Free Taking Fire by Cindy Gerard Page A

him for a fool.
    Finally, he opened the door and felt the last of his hope die, along with a piece of his heart. The room was empty. Stone cold empty.
    Jaw hardening, his emotions turning to ice, he strode past the bed and wrenched open the bathroom door. There was nothing—not a toothbrush, not a comb.
    He did the same to the wardrobe, swinging the door wide, only to find more nothing.
    No laptop. No camera. No ugly shirts.
    No note explaining where she was. That she’d been unexpectedly called away to cover a bigger story somewhere else.
    No note telling him she was sorry.
    Because, of course, she wasn’t.
    She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted—and he’d gotten played. It took everything he had just to stand there and keep breathing.
    He looked around the room again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything, some small something to tell him she’d be back. But all he saw were memories—of her naked body stretched out beneath him on the bed, her skin so soft, her hair a wild mane, her voice with his name on her lips.
    He hadn’t dreamed her response. He hadn’t dreamed how good they were together.
    His cell phone rang, and, like a fool, he felt a rush of hope and yanked it out of his pocket. Then he saw the message and felt gut-shot. It wasn’t Talia with explanations and innocence. It was a reminder he’d sent to himself days ago about a briefing scheduled for this morning.
    Fuck! He threw the phone against the wall, and it fell to the floor in pieces. And then his day hit rock-fucking-bottom.
    Disbelieving, he leaned over and picked up a piece of metal about the size of the battery. An RFID tag. He’d planted plenty of them over the years while tracking bad guys.
    And it had fallen out of his phone.
    He closed his eyes, and his head fell back in absolute misery. Honey trap.
    Because of his stupidity, not only was al-Attar dead, but so was all the information the intelligence community could have gathered from him. Important information. Lifesaving information.
    He thought back to all the signs that he’d missed.
    He’d seen her passport, and she maintained dual citizenship with the United States and Israel.
    Al-Attar was a known Hamas leader with a price on his head in Israel.
    Now al-Attar was dead.
    And Talia was gone.
    It felt as if she’d hammered a stake clean through his heart. Talia Levine was dead to him now.
    As dead as he felt inside.

PART II
----
    Retribution
    â€œThe more you trust, the greater the betrayal.
    The more you love, the greater the harm.”
    â€”Unknown

10

    U.S. Embassy, Muscat, Sultanate of Oman,
six years later
    â€œLord love a duck.” Looking shocked and pleased, Ted Jensen pushed back his desk chair and stood when he saw Bobby Taggart standing in his doorway. “Would you look what the cat dragged in.”
    Jensen was the principal security attaché to the U.S. Ambassador in the American embassy in Oman, but when that grin split his face, Bobby saw traces of the Alabama farm boy he knew and loved to hassle.
    â€œThought someone woulda killed you by now,” Jensen added, his grin widening.
    Bobby gripped the rough hand his old friend extended across a sleek, lacquered desk. “So did I. Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying on their part.”
    Jensen laughed, rounded his desk, and trapped Bobby in a hard bear hug.
    Bobby hugged him back, truly glad to see him. Back when he and Ted had been Special Forces, they’d served together on many deployments. Saved each other’s ass more than once, too.
    â€œDamn, it’s good to see you, man!” Jensen finally released him. “I really was afraid you were dead.”
    â€œHighly exaggerated rumors,” Bobby assured him.
    â€œYou look damn good, given that ugly mug of yours.”
    â€œSays the man with the face like a waffle iron.”
    Jensen chuckled. “So how’ve you been, Boom Boom? I heard about the