Finally Free_Levi_A Black Ops Romance Read online

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Levi’s expression hardened and his golden orbs clouded over with hate I didn’t know a human could possess. “They will be too when I find out who they are. Thank you for helping me.” Levi quickly stood and backed away from me.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to accept your offer. The woman can keep her money; she’ll need it to make her way home as well,” Levi said, not trying to mask the anger. Al-Harazi would mistake it for outrage, instead of what it really was – pure unadulterated hatred of me - the woman Levi still believed betrayed him.

  Chapter Seven

  Levi

  I don’t know what made me think I could spend any amount of time with Blake. The moment she looked down at me, I was transported back to a time of peace. When her small, soft hand touched my face, I flashed back to all the times she would run her hand over my stubble. I called it stubble, but I barely needed to shave back then. I was a boy caught up in some nonsensical notion of romance. At her whispered apology, I was ready to forget that she had accepted money from my stepfather to leave me and more than that, she had been negotiating for more. She wasn’t happy with the job he had offered, so she waited him out until he started offering the good stuff, paying her way through college, paying off her parents’ house. I didn’t stick around to see if he offered to buy her one too, but I’m sure he would’ve.

  Those were all of the reasons I had not listened to any of the voicemails she left that day and the months following, nor had I read the text messages, or opened the letters. I was weak when it came to Blake Porter. Now more than ever, I had no business being anywhere near her. I was becoming forgetful in my old age. The pain had dulled to a nagging throb rather than the gaping bleeding wound it had been for so many years. This had to be over soon.

  “Yes, that would be fine,” Al-Harazi answered.

  “What can I do to help? I’d like to earn my keep.”

  What I really wanted was to get the lay of the land, count how many men he had, and figure out where they would be keeping the weapons for transport.

  “That would be most helpful. Come with me. Miss Blake, please rest. We will come and get you when we are ready.” I had a sick feeling in my gut when he turned his beady eyes on her. The way he smiled at her was something of a concern as well. He’d planned on taking her if Grayson hadn’t gotten to her first. Blake thought she could handle this alone, but I don’t think she knew exactly what Al-Harazi had planned for her. He didn’t want her to join in his terror plot; he wanted her – as his woman.

  Blake nodded and sat on the only folding chair left in the tent. She was good, that was for sure. The lying, the acting, the agency had turned a perfectly wonderful girl into a conniving con artist. That wasn’t entirely true; the day in Alister’s office she was well on her way.

  I followed Al-Harazi to the convoy. He was greeted by the same two men that flanked Al-Harazi with AKs when we ran up to the camp. I noted the three other men were loading the back of an old pickup.

  Al-Harazi spoke to his men in Arabic, his slight British accent disappearing. He was Saudi born and educated in England. Al-Harazi was sent to boarding school in Canterbury from the age of ten to eighteen. After graduation, he stayed in England and attended the University of Cambridge.

  I looked at my feet and kicked the small pebbles on the ground while Al-Harazi told his men I was to help load the water jugs into the caravan. As he walked back to his tent, he added for them not to let me out of their sight or around the woman without him around. Yes, he wanted Blake for himself.

  Well, too fucking bad, he would never get his hands on her.

  When the men turned back to me speaking broken English, I pretended not to have understood what Al-Harazi had said as they explained where the water jugs were and how they wanted them in the truck.

  Within the hour the trucks were packed, and we were ready to head east to Oman. It was a sixteen-hour drive. Al-Harazi told his men we were to drive straight through and cross the border while it was dark. Once we were in Oman, we would stay the night in a small abandoned military outpost. Blake gave nothing away as Al-Harazi spoke freely in Arabic around us. I wondered if she, too, understood what he was saying as she was pretending to look at the cuts on her arms.

  She caught me looking at her and gave me a slight nod before looking back down. Good, she understood as well.

  “Miss Blake, you will come with me in the car. It will make for a much more comfortable ride. Oliver, if you wouldn’t mind riding in the first truck, there is only one open seat left,” Al-Harazi instructed.

  Bullshit. There were other seats available, namely in the car with him. He wanted Blake and me separated. Not to mention, the lead vehicle was always the first to take the hit in an ambush.

  However, I played along. “Anything you have available is appreciated.”

  “Very well, let’s get moving. We have a day’s long drive,” he returned.

  With one last look at Blake, I followed one of the guards to the front truck. The second guard was already in the driver’s seat of Al-Harazi’s car. The three other men piled into the second truck. Five men total, all with Russian AK-47s that were so old and battered they were no better than relics that should be mounted on the wall as a showpiece. That was good and bad. Good for me that their guns were more likely to misfire or jam if they tried to get a shot off on me. Bad if we did get ambushed; we were fucked with no weapons in good working order.

  I slid into the passenger’s seat and immediately went to work on the guard. “Hey, thanks man for letting me come along.” I started. “I told my boss that trying to get a manufacturing deal in Yemen was too dangerous. He demanded I come here. It’s not his ass that’s in danger; you know what I mean?”

  “No. I do not know what you are talking about,” he answered.

  “So, how long is the drive?” I asked.

  “Long drive. Sit and be quiet,” he demanded, uttering a few words under his breath in Arabic that loosely translated to “pussy American boy.”

  Perfect. With that out of the way, I sat back and prepared for a long ass drive in a seat that was torn to shreds with the metal springs exposed. My ass was going to be raw by the time we reached the border. Of course, Blake was driving in what would be considered Yemenis luxury. Yet again I get fucked, and Blake makes out like a princess.

  Sixteen hours is a long damn time being bounced around in a piece of shit pickup truck with zero shocks. I had been vibrated and shaken half to death. My temper and patience were at polar opposites. My temper was nearing nuclear, and my patience was thin as ice. I hadn’t laid eyes on Blake for over sixteen hours. That was a problem, a big one. But I couldn’t demand to see her. Each time we had stopped to fill up with gas, I was told to stay in the truck. When I told Mr. I-cannot-drive-worth-a-fuck I needed to take a piss, he walked me to the front of the truck mumbling about filthy Americans urinating in front of a woman. I didn’t know what the hell his problem was. It wasn’t like I was going to drop trou and pull my dick out for Blake to see, not that she hadn’t seen it a hundred times before, or held it and stroked me before she had accepted me into her body. The girl had a mouth on her at eighteen. I couldn’t begin to imagine what those soft lips and wicked tongue could do now. That was another issue I had with Blake; she’d ruined me. I compared every blowjob I’ve received since her to the way Blake sucked me. Life was a cruel bitch. I couldn’t enjoy a nice blowjob without visions of Blake invading my thoughts. The first few years after I left her, the bitch infringed on every aspect of my life. I couldn’t sleep without dreaming about her. I couldn’t have sex without remembering the sweet way she breathed my name as I entered her. The shower reminded me of how she used to like to wash me, her naked soapy body pressing against mine.

  She was not the first girl I’d had sex with, nor had she given me my first blowjob, but she was the first and only woman I had ever made love to. She held a lot of firsts for me. Once we had finally b
roken the seal on having sex, she was wild. She wanted to try everything, and we did. Blake was the first girl I had ever loved, and she was the only one to ever shatter my heart. Blake taught me a lot about love and relationships. Neither were worth it. No good comes from a woman holding so much of you.

  “There is the checkpoint. You shut your mouth,” the guard told me.

  Al-Harazi’s car passed and pulled in front of us to the barricade. Within a matter of minutes, money was exchanged, and we were waved through.

  Now that Al-Harazi’s car was in the lead, I strained in the darkness to catch a glimpse of the back seat. I only saw the silhouette of one figure. The thought that Blake’s head may very well be laying in his lap ratcheted up my anger. He would die a painful, drawn-out death if he’d touched her.

  The cars came to a stop, and the back door of Al-Harazi’s car came open. He stepped out, Blake cradled in his arms. As I exited the truck, I thought of all the ways I was going to torture him. Blake was unmoving; her head rested on his chest, her right arm fell out to the side. Her fingers twitched, and she gave me the sign for all good. She might’ve thought she was all good; however, I was not.

  Her next signal came quick, two hours then the go sign. I had to admit Blake was a great field agent, cool under pressure and smart. Her signals had been clear and concise. Her time frame was perfect. The faster she killed him, the sooner we could continue to Muscat. We’d have another six-hour drive to our evac point.

  “We are going to retire for the evening. We will leave at sunrise for the rest of our journey. Mr. Oliver, there are many places we can drop you along the way. However, if you wish, I can deliver you safely to the embassy. Miss Blake has told me she owes you a debt of gratitude for saving her life. I feel as though I owe you as well,” Al-Harazi told me, holding Blake close to his body as if he was staking claim to the woman.

  In his dreams.

  “The embassy would be appreciated if it is not out of your way,” I responded.

  “Very well.”

  Al-Harazi inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned to his guard, telling him not to let me out of his sight and to shoot me if I tried to leave.

  So much for hospitality.

  Chapter Eight

  Blake

  I was going to vomit if Al-Harazi petted me like a dog one more time. For sixteen hours I had to sit in the backseat with the filthy pig as he tried to soothe me. All the while I had to play the part of the scared little girl as I planned how I was going to kill him.

  This was the first time that he had overtly touched me in any fashion. In the past, I had caught him staring at me, and he had made references to us leaving together to spread the good word in the other countries that needed it; however, he’d never elaborated on where or in what capacity my presence would be.

  Al-Harazi had been speaking to his men, ordering his guards to watch Levi. I hoped that Levi caught my hand gestures. It wasn’t like I could open my eyes to verify. I was supposed to be asleep curled up in Al-Harazi’s arms, appreciating the protection he’d offered. When he’d started telling the driver that we could stop at any time to dump the American, I waited an appropriate amount of time before I started crying. When Al-Harazi asked me what was wrong, I told him how the man had saved my life, how Oliver Smith had found a way to escape and instead of leaving me there, he took me with him. I hoped that if I told him how indebted I was to Levi, he wouldn’t leave him somewhere. I was counting on the fact Al-Harazi thought that he was going to keep me as his woman. He wouldn’t want to upset me and have me try and flee. Keeping me happy meant he could control me.

  The door to a room creaked, and I continued to feign sleep. When I was lowered onto a bed, and my hair was brushed off my face, it was then I opened my eyes.

  “Where are we?” I whispered.

  “We have crossed into Oman. Sleep. We will leave again soon,” he answered.

  The bed was a small twin-sized military style cot; which made sense. We were at an outpost of some sort.

  “Where will you be staying?” I asked.

  “With the men, of course.”

  Game time.

  “What? You can’t leave me here. Someone can take me again.” I pretended to panic and scrambled to get to my feet.

  “It would be highly inappropriate for me to sleep in a room with a woman that is not my wife.” He sounded affronted.

  But I suppose the prostitutes I had watched exit his tent night after night were deemed appropriate because there was no sleeping involved.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you. I’m just so scared. May I please sleep in the car? At least the doors lock. I can’t sleep by myself.”

  I needed him in the room with me. Sneaking into a barrack with five tangos and one friendly was not impossible, but it would make my exit difficult. Even though I didn’t have the intel I wanted, I had to take Al-Harazi out now. There wouldn’t be another opportunity and this plan had the added benefit of stranding his men in the middle of the desert.

  “You will not sleep in the car like a vagabond.” Al-Harazi’s gaze was appraising as he looked around the room. There was no other bed except the small cot. The look on his face told me he was about to tell me no. I had to change tactics.

  “You can have the bed in here. I will sleep on a bedroll on the floor. Please, I am begging you.”

  “Very well. Let me tell Amir to bring you a blanket,” he relented.

  When Al-Harazi left the room and I patted my pocket, I had my knife but still needed a backup plan. There was nothing in here if he took my knife. I would only have my hands. I prayed we were far enough away from the men that they wouldn’t hear the struggle.

  “Here you are,” Al-Harazi said as he entered the room.

  “Thank you. You’re too kind. I won’t be any trouble.” I took the blankets and quickly made myself a bed on the floor and laid down.

  “Sleep well, Miss Blake,” Al-Harazi said when he sat on the edge of the cot, slipping his sandals off his feet leaving the rest of his clothes on.

  I closed my eyes and waited. I heard the guard pass by the door; however, he never entered. Al-Harazi’s breathing had evened out and loud snoring started. I had told Levi two hours to go; with no watch this was going to be a best-guess scenario. The guard had walked by the door three times; experience told me that more than likely they patrolled in thirty-minute rotations. I had roughly ten minutes until the next pass.

  I slipped my knife out of my pocket and flipped the blade open. Feeling the knurled metal of the handle made me feel safer, more in control of my surroundings. On silent feet, I made my way to Al-Harazi’s bedside. Without warning or fanfare, I slit Al-Harazi’s throat from ear to ear. It was quick, it was precise, and it was fatal. I used his headscarf to wipe the blood off my hands and knife and tried to position it to conceal the wound, hoping to buy us a few extra minutes before his men saw he was dead.

  Before I could move the door came open and Amir, Al-Harazi’s right-hand man, walked in.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  Amir’s weapon was up and trained on me. From this distance, I had no chance of disarming him. I had to talk my way out of this.

  “I got scared. I was going to wake Ahmed,” I answered.

  Amir took a step toward me, close enough that if he looked, he would see the now blood-soaked scarf. There was movement behind Amir, and before he could take another step, hands came up from behind him, one to his forehead and one to his chin. In a fast jerk, his neck snapped and Levi lowered him to the ground.

  Thank God.

  Levi gestured for me to be silent and removed the AK from Amir’s lifeless body, motioning me to follow him. Four men remained. Hopefully, they were all sleeping and we could get a head start before they woke up and started shooting at us. That was another suck-ass part of the job – being shot at.

  “Did you grab the keys to the trucks?” I whispered.

  “No need.”

  “Listen speed
-racer; they will know the roads better than us. If you think you can outrun them, you can’t,” I explained.

  “I said, no need,” he growled.

  Well someone was an ass when he was tired. I wanted to question him further but thought better of it. We had six hours in a car together, and the last thing I wanted was to start a pissing match before the drive.

  Levi led us to the car. I rounded the truck and glanced in the backseat. There were at least ten AKs in the back and water jugs that had not been there when I exited the car.

  “Get in,” Levi demanded when he saw me gawking at the stash.

  I did as I was told and remained quiet as he pulled away from the outpost.

  “You still have your phone?” he asked.

  “I do,” I answered, not offering the phone I knew he wanted.

  “May I have it?” he clipped.

  “Not until you tell me what is going on, and what no need means exactly.”

  If he thought he was going to growl at me and push me around, he had another thing coming. I might not have been special ops, but I was a damn good field agent. If he wouldn’t extend me the courtesy of respect as a colleague, I would demand it.

  “Listen, Blake…”

  “No way. You listen. You will extend the same consideration to me you would a fellow teammate. Whether we like it or not, we’re partners on this op. And might I remind you, you’re the one that demanded you accompany me.”

  “And it’s a damn good thing I did, or you’d be dead right now. What did you think was going to happen back there?” he scolded.

  The nerve of this asshole.

  “I was going to talk my way closer to him then I was going to kill him. I’ve been in tighter situations than that. I didn’t need you to come in and save the day.”