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That couldnotbe his brother. Alive? No. It was a clever trick.
His finger shook as he tapped the screen, enlarging the image. Determined denial stood no chance against reality. His contact would not take this risk unless it was real.
ThatwasAbraham, sitting in an FBI office alive and likely cooperating. Bakr recognized the name plate on the desk and swore again at the injustice of the world.
“How?” he screamed at the phone. “When?”
He had laid all the groundwork. Executed his plans perfectly. He’d seen the aftermath of the car accident he’d arranged for a substantial fee. Two mangled bodies had been identified as Abraham and his secretary. Only the driver had survived.
Or so they’d planned.
Enraged, Bakr barely managed to put a leash on his temper. He wanted—needed—to throw something. The phone wouldn’t be enough. Tossing his brother into the foundation of a new construction project… there was an image he found soothing.
Wouldn’t it be a delightful secret to build the Army’s shiny new building on his brother’s lousy, whistle-blowing carcass?
Betrayal stung and he embraced the pain, the shock.
“How?” he snarled again.
With a little time, he would use this, turn this around and reclaim the advantage. Abraham might have run to the American authorities, but it was too little too late for him to change the course Bakr had set in motion. If they wanted to accelerate the game, to rush forward to their inevitable demise, who was he to quibble?
Thinking through the options, he wrote his reply.Deliver him to the prepared location. He would rectify this error personally. Then his brother would taste the bitterness and pain Bakr had endured so quietly for all these years.
Chapter 19
Carsoncould’vestayedwithher in front of the fire for the rest of his life if his stomach hadn’t started grumbling. He might even have ignored that for a while longer if hers hadn’t joined the chorus.
Still, food was delayed by a shower that quickly digressed into another sexual fantasy turned real. It was gratifying and more than a little surprising that a woman like Eva, who could have her choice of men, was as eager to be with him as he was to be with her.
It had been an act of will to leave her to finish the shower so he could work up some dinner. They needed to talk about what she’d seen on that flash drive, about how to put a muzzle on Bakr, and—hopefully—what was left for them after that. As he assembled a stew from the stock in the pantry, part of him wished they could stay out here until someone else caught the Morcos bastard.
Except his Eva wouldn’t be satisfied with sitting this one out. Bakr had made it personal. He shook his head, it was too early to think of her as his. Definitely too early to tell her he thought of her that way.
He turned, smiling, as she padded into the kitchen wearing his sister’s sweats. “Hey.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek when she joined him at the stove.
“Hey.” She ran a hand over his butt. “I’ve got my clothes airing out on the porch. How can I help?”
“I’ve started a stew here. Do you want dumplings?”
“Sure.”
“Need me to walk you through it?”
She shot him a dark look. “Only if you want me to beat you with a skillet,” she said, opening the pantry.
“It was just an offer. You might have to pull some dry goods out of the freezer,” he added.
“No. Everything looks to be right here.”
“Whoever was out here last—” He paused when a vivid, unwelcome picture of his sister playing house with some faceless jerk filled his head. “She’s not even dating anyone.”
“Carson?”
“Sorry. It’s nothing. We have a checklist for closing this place up and someone just didn’t follow through.”
“Or is out here often enough they don’t see the need to freeze the flour.”
“Or that.”
