The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath

Willow stopped eating long enough to ask, “Did I hear you making an appointment with someone?”

He grabbed a sweet roll. “We’re meeting my real-estate contact at ten-thirty. We’ll look at a couple of properties today and get the lay of the land. I made a couple of other calls to local agents as well.”

She poured a cup of coffee and sipped it thoughtfully before voicing her next question. “When can we drive by the house?”

She wanted a glimpse of her son. He certainly understood that. But moving too hastily could prove a mistake.

“We’ll do some driving around in that area later this evening, maybe just before dark.”

“Today’s Thursday, the family may be out to dinner as a group tonight. Getting close to the house probably won’t be difficult.”

The Kuwaiti work week was generally Saturday through Wednesday. Thursday was considered a sort of family night. The next two days were holy days, not to mention a national holiday, Hala February.

“As long as we maintain an appropriate distance, I think we’ll be okay,” he warned, not wanting her to get her hopes up too high. Just because they drove by didn’t mean she would get to see her son.

“I understand.”

He wondered if she did.

She devoured another strawberry. The act made his gut clench. He had to get a handle on these unusually strong feelings of attraction and protectiveness. Certainly he intended to protect her, but he realized already that he was having difficulty maintaining objectivity.

Not good.

Recognizing the problem was the first step, he reminded himself. Just like at Alcoholics Anonymous. Not that he’d attended enough of those sessions to know what came next, but he did know that pinpointing the problem was essential in correcting it.

Funny, he realized abruptly, he hadn’t thought about alcohol since that tense moment on the plane. Not that it would have done him any good. The only way to get an alcoholic drink in Kuwait was to go to a private, very illegal, party. Still, he felt some sense of relief at not waking up to the urge to pour himself a drink.

He hoped the change for the better was about getting his life back together with this career endeavor. But he had a feeling it had more to do with his distraction with his client than anything else.

And that was definitely not good. At all.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll get going.” Getting his head screwed back on straight would be a hell of a lot easier outside the intimacy of this room—away from the bed they’d shared last night. No matter that nothing had happened. Waking up to her cuddled up against him had been more than enough to inspire his too-vivid imagination.

Evidently, while he’d overindulged in alcohol since exiting his military life, he’d neglected his physical needs. Now he was paying the price of having gone too long without sexual release.

She grabbed the scarf and quickly wrapped it around her head to cover her hair and neck. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He shouldn’t have let her come.

The realization slammed into him like an unexpected mortar round.

She was afraid. She was vulnerable. He’d allowed her to come to this country where being a woman could be a handicap under far too many circumstances.

Protecting her might very well be impossible when push came to shove.

He’d warned her about that.

Unfortunately he was the one who hadn’t fully heeded the warning, because right now he felt completely obsessed with keeping her safe. And that compulsive need jeopardized the mission overall.

All signs of objectivity had vanished the instant he’d seen the sheer terror in her eyes back at that airport.

He had no choice.

He had to keep her safe.

Or die trying.

Chapter Seven

11:00 a.m.

“You do not want to get caught on the street or anywhere else in Kuwait with these weapons.”

Spencer surveyed the array of handguns his contact had to offer. A Beretta.9mm, a.40 Glock, as well as your garden variety.32s and.38s. Various ammo clips and silencers. Night-vision goggles and binoculars.

The night-vision goggles would be nice, but he was on a budget here. With that in mind, he reached for the Beretta and the.32.

His contact pushed several clips and a box of bullets across the table. “That should set you up.”

Spencer paid him in cash, American currency.

“You know how to contact me if you need anything else.”

Spencer tucked the Beretta in his waistband at the small of his back. The.32 he dropped into his jacket pocket. “We won’t be here long enough to require anything else.”

Though Patrick Bach had always been a reliable contact for most any sort of special needs any time day or night Spencer had called on him in the past, there was always risk involved in a transaction as illegal as this one. Those in the trade didn’t always play by the same rules transaction after transaction. The rules changed based on the buyers and the quantity of money they were willing to spend.

Spencer had worked operations when he’d been forced to rely on his own methods for survival, including arming himself on the local black market. Bach hadn’t once let him down. But there was always a first time.

As Bach packed up his wares, he glanced at Willow then he grinned and said to Spencer, “I didn’t realize you’d separated from the military and gotten yourself an actual wife, Anders. I guess this is one way to keep domestic life blissful.”

Spencer had instructed Willow to remain on the far side of the room and to refrain from speaking to Bach. So far she’d done so. Since he hadn’t introduced her to the man, he had to assume Bach was fishing. It also meant that his arrival in-country had hit the underground grapevine. Nothing he hadn’t expected.

Spencer picked up the ammo and dropped it into his pocket. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten so curious about the personal lives of your customers, Bach.” Spencer didn’t offer the first glimmer of amusement in response to the jab at humor.

Bach held up both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “Just making conversation, man. Just making conversation.”

Spencer leaned closer to him and smirked. “Besides, you know a guy like me never really goes back to civilian life.”

A knowing grin spread across Bach’s face. “Right.” The devious glint in his eyes told Spencer the sly bastard had taken the comment exactly the way he’d intended.

If Bach leaked that Spencer was in-country doing illegal business related to his former career that was so much the better.

To her credit, Willow had the submissive female act down pat. Even in the elevator ride back to the lobby she stayed in Spencer’s shadow. This posturing kept Bach from getting a good look at her face as they exited the building.

The fewer details he was able to pass along, in the event he was so inclined, the better. Taking every possible precaution to protect her would be in the best interests of them both.

Willow kept her gaze lowered as Anders shook hands in closure with his contact. She’d worked extra hard not to look at the man during the meeting. Even now, as she climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV Anders had rented, she didn’t look up.