Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Read online

  “And if they did, they’d be the best equipped to do something about it.”

  He couldn’t argue with her logic, but he couldn’t accept it either.

  They stopped next to the car. “Now stand back,” she ordered.

  Carter obeyed because his brain was still trying to find its way around her suggestion. It was preposterous. In all his years in the field, he’d never worried about his own side. That kind of thing was for movies, or books—like his book. In The Man Behind the Curtain, a mole deeply embedded in the Agency was hunting down his hero, but that was just a story. This was real life.

  Cursing softly under her breath, Madelyn lay down on the dirty pavement and shimmied under the car. After a moment she called out, “I don’t suppose you have a flashlight.”

  He recognized that tone. It was the same one his mother used to use when he and his brothers had pushed her patience to its limits. A woman on the verge of snapping. Only a fool would push her farther, and he was no fool. He searched his gym bag and found a small penlight attached to a key chain. “Will this do?”

  A small hand shot out from under the car, and he handed the light to her.

  She scooted her way around the undercarriage until she was satisfied then clambered out from under the car. With her pretty face drawn in a scowl, she handed him the light and yanked her rumpled T-shirt down. Then she hit the unlock button on the key fob. “It’s clear. Get in.”

  They drove in silence through the gate and back to the Parkway.

  “That is never going to happen again.” She spat the words, fixing her eyes on the winding, tree-lined road.

  The red needle on the speedometer crept past the speed limit, five miles, ten, then fifteen. She glanced down then lifted her foot off the gas pedal until the car slowed to the legal pace.

  “Look what you made me do.”

  “What? Speed?”

  “Don’t sound so innocent. I could have gotten a ticket. I’ve never gotten a ticket.”

  “You’re kidding. Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Boy, you really do play by the rules, don’t you?”

  “Yes, if I possibly can.”

  She would, of course. He pondered his own lifelong attitude toward authority. Maybe she was right; maybe he was a cowboy at heart. “You’re going to insist on driving tonight, aren’t you?”

  She shot him a quick glance before returning her attention to the road. “Tonight?”

  “Dinner at the Egyptian Embassy.”

  “Oh...yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  He pulled himself upright in the seat and swiveled to face her. “Now look. I’m sorry about the purse thing this morning, but I’m not going to spend the next month hiding in a shell like a hermit crab. You can come with me or not, but I’m going to dinner tonight. Syed is an old friend, and I owe him.” More than I can ever repay.

  Mutiny played across Madelyn’s features. So she didn’t like being crossed. Too bad. He’d be damned if he’d let someone dictate every minute of his life, even a beautiful and desirable someone who was paid to have his best interests at heart.

  “All right, but I’m definitely driving.”

  He’d let her have that one. “I’ll call Syed and tell him not to send the car.”

  She nodded. “What time?”

  “We should leave around seven.”

  She nodded again and drove the rest of the way back to the hotel in silence.

  ****

  At six o’clock, Madelyn stood under the hot spray of the shower, still mad enough to punch a porcupine. She would never allow Carter to distract her from the job at hand again, never.

  She toweled off, blew her hair dry, and pinned it up before dressing in a short black knit dress with a jacket and slipping her gun into her purse. She wouldn’t be able to take it into the embassy, but she could at least carry it in the car until they arrived and then lock it in the trunk.

  She was still fuming while she searched her traveling cosmetic bag for the lipstick she wanted. So he wants to see me in red, does he? Hah! She outlined her lips then filled them in with flaming crimson. Pursing her lips, she regarded her image with satisfaction. She rarely went for such a dramatic look, but tonight drama suited her mood. All she needed were a couple of chopsticks in her hair and she could pass for the proprietress of an opium den or Hong Kong bordello. A bit over-the-top for a writer’s assistant at a semi-diplomatic dinner maybe, but let Carter explain her to his friend if he felt the need.

  When he opened his door, he didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow in acknowledgement of her bold new look. She pressed her blazing lips together. What was the point of provocation if he refused to be provoked? She was spoiling for a sparring match, but that wasn’t going to happen if he decided to play Mr. Cool.

  “Let’s go,” she snapped.

  One corner of his mouth lifted, and he swept his hand before her. “After you.”

  She marched down the hall toward the elevators without looking back, and when they reached the parking garage, ordered him to stand aside while she made an elaborate show of checking the car with her mirror. After she pronounced it clear, they climbed in and drove north on Connecticut Avenue. Carter lounged in the seat next to her wearing gray slacks, a pink shirt, and navy blazer.

  What was it about him? He even managed to make pink look masculine.

  “Why aren’t you wearing a tie?”

  He regarded her with a frown. “Where did that come from? You sound like my mother.”

  His mother. Great. “Even ignoring protocol, it’s simply good manners.”

  “You’re still mad about this morning. Nothing happened. Get over it.”

  “With an attitude like that, I’m surprised you survived a month as a spy.”

  “This is different. I’m a civilian now. I left all that cloak and dagger crap behind.”

  “Did you? Are you sure?”

  He straightened in his seat. “Look, I don’t have an explanation for the things that have happened, but I can’t believe they’re connected to anything I did for the Agency. I cleaned everything up before I left. I’m not on anyone’s list.”

  “Maybe you should look again.”

  “I don’t want to look again, damn it.”

  Madelyn flinched at the bite in his words.

  “I just want to move on.”

  He might want to move away from his past, but she wasn’t convinced the current threats were unrelated. “Then why are you going to the Egyptian Embassy to have dinner with another spook?”

  “Can we drop the questions? We’re having dinner with an old friend.”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “No, and I’d have been happy to go alone.”

  Madelyn didn’t reply. She didn’t have to.

  After a couple of minutes of silence, he broke down. “All right, I’ll tell you. Then the subject is closed.”

  She kept her eyes on the traffic ahead.

  “Syed is a friend, one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He saved my life.”

  “Where? How?” The answers to those questions might fill in a few blanks.

  “He blew a hole in the wall of a damned prison in Yemen and dragged my sorry butt out, even though I was too weak to stand. Then he drove me for days across the desert with a bullet hole in my leg to a hospital in Cairo and arranged for our people to fly me home.”

  He turned to stare out the side window, and his voice dropped until she had to strain to hear. “He saved me even though he knew his sister Selima hadn’t survived the torture, that I’d failed to protect her.”

  The harsh self-condemnation in his quiet words left a hollow feeling in her chest. Maybe Carter was blameless in Selima’s death, but the result was as devastating as if he’d killed her himself. In his mind, he clearly bore the burden of responsibility. Did Selima’s brother blame him too? Perhaps Syed had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to avenge his sister.
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br />   “Turn here.”

  “I know where I’m going.” But glancing around, she realized she’d been so caught up in his story she’d lost track of where they were.

  She turned where he directed and spotted a pair of tall wrought iron gates in the next block. When she reached them, she pulled up and peered through the bars at the Embassy of the Arab Republic of Egypt. It said so in big black letters in Arabic and English on the front wall of the large modern building beneath the glare of a black iron eagle. A series of tall, narrow windows pierced the flat granite rectangles of the wall. The place was impressive and forbidding. Madelyn suppressed a shiver.

  She gave their names to the guard and drove forward when the gates opened. An embassy employee stood waiting to open the doors and park the car.

  “Just a moment.” She turned toward Carter, blocking the man’s view as she slid her gun from her purse and slipped it under the seat before handing the attendant her keys.

  “You know I’m not happy about any of this.” She kept her voice low.

  “Objection noted.”

  “And ignored.”

  If he heard her, he didn’t reply. Syed waited at the top of the steps under the porte cochère to greet them. He enveloped Carter in a bear hug.

  “I am so glad you could come, my friend.”

  “I’m glad too.”

  Syed released Carter and took Madelyn’s hand. “Ms. Li, you look beautiful. Please come in.”

  He led them through a metal detector and toward a long hallway, pausing to speak briefly with the guard at the lobby desk. They passed several small offices before Syed showed them into an ornately decorated parlor. She guessed the intent was sophistication, but the result was heavy and dark. The light from the table lamps and candles barely reached the corners of the room. Madelyn scanned the perimeter, looking for any place an attacker might hide, from the heavy fringed draperies to the large potted palms in the shadows.

  “Shurub shai?” Syed gestured to a polished brass tray holding a porcelain pot and several cups and saucers. A silent waiter stood ready to serve them.

  “Sure,” Carter replied. “Madelyn?”

  Her stomach rebelled. She’d been on edge all afternoon, anticipating an evening of unfamiliar food in a potentially dangerous place. Etiquette and her job demanded she sample everything, but her appetite had evaporated long before they drove through the imposing iron gates.

  “It’s tea.”

  “Oh, yes...of course...thank you.”

  Carter lounged on the gold damask couch as if he were in his own living room, but Madelyn perched on the edge, prepared to fly at the slightest provocation. With trepidation, she accepted a steaming cup from the waiter. The brew was very strong and dark but smelled like regular black tea. She took a careful sip and detected nothing unusual. So far, so good.

  Syed settled back in a gilt Louis XVI-style armchair and smiled. “I enjoyed your book, my friend.”

  Carter raised his brows. “You’ve read it already?”

  “Of course. I wished to support you, and I was curious.”

  “Was your curiosity satisfied?”

  Syed nodded. “It was. I am most relieved.”

  “I told you.”

  “So you did.”

  The waiter stepped up to Syed and whispered in his ear.

  “Ah. Dinner is served. I selected a menu of simple dishes to take your memories back to happy times. The chef, while excellent, is not perhaps quite as good a cook as my mother, but I hope you will enjoy the food.”

  Carter turned to Madelyn as they followed Syed into an adjacent small dining room. “Syed’s mother’s cooking is one of Egypt’s greatest hidden treasures.”

  Syed laughed and held Madelyn’s chair for her. “Have you ever been to my country, Ms. Li?”

  “No. I’ve always wanted to visit but haven’t had the opportunity.”

  “Well, you shall have a small taste of Egypt this evening.”

  She gradually relaxed enough to take an interest in the food and was surprised at how much she enjoyed the first course of soft, fresh-cooked baladi flat bread served with hummus and babaghanoush. She had eaten hummus before but had never tasted anything like the smooth, smoky dip of grilled aubergines and sesame seed paste with the exotic name.

  Syed kept the conversation light as they made their way through platters of lamb kebabs and grilled vegetables. The men took turns laughing at each other’s outrageous tales of past misadventures, but Madelyn sensed there were stories behind the stories. Their banter couldn’t disguise a deep camaraderie born of shared danger.

  After the silent servant had cleared the main dishes, he returned with plates of flaky baklava dripping in honey and layered with chopped walnuts. It was delicious but so sweet it made her teeth hurt. Last came the coffee served Turkish style, strong and thick in tiny cups without handles.

  “I was surprised to hear you had become a famous writer.” Syed sipped his coffee. “I always thought of you as a man of action.”

  “It’s something to do.”

  Syed’s expression sobered. “It has been a year. It is time. You must forgive yourself.”

  Carter laughed without humor. “Not going to happen.”

  “You must not let Selima’s death take you from life.”

  “It was my fault. I should have protected her.”

  “She loved the danger, but she knew the risks. She knew what she was doing.”

  “She was too young, too inexperienced.”

  “And for that, I must take the blame.” Syed’s expressive dark eyes held sadness, but also acceptance. “I was in command. I could have refused to allow her to go on the mission.”

  Carter’s small smile failed to banish the shadows from his eyes. “You could never refuse Selima anything.”

  “No. You are right, my friend. I could not.”

  “We share the blame.”

  The Egyptian nodded. “And perhaps, in that sharing, our burden may be lessened.”

  “Perhaps.”

  After a moment, Carter glanced at his watch then at Madelyn. “Time to go?”

  The tightness in her chest eased a fraction. “I think we should, yes. Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr. al-Hawari.”

  Syed rose. “The pleasure was all mine, I assure you.” He led the way back to the front entrance and signaled for the attendant to bring the car.

  As they stepped onto the wide stone steps to wait, the men continued their talk of old times. The cool breeze carried a hint of wood smoke, and Madelyn snugged the lapels of her jacket across her chest.

  A tiny red circle of light appeared on Carter’s forehead just before the shot rang out.

  Chapter Nine

  A split second after the high-powered rifle crack, a bullet slammed into the wall above Carter’s head, sending shards of granite flying. Instinct dropped him to a crouch. Instinct also sent his arms around Madelyn, clutching her to his chest to shield her from attack. She struggled against his grasp, but he held firm, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. In the war between fight and flight, his body chose fight, but he had more than himself to consider.

  Cuts from the razor-sharp slivers of stone stung his forehead and left cheek, but his only thought was for Madelyn. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Are you?”

  “No.”

  Warm breaths brushed his neck in rapid rhythm. Strong fingers gripped his biceps like a vise. In the circle of his arms, her taut body vibrated, and her fear fed his rage. They crouched, listening, but an electric silence hung in the air. Sweat dampened his shirt and brow as fury threatened to overwhelm years of training. His arms tightened around her. He’d been a target before, but this time someone had shot at Madelyn.

  Floodlights crisscrossed the pavement as security guards armed with automatic weapons swarmed the courtyard. Men shouted to each other in Arabic, with Syed barking orders above the confusion.

  Madelyn pushed out of his embrace. �
��We have to get out of here.” Tightening her grip on his arm, she pulled him toward the car.

  Syed appeared behind them. “You must come inside. Now. Please.”

  Mutiny played across her tense features, but before she could protest, Carter grabbed her wrist. “We’re too exposed here. We’ll be safer inside until his men finish sweeping the grounds.”

  Her gaze darted back and forth across the wide driveway. “I can’t protect you in there. My gun’s in the car.”

  “We’ll be safe. I promise. Come on.”

  Her eyes searched his. What she found must have satisfied her because she nodded, and they hustled back up the steps, flanked by Syed and two armed guards.

  “Come to my office,” Syed said once they were behind the heavy metal doors. “We’ll be more comfortable.”

  “We’ll wait here.” Defiance flashed in Madelyn’s eyes. “We have to leave as soon as possible.”

  Syed gave her a long, appraising look. “Very well.” He shifted his attention to Carter. “Your assistant is very protective, my friend.”

  “Yes, she is.” He should have known he couldn’t hide anything from his old comrade-in-arms. Syed had probably discovered her true position the night of the reception. Armed with her full name, it would only take an amateur a couple of minutes on the Internet to find the Phoenix, Ltd. website with her picture. And the Cairo Bureau Chief of the Egyptian Security Service was no amateur.

  “Perhaps that is not such a bad thing.”

  Carter met his glance. “Not at all.”

  “I saw it, you know.”

  Both men turned at her words, and she regarded them with a frown of intense concentration.

  “You saw what—the shooter?” Carter asked.

  “No. The laser sight. In the middle of your forehead.”

  A laser sight. That explained how a highly trained marksman could have taken such a difficult shot at night from outside the secure perimeter of the embassy. But if he was that good, how had he missed?

  “Then it moved,” she continued. “Just before the shot, the light popped up about six inches above your head.”

  It was hard to imagine a shooter who was capable of making a shot like that bobbling at the last second. It was more than unimaginable. It was impossible. “He missed on purpose.”