Page 33 of Dangerous Protocol

Nadim Al-Mansoori had no idea the hell-storm he’d unleashed by taking their daughter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jeffrey glanced over his shoulder at Maya where she perused his bookcase. She reached up and slid out the copy of Sun Tzu’sThe Art of Warthat he’d received from his parents upon joining the Marine Corps.

She flipped open the cover and innocently dragged her tongue over her lips, and his body heated at the memory of their kiss.

The urge to have her had been overwhelmingly powerful and he’d decided to give in to the impulse. It was much more than sexual chemistry. From the beginning, they’d had a strong attraction to one another, and once they’d slept together, they never could seem to get enough. Their appetite for each other had been insatiable, and his desire for her hadn’t diminished during their years apart.

She set the book back on the shelf, turned toward him, and watched him load the dishwasher with a look of longing.

“What is it?” He stowed the plate on the bottom rack and shut the door with a softthump. He swiped the sponge back and forth across the counter and set it in a small dish by the sink.

“None of the places we’ve lived had a dishwasher. Nor a washer and dryer.” Her thoughts seemed to turn inward. “At first, I resented having to give up my things, but my resentment was quickly replaced by the need to keep us safe. If that meant living in a tiny cottage or flat with very few modern conveniences, then so be it.” She blinked a few times, crossed her arms, and looked at him across the wide space. “How utterly shallow and unimportant all of that seems now.”

“You really should lie down and try to get some rest.” Jeffrey dried his hands on the dish towel and hung it over the front of the sink, flipped off the kitchen lights, and walked over to her. “Even if only for a short nap.”

As if triggered by the wordnap, she yawned.

“I’ll just rest here on the sofa, if that’s all right.” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“Of course.”

As if her exhaustion had become too heavy a burden, she dropped onto the center cushion and grabbed a throw pillow to prop against the arm of the sofa. Her body sort of teetered over, and she collapsed onto the soft leather. She shifted to her side so that her back was to the sofa and bent her knees up on thecushion.

He grabbed a blanket from one of the chairs, draped it over her, and sat on the coffee table in front of her.

“Are you warm enough?” His fingertip skimmed over her soft cheek, and he drew her hair back from her face.

“I am, thank you.” She snuggled under the blanket, and her eyes drifted shut. Within moments, she drifted off to sleep.

He pushed up off the coffee table and headed into his bedroom. He’d had a special room built next to it that was accessed by an opening concealed behind a large bookcase. A code was required to open the door, and the only other person who knew about the room and could access it was Andi.

It was where he stored his weapons, tactical gear, and a five-foot-tall fireproof safe full of dossiers he’d compiled during his years with the NSA. The information contained in those files alone could destroy more than one past president, a few prime ministers, and even topple a couple of royal families.

It was also worth killing him for.

Jeffrey tapped his phone screen to open his security system app, then input the code. He gripped the edge of the shelf and pulled, and the very heavy, six-inch-thick steel door slowly swung open.

He stepped into the room, and the lights automatically came on overhead. He moved over to the reloading bench where he made his own ammunition and retrieved asmall key from a ceramic tankard. His name and rank were printed on one side, his battalion logo on the other. He’d left the Corps as a lieutenant colonel, and the men under his command had given the mug to him as a parting gift.

He jammed the key into the lock, jiggled it just so, and swung the door open. His fingers flicked through the folders until he found the one he wanted. He lifted it out, set it on top of the cabinet, and flipped it open.

It had been a while since he’d had a reason to look at this one.

His eyes skimmed the documents one page at a time until he was certain he had everything he would need to ensure Maya and Isla’s safety. Getting her out of the embassy was only the first step. Ensuring Al-Mansoori gave up his vendetta against Maya was the ultimate goal.

Confident he had what he needed, he put the folder back into the safe, pushed the door shut, and locked the cabinet. He tossed the key back into the mug with aclink.

Jeffrey walked over to the wall where his three favorite rifles were mounted beneath special accent lights. Those babies had served him well over the years. And they’d saved a large number of allied forces, too.

Various pistols were tucked away in drawers lined with foam cut to fit their unique shapes. Extra magazines, holsters, rifle straps, scopes, gun bags, and other necessary gear were kept there, too. The entire room was fireproof and pretty close to bombproof, which was important whenyou were storing enough gunpowder and ammo to keep the ATF boys on their toes. The Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms could be so persnickety sometimes. But being the head of the NSA helped keep them off his back.

Fortunately, he had enough property to keep his skills sharp without having to go to a gun range. A luxury he never took for granted.

Jeffrey slid open a wide door and revealed a walk-in closet. He flipped up the light switch and stepped inside. Time to ditch the suit.

He yanked some clothes from a drawer and changed into a long-sleeved shirt made of high-tech fabric, tactical pants with multiple pockets, and grabbed his field boots. All in black and all broken in from years of use. He tucked his cell phone in one of his pockets, sat on a stool to shove his feet into his boots, and laced them up.

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