turned on the lights and led the way inside, looking around.

  She’d hoped not to have to use this room, but on the chance she might, she put down a credit card for a nice room. The curtains were closed. On the long dresser were two grocery sacks and a still-packed suitcase. She had come prepared to hole up here for seventy-two hours if needed.

  She crossed to the room safe and spun the combination, retrieving the phone inside. “There’s a medical kit in the suitcase.” She dialed and waited for the security scrambling at both ends to synchronize the call.

  Sam opened the suitcase and raised an eyebrow as he held up a comic book by two fingers. She smiled at him.

  “Gabriel Arneau please.”

  Sam found the medical kit and opened it on the bed. He tore open two of the large sterile bandage packets and found tape.

  “Darcy, where have you been? I’ve been pacing!”

  The punch of her partner’s words was enough to cost her some of her hearing. “Sergey was late.” She sucked in her breath as her dress caught on the cut. “Gabe, here, talk to Sam. I’m bleeding all over the carpet. I need to change.”

  “What do you mean you’re—?”

  She tossed the phone toward Sam and walked into the bathroom, taking the bandages and the top layer of clothes from the suitcase with her.

  “Thanks a lot, Darcy,” Sam called after her. “Who’s this?”

  Darcy left them to their conversation. Sam and Gabriel could sort it out.

  She closed the bathroom door behind her and turned on the heat lamp above to quickly warm the room. The dress was ruined. She eased it off, blinking away tears. She held her breath as she studied the cut across her ribs, cleaned it, and firmly taped down the bandages. So much for a peaceful return to the field. She leaned against the counter when she was done, gripping the marble edge. Events were catching up with her.

  Lord, thanks for saving my life. She wanted to go to heaven someday, but not tonight. She wiped her eyes and had the odd desire to laugh at the unexpected relief she felt. She’d been anticipating someone trying to kill her for so long that she was almost grateful that there was something real to finally deal with.

  The last thing I feel like doing is forgiving Sergey, but I’ll give You the benefit of the doubt that he’s redeemable. Forgive him, Lord, and let him live long enough to realize that he was wrong. I want at least an apology for this when he comes to his senses.

  She didn’t want to love her enemies and pray for what was best for them, but she’d do it because God told her to, because she also had a healthy sense of self-interest. If Sergey found God, he wouldn’t try to kill her again.

  She felt sorry for Sergey. He’d just ensured that every morning she was going to pray for him, and every afternoon she was going to hunt him down with every bit of skill she had in order to bring him to justice. Fair was fair. He’d started this. She had been minding her own business, happily retired . . . Well, maybe a touch bored but retired. Now she had a problem to solve. She hadn’t earned that Intelligence Star for being easy to shake off.

  She reached for a loose button-down shirt. She bypassed jeans for sweats. How was she going to explain this to her doctor when she got home? Shelton was a small town. And since the doctor was married to her sister, there wasn’t much chance of keeping this hidden.

  A brisk knock on the door interrupted her. “Darcy, your partner is not happy talking with me.”

  Gabe had been pacing . . . Knowing how difficult physically it was for him to do that these days, she had a feeling Sam was understating things considerably. “Just a minute.” She slid on her watch and transferred the cash from the inside pocket of her cosmetic bag to her shirt pocket. She needed to move hotels again later tonight. It was one thing to hide from random trouble, another to hide from another spy. This room would be good for a while, but someone at the hotel would recognize her picture if Sergey started really searching for her.

  She walked out of the bathroom carrying her things and looked with longing at the bed. The adrenaline was fading and being replaced by a pounding headache. She’d love to close her eyes for a few minutes. She set down the wet clothes on a towel and took the phone from Sam. “I’m back. I’ll live.”

  “Darcy, get out of there, get to ground.”

  The order caught her off guard. This bolt-hole was already a good two or three layers buried in security. “Why?”

  “You weren’t the only attempted hit tonight. We lost Kevin Wallace and Benjamin Rice.”

  Darcy threw her brush against the wall. “Who else?” she demanded, quivering at the names of two agents she knew.

  “We’ve got five who haven’t reported in yet,” Gabe said grimly. “Get out of there.”

  She looked at the locked door wondering how someone might try to come through it. “Who’s behind the hits?” She took a seat on the side of the bed, trying to figure out what immediate threat she was dealing with.

  “We’re still guessing; both happened in Europe. Give me time to sort out the truth from first reports. I’ll have a much better idea in a few hours. I’m sorry, Dar. I should have never let you go on your own.”

  “Don’t, Gabriel,” she whispered, knowing how hard her partner would be taking this turn of events. “I’ll get moving.” She glanced at Sam, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching her. How would she convince him to stay here when she left?

  “I’m coming with you,” Sam said bluntly without being asked. He didn’t need the uniform to make crystal clear she wouldn’t be changing that decision.

  Gabe heard him. “Don’t argue with him, Darcy. He offered, insisted actually, and I don’t want you traveling alone. The Department of Defense liaison confirmed his ID and clearances. They’ll clear it with his CINC.”

  She closed her eyes. All branches of the Special Operations worked for the military central command headquartered in Tampa, Florida, and his commander-in-chief there would tell Sam he was going with her. She wished someone had asked her, but she knew better than to waste energy on it. “That simplifies things. What about the hunt for Sergey?”

  “Tonight was too well planned and coordinated. He’s gone. I can start the search for his travel plans from here. Let’s get you out of there first. I need as close to a verbatim record of what Sergey said as you can provide.”

  “I’ll get on the transcript. Let me give you a call from the plane.”

  She hung up the phone. Not this. Those men have families. There would be two more stars added to the memorial wall at headquarters and two new names written in the Book of Honor. She’d hoped not to see another one added during her lifetime. The sadness overwhelmed the anger.

  “I’m sorry about your friends.”

  She looked up. She’d nearly hit Sam with the hairbrush. She had a feeling he’d probably ducked more lethal things. She sighed and tossed the phone on the bed. “It hurts. I knew them from work. Had they been personal friends, I probably would have thrown the phone.”

  “I know how to duck.” Sam rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly. “A spook, huh?”

  She was startled by his calm reaction. She’d expected many things, but not a man who took in what he saw, adjusted to new facts, and gently teased her about being a spy. “I really am retired.” She hesitated and then lifted a hand to tentatively touch the cut on his cheek. It was small but deep. “Sorry about that.” She had a bad habit of hitting the good guys in her life.

  “Your reflexes are still pretty decent.”

  He was definitely teasing her. She blinked. The humor in his voice belied the seriousness in his eyes. This was a SEAL who had been in combat. She had to s
tart thinking, and if humor got her out of this stuck place, the better off and safer they were both going to be. If a civilian had been trying to help her, she’d be in a real bind right now.

  I owe you, Sam. She closed her eyes for a moment and focused her thoughts. She had to get back to Washington, had to figure out who was behind this. Two men dead. Someone was starting a spy war tonight, and she’d somehow made the list. Because she was retired she was considered reachable? Because she knew something?

  Sam’s hand rubbed the inside of her wrist. “What’s next?”

  She focused her attention back on him. “I need to leave.” She bent over to put on her tennis shoes and stopped as the pain radiated through her chest.

  Sam stopped her and reached for the shoes. “I’ll do them for you.” He knelt and lifted a bare foot, slipped on a sock and then her shoe. “Where do you go from here?”

  “Washington, D.C. I really appreciate your offer to help, but you don’t know me; you don’t know what you’re getting into.” Darcy was torn between welcoming the help and cautioning him on the reality. Trouble was coming her way in a huge wave.

  “You’ve got a nice smile and you read Mickey Mouse comic books. What’s not to like?”

  “It’s a gift for a friend who wanted to come to Disney World with me.”

  “Sounds like an interesting friend.” Sam neatly tied her shoes and then sat back on his heels. “I’m partial to trouble and you’ve got some. I’ll tag along for a while.” He tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m sorry about your dress.”

  “So am I. I went to New York to buy that dress. It was gorgeous.”

  “Indeed it was. I certainly appreciated it.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” He was trying to help her get her equilibrium back. A SEAL for a decade, he’d been around the world long enough to take care of himself. She’d have to trust that. She pointed to the table at the water-soaked book she’d carried back with her. “Can you reach that? Let me see what Sergey passed on.”