Page 10 of Afraid to Hope

She stiffened and looked at Director Cantrell, her eyes huge, her voice strained. “Do you feel this is necessary, sir?”

“I do. Given Moroccan social customs, particularly in the outlying towns and villages, it will be easier if you are married. Under this guise, you can work as a team, communicate with one another easily, and be most effective. The primary reason your covers were selected was to provide you both with more flexibility, especially when you are outside the cosmopolitan areas. In rural areas and villages, social status is relative to the woman’s marital status. So being married elevates your status and also affords you the respect you will need and are entitled to, Doctor.”

“I concur,” Bane joined in, amusement lighting his eyes.

Natasha shot Bane a seething look and steeled herself before asking, “Separate beds, sir?”

Emmet squirmed in his seat. “I cannot surmise what your sleeping arrangements will consist of. You will share a room. Always. I expect you to appear married. Happily married.” His focus turned to Bane and he raised his eyebrows. “Respectfully married. The two of you acting as husband and wife does not negate the cultural expectation of no outward displays of affection in public.”

Bane nodded. “Got it.”

Thank god. “Thank you for addressing that, sir.”

Director Cantrell’s sharp blues regarded both of them. “I expect you to deal with your marriage as you see fit and to be convincing. You are newly married, after all.” He opened the drawer in front of him and ripped open a tiny manila envelope. Rings clattered on the desk. “Go ahead and put them on now.”

Natasha stared at the smaller ring and swallowed audibly, then slipped the cool silver over her finger. It fit perfectly. Her brows shot up.

Emmet responded to her surprised expression. “We are thorough in gathering what might be necessary, including minutiae like ring sizes. As you know, the smallest details can make or break a mission.” He pushed the larger ring toward Bane.

Bane leaned forward and played with the band before slipping it over his left ring finger, covering Natasha’s hand with his, squeezing firmly. Her attempt to withdraw her hand was thwarted, and she was unable to read his expression as he said seriously, “I thee wed.”

Natasha bathed Bane with her pissed-off expression. “Do not touch me,” she warned, her voice cold.

Bane released her hand and lounged back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his nose, eyes dancing with humor. “You may decide otherwise, Doctor. I’ve noticed you enjoy sugary things. Trust me, I’m among the sweetest.”

“Bane,” the director barked.

“Sorry, Emmet. I find it difficult to curb myself. The doc has a burr up her ass, and we have to work around that.” Bane rose, hooking his thumbs into his front pockets, his fingers loosely pointing toward his zipper.

Natasha’s eyes followed the movement, and Bane smirked knowingly. Her body responded again, even as her anger came to a slow boil. “You are the burr in my ass, Mr. Rua,” she said heatedly. “And apparently you enjoy being so.” Her eyes pleaded with Emmet. “Sir, I don’t think I can do this.”

Emmet rose and placed his hands on his desk, leaning toward Natasha. “You can and you will. This cover affords you and Bane the easiest and safest mobility. You’ve been married for a month. Work out the specifics of your wedding date and wedding between yourselves later today.”

Natasha pursed her lips and nodded.

“We’re having a working honeymoon, Emmet?” Bane slapped his hand on his thigh and grinned. “How nice.”

Emmet raised his brows at Bane before going on. “For decades there have been archaeologists who spy on looters. There have also been and continue to be archaeologists who are part and parcel to the looting and trafficking of priceless ancient artifacts. This is your role, Doctor. Your training in classical archaeology and archaeometry expertise is critical to this assignment. Bane, in addition to your role as husband, you will travel as a professional freelance photographer.”

On cue, Matilda knocked and entered, handing Bane a large worn camera bag before heading back for the door.

“Thanks for the gift, Tilly.” Bane opened the bag to inspect what it held. He whistled as he pulled out the camera and different lenses. He sounded like a little boy unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning. “Nice! You guys went all out.”

“The fact that photography is a serious hobby enhances your cover. We have created a private conglomerate shell of interested buyers who employ you. ART Enterprise Global. An acronym for Artifacts, Retrieval, and Trade. You may be asked by those you come in contact with. The shell leads back to the setup in our offices should anyone inquire or check it out. We fully expect that this will be the case.”

Natasha pushed her emotions aside to concentrate on the mission’s details. “We’re posing as ready to purchase for our buyers?”

“Affirmative. We play their game. Convincingly. Everything is in place. The assessment I provided underscores that the time to act is now.” Emmet handed Natasha another manila envelope while Bane was absorbed in checking out the camera equipment. “Here is a brief regarding the conglomerate, its financials, notable people, et cetera. I’m sorry it wasn’t in your binders, but it is still being fine-tuned. The phone numbers are programmed into your satellite-capable mobiles that you’ll have soon. You have additional time to absorb and memorize the particulars tonight and during your travel tomorrow if necessary. The success of the mission and, possibly, your lives depend on it. Return all of it to the office before leaving Casablanca.”

Emmet glanced at his watch. “You have an appointment at the archaeological museum in Rabat at oh nine thirty tomorrow. Afterward, Simon will take you to acquire a car. Insurance and paperwork matching your covers will be in the glove compartment. The plan is for you to leave the following day. He will pick both of you up in the morning at yourriadat oh eight hundred.”

Natasha bolted up. “What?”

Emmet lifted his hand to caution Natasha, his voice serious and expression somber. “Mr. Rua is spending the night. This will provide you additional opportunity to study further tonight. Together. Yourriadprovides the beginning of a solid cover. The American is an exceptionally skilled and nefarious network with people everywhere. We are confident that neither of you have been compromised, but we cannot be sure who might be watching, listening, and reporting, which is why yourriadis being swept while we meet. You leave together, Dr. Jordaan”—he cleared his throat and corrected himself—“Dr. Rua, as husband and wife from here forward.”

A rap on the door kept Natasha from going ballistic.

Emmet rose. “Prompt as usual,” he said, looking pointedly at Bane.

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