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Chapter 1
Hiring on with the Jordanian camera crew as their interpreter hadn’t been all that difficult. With Jasmine Nassar’s ability to speak Arabic in a Jordanian dialect and also speak American English fluently, she’d convinced the Jordanian camera crew she had the experience they needed to handle the job. However, the resume she’d created, listing all the films she’d worked on, had probably lent more weight to their decision.
Not that she’d actually worked on any movie sets. Her ability to “be” anything she needed to be, to fit into any character or role, was a talent she exploited whenever needed since she’d been “released” from the Israeli Sayeret Matkal three years earlier.
Her lip curled. Released was the term her commanding officer had used. Forced out of the special forces unit was closer to the truth. All because of an affair she’d had with an American while she’d been on holiday in Greece. Because of that week in Athens, her entire life had upended, throwing her into survival mode for herself and one other—her entire reason for being. The reason she was in Jordan about to steal the ancient copper scroll.
The Americans arrived on schedule for the afternoon’s shoot at the Jordan Museum in Amman, Jordan. The beautiful film star Sadie McClain appeared with her entourage of makeup specialists, hairstylists, costume coordinators, and a heavy contingent of bodyguards, including her husband, former Navy SEAL Hank Patterson.
Sadie was in Jordan to film an action-adventure movie. All eyes would be on the beautiful blonde, giving Jasmine the distraction she’d need to achieve her goal.
Much like the movie heroine’s role, Jasmine was there to retrieve a priceless antique. Only where Sadie was pretending to steal a third-century BC map, Jasmine was there to take the one and only copper scroll ever discovered. The piece dated back to the first century AD, and someone with more money than morals wanted it badly enough he’d engaged Jasmine to attain it for him.
Up until the point in her life when she’d been driven out of her military career, she’d played by the rules, following the ethical and moral codes demanded by her people and her place in the military. Since the day she’d been let go with a dishonorable discharge, she’d done whatever it took to survive.
She’d been a mercenary, bodyguard, private investigator and weapons instructor for civilians wanting to know how to use the guns they’d purchased illegally to protect themselves from terrorist factions like Hamas.
Somewhere along the way, she must have caught the eye of her current puppet master. He’d done his homework and discovered her Achilles heel, then taken that weakness in hand and used it to make her do whatever he wanted her to do.
And she’d do it because he had her by the balls. He held over her head the one thing that would make her do anything, even kill.
Her contact had timed her efforts with the filming of the latest Sadie McClain blockbuster. The museum was closed to the public that afternoon but was filled with actors, makeup artists, cameramen, directors and sound engineers.
The American director had insisted on an interpreter, though Jasmine could have told him it was redundant as nearly half the population of Jordan spoke English. Part of the deal they’d struck with the Jordanian government had been to employ a certain percentage of Jordanian citizens during the production of the movie. An interpreter was a minor concession to the staffing and wouldn’t interfere with the rest of the film crew.
Plus, one inconsequential interpreter wouldn’t be noticed or missed when she slipped out with the scroll in hand.
For the first hour, she moved around the museum with the film crew, reaffirming the exits, chokepoints and, of course, the location of her target. She’d visited the museum days before as a tourist, slowly strolling through, taking her time to examine everything about the building that she could access, inside and out.
The scroll was kept in a climate-controlled room away from the main hallways and exhibits. Since the facility was closed to the public, there wouldn’t be anyone in the room.
While the crew set up for a scene with Sadie McClain, Jasmine slipped into the room to study the display cases once more.
The copper scroll had been cut into multiple pieces. Each piece had its own display case with a glass top, and each was locked. She’d brought a small file in the crossbody satchel she carried, along with a diamond-tipped glass cutter in the event the locks proved difficult. Cutting glass was the last resort. It would take too much time and could make too much noise if the glass shattered.
She’d honed her skills in picking locks and safecracking as a child, one of the many skills her mother had taught her. She’d insisted Jasmine be able to survive should anything ever happen to her parents.
Her mother had been orphaned as a small child in the streets of Athens. To survive, she’d learned to steal food and money, or valuables that could be sold for cash or traded for food.
From picking pockets and swiping food from stores and restaurants, she’d worked her way up to stealing jewelry, priceless antiques and works of art from the rich all around the Mediterranean. She’d used her beauty and ability to quickly learn new languages to her advantage, infiltrating elite societal circles to divest the rich and famous of some of their wealth.
She’d gone from a starving, barefoot child, wearing rags in the streets of Athens, to a beautiful young woman, wearing designer clothes and shoes and moving among the who’s who of the elite.
Her life had been what she’d made of it until she’d met Jasmine’s father, a sexy, Israeli Sayeret Matkal soldier, at an Israeli state dinner attended by wealthy politicians, businessmen and their wives. She’d just stolen a diamond bracelet from the Israeli prime minister’s wife.
The special forces soldier outfitted in his formal uniform had caught her with the diamond bracelet in her pocket and made her give it back as if the woman had dropped it accidentally.
Rather than turn her in for the theft, he’d kept her close throughout the evening, dancing with her and pretending she was just another guest.
Her mother had fallen for the handsome soldier and agreed to meet him the next day for coffee. Less than a month later, they’d married.
For love, her mother had walked away from her life as a thief to be a wife and mother. But she’d never forgotten the hard lessons she’d learned on the streets. She’d insisted her daughter learn skills that could mean the difference between independence and dying of starvation or being reliant on someone who didn’t give a damn about her health or happiness.
Her mother had taught her what school hadn’t, from languages, dialects and staying abreast of the news to learning skills like picking locks, safe cracking, picking pockets and hacking into databases for information. She’d learned skills most parents didn’t teach their children or warned their children to avoid.
Jasmine had earned her physical capabilities from her father. As an only child, she’d been the son her father never had. As an elite Sayeret Matkal, her father had kept his body in top condition. Jasmine had worked out at home with him and matched his running pace, determined to keep up with the father she loved so fiercely.
He’d taught her how to use a variety of weapons and the art of defending herself when she had no weapons at all. Because of her dedication to conditioning, her hand-to-hand combat skills and her ability to speak multiple languages, when she’d joined the Israeli military, she’d been accepted into Sayeret Matkal training soon after.
