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  “Move?” Ryker asks. “Move how?”

  “After he picks up the drop we’ll follow him. See where he goes. But then you will have to move in. If he leads you to the virus, great. If not, bag him. We’ll use him to get to the next link in the chain.”

  “How am I supposed to do that and protect Ronnie—excuse me, Dr. Baker—too?”

  “Evans, I know it is a tough spot. But the embassy can’t be caught running an op again. Stash her some place where she will be safe if you have to bag him,” Hargraves says.

  “Goddammit!” Ryker snarls. “You’re going to get her killed!” He knows he has crossed the line, but he doesn’t care. Let them bust him for insubordination.

  Ronnie is surprised at the vehemence in Ryker’s tone. “Ryker…” she begins, trying to defuse the confrontation.

  “Evans, you will have nearly unlimited monetary resources to work with. You can rent or buy whatever you need to accomplish your mission if the embassy can’t provide it. But this has to be the way it goes down,” Hargraves says, his voice hard. “If you can’t do it, Petty Officer, I will find someone that can. Do I make myself clear?”

  Ronnie watches as Ryker’s jaw muscles work. “Yes, sir!” Ryker says, his words respectful but his tone is anything but.

  “Dismissed!” Hargraves barks. Ryker salutes, pivots, and storms out Hargraves’ office, Ronnie hurrying along behind.

  “Mother fuck!” Ryker shouts into the hall the minute the outer door closes behind him, the eyes of the Marine guard on duty flicking to him but otherwise making no indication he heard.

  “Ryker, what’s wrong?” Ronnie asks. She has never seen Ryker like this. Even when he brought in Baltasar for questioning, someone he had been waiting two years to kill, he wasn’t this out of control… and it scares her.

  “What’s wrong, Ronnie, is they are putting your life at unnecessary risk! I can’t bag the bad guys and protect you at the same time! I can’t do this!” Ryker snarls before turning and storming away down the hall.

  “Ryker! Wait!” she says, running briefly to catch up. “You’re scaring me! Please, tell me what is going on.”

  He pauses and looks up and down the hall. “Not here. My room,” he says before turning and walking away.

  She follows him into his room. It is small, barely more than a closet with a bath. Ronnie takes the only chair while he sits on the bed. “Tell me,” she encourages softly.

  He takes a deep breath. “The problem, Ronnie, is I can’t be in two places at the same time,” he says in exasperation. “When this mission was set up, I was told that I would have logistical support. That should mean that I go in, do what needs to be done, then you show up and do your thing. Like we did with the two labs we raided. I wouldn’t have the Marines to back me up, but I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is having you in the line of fire.”

  “So why can’t I just wait somewhere until it is safe?”

  “Because no place is safe short of the embassy, and they won’t let us stay here. What if the bad guys get wind of us? While I’m out trying to get into the lab to secure the virus, they send someone to take you? Now we are right back in the same situation we were in before and I will be on another extraction. Yours. And that is if we are lucky. They could just as easily kill you. I can’t fight this—they’re my orders. But you should tell Spreck to go fuck himself and that you won’t do it. This is unreasonable and they can’t make you do it.”

  She feels her blood run cold. “I can’t.”

  “Why Ronnie?” he asks, his tone almost pleading.

  “Because if I don’t do this, Dad will. I… can’t let him do that. He is getting old, Ryker, and he is borderline with high blood pressure. It could kill him.”

  Ryker fumes. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. They are setting us up to fail… and failure could cost you your life.”

  “And yours,” Ronnie points out gently.

  “This is my job, Ronnie. I could die every time I go out on a mission. I’ve accepted that. But I can’t accept that for you.”

  Ronnie feels her mouth pull down in a pout. Once again, the differences between Ryker and Kenneth couldn’t be more clear. Ryker is worrying about her life above his own, and Kenneth is worrying about his career. “Then I guess I will just have to stay with you all the time, so you can protect me and do the mission at the same time.”

  “Out of the question!” he says firmly.

  “You have a better idea?”

  “No. But there is no way in hell I am bringing you into a potential firefight. Forget it!” he says firmly.

  “Then what do you suggest? Huh? You just said you can’t leave me unprotected. If I am with you, then you can protect me right?”

  “Ronnie, for God’s sake! You don’t know what you are saying. They are going to be trying to kill me. One tiny mistake on my part and you will be dead. I…”

  “Then don’t make any mistakes,” she says firmly, interrupting him.

  “I can’t promise that!”

  She leans back in the chair. “Fine. Your call. But I’m going so you better decide if I am safer with you or without you.”

  Ryker stares at Ronnie then stand up. “Fine.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks, keeping her seat.

  “I’m resigning. I can’t do this.”

  “That will ruin your career!”

  “Better that than seeing you dead,” he says as he takes the three steps to the door and opens it.

  She is shocked at his words. She knows he is proud of his service, and to have him throw it all away to protect her… She jumps to her feet, putting her hand to the door. “Wait! Wait a minute! Think about what you are saying. You know as well as I do that they will just find someone else. Hargraves said so. And the mission will go on... and so will I.”

  “Why, Ronnie? Tell me why?” Ryker asks, allowing her to close the door again.

  “Because… I don’t want to be the cause of people dying,” Ronnie says quietly, looking at the floor.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If we don’t recover the virus, someone may be able to eventually engineer the virus into a weapon. There is no way to know if they still have our data from the lab. I would assume they do. With the data, and the virus, they have two of the three pieces they need to engineer a weapon from our virus. I can’t run the risk of having our work perverted like that. I just can’t.”

  “But what about all the fail-safe you said are in the virus? You said it could take years to remove those.”

  “And it probably will. But does it matter if a pandemic starts tomorrow or in ten years?”

  “No. But you could train someone. Hell, in ten years, you could even train me to be able to detect the virus.”

  “Yes, probably. But CIA still thinks the virus is here, in Lebanon, right? Where could it be in ten years? They could have grown in it and it could be spread it to locations throughout the world, right? How will you ever get it back then? Ryker, the only reason we have a chance now is you have been harassing them and they wouldn’t have had the time to culture and grow the virus. We can’t give them that time. You know that.”

  Ryker looks at Ronnie. She is right, and he knows it. But… he can’t protect her and do his job. No one can. Once again Hargraves and Spreck have placed him in a no-win situation. He finally steps back to his bed and sits down again. “I can’t do this Ronnie. I can’t.”

  He looks so sad that she can feel her lips pulling into a pout again as her eyes tear in sympathy. She joins him on the bed, sitting beside him and puts her arm around his shoulder. “You can, Ryker. You have to. It’s your duty… and I won’t feel safe with anyone other than you.”

  He stares at his feet for a long time. “Okay,” he finally says, quietly. “We’ll figure something out.”

  She smiles softly and kisses him gently on the cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We don’t want to start rumors,” she says with a small smile. He looks up and smi
les slightly, but his doubts are clear on his face. After all she has done to him, to have him still so concerned about her safety touches her and she can feel the embers of the feelings she had for him begin to glow.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Buckle up,” Ryker says as he turns the key on the Mogle, the diesel engine clattering to life. The drop hasn’t been picked up, but they are moving out anyway. They have been issued false papers in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Neil Ryker Grayland with the cover story that they are in Lebanon on a shopping trip purchasing Middle East antiquities for their shop in Berkeley, hence the box truck.

  Ronnie had smiled to herself when she had found out that she and Ryker are married, especially when seeing the look on his face. After the talk in Ryker’s room this morning she can feel herself thawing rapidly concerning him. She has been doing a lot of thinking since her dad had been returned to her and his startling revelation that he actually agreed with the kill order. It had taken her several days to get her head around the fact that sometimes you have to be willing to do what has to be done for the greater good. But the real turning point was this morning, when Ryker made it clear that he would throw away his life, his career, everything, in order to protect her.

  Her father had left for home about ten this morning, right after her talk with Ryker, and she had used that as an excuse to track him down and join him for lunch. Lunch had been slightly tense, Ryker being the perfect gentleman, but when she asked him to stop calling her Dr. Baker, she could see a ghost of a smile. The first true smile she has seen from him since she had treated him so terribly after she found out he had been ordered to kill her dad.

  It’s four o’clock and they are on their way to check into a hotel. Ronnie pulls her wallet out of her purse and slips the California driver’s license and Visa Signature card from her wallet, looking at the names again. “So, this really is an unlimited credit card?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over the name.

  “You heard what I heard.”

  She grins. “I think we should try it out. We need a Ferrari to complete our mission, don’t you think?”

  He snickers. “In case we have to chase down the bad guys?”

  “Yeah! I knew you would see it my way. And this driver’s license… it looks completely real to me.”

  He steps on the throttle and the truck whines away from the stop light. “It probably is real. I suspect if someone were to check, they would find that Veronica Grayland actually lives at—I forget now, but whereever we live—in the DMV records. Along with a billing history for electricity, cell phones, house payments… the works. I would bet that as far as anyone can determine, we are married and living perfectly normal lives.”

  She gets a little shiver of excitement at the thought. “How do you feel about that?” she asks quietly.

  “I don’t know how we can avoid sleeping in the same room without raising some eyebrows, but I can sleep on the couch,” he says quietly without looking at her.

  Ronnie thinks about that for a moment. “What if I don’t want you to sleep on the couch?”

  Ryker looks at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road, watching the traffic. They are going to stay at hotel not far from the drop point, which is on the far side of Beirut from the embassy. “Ronnie… Don’t. This hard enough as it is.”

  “Ryker,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I realize now that you didn’t have any choice. And it was the right decision. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

  He doesn’t say anything until the truck clatters to a stop at another light. “What are you telling me, Ronnie?”

  “I’m telling you that I’m sorry. That I was wrong. Can you forgive me for treating you so terribly?”

  He sits, staring at her, until a horn blast gets his attention. He looks and sees the light is green before tromping hard on the accelerator, causing the truck to lunge ahead. “There is nothing to forgive. You had every right to be upset. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Ronnie. I really am.”

  She can feel her face twisting up and she struggles to not cry. “I’m sorry I hurt you too, Ryker. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch. I want you to hold me again. I didn’t realize it until I talked to Kenneth the other day, but I miss you Ryker. I miss you so much!”

  He looks at Ronnie, her eyes swimming in tears, and he can feel the walls he has put up around his heart breaking and crumbling into dust. He reaches across the cab of the truck, offering his hand. She sobs once, takes it, and pulls it to her lips for a kiss. “I’ve missed you as well,” he says softly, squeezing her hand gently.

  ***

  “Welcome to the Golden Tulip. My name is Aban; how may I help you?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Grayland,” Ryker says. “We need a room.”

  “Certainly sir. How long will you be staying with us?”

  “I’m not sure. A couple of days at least. Depends on what we find.”

  “Very good, sir,” Aban says, pecking away at a computer. “We have a Senior Suite—that’s two rooms, available for two hundred ninety-thousand pounds a night.”

  Ryker does some quick math. “That’s about two hundred dollars a night, American?”

  “One ninety-three.”

  “We’ll take it,” Ryker says, pulling the credit card from his wallet and handing it over.

  “Would you like two beds or one?”

  “Two,” Ryker says.

  “One,” Ronnie says at the same moment, then smiles at Ryker. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

  Aban smiles at them and types a moment on his computer. “May I see some ID, sir?”

  Ryker passes his fake California driver’s license across the counter. Aban gives it only a cursory glance before handing it back. “Thank you Mr. Grayland.” He swipes the card, then hands it back to Ryker. “You have been confirmed for two nights in our Senior Suite at $193 American dollars per night. A total of $386 American dollars has been charged to your card. May I help you with anything else?”

  “No thank you, Aban. You have been most helpful.”

  “Thank you sir. Would you like some help with your luggage?”

  “I’ve got it,” Ryker says, hefting the two large bags. The CIA had delivered the two cases to them, already packed with a complete wardrobe in their sizes, less than an hour before they left. “But can you recommend a good place to eat that is within walking distance?”

  “The Zaatar W Zeit on Independence, is only a fifteen minute walk and the food is very good.”

  Ryker and Ronnie look at one another and smile. The last time they had been on Independence they were running for their lives in a smashed and rapidly dying armored embassy car. “Thank you, Aban. We’ll check it out.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Grayland,” Ryker says into the phone as Ronnie continues to unpack their bags.

  “Evans. Hargraves. The drop has been picked up. The spooks are following, but you need to be ready to move.”

  “Understood.” Ryker says.

  “I’ll contact you as soon as they go to ground.”

  “I’ll be ready,” he replies, killing the call.

  Ronnie finishes unpacking Ryker’s bag and opens her own. On the very top is a folded piece of paper. Curious, she unfolds the paper and reads the neat handwritten note inside. “I’m sorry. A gift for your wedding night. Paul Spreck.” Ronnie frowns slightly, not understanding the note, so she sits it aside. She takes the top garment from her bag, the one lying directly under the note, and allows it to fall open. It is the sexiest white negligee she has ever seen. Made from the finest lace, the thin shoulder straps support a deeply plunging neckline. She holds it to her and turns to face Ryker. He is standing there, his phone still in his hand, staring at her.

  “Where did you get that?” Ryker breathes.

  “It was in the suitcase,” she says, picking up the note and handing it to him.

  He quickly reads the note and hands it back, saying nothing.

&nbs
p; Ronnie smiles. “Should I wear this tonight? It is our honeymoon, after all.”

  Before he can answer, she sets aside the white nothingness and pulls out a black negligee of equal quality. “Or do you prefer black?” she asks with a grin, holding the second negligee to her body.

  “What kind of game is Spreck playing?” Ryker asks quietly, his tone dangerous.

  “I don’t think it’s a game,” Ronnie says, pulling the negligee down and laying it on the bed with the other one. “Did you know he has a daughter? She has leukemia. I think he really is sorry for what he ordered you to do, for driving us apart, and he is trying to make up for it. Making me a peace offering.”