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“I’m thinking about buying another sculpture for the front,” she said. “This one’s much larger.”
He fought back a grin. “Okay. Truce. Scott and I talked, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous enough just being around me without getting involved in my business. And because Anna needs you here.”
“It’s not operations, Mitch. You know that. And you also know that you’re putting too much pressure on Joe and Marcus. You’re going to break them.”
“Claudia—”
“I’m not finished.”
“Fine. Continue.”
“You have a life. A purpose. Challenges. I love being with Anna. But I can’t just do that. What happens in a few years when she doesn’t want her mother hovering over her every minute? You say Joe’s operation didn’t go well. Let me ask you something. And I want an honest answer. Would it have been different if I’d been involved?”
The answer was a solid Probably. She was talented and incredibly exacting. It was possible that she could have IDed the prince well before things got critical and almost certain that she’d have been maintaining a reliable link to Langley.
“I don’t know,” Rapp said.
“But maybe.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“I can help keep you and Scott’s people safe. From his office. Not from the field.”
“I just have a bad feeling about this, Claudia. I understand what you’re saying, but there are a lot of jobs out there that don’t involve so many fireworks. Why not get one of those?”
“You can’t tell me who I can and cannot work for, Mitch.”
That was true. She was essentially his roommate—a fact that was very much not lost on her. Why was it always the strong, defiant women he was attracted to? A doormat would make his life so much easier.
“Can we continue this conversation later?” he asked.
“Is that a delaying tactic or are we really going to continue later?”
Between her and Coleman, it was like stereo bitching.
“Just let me just take a shower and sleep on it, okay? We’ll pick it up again when we’ve taken back control of the house.”
The fact that she returned to the dishes suggested she was satisfied, so he grabbed the bag of chips and started toward the master suite. On the way, though, he stopped in Anna’s open doorway. The girls were all dead asleep—on the bed, on the floor, sprawled across stuffed animals. A powerful reminder that, outside of his world, everyday life kept marching on. In a way, this was what he fought for. Sleep
overs.
CHAPTER 10
Near Riyadh
Saudi Arabia
SOLDIERS scurried from Aali Nassar’s path, focusing on erecting temporary living quarters, servicing vehicles, and preparing weapons. They were mounting a counterterrorism operation against a top ISIS leader across the border in Iraq. It was likely that Nassar’s assistant had called ahead to warn the base commander of his mood and that it would be best to give the Saudi intelligence chief a wide berth.
Nassar was still in a rage about what had happened in Rabat. Talal bin Musaid had been tasked with the simplest of endeavors, but he hadn’t been able to do even that. Instead, this meaningless pup had jeopardized everything Nassar had accomplished over the past six months.
He could feel the men’s gaze on him as he walked along the dirt road, their eyes shining with admiration and desert sun. The fact that he had been chosen to replace Prince Khaled bin Abdullah as the head of the General Intelligence Directorate was all but unheard-of and gave each of these soldiers the hope that they, too, could rise above their common births. Prior to Nassar’s promotion, high government positions had typically been held by royals. The exception was the energy ministry, which the king quietly acknowledged was too important to trust to one of the half-wits that made up the House of Saud.
Now, though, the forces of radical Islam were massing at the gates, threatening not only the common man but the monarchs who lorded over them. With his family no longer immune to the danger posed by the jihadists they’d created, King Faisal had decided that a certain level of competence would be required to maintain order.
