Trust Me, page 21
She had no doubt they’d both regret it afterward one way or the other.
At least she no longer regretted Thursday night. On the contrary, she was now grateful she’d made the wild choice to go home with him. Maybe, when this was all over—if that was even possible—they could try dating. A relationship wasn’t entirely unreasonable given that they lived just a few hours apart.
Now she stared at Chris as they ate takeout for dinner and imagined what a future with him might look like. She remembered the feel of his big body sliding against hers, his large palms cupping her breasts as he kissed his way downward.
She closed her eyes as her face and body flushed with heat.
“What?” he asked.
She wondered if he’d believe a thirty-two-year-old woman could have a hot flash?
She shifted her focus to the blank corner next to a gas fireplace. “I was thinking this room needs a Christmas tree. If you celebrate Christmas, that is.”
“Sure you were.” He chuckled, then studied the corner she’d indicated. “But yeah, on the tree thing. My ex probably kept most of the ornaments, but I should have some lights and a few decorations buried in the moving boxes stacked in the garage.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s not that late. We could go to a lot and get a tree tonight if you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I like the idea. We’ve earned a treat. I can get eggnog and put on Christmas music. Do it right.”
“Should I stay here? While you go? I mean, we shouldn’t be seen together.” The news hadn’t mentioned a warrant being issued, but she needed to lie low just in case one was in the works.
“The tree lot should be safe enough. No one knows me here. But I’d need to go to a store for a tree stand. Probably best if you don’t go shopping with me. Stores have plenty of cameras. If anyone figures out you’re with me, they’ll review footage from every camera in the area they can find.”
Before they left, Chris found the Christmas boxes. They contained what he’d expected: less than two dozen ornaments, but plenty of strings of multicolored lights. After bringing the boxes into the living room, they set out, heading to a tree lot a good distance from the military base in an abundance of caution. They quickly chose a tree, and Diana waited in the passenger seat while he strapped it to the roof.
She felt a strange little spark of happiness at the randomness of the sudden excursion. The 4Runner was parked facing the busy street, and she watched a line of cars filled with holiday shoppers turn into the busy strip mall across the street.
The idea of buying presents hadn’t even crossed her mind, and with Chris’s reminder about the numerous cameras in stores, it was off the table for her this holiday season.
Watching the cars file into the mall like ants to their colony, she couldn’t say she was disappointed, but she’d have enjoyed picking out something special for Morgan’s daughter, who had transformed from a babbling toddler to a sprinting chatterbox in the months Diana was in Jordan.
Diana’s gaze landed on the mammoth sign next to the shopping center entrance that listed the stores and restaurants to be found in the complex. One familiar logo jumped out at her, and her mood plummeted.
Historie. Marbled-white letters with the capital H made of two Corinthian columns.
She scanned the line of shops, looking for the gift store. She spotted it at the end of the line. Business was booming on Saturday night a little more than two weeks before Christmas.
Had Dennis Gardner spoken with the State Department yesterday after their meeting? Or had he turned around and spoken directly with his contacts in Jordan? Gardner was likely more concerned about his relationship with the Kingdom than with the US government.
She’d read the US/Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan extradition treaty days ago, when she first realized she could be in jeopardy, and went over it with Chris again today. The crimes she was accused of committing: looting an archaeological site, aiding and abetting terrorism, were both subject to extradition of US nationals based on the fact that both crimes were punishable by more than a year in prison.
Furthermore, Diana had actually committed the crimes and had admitted as much. It wasn’t like they had to work hard to gather evidence against her. The arrest of Rafiq would have tempered her actions for both countries, but even then, she’d have faced the same scrutiny.
She stared at the replica store across the busy roadway and felt the prick of tears. Dammit. She was supposed to be all cried out at this point. She took a deep breath and listened to the thumping on the roof of the car as Chris tied on the eight-foot fir tree.
What was Gardner’s role in all this? She dug through her purse to find Ian Boyd’s business card. She hadn’t even glanced at it when she’d tossed it in her purse before leaving the bar yesterday afternoon, and now she was curious. At last, she found it and stared at the sharp-beaked bird logo next to the company name: Raptor.
Ian Boyd didn’t have a fancy title. He didn’t have any kind of job title or description at all. Just his first and last name and phone number with DC area code. She imagined James Bond’s card would be similar, except the company name would be Universal Exports.
She’d wonder if Raptor was real, but she was a Maryland resident, and the company owner, Alec Ravissant, was one of her senators. She remembered the headlines when there was an explosion on his estate and it was related to the company.
The driver’s side door opened at the same time as she flipped Ian’s card over. She gasped after reading the handwritten note.
“What’s that?” Chris asked.
She showed him the back of the card.
Tell Freya to call me
“Ian Boyd knew I was a Valkyrie.”
“That’s…interesting. Did you tell Freya about the interview?”
“Never had a chance. I saw Jamal on the Metro and forgot about everything related to Boyd and Gardner. I changed trains a few times to be certain he wasn’t following me, then went to your hotel.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how we can contact Freya. Maybe we can use Boyd.”
“He might turn me in.”
“It’s a risk, but I won’t be direct. I think I know someone who knows his boss.”
“The senator?”
“Yes. Him and Raptor’s CEO. I can make a call—it will be totally safe. He’s one of my closest friends in the world.” He started the engine. “Now, let’s get this tree home. I was able to buy a stand, so we can get it set up and put lights on it. Might not need to go to the store tonight at all.”
“You promised me eggnog.”
He smiled. “We’ll stop at a convenience store on the way home.”
She dropped a hand on his knee, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then. Let’s go home, set up our tree, and see if we can find a way to get in touch with Freya.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
This was not how Chris had imagined spending the first Saturday night of his vacation, and yet it was the most vacation-like thing he’d done since…last Christmas.
He also could now see how big the cracks had been in his marriage last year, as he and Pam had bickered over every detail. He’d been unaware Pam had been cheating on him for over a year at that point, but in hindsight, it was obvious.
Diana oohed and aahed over the few ornaments he had—all ones that he’d had since childhood. His mom had gifted him with the box the first Christmas he shared with Pam as a married couple, and they’d always been packed separately, which was the only reason he had them now.
He’d probably made a mistake in letting Pam keep all the ornaments they’d collected together, but right now, he didn’t care as he watched Diana carefully place on the tree the popsicle stick ornaments he’d made when he was in kindergarten.
She treated them like they were made of blown glass. The shadows had left her eyes, and she flushed with pleasure as she asked him to give the detailed origin story of each ornament she unwrapped.
He hadn’t realized how personal, even intimate, decorating the tree was. At least, that was how it felt doing it with her.
He absolutely wanted her back in his bed. And he wanted her to stay there when this was behind them, which was an even wilder thought.
She pulled a Lego fire engine ornament from bubble wrap. He remembered gluing the red bricks together after he broke his mom’s glass fire engine ornament when he was nine. It wasn’t a bad replica. He shared the story.
“That is ridiculously sweet.” She held it out to him. “You want to hang it?”
He shook his head. If he remembered correctly, there was a different ornament in the box he wanted to find. He dug through the bubble-wrapped pile and spotted a bundle that was the right size and shape.
He pulled the glass globe the size of a tennis ball from the wrapping and held it up to the light. The fake green leaves and red berries sparkled with glitter. When he was in third grade, he’d spent his allowance on this gift for his mom, not knowing what the plant inside symbolized. He just knew she loved gardening and would think it was the most beautiful ornament ever. This ornament had come his way after his mom had passed three years ago. She always swore it was her favorite.
Now he lifted it over his head and waited for Diana to turn around.
He wasn’t disappointed by her smile when she did.
“Mistletoe?”
“You know what to do.”
She laughed and took a step toward him. “Do I ever.”
She paused before him, and he continued holding the glass ball over his head like a fool. But he didn’t feel even a little bit foolish seeing the look on her face.
He moved his arm, so now the ornament hung over her head, and with his free hand, he touched her cheek, then slid his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head as his mouth found hers.
She kissed him back, all in, mouth open, tongue stroking. He set the ornament on the pile of bubble wrap, freeing his arm to circle her waist and pull her flush against him.
They stood like that for a long interval. Kissing deep. She tasted like eggnog and chocolate, and he was hungry for more.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t seduce her today. Not when her life was in scary upheaval, but as she kissed him with the same hunger, he found it hard to remember his resolve.
In the end, it was the buzz of his cell phone on the coffee table that pushed them apart. The call could be important.
He raised his head, but didn’t let her go. He stared into her eyes, seeing a reflection of the same arousal and desire that coursed through him. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to promise restraint, but he knew he should set a boundary, if only to keep himself in line.
Instead, he dipped his head and kissed her neck. “God, how I want to fuck you.”
She let out a choked laugh. “Same.”
He released her and picked up his phone, which had stopped buzzing.
Missed call from Xavier.
He hit the callback button, watching Diana as she took the ornament from the top of the box and hung it on the tree.
“Xave,” he said into the phone. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. My hands were full.”
Diana let out a soft laugh.
Xavier got right to the point. “You want to talk to Luke?”
“Yeah. I remember him saying something about him and his wife being friends with the former attorney general and the senator from Maryland who owns Raptor?”
“Yeah. Undine worked for NHHC for Mara Garrett—the former AG’s wife. Luke has assisted Raptor a few times.”
“Do you know if he’s met an operative named Boyd?”
“Ian? Yeah. They’re friends. Ian and Cressida came to visit in October to meet Undine and Luke’s baby girl. We all got together for dinner one night when they were here.”
“So they’re close friends.” This was better than Chris had dared to hope. “You’ve met him. What’s your take?”
“Good guy. Dangerously good at poker. Speaks a gazillion languages. Doesn’t miss the CIA. Why so interested in Ian?”
“He’s working for the wrong team on something, and I need to know if we can trust him.”
“I don’t know him well enough to vouch for him. But Luke trusts him. They had each other’s back when there was an incident in Palau several years ago. Who is he working for that’s causing you to question?”
“Family named Gardner. They own the Historie chain, among other stores.”
Xavier was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “What’s the issue?”
“Dennis Gardner financed a dig in Jordan, and the archaeologist who worked on it for him ended up being abducted.”
“You mean the woman the Kingdom is demanding be extradited?”
“You heard about that?”
“Audrey’s an archaeologist, and the archaeologist grapevine exploded a few hours ago. Half the internet wants to make an example of her.”
Chris’s heart sank. Diana would be gutted when she learned. “And the other half?”
“Two-thirds of them want her to be tried in the US.”
That wasn’t much better.
“And Audrey?”
“Wants more information before she casts judgment, but assumes there’s a lot more to the story, especially considering the woman’s boss at the university was murdered the day after the abduction.”
Chris watched Diana as he listened to Xavier. She stood stock-still. She couldn’t hear Xavier’s side of the conversation, but he knew she’d guessed what path it had taken.
“Shit, Chris. This is a loaded situation, but I don’t think Ian would do anything untoward in favor of Gardner. He’s a former CIA case officer, which means he’s no stranger to breaking the law, but that’s in foreign countries, not on US soil.”
“Gardner might not be breaking any laws either, but he can still throw gas on burning embers.”
“I’ll call Luke. Want me to have him call you?”
“Not yet. Leave my name out of it. No one can know my involvement. Ask Luke to reach out to Boyd. Tell him a Valkyrie has questions.”
“How is he supposed to get in touch with this Valkyrie?”
Chris huffed out a breath. Diana was going to hate it, but they needed to go back. Little Creek was just too far from DC to be useful.
“If he agrees, tomorrow in Fairfax. There’ll be a cell phone waiting for him at a place to be determined.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before going to sleep on Saturday night, Chris went to a drive-through automatic teller machine and withdrew his daily limit of five hundred dollars. On their way out of town Sunday morning, they visited the same teller machine and he withdrew an additional five hundred. Diana tucked down in the well of the seat before they entered the bank parking lot, hoping to avoid being picked up by any cameras in the lot or on the ATM itself.
Not surprisingly, she hadn’t slept well given what Chris had reluctantly told her of the archaeological community’s unkind verdict. At least Xavier’s wife wanted more information.
She honestly wondered what she’d think if she were on the outside looking in. Would she be so quick to judge?
Before she’d contemplated working for the CIA, maybe.
Her decision to apply to the agency had been fueled by reading reports of the beheading of the archaeologist in Palmyra, followed by her shock and anger when the reports of Hobby Lobby buying looted artifacts came out. Nothing could have been done about Palmyra, but if knowledgeable operatives were in place, maybe they could have broken up the network before so much money was delivered into the coffers of terrorist groups.
She had the skills and credentials. She spoke Arabic. And she cared about the resource in a way that someone who stood to make massive profit from the deal never could. Antiquities dealers, no matter how ethical, were in it for the profit, not to protect the resource.
Salim had equal outrage over artifacts being sold to fund terrorism, and it had felt more personal to him given his heritage. He’d been supportive as she’d applied, and it wasn’t until she’d been accepted into a training class—a process that took more than a year—that the reality sank in and he grew increasingly concerned.
Had he lived, there was a reasonable chance she wouldn’t have gone through with it. But with him gone and the CIA out of reach, she’d opted for the next best substitution. She’d been grief-stricken and angry and devastated, and the idea of doing something to change the system that was doing so much harm to the Middle East and the world had given her purpose. So she’d gone all in.
She knew there were others like her who wanted to make a difference and end artifact trafficking. She felt bile rise in her throat at knowing that many of those people would think she was the enemy. The villain of the story.
But really, wasn’t she?
She pulled her knees to her chest as she started to shake.
“Pull up, Diana.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You’re in the same position you were in when I found you in the pantry yesterday.”
She unfurled her legs as she saw the truth of his words. How many times had she sat in the tent in Jordan, in this same position?
She’d have slept curled in a ball last night, except she’d shared Chris’s bed. He’d held her and stroked her back until she’d drifted to sleep, and this morning, she’d woken up curled against his side.
She’d had sex with this man, and she’d slept with him now too, but it wasn’t the same. “You think someday we’ll have sex and sleep in the same bed?”
He laughed. “Talk about your change in subjects.”
“Answer the question, Flyte.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, even as he kept his eyes on the road. “If I have anything to do with it, yes.”
“I’m pretty sure that by definition, you have something to do with it.”
“Takes two to tango.”
She pulled his hand to her lips. “I do want to tango with you.”
He pulled his hand away and tugged at his pants, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s gonna be a long-ass drive to DC.”
At least she no longer regretted Thursday night. On the contrary, she was now grateful she’d made the wild choice to go home with him. Maybe, when this was all over—if that was even possible—they could try dating. A relationship wasn’t entirely unreasonable given that they lived just a few hours apart.
Now she stared at Chris as they ate takeout for dinner and imagined what a future with him might look like. She remembered the feel of his big body sliding against hers, his large palms cupping her breasts as he kissed his way downward.
She closed her eyes as her face and body flushed with heat.
“What?” he asked.
She wondered if he’d believe a thirty-two-year-old woman could have a hot flash?
She shifted her focus to the blank corner next to a gas fireplace. “I was thinking this room needs a Christmas tree. If you celebrate Christmas, that is.”
“Sure you were.” He chuckled, then studied the corner she’d indicated. “But yeah, on the tree thing. My ex probably kept most of the ornaments, but I should have some lights and a few decorations buried in the moving boxes stacked in the garage.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s not that late. We could go to a lot and get a tree tonight if you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I like the idea. We’ve earned a treat. I can get eggnog and put on Christmas music. Do it right.”
“Should I stay here? While you go? I mean, we shouldn’t be seen together.” The news hadn’t mentioned a warrant being issued, but she needed to lie low just in case one was in the works.
“The tree lot should be safe enough. No one knows me here. But I’d need to go to a store for a tree stand. Probably best if you don’t go shopping with me. Stores have plenty of cameras. If anyone figures out you’re with me, they’ll review footage from every camera in the area they can find.”
Before they left, Chris found the Christmas boxes. They contained what he’d expected: less than two dozen ornaments, but plenty of strings of multicolored lights. After bringing the boxes into the living room, they set out, heading to a tree lot a good distance from the military base in an abundance of caution. They quickly chose a tree, and Diana waited in the passenger seat while he strapped it to the roof.
She felt a strange little spark of happiness at the randomness of the sudden excursion. The 4Runner was parked facing the busy street, and she watched a line of cars filled with holiday shoppers turn into the busy strip mall across the street.
The idea of buying presents hadn’t even crossed her mind, and with Chris’s reminder about the numerous cameras in stores, it was off the table for her this holiday season.
Watching the cars file into the mall like ants to their colony, she couldn’t say she was disappointed, but she’d have enjoyed picking out something special for Morgan’s daughter, who had transformed from a babbling toddler to a sprinting chatterbox in the months Diana was in Jordan.
Diana’s gaze landed on the mammoth sign next to the shopping center entrance that listed the stores and restaurants to be found in the complex. One familiar logo jumped out at her, and her mood plummeted.
Historie. Marbled-white letters with the capital H made of two Corinthian columns.
She scanned the line of shops, looking for the gift store. She spotted it at the end of the line. Business was booming on Saturday night a little more than two weeks before Christmas.
Had Dennis Gardner spoken with the State Department yesterday after their meeting? Or had he turned around and spoken directly with his contacts in Jordan? Gardner was likely more concerned about his relationship with the Kingdom than with the US government.
She’d read the US/Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan extradition treaty days ago, when she first realized she could be in jeopardy, and went over it with Chris again today. The crimes she was accused of committing: looting an archaeological site, aiding and abetting terrorism, were both subject to extradition of US nationals based on the fact that both crimes were punishable by more than a year in prison.
Furthermore, Diana had actually committed the crimes and had admitted as much. It wasn’t like they had to work hard to gather evidence against her. The arrest of Rafiq would have tempered her actions for both countries, but even then, she’d have faced the same scrutiny.
She stared at the replica store across the busy roadway and felt the prick of tears. Dammit. She was supposed to be all cried out at this point. She took a deep breath and listened to the thumping on the roof of the car as Chris tied on the eight-foot fir tree.
What was Gardner’s role in all this? She dug through her purse to find Ian Boyd’s business card. She hadn’t even glanced at it when she’d tossed it in her purse before leaving the bar yesterday afternoon, and now she was curious. At last, she found it and stared at the sharp-beaked bird logo next to the company name: Raptor.
Ian Boyd didn’t have a fancy title. He didn’t have any kind of job title or description at all. Just his first and last name and phone number with DC area code. She imagined James Bond’s card would be similar, except the company name would be Universal Exports.
She’d wonder if Raptor was real, but she was a Maryland resident, and the company owner, Alec Ravissant, was one of her senators. She remembered the headlines when there was an explosion on his estate and it was related to the company.
The driver’s side door opened at the same time as she flipped Ian’s card over. She gasped after reading the handwritten note.
“What’s that?” Chris asked.
She showed him the back of the card.
Tell Freya to call me
“Ian Boyd knew I was a Valkyrie.”
“That’s…interesting. Did you tell Freya about the interview?”
“Never had a chance. I saw Jamal on the Metro and forgot about everything related to Boyd and Gardner. I changed trains a few times to be certain he wasn’t following me, then went to your hotel.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how we can contact Freya. Maybe we can use Boyd.”
“He might turn me in.”
“It’s a risk, but I won’t be direct. I think I know someone who knows his boss.”
“The senator?”
“Yes. Him and Raptor’s CEO. I can make a call—it will be totally safe. He’s one of my closest friends in the world.” He started the engine. “Now, let’s get this tree home. I was able to buy a stand, so we can get it set up and put lights on it. Might not need to go to the store tonight at all.”
“You promised me eggnog.”
He smiled. “We’ll stop at a convenience store on the way home.”
She dropped a hand on his knee, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. “Okay, then. Let’s go home, set up our tree, and see if we can find a way to get in touch with Freya.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
This was not how Chris had imagined spending the first Saturday night of his vacation, and yet it was the most vacation-like thing he’d done since…last Christmas.
He also could now see how big the cracks had been in his marriage last year, as he and Pam had bickered over every detail. He’d been unaware Pam had been cheating on him for over a year at that point, but in hindsight, it was obvious.
Diana oohed and aahed over the few ornaments he had—all ones that he’d had since childhood. His mom had gifted him with the box the first Christmas he shared with Pam as a married couple, and they’d always been packed separately, which was the only reason he had them now.
He’d probably made a mistake in letting Pam keep all the ornaments they’d collected together, but right now, he didn’t care as he watched Diana carefully place on the tree the popsicle stick ornaments he’d made when he was in kindergarten.
She treated them like they were made of blown glass. The shadows had left her eyes, and she flushed with pleasure as she asked him to give the detailed origin story of each ornament she unwrapped.
He hadn’t realized how personal, even intimate, decorating the tree was. At least, that was how it felt doing it with her.
He absolutely wanted her back in his bed. And he wanted her to stay there when this was behind them, which was an even wilder thought.
She pulled a Lego fire engine ornament from bubble wrap. He remembered gluing the red bricks together after he broke his mom’s glass fire engine ornament when he was nine. It wasn’t a bad replica. He shared the story.
“That is ridiculously sweet.” She held it out to him. “You want to hang it?”
He shook his head. If he remembered correctly, there was a different ornament in the box he wanted to find. He dug through the bubble-wrapped pile and spotted a bundle that was the right size and shape.
He pulled the glass globe the size of a tennis ball from the wrapping and held it up to the light. The fake green leaves and red berries sparkled with glitter. When he was in third grade, he’d spent his allowance on this gift for his mom, not knowing what the plant inside symbolized. He just knew she loved gardening and would think it was the most beautiful ornament ever. This ornament had come his way after his mom had passed three years ago. She always swore it was her favorite.
Now he lifted it over his head and waited for Diana to turn around.
He wasn’t disappointed by her smile when she did.
“Mistletoe?”
“You know what to do.”
She laughed and took a step toward him. “Do I ever.”
She paused before him, and he continued holding the glass ball over his head like a fool. But he didn’t feel even a little bit foolish seeing the look on her face.
He moved his arm, so now the ornament hung over her head, and with his free hand, he touched her cheek, then slid his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head as his mouth found hers.
She kissed him back, all in, mouth open, tongue stroking. He set the ornament on the pile of bubble wrap, freeing his arm to circle her waist and pull her flush against him.
They stood like that for a long interval. Kissing deep. She tasted like eggnog and chocolate, and he was hungry for more.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t seduce her today. Not when her life was in scary upheaval, but as she kissed him with the same hunger, he found it hard to remember his resolve.
In the end, it was the buzz of his cell phone on the coffee table that pushed them apart. The call could be important.
He raised his head, but didn’t let her go. He stared into her eyes, seeing a reflection of the same arousal and desire that coursed through him. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to promise restraint, but he knew he should set a boundary, if only to keep himself in line.
Instead, he dipped his head and kissed her neck. “God, how I want to fuck you.”
She let out a choked laugh. “Same.”
He released her and picked up his phone, which had stopped buzzing.
Missed call from Xavier.
He hit the callback button, watching Diana as she took the ornament from the top of the box and hung it on the tree.
“Xave,” he said into the phone. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. My hands were full.”
Diana let out a soft laugh.
Xavier got right to the point. “You want to talk to Luke?”
“Yeah. I remember him saying something about him and his wife being friends with the former attorney general and the senator from Maryland who owns Raptor?”
“Yeah. Undine worked for NHHC for Mara Garrett—the former AG’s wife. Luke has assisted Raptor a few times.”
“Do you know if he’s met an operative named Boyd?”
“Ian? Yeah. They’re friends. Ian and Cressida came to visit in October to meet Undine and Luke’s baby girl. We all got together for dinner one night when they were here.”
“So they’re close friends.” This was better than Chris had dared to hope. “You’ve met him. What’s your take?”
“Good guy. Dangerously good at poker. Speaks a gazillion languages. Doesn’t miss the CIA. Why so interested in Ian?”
“He’s working for the wrong team on something, and I need to know if we can trust him.”
“I don’t know him well enough to vouch for him. But Luke trusts him. They had each other’s back when there was an incident in Palau several years ago. Who is he working for that’s causing you to question?”
“Family named Gardner. They own the Historie chain, among other stores.”
Xavier was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “What’s the issue?”
“Dennis Gardner financed a dig in Jordan, and the archaeologist who worked on it for him ended up being abducted.”
“You mean the woman the Kingdom is demanding be extradited?”
“You heard about that?”
“Audrey’s an archaeologist, and the archaeologist grapevine exploded a few hours ago. Half the internet wants to make an example of her.”
Chris’s heart sank. Diana would be gutted when she learned. “And the other half?”
“Two-thirds of them want her to be tried in the US.”
That wasn’t much better.
“And Audrey?”
“Wants more information before she casts judgment, but assumes there’s a lot more to the story, especially considering the woman’s boss at the university was murdered the day after the abduction.”
Chris watched Diana as he listened to Xavier. She stood stock-still. She couldn’t hear Xavier’s side of the conversation, but he knew she’d guessed what path it had taken.
“Shit, Chris. This is a loaded situation, but I don’t think Ian would do anything untoward in favor of Gardner. He’s a former CIA case officer, which means he’s no stranger to breaking the law, but that’s in foreign countries, not on US soil.”
“Gardner might not be breaking any laws either, but he can still throw gas on burning embers.”
“I’ll call Luke. Want me to have him call you?”
“Not yet. Leave my name out of it. No one can know my involvement. Ask Luke to reach out to Boyd. Tell him a Valkyrie has questions.”
“How is he supposed to get in touch with this Valkyrie?”
Chris huffed out a breath. Diana was going to hate it, but they needed to go back. Little Creek was just too far from DC to be useful.
“If he agrees, tomorrow in Fairfax. There’ll be a cell phone waiting for him at a place to be determined.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before going to sleep on Saturday night, Chris went to a drive-through automatic teller machine and withdrew his daily limit of five hundred dollars. On their way out of town Sunday morning, they visited the same teller machine and he withdrew an additional five hundred. Diana tucked down in the well of the seat before they entered the bank parking lot, hoping to avoid being picked up by any cameras in the lot or on the ATM itself.
Not surprisingly, she hadn’t slept well given what Chris had reluctantly told her of the archaeological community’s unkind verdict. At least Xavier’s wife wanted more information.
She honestly wondered what she’d think if she were on the outside looking in. Would she be so quick to judge?
Before she’d contemplated working for the CIA, maybe.
Her decision to apply to the agency had been fueled by reading reports of the beheading of the archaeologist in Palmyra, followed by her shock and anger when the reports of Hobby Lobby buying looted artifacts came out. Nothing could have been done about Palmyra, but if knowledgeable operatives were in place, maybe they could have broken up the network before so much money was delivered into the coffers of terrorist groups.
She had the skills and credentials. She spoke Arabic. And she cared about the resource in a way that someone who stood to make massive profit from the deal never could. Antiquities dealers, no matter how ethical, were in it for the profit, not to protect the resource.
Salim had equal outrage over artifacts being sold to fund terrorism, and it had felt more personal to him given his heritage. He’d been supportive as she’d applied, and it wasn’t until she’d been accepted into a training class—a process that took more than a year—that the reality sank in and he grew increasingly concerned.
Had he lived, there was a reasonable chance she wouldn’t have gone through with it. But with him gone and the CIA out of reach, she’d opted for the next best substitution. She’d been grief-stricken and angry and devastated, and the idea of doing something to change the system that was doing so much harm to the Middle East and the world had given her purpose. So she’d gone all in.
She knew there were others like her who wanted to make a difference and end artifact trafficking. She felt bile rise in her throat at knowing that many of those people would think she was the enemy. The villain of the story.
But really, wasn’t she?
She pulled her knees to her chest as she started to shake.
“Pull up, Diana.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“You’re in the same position you were in when I found you in the pantry yesterday.”
She unfurled her legs as she saw the truth of his words. How many times had she sat in the tent in Jordan, in this same position?
She’d have slept curled in a ball last night, except she’d shared Chris’s bed. He’d held her and stroked her back until she’d drifted to sleep, and this morning, she’d woken up curled against his side.
She’d had sex with this man, and she’d slept with him now too, but it wasn’t the same. “You think someday we’ll have sex and sleep in the same bed?”
He laughed. “Talk about your change in subjects.”
“Answer the question, Flyte.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, even as he kept his eyes on the road. “If I have anything to do with it, yes.”
“I’m pretty sure that by definition, you have something to do with it.”
“Takes two to tango.”
She pulled his hand to her lips. “I do want to tango with you.”
He pulled his hand away and tugged at his pants, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s gonna be a long-ass drive to DC.”
