Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jessica glanced at the IV and morphine drip off to her right before looking back at her guys. “If your faces end up on the news because of me . . .”
“We’ll worry about our asses later. Let’s focus on getting you better.” A faint line appeared on Knox’s forehead. Concern practically radiated from his pores. “You look like shit, though.” He faked a laugh as if hoping to lighten the mood.
Usually, Asher was the one cracking jokes at shit times to alleviate tension. But right now, he stood off to the side of the room, his back to the wall, a dark, grim look to his face.
She could barely breathe the moment his brown eyes landed on hers.
Her fingers swept to her collarbone, and she forced her eyes closed.
A lump gathered in her throat when she allowed the darkness to swallow her—only to see Ara’s face in her mind.
“We need to catch Samir. We need to stop whatever else he’s planning.” The deep breath she took made her chest ache. It was the kind of pain that couldn’t be dulled by morphine. She hadn’t wanted the drugs, but the doctors and her overbearing brother had insisted after seeing her bruises.
“We got the cameraman and driver. We’ll find Samir.” Luke edged closer to the bed and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “The Germans are searching everywhere for him and the assassin.”
Assassin. The word spun around in her mind, and she swallowed the hard truth Samir had hired an assassin to kill his cousin. To kill her.
“We’d be looking, too, if the Feds would let us,” Liam said.
The German Feds had already questioned them all, and she was sure there’d be several more rounds before anyone would be heading back to the States.
“We’re lucky Max came through for us,” Luke responded. “The police could’ve . . .” He dropped his words, probably not wanting to say Jessica had come close to having a bullet to the head.
“You talk to the president yet?” Jessica fisted the white blanket with her right hand and tipped her chin toward the ceiling, unable to look her team in the eyes.
She had done this. She had lied to them about Ara, and now—what if this is all my fault?
“No, but I spoke with Director Rutherford a few minutes ago,” Luke answered.
“I’m assuming he told you to back down and not come find me.” An attempted brow raise had pain darting through her skull, but she hid the groan that tried to escape.
“We stopped an attack,” Knox said before Luke could respond. “Everything will be okay.”
But would it?
“I’m so sorry about Ara,” Luke said, tucking his hands into his pockets.
She waited for a lecture to follow, a lecture she deserved, but he didn’t deliver it. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and swept his gaze across the room. She tracked his eyes to find him looking at Asher.
Still quiet.
Not a single damn word from Asher since he’d defused the bombs.
“She’s dead because of me.” She had to fight the tears—to battle the emotions trying to break her.
“No.”
Her head rolled to the side to observe Asher who’d finally spoken.
That simple word gutted her.
“She’s gone because her cousin used her to try and gain control over a terrorist group,” Knox said when the rest of Asher’s words seemed to die on his tongue.
“What? Why?” A million other questions crashed through her mind, but she held them back.
Asher stepped away from the wall. “We don’t know why, but we do know how he found Ara.” He arched his shoulders back, and his hands disappeared into his pockets. “She visited Samir’s mom in Paris two months ago, and it looks like he had her followed back to Berlin.”
“And?” Her eyes narrowed.
“A day before she emailed you, Yasser Hadeed’s enforcer from back in the day approached her.
It was his house in the city where you were taken to earlier today.
” Asher appeared to take a hard swallow.
Gathered a breath. “We think they threatened Ara. They probably wanted to know who had helped her get away from Aleppo. Who had helped take down Yasser six years ago.”
Me. “She wouldn’t betray me like that.”
“Would she give you up to save the girls?” Knox asked, his voice weighed down as if stones were piled atop his chest.
“You know this for a fact?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.
“No, but it’s a fairly safe assumption,” Knox answered.
Her eyes fell shut at the memory of her last conversation with Ara. “She said she’d made a mistake.” Her throat thickened, emotion trying to leak again.
Contain.
Contain.
She couldn’t let her team see her break down.
But . . . what if she couldn’t keep it together?
A dull throb in her chest had her gasping for a breath. “If the girls were in danger it’s possible she gave me up, but she’d said she was being tailed and had tried to lose someone.”
“Maybe she changed her mind. I don’t know.” Luke’s words were soft. Almost delicate. Like he was afraid he’d break her.
Jessica blinked and tried to sit, but failed. The drugs were overpowering her, making her weight feel as if it’d been tripled. “The girls,” she sputtered at the realization they could be in danger. “What if Samir tries to use them again?”
“He has too much heat on him,” Luke was quick to respond. “Director Rutherford decided to take the girls into CIA custody, though. Agents are picking them up as we speak.”
“The Germans don’t know about this.” Liam’s words captured her attention.
“Why would Rutherford interject Langley into the situation?” She tried to keep her eyes open as the drugs lulled her into a foggier state.
“I have a hard time believing Rutherford grew a conscience today,” Knox said. “But we’ll find out what’s really going on.”
“At least you know the girls are safe.” Luke nodded.
“I need to be the one to tell them about Ara. They should hear it from me.”
The room went quiet for a moment. “I don’t think that’s possible. I’m sorry.” Luke shifted his eyes to the floor for a beat, giving her a minute to process everything.
She’d need a lot more than a minute, though.
She glanced at Liam standing alongside Luke now. He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck. Discomfort. Pained by looking at her. The desperate desire for revenge in his eyes.
Her gaze fell upon Asher again.
He was looking away from her. Even beneath his beard, she could see the hard clench of his jaw.
“I never would’ve expected this of Samir.” She thought back to Syria, to when she’d first met him.
“People change,” Asher said, still not looking at her.
“You were right,” she whispered, knowing only Asher would understand the past tense meaning of her words.
And before anyone could say anything else, the door opened and an officer stepped into the room. “The captain needs a word.”
Luke patted her on the arm and then bent forward and kissed her forehead. “We’ll get this all straightened out. I don’t want you to worry.” Her brother’s eyes welled, and it had her heart squeezing.
“Okay,” she mouthed and lowered her lids.
At the sound of the door closing, she opened her eyes. Her heart stammered in her chest at the sight of Asher still in the room.
His arms were pinned to his sides, the back of his head resting against the door.
“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” She attempted to sit again, but her body resisted the movement. She contemplated trying one more time—damned if she would quit. But . . . something inside of her did want to give in, to break. To shut down.
“I’ll go, but, I, uh”—he scratched at his beard, and then his booted feet moved slowly to her bedside—“I needed a minute alone with you.”
“I’m okay if you’re going to ask that.” She sniffled. She needed him to go before he witnessed her breakdown. She couldn’t expose a chink in her armor, not even to him. “Go.” Shit. She heard the break in her voice. And she knew the quiver in her bottom lip was now exposed.
“Jessica.” Her name was like water pouring from his lips, and it had her stomach tightening, a desperate attempt to keep it together.
“Please. Go. I need to be alone.” Her eyes blurred. “Go,” she cried, her chest shaky. A sob threatening.
“No.” His voice was firm. Commanding. And it had her looking at him, straight in the eyes. “I almost lost you. I . . .” He smoothed his thumb over her cheek and dragged in a lungful of air as if he were in as much pain as she was.
“I’m okay.”
The weight of the bed lightly shifted as he pressed one hand down next to her, and his free hand swept the stray tear from her face.
He kept his palm there, cupping her cheek.
“I’m just so damn glad you’re all right.
I don’t know what I would’ve done if we didn’t get to you in time. Leaving you to go to the other bomb—”
“Was what I wanted, and I would’ve never forgiven you if you hadn’t saved those people.”
She pressed her lips into a tight line, willing away the tears.
A moment later, he whispered, “No one has to know.” His thumb swept lightly over her skin in small circles. “No one has to know you cried but me.” His brows slanted in. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
And when he lowered his forehead gently to hers, her lids closed again, and a broken cry fled her mouth.
He remained there against her, still cupping her cheek. She reached up to grip his bicep . . . and she cried.