Furious, hating feeling cornered, Paysonstood with her hands and feet still tied and hopped over to Ronan.“What if Sharpe doesn’t believe the hostage story? Or if he decideshe needs more than a few photos and a mercenary’s word? This is thefirst place he’ll come, putting all three of us in danger. I’m notendangering our hosts any more than I already have. The last placehe’ll expect to find me is with Ronan. I can go incognito.”
With a small laugh, Ronan teased, untying herropes. “Incognito? You don’t exactly blend in with a crowd. Yourhair, those fairy green eyes, not to mention your atrocious Frenchaccent… he’ll recognize you right away.”
Huffy, Payson held her head high. “We shouldbe far from here anyway, or he might suspect something. You’resupposed to be in hiding to protect me. Remember? You ran away tokeep me safe.”
Connor nodded. “We need to nail down ourstory to avoid suspicion. He doesn’t know you’re here; I’ve keptthat little detail to myself. So, we tell him that I captured yerwoman to force ya to tell me where the weapons are. I can’t holdher anywhere near here, or I’d risk you tracking us down andgetting her back before we learned anything.”
“I have a little a safehouse outside of CorkI’ve used now and again. A good friend, Brody, Irish cop, livesnear there. Sharpe’s not supposed to know about the house, it’smine not CIA, but I know he does. I was last there a few monthsbefore I was shot. Sharpe said a few things he shouldn’t haveknown, stuff Brody and I talked about.” Ronan ran his fingersthrough his hair, closing his eyes in frustration. “Shit, I shouldhave figured it out then. He’d been tracking me already.”
Payson stood helplessly, reaching for Ronanbut knowing he needed some space to work it out. “I studied abroadin Ireland my last year of high school, not far from Cork. I knowjust the place we can trap him.”
Shaking his head, Ronan’s expression tightwith worry, he hated theweidea. But, she wasn’t wrong. Asmuch as Alain and Nicolas could take care of themselves, he didn’twant to bring anymore trouble to their doorstep. “Brody would be onboard, bring the police to make the arrest. There aren’t manyothers I’d trust to pull this off, and there sure as hell aren’tmany in CIA we could confidently rely on right now.”
Connor put his hands in his pockets androcked on his heels. “I’d say we have a solid plan. Let’s nail downthe details.”
~
The rendezvous was in twenty-four hours, atthe site Payson had sketched for him in detail. Apparently, she’dworked as a tour guide at an old fort near Kinsale for a fewmonths. Walking Connor and Rose to the front door, Ronan couldn’thelp but feel like this was going to work. Whatever hisreservations, he felt more comfortable counting on Connor to holdup his end of the bargain than he’d ever relied on Sharpe.
Gathering in the small foyer, Ronan asked,“Where are the weapons?”
Connor looked on at the fields out the openfront door. “Four clicks away from the south-east Syrian-Iraqiborder.” He pulled out a map with the precise coordinates writtendown and handed it to Ronan. “Buried deeply beneath an abandonedsteel warehouse.” Connor pulled out his phone.
Standing close to his former adversary, Ronancould hear both sides of the conversation. Listening to theagonizing, detailed conversation in which Connor described Payson’sfictitious abduction from the vineyard, and Ronan’s panic to gether and their unborn child back. Describing how he was holding herin a tower house in the north of France; just far enough to drawthem from Alain and Nicolas, but easy distance for a subtlekidnapping. Telling him about the meeting place in Ireland, wherethe exchange was to happen.
The girl for the weapons. Ronan cringed onhearing his former superior’s grating voice through the line,hating that he sniggered at Ronan’s broken heart, the descriptionof Payson’s terror. At his greedy desperation to find the abhorrentweapons.
Ending the call, Connor turned to Ronan,“This is where we part ways. Get those weapons out of the hands ofmen with agendas. If you’re ever in Barbados… drinks on me.”
Ronan shook his head in disbelief. “Enjoyyour retirement.”
Stepping into the foyer, Rose apologizedagain. “I’m sorry. For everything. Thank you for hearing meout.”
Ronan nudged her, “I’m just glad you’re alousy shot.”
It was tough; he’d worked with her a fewtimes and had thought well of her. Still did, but it was hard toforgive when the crime was so personally traumatic. At least shehad called the paramedics first; he would have bled out if theyhadn’t come charging in before he even hit the floor.
She gave him a friendly nudge back. “I don’tthink I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. If there is anything youneed, ever, just let me know. If you don’t mind though, I’d like tostay dead. Out of the game, indefinitely.”
With a warm smile and a nod to Ronan, Connortook Rose’s hand in his, “Best of luck to you.”
No transportation in sight, the retiredmercenary walked down the muddy drive, letting the rain wash awaythe blood from the fight. The dead spy leaving with him, the ironicpair walking hand-in-hand. Ronan shook his head; this was turningout to be one of the strangest ops of his career.
Nicolas stepped into the foyer, taking amoment to go over things with Ronan. “The plan is sound. I’ll benearby, should he be lying.”
“Thanks. Were it just me, I’d go it alone. Ican’t risk Payson that way. I’ll be glad to have her close, butI…”
Nicolas leaned against the doorway with hisarms crossed. “Agreed. Alain will stay here to keep our homesafe.”
31
Ronan paid the docent as she flirtatiously handedhim a map, revealing the most gorgeous fairy green eyes he’d everseen as she lowered her glasses. Stepping out onto the cobbledfield in the heart of the crumbling star fort of southeast Ireland,Ronan masked his fear. He didn’t like having her in the middle ofthings, but he hadn’t been able to let her out of his sight.However this went down, her safety was his priority.
Still cold and damp, few tourists wereexploring the park this morning. Guided tours wouldn’t start foranother hour or so. Playing the tourist himself, he held his mapout as he searched the terrain, leisurely making his way to thesouthernmost rampart. The perfect spot for a confession.
Sitting comfortably on a crenel, he imaginedthe battles that took place here. Most recently, the fort wasreturned to Irish hands by the IRA before it became a nationalpark. His thoughts settled on one final battle that must take placein this crumbling failure of a defense.
Across the expanse of green lawn, he sawSharpe immediately. The asshole approached deliberately,confidently, despite his wide, arthritic gait that resulted fromyears of jumping out of planes, before being recruited forintelligence work.
