Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
P at called Blade, who answered immediately. Since Jasmine was no longer in play, he was watching the live feed from back at Blackthorn’s HQ.
“The attack is going to take place this weekend. Saturday, like the note said.”
“How do you know it’s this Saturday?” Blade asked.
“Jasmine confirmed it. The Falcon is flying out on Monday. He told her as much.”
There was a brief pause.
“Looks like we got her out of there just in time,” he said, in a low voice.
Pat grunted. “If we’d left her in, we might have got the target.”
“She’d also be dead by tomorrow. No point in second guessing yourself now, boss. What’s done is done.”
Typical Blade. They could revisit his actions later, but right now, they had to focus on the current situation.
“She give you anything else?” Blade asked.
“Only that her husband, Adam, had been recruited to develop an explosive device. In fact, they kidnapped him for two weeks prior to his death and forced him to work on it. When he got back, he was so mortified at what he’d done, he hung himself.”
“Shit,” mumbled Blade.
“Yeah.”
“So they have a live ED and we have no idea where they’re going to detonate it.”
“Correct.” He cringed at his reflection in the kitchen window. It was dark outside, the garden encased in shadows. Holding the phone to his ear, he drew the blinds.
“What’s the reaction to Jasmine’s disappearance?”
“Pretty pissed,” Blade confirmed. “Buzzard went ballistic and kicked the shit out of the living room sofa.”
Pat smirked. “Good. Serves the bastard right.”
“They’ve been discussing what to do, only we can’t hear shit.”
He ran a hand over his jaw. “They’ll go after the boy. He’s their only leverage against Jasmine. Any news from Thorn?”
“She’s going in to get the kid now. We’re awaiting confirmation.”
“Keep me posted. Let me know the minute she has him.”
“Will do.”
Pat hung up, sensing someone behind him. He turned, finding Jasmine standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Were you talking about Ryan?”
Up close and in the bright fluorescent light, she was even more stunning. Her blond hair, still without a hint of grey, fell over her shoulders, mussed from their escape. Her green eyes—brighter now, more alert—shone with concern. And there, across the bridge of her nose, a light smattering of freckles he hadn’t noticed before.
“One of my operators has gone into the school to get him,” he assured her. “We’ll get confirmation as soon as Ryan is secure.”
“Okay.” She exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly. “I was worried something had gone wrong.”
“No, we’re just waiting for an update.”
He made to walk past her back to the living room, when she put a hand on his arm. A warm, delicate touch that sent heat rolling through him.
He froze. It wasn’t normal how drawn he was to her. This close, he felt magnetized, unable to step away, fighting the urge to move even closer.
“Patrick—”
Even his name on her lips did something to him.
“Yeah?”
She lifted her gaze to his, holding him there. It was a strange sensation—like drowning in slow motion. Fucking hell. This woman was tearing him apart.
He needed to pull himself together. Pronto.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know you sacrificed a lot rescuing me. Just so you know, I appreciate it.”
He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to cover her hand with his own. “You’re welcome.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended.
She gave him a small smile. “Have you eaten?”
That caught him off guard.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking almost shy. “I could repay you by making supper.”
The offer was so normal, so domestic, that for a split second, he could almost pretend the last twelve hours hadn’t been a fucking mess.
But her hand was still on his arm. And that was a problem.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But you must be hungry. You haven’t eaten.”
“Maybe some other time,” he said, breaking into a grin. It helped dissolve the weird tension coiling between them. Truth be told, his appetite was shot. “Let’s go back into the living room.”
“Deal.”
She walked ahead of him, and his gaze dipped to the sway of her hips before he caught himself and looked away.
What was he? Eighteen.
Shaking his head, he followed her.
“Do you want to watch something on TV?” he asked, suddenly unsure what to do with her now he had her here. His primary objective was to protect her, but he still had work to do. They still had to figure out what the Falcon’s target was. Somewhere in the city, that much was clear. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m pretty tired, so I won’t last long.”
Shit. That reminded him—he hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements.
“I’ll be right back.” He handed her the remote. “Go wild.”
Surprised, she took it. “Oh, okay.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Pat bolted upstairs, hurriedly stripping his bed and throwing on fresh sheets. He stuffed the used ones into the laundry basket and shoved that into the closet. Then, after cracking open a window to let in some air, he jogged back downstairs.
The doorbell rang.
He frowned, reaching for his weapon. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
It rang again.
He heard a female voice through the wood. “Pat, open up. It’s me—Izzy.”
Izzy. What was she doing here?
“Who is it?” Jasmine appeared in the living room doorway, alarm written all over her face.
“Don’t worry,” he said, raising a hand. “It’s just my daughter.”
Even saying the word out loud felt weird.
Her eyes widened. “Your daughter ?”
More knocking. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light is on.”
She knew him too well.
He opened the door, and Izzy stood there with her signature grin.
“Hi, Dad.”
Despite himself, he broke into a grin. “You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to.”
She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I do want to. You’ve been more of a father to me than Richard ever was.”
Something warm curled in his chest.
She pulled back. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I reacted before. It was a shock, that’s all. I’m over it now.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry I sprung it on you like that. Subtlety has never been my strong point.”
She laughed, then waltzed past him into the hallway—pausing when she spotted Jasmine.
“Oh.” Her grin widened. “I didn’t realize you had company .”
“It’s not like that,” he said, quickly.
When he didn’t continue, Jasmine stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Jasmine. Your father is letting me stay here for a while, until it’s safe for me to go home.”
Izzy’s eyebrows shot up. “Safe? Are you in danger?”
“Izzy—”
“Your father’s company has it under control,” she said, smoothly. Pat was impressed by her warmth and composure. He could see how she’d won Al-Jabiri over. Jasmine held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Same.” Izzy shook it, casting a sideways glance at him. He shifted awkwardly, unable to meet her gaze.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, his throat tight.
Izzy chuckled, which irked him even more. “Sure. A glass of wine if you have any.” She glanced at Jasmine. “Join me?”
“Why not?” Jasmine replied. “I could do with something a little stronger than tea.”
Pat sighed. “Two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon coming up.”
“I’ll come with you,” Izzy said, trailing after him.
He knew the barrage of questions would follow. Sure enough, as soon as they got to the kitchen, she said, “She’s very attractive.”
“Izzy—”
The warning tone didn’t work.
“How did you two meet? Why is she in danger? Are you in danger too?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He decided to ignore the preceding questions.
“Dad…” He snorted. She always knew how to play him. “Should I be worried?”
“Not yet,” he said, after a beat. How could he tell her he was after the man who’d murdered her mother. Who’d driven her off the road and destroyed their lives.
He knew he’d have to, one day. But not now. Not until Al-Jabiri was behind bars, or dead. Preferably the latter.
“Who is she?” Izzy asked.
“She was a hostage. That’s all you need to know.”
“Was? You mean you rescued her? That’s why she’s here, hiding out at your place?”
He reached for the wine, his silence betraying him.
“Shouldn’t she be at your offices? Or in a safe house?”
“This is a safe house,” he said. “It’s the safest house.”
She hesitated, then gave a knowing nod. “I see. You like her.”
“I don’t like her,” he insisted, but it sounded lame, even to his own ears.
She grinned. “It’s okay if you do. You’re allowed to date, dad.”
He didn’t know what was funnier. Her giving him permission to date or calling him dad.
“Thank you, but she’s a witness and I’ve got to keep her safe.”
Izzy smiled. “You already said that. Come on, give me the bottle. I’ll do that.” He realized he hadn’t poured the wine, he’d been so distracted by what she’d been saying.
Taking the bottle from him, she poured three glasses and handed him one with a wink. “Think you need this.”
“I’m working.”
“One won’t hurt.”
He rolled his eyes and accepted the glass. “Okay, fine, but only to shut you up.”
She chuckled, but then her expression sobered. “How’s Viper doing? I haven’t heard from him since he left.” Even she called her boyfriend by his military nickname.
That wasn’t unusual. Operatives seldom got the chance to call home when on assignment. Especially one as isolated as the one Viper was on.
“Fine. They’ve arrived safely. I’ll know more in twenty-four hours after they’ve completed the mission.”
“Call me as soon as you hear something.”
“I will,” he assured her.
Izzy might put on a brave face, but she couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes. She knew Viper was on a dangerous mission, and she was trying not to think too hard about what could happen.
“He’ll be fine, Izzy,” he said, knowing that he couldn’t promise it would be. “He’s a good operative, and he knows what he’s doing.” At least that much was true.
Izzy took a deep breath and nodded. “Jasmine can have my room,” she said, changing the subject back to him. That mischievous look in her eye reminded him so much of her mother.
He waited for the pang to hit, the familiar tightening in his chest when he thought about Astrid, but it didn’t happen. Instead, his thoughts returned to the woman sitting in his living room.
In a panic, he clutched the stem of the glass. He didn’t want to forget her, didn’t want to get over her death. It had sustained him for so long.
“What?” he said, irrationally.
“My room. She can sleep in my room. I don’t mind.”
“I’ve already made up my room. I’m taking the couch.”
“Don’t be silly, dad. You take my room then.”
He started to refuse, but she put a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to, Dad. Besides, you need to be close to Jasmine in case anything happens.”
She did have a point.
They went back to the living room, where Izzy—the little minx—sank down in the armchair he’d been using, which meant he had to sit next to Jasmine on the sofa.
He was still reeling from his ricocheting emotions, let alone how he was supposed to make conversation with his daughter, who now the shock had worn off, was back to her normal cheeky self, and the woman he was supposed to be protecting, but who filled his house with a presence that he found more unsettling than storming an enemy compound.
He needn’t have worried.
Jasmine took control of the conversation. They talked about Izzy’s fashion business, being a social media influencer and the psychology surrounding that. If he hadn’t been so bamboozled by… well, everything, he’d have found their conversation fascinating. They went on to Jasmine’s job, and her work with vets suffering from post-traumatic shock.
“That’s so interesting,” Izzy was saying, as he struggled to keep up. “I’m sure you and dad will have lots to talk about.”
That he understood loud and clear. “I don’t need my head read, if that’s what you’re implying,” he grumbled.
Izzy chuckled.
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Izzy said, then turned to Jasmine. “In all seriousness, he’s been through a hell of a lot in his lifetime, half of which he won’t tell me about.” She sighed dramatically. “But you never know, maybe he’ll open up to you.”
Pat shook his head. She really was incorrigible.
“Well, this has been fun,” he said, clapping his hands together.
Izzy laughed. “Actually, I do have to go. I’ve got an early shoot tomorrow.”
Jasmine said goodbye, and then Pat got to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I like her.” Izzy whispered, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “She’s great.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he grunted. “It’s not like that.”
“So you keep saying.” The grin on her face made him feel even more rattled. He’d stared down enemy combatants and survived brutal interrogations, but all it took was a precocious twenty-something to make him flustered.
“If it’s any consolation, she likes you too, dad.”
He frowned, his pulse jumping involuntarily. “What makes you say that?”
“I can tell by the way she looks at you. Once this is over, and she’s safe, you should ask her out. I think she’d be good for you.”
It wasn’t often Pat was rendered speechless, but this was one of those times. While he was mouthing like a guppy, Izzy waved and backed out of the door. “Be careful, okay. Call me in a couple of days and let me know how it’s going.”
“Will do.” Was all he could manage.
Then he turned to go back inside. To Jasmine.