After Midnight Page 5

  Abby watched helplessly as he armed himself. Strapped on the holster, snapped a knife sheath on his belt, checked the magazines of his pistols before sliding them into place. The entire time, he didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look her way.

  “You said my input mattered.” He kept his back to her as he finally spoke in a gruff voice.

  “It does,” she whispered.

  “Fine, then here it is.” He spun around, green eyes hard with resolve. “I want this baby. I understand that our work is dangerous, and if having this kid means we have to leave the team, then so be it. And maybe it won’t be so bad, returning to civilian life. We could buy a house in the suburbs somewhere. Maybe move to Michigan so we could be near my folks. Our kid would have his grandparents living nearby—think about how great that would be.”

  Kane sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving hers. “We could make this work, Abby. We can give our child a good life.”

  A pang of doubt tugged at her. “You really think so?”

  “I know so.” Aggravation floated across his face. “I want this baby. I think deep down you want it too, and it makes me crazy that you can consider the alternative. I never took you for a coward.”

  Anger bubbled in her throat, then spilled over in a fast, hot rush. “I’m a coward now? Just because I have doubts about my ability to raise a child? I’m sorry, but I didn’t have the idyllic childhood you did. My mother was a prostitute who brought her johns home to play with me!” Nausea churned in her stomach. Although Kane was fully aware of her past, she still felt ashamed talking about it. “I was seven when one of those bastards raped me. Seven years old, Kane. That was my childhood.”

  His tone softened. “And then Jeremy found you. He adopted you, showed you a different kind of life.”

  She laughed without an ounce of humor. “God, Kane. I loved that man to death, but do you really think my life with Jeremy was any less screwed up? He trained me to be a warrior. He loved me, but there was no warmth in our relationship. He treated me like a soldier, and yeah, he taught me a lot and I appreciated everything he did for me, but that wasn’t a real childhood either.” She angrily shook her head. “I don’t know how to do all the stuff your mom does. Cook and bake and knit sweaters and—”

  “You can learn,” he cut in.

  “I’m not sure I want to,” she shot back. “Look, I might be fucked up and scarred, but I’m fine with who I am. And if we do keep this baby, I’m not about to change my entire personality.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” Kane sounded as frustrated as she felt, and despite his firm denial, she suddenly realized how untrue it was.

  He did want her to change.

  The upsetting notion brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Kane always swore that he loved her for who she was, that he accepted her flaws, but the future he’d just described said otherwise. Moving to Michigan? Buying a house near his parents? That wasn’t what she wanted at all. She could never, ever belong in that kind of setting.

  Even if they kept the baby, she would want more than the goddamn suburbs, and his inability to see that made her want to cry. The sorrow and disillusionment hit her hard, sending her stumbling toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Kane demanded from behind her.

  “I need some air.” She didn’t turn around. Didn’t want him to see the tears that had welled up.

  She heard him jump to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” she said sharply, her hand going for the doorknob. “I want to be alone right now.”

  “But you’re pregnant.”

  Now she did whirl around. “That doesn’t make me an invalid!” She fought to control her rising temper.

  A multitude of emotions streaked across his face. Frustration, anger, worry, desperation. “Abby—”

  His phone rang, making both of them curse. Kane snatched the cell from the bed and answered the call. He didn’t sound the slightest bit thrilled as he muttered, “We’re on our way out.”

  “Morgan?” she asked after he’d hung up.

  He nodded. “We have an address. They’re waiting for us outside.”

  Abby bit the inside of her cheek. “Look. Regardless of what I—we—choose to do, I still don’t think I should be in the line of fire tonight.”

  “Obviously,” he said, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

  “But you still need me.”

  “Fine. We’ll position you off-site, and you can keep watch in case Nazara is there and makes a run for it.”

  “You want me to be a lookout?” After all the grisly things she’d seen and done, she found it damn ironic that she’d been banished to sitting in a car.

  He gave another terse nod. “If Nazara does escape, don’t engage. Just follow him.”

  Two minutes later, Kane relayed the same plan to Morgan when they met him in the parking lot. Noelle was already in the backseat of the Jeep, a bored expression on her face, while the fingers of one hand lazily twined a strand of her hair.

  Needless to say, the boss was more than a little puzzled by the plan and questioned it immediately.

  “We need you at the farmhouse,” Morgan told Abby.

  His tone invited no argument, but Kane gave one. “Well, she won’t be there,” he answered for Abby.

  Morgan looked from husband to wife, a scowl forming on his lips. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Abby hesitated, then let out a shaky breath, realizing there was no point in holding anything back. Morgan was their leader, and he needed to be made aware of any detail that might affect the outcome of the mission.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said softly.

  He blinked. “Oh.”

  “Exactly,” Kane muttered.

  After a moment, Morgan nodded. “All right. Abby stays out of it.”

  And that was that. Not another word spoken on the matter, much to her relief. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her personal life with Morgan, not when she and Kane weren’t even on the same damn page.

  Although they had two Jeeps, all four of them piled into one vehicle on Morgan’s orders. They were headed for a private airfield on the outskirts of the city, where a chopper awaited them. It would be quicker to reach Eshe Salib’s village by air, rather than make the two-hour drive south.

  Abby was grateful to sit in the back next to Noelle. With Kane in the passenger seat, she couldn’t see his face, which meant she didn’t have to glimpse his disappointment. Or anger. Or bitterness.

  But she knew he was feeling all those things. She saw it in the rigid set of his shoulders, heard it in the tightness of his voice as he spoke to Morgan about the layout of Salib’s farmhouse and the surrounding area.

  That was definitely the main drawback to working together. She couldn’t avoid him, couldn’t take a private moment to collect her thoughts.

  She knew she’d hurt and upset him, but they’d promised to be honest with each other, and she couldn’t pretend she was ecstatic about something that scared the living daylights out of her.

  But hurting Kane, seeing him in pain . . . God, it made her nauseous.

  She stared out the window and forced herself to focus on what mattered right now. This mission wasn’t about her. It was about the two-year-old boy who’d been stolen from his parents.

  Her pregnancy, Kane’s anger, this sudden rift that had opened up between them . . . all that would just have to wait.

  Chapter Six

  Kane had never been to the Egyptian countryside, and he could honestly say he preferred the rural landscape to the brown, dusty city they’d spend the past week in. In Cairo, there was barely a speck of green in sight, but here, lush greenery was in abundance. Even in the darkness, he could make out the flat fields of the neighboring farms, dotted by palm trees that seemed out of place among the crops. The air was freshe
r too, without smog or car exhaust to pollute it. The wind carried the scent of olives and watermelons, two of the crops grown on the farm they were currently staking out.

  The short chopper ride had taken them south, following the Nile then veering west to the small village where Nazara’s mother and Eshe Salib had grown up. Like most of the other houses in the area, Salib’s mud-brick farmhouse had a flat roof and outer walls trimmed with blue plaster; Morgan had informed Kane during the trek through the fields that the Egyptians believed the color blue warded off the evil eye. Whatever that meant. And how Morgan knew that was an even bigger mystery. The boss wasn’t one to spew out trivia or be all chatty, so Kane suspected the man was trying to help keep his mind off the bomb Abby had dropped.

  But it wasn’t working, because his brain had been chanting the same two syllables ever since he’d found out. Preg-nant. Preg-nant. Preg-nant. It was like a frickin’ meditation mantra, except the words didn’t bring peace or serenity. Only conflicting emotions that had tangled into a knot in his gut.

  He couldn’t believe she was even considering not keeping the baby. Their baby.

  Yes, they hadn’t planned it, but it was here, it was real, and she couldn’t just sweep it under the rug or get rid of the baby and expect him to forget about it.

  “Kane? Status?”

  Morgan’s voice barked in his ear, alerting him to the fact that he hadn’t checked in after he’d gotten into position. Hell. He really needed to concentrate on the task at hand. They were already one man short thanks to Abby’s absence. He couldn’t drop the ball when a little boy’s life was at stake.

  “Staring at the front door as we speak,” he reported. “Two lights on, one small window on the left—looks like the kitchen.” He swept his field glasses to the other side of the house. “Larger window on the right—living room.” He zoomed in closer. “Visual on female tango. Late-fifties, yellow housedress, asleep in a rocking chair. No one else in the room.”

  He shifted his focus to the dirt driveway, where the rusted brown Volvo they’d glimpsed from the road remained parked. Could belong to Salib. Or it could mean she had a visitor.

  “Noelle?” Morgan prompted. As usual, he sounded like he’d rather be addressing a sadistic dictator than speak to the woman.

  Noelle, who was stationed at the rear of the house, reported back in an indifferent tone. “One window with a light on—bathroom, I think. The glass is frosted, so I can’t see much, but there is some movement. Dark-haired figure, maybe male.”

  Kane’s shoulders tensed. “Apollo?” he asked, using the code name they’d assigned their target. The comm was secure, but you couldn’t be too careful in their line of work.

  “I already told you, I can’t see shit,” Noelle said irritably. She paused. “One second. I’ll try to get closer.”

  Kane kept his binoculars trained on the sleeping brown-skinned woman in the rocking chair as he waited for the next report. Morgan was positioned at the side of the house, but hadn’t found anything worthwhile yet, and Abby was parked a mile down the road, ready to tail Nazara if he tried to escape in that Volvo.

  At the thought of his wife, Kane’s palms grew damp. He’d always trusted her ability to handle herself, but . . . she was pregnant now. Carrying his child.

  His concern promptly turned to gnawing fear. Christ, maybe he should have insisted she stay in Cairo. What if she got hurt? What if—

  Noelle’s brusque words jerked him back to the task. “Shower’s on. Still can’t get a clear visual. Might be Apollo, might not.” A beat followed. “Open window on the east side.”

  Morgan voiced a sharp command. “Don’t enter the house until we assess the tango situation.”

  “No, really?” came Noelle’s silky taunt. “Relax, Jim. I’m just taking a peek.”

  Kane waited patiently. He verified that the female target was still asleep then did a sweep of the surrounding farmland. Some lights shone from the windows in the neighboring houses, but not many. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, though, since it was past ten o’clock. Folks around these parts woke up at the crack of dawn and spent their days working hard in the fields.

  “Visual on the kid,” Noelle suddenly hissed.

  Kane’s fingers tightened around the binoculars. “You sure?”

  “He’s in the back bedroom, sleeping on a cot. Approximately two years old, Caucasian, curly blond hair. Can’t see his face, but from what I can tell, the description matches the photos.” Another pause. “I can extract him right now, boys. Shower’s still on. They won’t even know I’m there.”

  Kane didn’t doubt it. According to Abby, her former boss was a ghost, fully capable of moving in and out of places unseen.

  “I’m coming to you,” Morgan snapped at Noelle. “Don’t move until I give the word. If you go in, I’ll be covering you.”

  Another two minutes passed. Kane kept his eye on the woman, ready to alert the others if she so much as twitched in her sleep. According to their sources, Eshe Salib was practically family to Nazara, and she’d had a hand in raising the guy. Not exactly something to be proud of, though, considering Khalid Nazara grew up to be a drug dealer. He’d been involved in other abductions before, usually snatching a local kid for a meager ransom. Going after the ambassador’s son had been a ballsy move on his part.

  Too ballsy, because there was no damn way he’d get away with it.

  “Kane, be on alert. If Nazara makes a run for it, radio Abby.”

  “Copy.”

  Silence again, broken only by the soft whistle of the wind. The area was too quiet, and the lack of activity worried him. As a SEAL he’d gotten used to covert missions, in and out before anyone knew the team had even been there. But lately all of his assignments for Morgan seemed to end in gunfire or explosions. The memory of those last few ops was accompanied by the words Abby had said to him earlier.

  We’re mercenaries.

  Hell, she was right. How could they ever raise a child in such a dangerous environment? Their compound in Costa Rica seemed secure, but that’s what Kane had thought about their place in Tijuana—before it was blown to bits when a group of hired guns had ambushed it.

  If they wanted their kid to live a safe, explosion-free life, they would definitely have to reassess their living situation. Maybe even leave the team.

  It hadn’t occurred to him to not to keep the baby, though. And it dismayed him that his wife saw it as an option.

  “The rug rat is secure.”

  His head snapped up. Hell, Noelle was good. Kane checked the living room window, but Eshe Salib was still sound asleep, and not a single sound came out of the house.

  “You got him?” Kane said urgently.

  “Yep. Matches the picture. It’s him.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” Morgan spoke up. “Get him back to Abby. Now.”

  Kane couldn’t believe how smoothly the extraction had gone. Noelle had literally climbed through an open window and rescued the ambassador’s son without a single goddamn hitch.

  He touched his earpiece. “What now, boss?”

  “Now we apprehend Apollo. Riggs wants him alive. I bet they’ll drag out his trial for years.” After a quiet chuckle, Morgan’s tone sharpened. “We move on my count. I’ll take the back, you’ve got the front.”

  “Copy.”

  Kane slipped his binoculars into his pocket, palmed his nine-millimeter, and waited for the order.

  * * *

  Abby was prepared for Noelle’s arrival—Morgan had radioed to say she was on her way—but she hadn’t expected the woman to appear out of nowhere and thrust a sobbing toddler in her arms.

  “Would you shut this thing up?” Noelle grumbled. “We’ve gotta go.”

  Abby blinked a few times, caught off guard as the little boy in her arms clutched her neck with chubby hands and held on for dear life. His high-pitched wails re
verberated in the night, his hot tears soaking the front of her tank top.

  “Slide over.”

  Noelle’s sharp address snapped her to action. She quickly slid into the passenger side of the truck they’d borrowed from the airfield, while Noelle hopped in the driver’s seat and yanked on the gearshift, her foot working the clutch.

  “What about Kane and Morgan?” Abby demanded, nearly shouting over the toddler’s shrieks. “Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

  “They’re taking care of Nazara. They’ll meet us there.”

  Since they’d stashed a secondary vehicle nearby, she wasn’t concerned about Kane and Morgan finding their way back, but she did worry about the possibility of Nazara hurting one or both of them.

  She swallowed her fear, reminding herself that Kane was a pro. She had to trust him to take care of himself.

  She just wished she could be there to watch his back.

  “Mama!”

  The anguished sob drew her gaze to the toddler in her arms. After a beat of hesitation, she reached down and stroked his damp blond curls. She didn’t have much experience with crying children, but the soothing caress seemed to calm him.

  “It’s okay,” she said awkwardly. “You’re okay now.”

  The sound of her voice penetrated his distressed state. His sobs quieted abruptly, and then a pair of enormous blue eyes peeked up at her.

  Abby’s heart squeezed when she noticed the tears clinging to his lashes and streaming down his cherub cheeks. She tightened her grip around him, breathing in his baby-powder scent. He still wore the blue T-shirt and brown shorts he’d had on when he was abducted, but he looked healthy and clean despite five days of captivity, which told her that Eshe Salib must have been taking good care of him.

  “Mama,” he whispered. “Want mama.”

  “You’re going home to your mommy and daddy now.” Abby gently stroked his back, then smoothed silky-soft curls off his forehead. “You’ll see them soon.” She glanced at Noelle, whose attention was focused on the road. “Everything went smoothly?”