Dire Distraction Read online

  “So he must have already been planning his exit,” she said with a frown. “I mean, I get being pissed off and maybe even not wanting to go on, but losing someone you love doesn’t make you give up on your country.”

  “It does if you believe your country let you down. Shrum was convinced that there was more to the bombing than was initially reported. And although he pressed the CIA to investigate, they refused. Saying that it was a military matter and out of our purview.”

  “But you must have been pressing as well.”

  “I was,” he agreed. “But I also realized that there was a real possibility that we’d never know what really happened. Roadside bombings were almost a daily occurrence at that point in Iraq. And back then, we weren’t as sure of who the various insurgencies were. No one stepped forward to take responsibility, and I was never able to dig up anything to help identify who did it.”

  “And was Shrum right? Did our government stand in your way?”

  “Not in my way, no. But it would have been damn near impossible to stop me. However, they weren’t helpful. Partially because they were trying to contain public opinion in the States, which meant underplaying civilian casualties. As I said, this was long before embedding journalists with the troops was the norm.”

  “So do you think they actually covered up evidence?” she asked, still trying to put the pieces together.

  “It’s possible. That kind of thing definitely does happen. But as my rank rose within the CIA, I had access to more and more information, and I never found anything new.”

  “But you kept looking all those years. And no matter what the real truth was, you never walked away from the Company.”

  “We all have to find our own path. I, more than anyone, understand Shrum’s pain. It’s what drove us apart.”

  “So how did he wind up in Myanmar?”

  “To be honest, I have no idea.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “At first he was completely off the grid. Then years after that, I began to hear rumors. See position papers speculating that he was a new player in the drug trade. Then suddenly he resurfaced here.”

  “And no one cared? A former operative opens shop in the middle of the Golden Triangle and Langley just turns the other cheek? Give me a break. Why not burn him?”

  “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows, his expression skeptical. “But my guess is that it just wasn’t worth the effort. Hell, maybe they were thinking the whole thing would take care of itself. Or maybe they’ve got some kind of under-the-table agreement with the man. I don’t know. And frankly, until Harrison found that photograph I didn’t give a damn.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I want the truth. If all of this has been a lie and my wife is still alive, then I need to know why. And if Shrum had a part in it, I’ll see that he pays.”

  “And if she’s dead?” Syd asked, pretty certain she already knew the answer.

  “Then I’m going to find out who the hell it is that’s been yanking my chain and I’m going to hunt the bastard down and kill him.”

  Chapter 10

  Avery woke to find Sydney nestled into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest. In repose she looked every bit as beautiful, but also more vulnerable, as if in sleep she’d let her guard down. And even though he had no right, he felt protective. As if he were tasked with watching over something particularly precious.

  It was a ludicrous thought, but there you had it. Here in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by enemies, with the question of Evangeline’s fate hanging in the balance, he was holding another woman, one who not only intrigued him but touched him on a level he’d forgotten even existed.

  Guilt washed through him, and he tried to move his arm, but Sydney just mumbled something in her sleep and nestled closer. He smoothed her hair, his fingers savoring the silky feel of each strand. She sighed, her hand splayed across his chest as if she were measuring each breath—or holding his heart.

  He shook his head, ashamed at his flight of fancy. She was sleeping. And he was here to find the truth about his wife. And no matter the answer, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—take advantage of Sydney. She wasn’t the kind of woman to give her heart easily. And he knew enough to know that she saw in him something he wasn’t certain really existed. The part of him that could love had died a long time ago. And he had never even considered going down that road again.

  Until now. The little voice in his head taunted him. And he forced his mind to the situation at hand, ignoring the heat from her body as she pressed against him in sleep. Save for a single shaft of pale light from the slit in the door, the room was shadowed, the air clammy and stale. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but figured from the light that it had to be just past dawn.

  There’d been a guard on duty all night. They hadn’t been able to see him clearly through the makeshift window, but they’d heard him. So they’d both agreed to take turns keeping watch, until finally they’d both succumbed to sleep. Based on their intel and what he’d observed coming in, the outpost was well garrisoned. At least twenty, maybe thirty men. Whatever the hell Shrum was up to, he’d worked hard to make sure the place was damn near invincible. Which meant that there was probably something to hide.

  Evangeline. Avery patted the pocket where he kept the picture. Soon, he told himself, soon all of this would be behind him. One way or the other he’d have the truth. And hell, who knew, maybe it really would set him free.

  Outside something rustled, voices carrying into the room. Sydney sat up with a start, her eyes going wide when she realized where she’d been. For a moment, her eyes sparked with something that twisted Avery’s heart, but then just as quickly, it was gone and she sat up, her professional façade dropping firmly into place.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

  “I don’t know,” Avery said, pushing to his feet, then reaching out to help her up. “But I’m betting it’s not a welcoming party.”

  He stepped forward, using his body to shield her as the bar on the door groaned and lifted, the door swinging slowly inward. Two men, both armed with machine guns, entered the room. The first man, clearly a local, was sporting an angry frown and a horrific bruise stretching from his left cheekbone all the way to his temple. The second stood in the doorway, the sun behind him leaving only his silhouette.

  As the first man walked closer, Sydney sucked in a sharp breath, fists clenching at her side. Instinctively, Avery moved to block her further. But Sydney shook her head, stepping up beside him, one hand resting on his arm, her gaze locked on the man with the bruise.

  “I see we meet again,” the man said, his English broken but understandable. “Only this time I hold all the cards.”

  “That’s pretty much what you thought last time,” Sydney said, her eyes spitting fire. “But that didn’t turn out so well for you did it?”

  The man lunged forward, anger mottling his face, but before Avery could react, the second man stepped into the cell.

  “Let it go,” he said with a wave of his hand. “She’s not worth the effort. Besides we’ve got our orders.”

  “Orders?” Sydney choked out, her face awash with confusion and surprise. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Avery frowned and then recognized the man from the first night in the bar. The Englishman. Edward. He’d believed he was Sydney’s friend. Judging from the look of betrayal on her face, she had thought much the same.

  “I’m working,” Edward replied. “Which is what you could have been doing if you’d only agreed to play along.” The man was smiling, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes.

  Avery inched forward slightly, keeping Sydney to his left, safely out of Edward’s reach.

  “With what?” She scoffed. “A drug lord. Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  “Fine.” Edward shrugged. “Your loss, my gain.”

  “But you don’t have a boat. Hell, you don’t have anything�
��except a press pass. If that’s even real. What have you got to offer Shrum?”

  “Information. You and your buddies talk a hell of a lot when you’ve had a couple of drinks. I just remember what you say and pass it on.”

  “So you’ve been spying on us?” She made another move forward, and this time it was Avery who covered her arm with his hand. She stilled instantly, but he could feel the tension radiating through her.

  “It was like taking candy from a baby most of the time. Especially your friend Tim.”

  Avery tightened his hold, Sydney’s anger almost a palpable thing now. “It was you,” she whispered. “You told Shrum that Tim was coming. You’re the reason he’s dead.”

  “Tim made his own bed. I just sped it all along a little bit. Did he tell you what he was really doing here? He wasn’t exactly who he made himself out to be, you know. Or maybe the two of you were in it together?”

  Clearly Edward had no idea who Sydney really was. Which meant that most likely neither did Shrum. It might keep her alive if she continued to play along. But that wasn’t going to happen if Edward kept taunting her. Standing beside her, Avery could feel her rage building to a fury.

  “I—” Sydney started, but Avery cut her off, moving now to stand firmly in front of her.

  “I can assure you that this woman had no idea who Tim really was.”

  Edward’s attention snapped to Avery, his eyes curious. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because he was a professional and he’d never have shared that kind of information with a civilian.”

  “He might if he wanted to get in her pants.” Edward sneered, and Sydney moved around Avery, her fist already flying, but Avery managed to snag her wrist, bringing her hand in close to his side.

  The man with the bruise lifted his machine gun menacingly, and Edward laughed, waving his partner off. “She really is a spitfire. Pity she thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Even old Tim couldn’t get her to give him a second look, and the poor man was besotted.”

  This time Sydney’s soft whimper was full of pain, and Avery swore that, given the chance, he’d see this man dead. “Doesn’t matter what Tim felt for her—he told her nothing.”

  “But you seem to know everything. And why, might I ask, is that? You’re bloody hell not MI6.”

  “No. But Tim and I shared similar interests—if you take my meaning.”

  The man’s eyes traveled the length of Sydney’s body, his gaze appreciative, but then he sobered, his attention back on Avery. “So you’re a spook too? I should have guessed. You look the part. So why are you here?”

  “I’ve got business with Shrum.”

  “Funny way to approach it, trying to blow us all to hell.”

  “Just wanted to get your attention long enough to get inside. And it almost worked.” Avery shrugged, his fingers still curled around Sydney’s wrist.

  “Almost being the operative word. And what about her?” Again his gaze turned a bit lecherous. “Why should I believe she’s innocent?”

  “I didn’t say she was innocent.” Avery’s smile was slow and sure, intentionally possessive. “Let’s just say she’s in it for the money. Like you. And it just so happens, I was offering a better deal than Shrum. But that doesn’t mean she knows why I’m here. Although now, thanks to you, she knows what I do.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re both dead.”

  “We’ll just wait and see, shall we?” Avery said, keeping his voice intentionally nonchalant. “I’m assuming you’re here to take us to see your boss?”

  Edward took another step forward, his hand tightening on his gun. And for a moment, Avery thought he’d read it wrong, that the two men had actually come to kill them, but then Edward reached out and shoved him forward.

  “Fine. If you’re in a rush, it’s your funeral.”

  The second man grabbed Sydney by the arm, his grip bruising, but there was nothing Avery could do about it. If they were going to get out of this alive, he needed to hold his hand and play his cards when the time was right. He just prayed that Sydney understood.

  Ten minutes later, after being marched through Shrum’s encampment, they were being led down a tiled hallway in his residence, the opulent furnishings at odds with the dire poverty of the surrounding countryside. Clearly, no matter how small a player, Shrum had found success in working for the other side.

  The number of their guard had grown to five. All of them heavily armed. Sydney was walking in front of him now, her back ramrod straight, her chin held high. The greasy little guard still held her arm, but it was more like she was pulling him along. Avery suppressed a smile, not surprised that Martin would have wanted Sydney to play for his team so badly. She was clearly a valuable asset. But not one that could be manipulated.

  Damn good thing she was on Avery’s side.

  Two large doors at the end of the hallway were open, and the men ushered Sydney and Avery inside. At the center, seated on a large chair that was clearly meant to symbolize a throne, sat Shrum. Although at first, Avery hardly recognized him.

  The Martin Shrum he’d known had been big and brawny. Quick to laugh and hard to fool. He’d been the kind of man who could cut through the chaff and get to the heart of things before anyone else had even realized what was happening. He’d been larger than life in many ways. And once upon a time, he’d been Avery’s friend.

  But this man—this cartoon version of Shrum—was a shell. His skin was drawn, his eyes circled with shadows. His cheekbones were gaunt, and his frame hunched and withered. His gaze though was exactly as Avery remembered. Sharp and intelligent. Searching, probing.

  “It’s been a long time,” Martin said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Avery. “I can’t say that I expected to find you here in this part of the world. As I remember it, you were far too interested in getting ahead to get sent out here to the frontier.”

  “I’ve always gone where I was needed.”

  “And you think I have need of you here?”

  “I think we have things to discuss.”

  Shrum’s laugh was raspy and dry, rattling through the room like dead leaves rustling against the stone floor. “Some things never change I see. Your arrogance was always your greatest strength and your greatest flaw.” He paused for a moment, working it seemed to take a breath, and then he turned his attention to Sydney.

  “I see you’ve finally chosen a side. I knew you couldn’t stay neutral forever.”

  Avery prayed that she’d hold her tongue even as he knew that it was unlikely. Sydney wore her passion with the ease of youth.

  “There was never a choice to be made,” she said, her gaze shooting over to meet his, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It was simply a matter of making it seem as if there was.”

  “Ah, yes.” Shrum nodded. “ I see now that I made the mistake of underestimating you. I should have recognized the signs. She’s not that much different from who we used to be, Avery. Fierce and proud, and stupid.”

  He covered his mouth to cough, for a moment looking much older than he actually was. Then he lifted his head again, his gaze clear, his mind obviously unfettered by whatever it was that racked the rest of his body.

  “Leave us now.” He waved at the men in the room. Seven in total including their original guard.

  For a moment, Edward held firm, his eyes locked on Avery. “But surely you don’t trust him?”

  “More than I do you, actually.” Martin made a shooing motion with one hand. “Go. Take the girl. As long as you have her, I’m in no danger. My friend here is as predictable now as he was fourteen years ago. It’s always been about the girl with him. Always.”

  Avery bridled at the suggestion, but forced himself to stay calm. If Sydney were to have a chance—or Evangeline should she truly be alive—he had to keep his cool. He shot what he hoped was a reassuring look in Sydney’s direction as Shrum’s men ushered her out of the room, then turned his attention back to Martin.

  “Ki
nd of taking it over the top, aren’t you? I mean, with the opulence and the throne. Feels a little bit too much like Apocalypse Now.”

  “Waiting for me to break into verses of T. S. Eliot?” Martin laughed again, the sound harsh against the silence of the room. “Not fucking likely. Never did go in much for poetry. All that bullshit about hidden meanings and life's great mysteries. What a load of rubbish. Sit.” He waved toward a small sofa across from his chair. “And tell me why the hell you’re here. It’s not a sanctioned mission or I’d have heard about it. I still have an ear to the ground. So what’s this all about?”

  Avery started to reach into his jacket.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Martin said, producing a small pistol. “Remember, I know all of your tricks.”

  Avery held up a hand. “It’s just a photograph. I came here to show it to you. But you’re not the easiest man to get to.” He paused, his hand still extended. “So do you want to see it?”

  Martin nodded, lowering the pistol, clearly curious now.

  Avery produced the photo and held it out to his one-time friend.

  Martin’s gaze dropped to the picture and he swallowed—the white of his knuckles the only other sign that he was affected by what he saw. “Evangeline.” Her name came out a whisper—as solemn as a prayer. And Avery wondered, not for the first time, which of them had truly loved her more.

  He touched the ring on his finger and steeled himself. He was here for the truth and nothing, certainly not self-doubt, was going to get in his way. “Look at the date.”

  Martin studied the photo, his frown deepening as he realized the importance of the detail. “And you believed this?”

  “I had to know for sure,” Avery said. “You know as well as I do that nothing is impossible. So tell me, Martin, is my wife alive? Is she here with you?”

  Chapter 11

  If she were alive, do you really think I’d be living in this hellhole?” The bitterness in his retort caught Avery by surprise. “Besides, she loved you, remember? Not me.”