Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
P at put an arm around her waist and helped her through the back yard. It was overgrown and scattered with debris. They went through a metal gate that he’d kicked open and fled down a dark alleyway.
“Hurry,” he murmured. “We don’t have long until they notice you’re gone.”
They reached the end and stood on the side of a wide road. Pat put his finger on his earpiece. “We’re at the end of the alley.”
Within seconds, the white surveillance van pulled up. Pat wrenched open the back and helped her inside. “Come on, let’s go.”
She clambered in, then froze, looking around. “What is all this?”
“Surveillance equipment.” He leaped in behind her and slammed the back door shut. “Go!”
The van took off up the road.
They whizzed around a few corners and then Blade said, “Where to?”
“My place.”
“Copy that.”
Jasmine seemed frozen in shock. He touched her arm, bringing her back. “Are you okay?”
She blinked several times, then raised a hand to her cheek. “I think so. He hit me across the face so hard I nearly blacked out.”
“You might have a mild concussion. I’ll check you out when we get to mine.”
There was a brief pause while Blade navigated the sharp corners out of the neighborhood.
“Why are you taking me to your place?” she whispered.
“It’s the best option. You’ll be safe there and more comfortable than at the office. You can’t go home, and we’ve got to keep you out of sight. Al-Jabiri will want to silence you.”
“Oh, my God. Ryan.” Even in the dim interior of the van, he saw her pallor. “He’ll go after Ryan.”
Pat spoke into his earpiece. “Anna, tell Thorn to pick up the boy.”
“Understood,” came her terse reply.
Things had happened so fast he hadn’t had time to plan, but Jasmine was right. Now she’d escaped, they’d go after her son and use him as leverage to get her back. Or to buy her silence.
He turned to Jasmine. “We’re going to get him out, okay. He’ll be safe. Try and relax now.”
She nodded and leaned back in the seat, but her shoulders remained tense.
Blade dropped them off at Pat’s place and raced away. The Operations Manager was heading back to the office to coordinate the clean-up operation and retrieve the SUV. By now the police would be there, which would piss Al-Jabiri and his cousin right off. He hoped he hadn’t compromised the op.
When he’d seen Al-Jabiri launch himself at Jasmine, he knew he had to do something. Leaping out of the van, he’d kicked Blade out of the SUV and driven it into the wall. Then he’d raced around the house, knowing the two terrorists would come out the front.
The cops wouldn’t be able to trace the SUV back to Blackthorn Security. As with all their vehicles, they were registered to a shell company with a vague organizational structure. Blade would sort it out, and the terrorists might suspect, but wouldn’t be able to prove this wasn’t an accident.
The important thing was he’d gotten Jasmine out of there, before any real harm had come to her. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to install any listening devices, but at least they still had eyes in the house.
Right now, Pat wanted to get Jasmine comfortable. She was trembling, but the color was returning to her cheeks. When he’d first seen her in the backyard, she’d looked like a ghost.
“Come and sit down.” He helped her into his living room. It wasn’t as tidy as it should be, but then he hadn’t been home much lately.
“I’m okay.” He released her but gestured to the sofa. She sat down, still looking a little dazed. “I can’t believe you drove your SUV into a wall.”
He snorted. “I needed a distraction, and it was all I could think of at the time. If I’d come barging in guns blazing, I’d have ruined the entire op. But I couldn’t have him raping you, either.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Pat knew she was thinking about what had almost happened.
“He’s a monster, Jasmine. A mass murderer. Do you think he considers your needs at all? You’re nothing to him.” It came out harsher than he’d intended, but it was true.
She gulped. “I know. I guess I was hoping to appeal to his human side.”
Pat tensed his jaw. “He doesn’t have one.”
Jasmine glanced up. “Why do you hate him so much?”
He shook his head. “It’s personal.”
“Tell me,” she whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Pat got up. “I’m going to grab a beer. Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?”
She sighed. “Tea would be great.”
He left the room. It was a cop out, he knew that, but he couldn’t tell her about Astrid. He didn’t know how. It was a long, convoluted story, stemming back to his days as a Navy SEAL. Besides, Astrid hadn’t even been his wife, and yet… he’d loved her as much as he had Val. Two wonderful women, and he’d lost them both.
He rubbed his eyes. At least he’d had two shots at love. Some people didn’t get any.
When he got back, Jasmine was looking at the photograph of Val and himself on the mantlepiece. They were much younger then, stupid grins on their faces, standing in front of a windswept lighthouse.
“Maine?” she mused. “I didn’t picture you as the New England type.”
Pat set the mug of tea down in front of her. “Surprised?”
“A little. I imagined something more . . . rugged.”
“Maine’s got its moments.” He lowered his voice. “That was our honeymoon, actually. We rented a cottage by the water. It was peaceful. Just the two of us.”
She glanced at his left hand. “You’re married?”
“Widowed.”
Her expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
There was an awkward pause.
“She died a long time ago. Cancer.”
Jasmine nodded. “I lost my mother to cancer too. It’s a terrible disease.”
Pat perched opposite her on the armchair and took a swig of his beer. “How’s the head now?”
She managed a weak smile. “It’s not nearly as bad now. I’m just grateful to be out of there.” She shivered and wrapped her hands around the mug. “Before I met you, I didn’t think there was a way out.”
“Glad to be of service.” He didn’t want to think what would have happened if hadn’t got to her in time.
“Sorry that I didn’t get a chance to let you into the house. I know you were hoping to find out what the target was.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing himself to push down the frustration clawing at his gut. “I won’t lie, that’s a setback. But your safety was the priority.”
Was it, though? Really?
The ruthless part of his brain, the part honed through years of high-risk missions, screamed that one life never outweighed the mission. He’d been trained to think that way, drilled to make the hard calls without hesitation. If it had been one of his operators compromised, he’d have expected them to hold their ground, gather intel, and find a way to finish the job.
But this wasn’t one of his men.
This was Jasmine.
And instead of keeping his focus locked on the bigger picture, he’d made a judgment call that put his entire team on the back foot. Blade and the others hadn’t questioned it—like the professionals they were, they’d adjusted, pivoted, and executed the extraction. Adapt and overcome—that was the game.
But the truth gnawed at him. He knew the mission came first. He knew that every second wasted put innocent lives in danger. He should be strategizing next moves, running through contingencies, figuring out what the hell they’d missed by pulling out early.
Instead, all he could think about was a green-eyed woman who had no business getting under his damn skin.
Goddammit. He needed his head read.
When he had more time, he’d sit down and pick apart every mistake he’d made. Tear himself a new one for how badly he’d fucked this up. The team had spent weeks—months—piecing this op together. Surveillance, intel-gathering, strategy. It had been airtight. And then he’d gone and shattered it in a single reckless moment.
All because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Al-Jabiri was still out there. The attack was still in motion. And now, thanks to his split-second decision, they were back to square one.
And for what?
A woman he barely knew.
“What about your car?” Jasmine asked suddenly, pulling him back from the storm in his head. “Won’t they be able to trace it back to you?”
He shook his head, instinct kicking in. Stick to the facts. Stay sharp. “It’s a company car, registered to a shell company. Can’t be linked back to me.”
She pursed her lips, studying him. “That’s smart. Do you do that with all your vehicles?”
“Most of them,” he admitted. “If any of my operatives get compromised or end up in an accident, we don’t want the bad guys tracing them back to us.”
“What kind of organization do you run?” she asked. “You never got around to telling me.”
“Didn’t I?” He forced a smile, keeping it light.
“I know you’re not CIA or FBI, so you must be private. Security contractor, maybe?”
“Close enough. We provide security solutions to corporations and individuals. High-risk extractions, counterterrorism ops, covert surveillance.” He took a sip of his beer. “We also do some work for the U.S. government.”
“On the quiet?” She raised an eyebrow.
He gave a brief nod. She didn’t miss much.
“Of course. Although, I think I made quite a loud noise when I drove my car through Al-Jabiri’s wall. They’re not going to like that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Damn Amir for being so pigheaded.”
He tightened his jaw. “That’s one way of putting it.”
She sighed. “I know he’s a bad guy, but when you hear his story, you can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
Pat went still. The beer bottle in his hand suddenly felt heavier. The slow burn of frustration and self-recrimination bubbled over. He couldn’t stay quiet anymore and listen to her defend that evil bastard.
She needed to hear this. She needed to understand what Al-Jabiri really was.
“Let me tell you what Al-Jabiri is capable of.”
Her expression tightened at his harsh tone, but he pushed on.
“Eight years ago…” He stopped. No, he had to go further back. “Sixteen years ago, I was on an op in the Middle East. We had intelligence on a terrorist training camp, a high-value target running it. Al-Jabiri. Back then, they called him the Falcon.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened, deep green pools filled with quiet dread.
“Our mission was to capture him and take out the camp. Standard direct-action raid—go in hard, neutralize the threat, extract intel, and level the site.”
His voice flattened, going clinical, because that was the only way he could get through it. Stick to the mission brief.
“We breached at dawn, hit them before they even knew we were there. Took out resistance at the perimeter, cleared the main compound. We got to Al-Jabiri, secured him, and prepped the charges. We were in and out in under thirty minutes.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Right before detonation, a woman ran inside one of the buildings. Al-Jabiri’s wife.”
Jasmine gasped, a small, sharp sound.
“She died instantly in the explosion,” he continued, voice like steel. No emotion. No hesitation. That was how he’d reported it in the debrief. Just another part of the op.
Except it wasn’t.
The image was burned into his brain—the way she’d darted into the building, how they’d shouted, tried to wave her back. The split second where everything slowed, where he’d thought, Maybe we can stop this.
But it had been too late.
“Oh, my God,” Jasmine murmured.
“He blamed me,” Pat said, his voice rougher now. “I was the Commander, the one in charge of the op. Before his trial, he swore revenge. I didn’t take him seriously—he was looking at life for terrorism charges. But he got a damn good lawyer. Got out in eight years.”
She sucked in a breath. “How the hell did he get out so soon?”
“Good behavior. Legal loopholes. The usual bullshit.” He took a long pull from his beer. And I should’ve put a bullet in his head when I had the chance.
He didn’t say that part out loud.
Instead, he leaned back, exhaling slowly.
“And the first thing he did when he got out?” His gaze hardened. “He found a way to destroy my life, the way he believed I’d destroyed his.”
Jasmine’s fingers tightened around her cup. “What do you mean?”
Pat met her gaze, his throat tight. Jesus, he didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to drag her into his goddamn nightmares.
But she needed to hear the truth.
“He killed my fiancée.”
She inhaled sharply, hands flying to her mouth. “No.”
He nodded once, his jaw rigid.
“I never thought I’d find anyone else after my wife died, but Astrid—” His voice cracked. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to carry on. “We’d known each other from before…” Why he felt he had to excuse his relationship with her, his second chance at happiness, he didn’t know. Shaking his head, he kept going, “He forced her off the road one winter night. She crashed into a tree. Died on impact.”
“Oh, my God.” Jasmine’s voice trembled. “Patrick, I?—”
He waved her off, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know. Thought it was just a tragic accident. Didn’t see the note he’d left.”
He scraped a hand over his face. Fuck, why the hell was he telling her this? He hadn’t told anyone the truth, not even Blade. He hadn’t let himself. Because once he started, it was like ripping open an old wound and letting it bleed all over again.
“That’s what he told you in the restaurant,” she murmured, eyes brightening with understanding.
His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. “He said it was payback. An eye for an eye.”
She stared at him, eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
A sharp, bitter laugh rumbled from his chest. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you this. Now do you get it? Al-Jabiri isn’t some poor, traumatized kid who lost his family. He’s a goddamn monster. He’d have destroyed you, Jasmine. There was no way you would have survived that. Survived him.”
There was a long pause as she processed this. He gripped his beer, waiting for her to react. Hoping he hadn’t been too hard on her. After all, he was the one who’d turned her, asked her to spy on the Falcon for him.
Eventually, she whispered, “I know.”
Pat clenched his hand around the bottle. At least she knew now. “This time when I catch him,” he growled. “I swear to God, I’m going to make sure he never walks free again.”