Secret Agent Sheikh

That was Jass O’Reilly. Still, Tarik had clearly felt her response to him while he was holding her in his arms. Jass might believe she was invincible and she put on a harsh front, but underneath everything else she was all woman.

The sexual tension had shimmered between them, drawing them together like a magnet. Precisely what he didn’t need at this stage in his life. Loyalty to his family called for him to avoid any kind of entanglements during this all important mission.

Stalking back to their table, he kicked back to watch the crowds. But he couldn’t keep his mind off of Jass.

She’d flinched when he’d touched her. Flinched like a school girl. And she’d given him a challenging look full of—As he thought about it now, that look in her eyes could’ve been vulnerability.

That was it, he decided. Jass was tough on the outside to hide a defenseless inside. Like one of those hard-candy-covered chocolates. She was used to taking charge, taking risks alone and getting her orders from only her bosses at the CIA. She wasn’t used to anyone challenging that rigid outer shell.

Jass was an excellent operative because she was intelligent and perceptive and had nearly total recall of anything she’d ever read. But she wasn’t a team player.

Then again, he didn’t need a team on this mission. He hadn’t even wanted a partner. But he was willing to bet his life that Jass would step up and do whatever was required to get the job done.

All he had to do was keep his own mind and hands in the game. Easier said than done.

A while later, after ordering his second round of drinks, Tarik realized she’d been gone too long. Was she doing a little side reconnaissance on her own? Or had she run into trouble?

Either way, he’d better quit sitting on his butt daydreaming and find her.

He got to his feet and asked the waitress to direct him to the ladies’ room. She threw him a skeptical look but pointed him in the right direction with a small laugh.

Yeah, he would bet she saw a little of everything during Carnivale.

Tarik thanked her and made his way through the tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies all moving to a bossa nova beat. In a darkened corner of the main floor, he found a staircase to the penthouse above. He made a mental note of its placement but moved on into an alcove that held what was loosely called the public restrooms.

The alcove was crowded with lines of people waiting for a turn at the toilets. He thought about asking someone to check the stalls for Jass but decided against it. No telling who was a real patron of the club and who was here on some kind of criminal business.

As he stood toward the rear of the lines considering his next move, he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. An argument reached his ears, and he had just enough time to duck for cover under the open stairwell. The conversation was taking place in the Taj Zabbar language and the two men speaking were making no attempt to keep their voices down.

They stopped on the landing right above his head to continue their disagreement. “I do not like the idea of staying in the country for the next four days, Excellency. It is not safe. Too much frivolity in this place.”

“Nonsense.” With that one word, Tarik recognized the second speaker’s deep voice. “The Russian … uh … Eltsin is a powerful man. He will protect us while we are in Brazil. Has he not already told the elder that we have no risk of losing anything in this little charade of his?”

“But what about the other bidders? I am concerned about our main mission and the other item. The one we were sent to Rio to claim.”

“Remember your place and trust me to do what needs to be done. We’ve been invited to stay for the next few days at Eltsin’s retreat in the mountains not far from here. I assume that he means for us to procure that other item during our private stay. His men will escort us into the mountains tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we?”

“Yes, Excellency. Whatever you say.”

Tarik recognized the more formidable voice as that of Malik Kasim Taj Zabbar, head of the secret police in Zabbarán. The two men lit cigars and proceeded down the stairs, disappearing into the crowds on the dance floor.

Well, that answered one thing for sure. The Taj Zabbar were here in Rio to attend Eltsin’s auction. But now Tarik had many more questions. What charade? And what was the other item they’d been talking about?

And where the devil was Jass?

A commotion erupted above his head. He heard a man growling orders in Portuguese. And he heard a woman’s voice, calm and cool, returning the sentiments in Russian.

Jass. Tarik shot up the stairs without thinking. What had she gotten herself into?

Chapter 5 (#ulink_9338102e-ac52-5e97-9b99-23a1230d0140)

Jass tried to keep her voice down, low and sultry like Celile would. But this idiot bodyguard didn’t speak any of her languages and he wouldn’t give in and take her to see the Russian. All he wanted to do was flash his knife and make threats in a slang version of Portuguese.