Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

One of the last people in the world Phoebe expected to see was on the helicopter.

Tucker Quentin.

Holy crap.

She instinctively reached for her camera, but Gabe sent her a glare that said don't-you-fucking-dare and strode out to meet the billionaire. Still, her shutter finger itched to snap a photo. Sure, she'd turned over a new leaf and had gotten away from the sensational paparazzi side of journalism, but the kind of money magazines offered for pics of Tuc Quentin would tempt even a saint. Especially pictures of Tuc Quentin in a war zone, where he had no discernible reason to be.

"Hollywood," Gabe said and held out a hand in greeting. "I didn't expect you personally."

"I was already in the area taking care of personal business," Tuc said and accepted the handshake.

Okay, maybe she hadn't completely turned over a new leaf because excitement hummed in her blood at the possibility of getting the scoop of a lifetime. What kind of business would one of the richest men in the U.S. have in a war zone while dressed in fatigues with a rifle slung over his shoulder?

She felt eyes on the back of her head and glanced over her shoulder. Seth was staring at her. The open disgust on his face extinguished all sparks of excitement and filled her with a biting shame. He'd always hate that she was a member of the media, wouldn't he? And she hadn't even told him about the scathing pieces she'd written about him. When she did, he'd never speak to her again—which, yes, was exactly why she kept putting it off. She didn't want him to hate her.

God, but she should have told him before last night. It had been wrong not to.

Sick to her stomach with guilt, she folded her arms in front of her and refocused on Gabe and Tuc's conversation.

"This everyone?" Tuc asked, scanning the group. "We can't stay on the ground long here. Too many Taliban in these hills with RPGs."

"We have two more," Gabe replied. "Sergeant Hendricks, plus a woman and a toddler we're taking to the shelter."

"And the dog," Ian spoke up, his hand resting on Tank's head. "He's coming with us."

To her surprise, Tuc offered no protest. "All right. Let's pack them up and go."

"What about my guys at the shelter?" Gabe asked. "Did you bring them up to speed?"

Tuc nodded. "I did, and I sent a couple men to help them beef up security there. After we take Hendricks to a hospital, the rest of you will come with me to a safe house where we'll have better access to technology. Oh, and why didn't you mention my local asset had been compromised?"

"Last thing on my mind right now," Gabe admitted.

"Yeah, well, some forewarning would have been nice. I had to shoot my way out of an ambush at his house."

Phoebe started. Did Tucker Quentin just say he'd shot his way out of an ambush? She must have made a sound of surprise because Tuc's gaze turned in her direction and then bounced immediately to Seth. His jaw slid to one side, and for a horrifying second, she got the feeling he was about to spill all of her secrets.

But how could he know?

She bit down on her lip, her heart hammering as his gaze settled on her again. Please don't.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, then spun away. "Been here too long. We need to move."

When Tuc Quentin said "safe house," what he meant was a sprawling, multi-million dollar mansion that, Seth guessed, was probably built off the profits of opium sales. Tuc confirmed as much as they piled into the elevator from the rooftop landing pad.

"Took it off a drug lord," he said casually and punched the down button when Phoebe asked about the house.

"Oh, I'm sure he was happy about that," Phoebe said.

"I'm sure he doesn't care one way or another. He went on an extended vacation."

Translation: Tuc and his men had made the house's former owner disappear. Seth wondered if she got his meaning and glanced over to see her staring at the billionaire in the same awed, somewhat greedy way she had back in the village when the guy first stepped off the bird.

Which pissed Seth right the hell off. Again. He'd barely restrained himself from stalking over to her and throwing her over his shoulder in a testosterone-fueled bid for ownership the first time. Now, in the close confines of the elevator, he gave serious thought to doing Tuc bodily harm.

So what if the tabloids had dubbed Tuc the world's sexiest man. And, yeah, so what if he was everything Seth was not. Wildly rich. Free of scars. And if he carried any baggage, he hid it well behind that Hollywood-bred smile of his.

Phoebe still had no right to stare at the guy like she wanted to lap him up.

When the elevator reached the main floor, Tuc held the door open and looked at Phoebe. "This is your stop."

She scowled. "Um, no. I don't think so."

"I know so." He nodded to Jesse, who passed the sleeping boy to her. "Zina's already with the kid's mother. She's worried about you. Take the boy and go talk to her."

Smart man, Seth thought with a tiny amount of grudging respect. Hit her with the one thing she couldn't refuse: Zina. Get her out of the way while keeping her safe. It was more than he had been able to do for her. Yet another plus in the Tuc column.

"Fine." She huffed out a breath and cradling the boy, she stepped into what looked like a huge living room.

"And send Quinn and Harvard to the basement level," Tuc said before letting the door close. "She's a feisty one."

Several of the guys grunted in agreement. Seth just stared at the back of his head and tried to figure out if that was a compliment or an insult. Either way, he wanted to end the guy.

A few more floors down, the doors slid open again, and Tuc led the way to a long, windowless boardroom. Or, more aptly, a war room. Screens covered one whole wall. A few of his people worked at the highest of high-tech computers, like something out of a sci-fi movie. Harvard would have a geekgasm over all the fancy toys in this place.

Tuc picked up a remote, aimed it at the largest screen, and up popped a 3-D floor plan of a mansion almost as big as the one they stood in.

"My men," Tuc introduced, motioning to the two men standing behind the computer terminals. "Rex, my medic. Devlin, my computer guy."

The lankier of the two—Rex—gave a big, toothy smile like a crocodile considering its next meal. Devlin, with his dark, slightly slanted eyes, was one of those unreadable silent types. Actually, kind of like Quinn.

Speaking of, the elevator door slid open, and Quinn joined them, followed by Harvard.

"How's Sergeant Hendricks?" Quinn asked and sat down at a long table in front of the screens. The rest of the team also took seats around the table.

"He'll live," Gabe said. "Most likely going to lose the leg, though."

"But he's alive. It's another point in the win column."

"Not yet." Gabe joined Tuc at the front of the room to study the map. "What are we looking at?"

"One of Jahangir Siddiqui's homes," Tuc said. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the picture into an aerial satellite view.

Marcus whistled. "Why can't we have toys like this?"

"Because HORNET is meant to travel light and fast, get in and get out. You already have almost everything you need to get the job done. Usually," Tuc added after a beat. "Not the case this time. You don't have the right equipment or enough manpower, so we're here to lend you a helping hand."

"Thank you," Gabe said.

Tuc nodded once, then again flipped the view of Siddiqui's mansion. "Thanks to the tracker Quinn planted on his car, we know this is where he's staying, and we think this is where he'll meet Zaryanko to make the trade for the bomb."

"Okay," Gabe said. "So let's talk logistics. What are we up against, force-wise?"