Who the hell was he?
Micah Sloane was just a name. A Navy SEAL, according to the records that Orion’s employer had managed to procure for him. Thirty-two years of age, he’d spent the past ten years in the Middle East and was now on leave from the Navy for an unspecified amount of time for medical reasons.
Orion knew his stats, his Naval record, which wasn’t exactly perfect. Micah Sloane liked to be a bit insubordinate with his commanding officers. He’d barely slid past a court-martial once.
He’d been born in America, though. Parents were dead. No siblings. There wasn’t a lot of information on him. He had a decent credit rating, a few late payments on the car Orion had totaled for him. There was a pitiful savings account, an apartment in Atlanta. Nothing noteworthy. He was Mr. Guy Next Door and he was pissing Orion off.
But there was one piece of information that gave him hope. Mr. Micah Sloane liked the nightlife. He liked the clubs and the bars and was known to frequent them often. He’d get bored, get antsy. He’d think he could protect his woman a night here or there if they went out.
Orion tapped his fingers against his leg as the painkillers finally began to ease into his system. Risa would be easier to take then. Orion would just stay back for a while. Wait. Watch. Then, when Mr. Sloane began taking his new lover out, Orion could strike.
It would work, he assured himself as he began to grow drowsy from the medication. He could make it work. It would just take a little patience. And he had plenty of patience.
Turning his head, he focused on the picture of his mark. The one from the mall where she walked with her new lover. To Orion’s drug-hazed mind, the woman’s tentative smile, the sparkle in her light blue eyes, and the sheer innocence in her expression were revealed.
She was pretty, he thought; then he frowned. It was the look in her eyes that always bothered him, and in that moment he realized why.
Ariela Abijah. Six years before. The Mossad agent who had refused to beg. The only job that had ever haunted him. The young woman reminded him of Ariela. She had strength. Courage. She was a survivor and a fighter with an aura of endurance that few women possessed. And for a moment, for the second time in his life, Orion felt regret.
CHAPTER 15
MICAH DIDN’T LIKE the fact that Jordan insisted on Risa being present for the discussion of a safe house and the best place to move her. He knew that the man who headed the operational unit didn’t agree with his opinion, and he could feel a stab of manipulation in the move Jordan was making.
Risa was quiet when Micah and Jordan entered the apartment after Micah had made the effort to hold the meeting in secret with Jordan.
She was sitting at her desk working on papers that had been delivered to her that morning. Nik had opened the door, cautious even though he knew who was on the other side, and stepped back.
“Hello Miss Clay.” Jordan’s smile was quiet, and the bastard was making the effort to be charming. Micah ground his teeth in frustration at the sight.
“Mr. Malone.” She nodded back at him, though her gaze went to Micah. “Is something wrong?”
Nik closed the door, watching curiously. Micah wanted to warn the other man to take notes on just how calculating Jordan could be.
“We appear to have a problem,” Jordan admitted. “Would you mind coming into the kitchen, where we can all talk comfortably? And perhaps I can convince Nik to make us a pot of coffee.”
Nik grunted but moved in ahead of them to the other room, where he proceeded to make the coffee Jordan seemed to live on.
Dressed in butt-hugging jeans and a soft light gray sweater, Risa edged in behind them, watching Jordan and Micah carefully.
There was a hint of confusion and of fear in her eyes as Micah caught her gaze. He almost grimaced.
“Everything’s fine, Risa.” He couldn’t bear to see that fear in her eyes. “We’re simply considering some alternative plans since Orion’s attempt to take you yesterday. Jordan wants to discuss those with you.”
“Okay.” She nodded in agreement, but her eyes were still wary as she took her seat.
“Nik should have coffee in a minute.” Jordan smiled again. Micah hated that damned smile. “We’ll get this dealt with as quickly as possible so we can get on to the job of making certain you’re no longer in danger because of Jansen Clay’s activities before his deat
h.”
“That would be nice.” Her voice was doubtful.
“We’ll first go over a few things you mentioned while you were still sedated yesterday evening,” Jordan announced as Nik set the cup of black coffee in front of him. “You mentioned remembering a few things about the man that raped you. Do you recall those memories?”
Jordan’s tone was matter-of-fact. He didn’t beat around the bush, and Micah watched as the approach seemed to give Risa the distance she needed to remain calm.
She breathed in deeply as though stepping back, mentally, from the fact that it was her rapist they were discussing.
“Large, soft hands,” she said faintly. “I remember his voice; it was very cultured, very autocratic and arrogant. He wanted Carrie, but Jansen said he already had her sold.” She swallowed tightly then. “He was a very large man. After I was transferred to the institution Jansen placed me in, he would come with Jansen during the visits he made. Jansen and my doctor would argue over the drug Jansen wanted used to sedate me. The doctor argued that the GHB would end up killing me. Jansen didn’t seem to care. So the doctor only used that drug when Jansen made his visits. Otherwise, he used something he told the nurses was more acceptable.”