her side, wanting her to feel secure.
“I was having coffee, waiting for the train back to Paris. It was the day before I was supposed to fly home.” She rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. He let his hand fall away and watched her intently as she continued.
“A waiter delivered a drink from some guy at the bar. Next thing I know, a Frenchman sat down at my table and began spouting weird things.”
“Like what?” Manuel asked.
“He told me my real name was Magalie Pinson and that my parents were Frederic and Carine Pinson. I told him he was psycho, that my name was Jules Trehan and I’d never heard of the Pinsons.”
Manuel frowned. So far this wasn’t just weird, it was plain bizarre.
“He then said that they had killed my real parents.”
“Who did?”
“He didn’t say,” she replied. “He handed me an envelope and told me when I’d read the contents to give him a call, that we had much to discuss, including my future.”
“What was in the envelope?” he asked, unable to remain silent. A thousand questions were burning a trail through his brain. None of this made any sense.
“I didn’t read it until much later. It was recruitment information for the NFR, and it gave detailed information about my supposed parents. They were members of the NFR’s charter group.”
“And you believed them?” he asked in disbelief. This didn’t sound like the Jules he knew. She wasn’t so gullible.
Her eyes flashed angrily. “Of course I didn’t believe it. I told him to take a hike. He walked away. Then the guy from the bar walked over, pulled a gun and told me to come with him. He was American, to my surprise, and he told me it was time for me to find out who I really was. He shoved me into a taxi, and we took off.”
“And what then?”
She paused for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, her breath coming in short bursts. “And then I went to hell.”
He shoved up on his elbow and curled an arm around her waist, forcing her to turn slightly toward him. “You’re with me now, Jules. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Talk to me,” he asked, not sure how hard to push her. But he needed the truth. Needed to know why she had agreed to do the unthinkable. “Why can’t you believe that I can protect you?”
She appeared to think deeply about his question. She went completely still, and her breathing shallowed. She seemed to be fighting a very personal battle, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to share with him.
He held his breath, not realizing until now just how important it was to him that she trusted him.
“The man asked me if I intended to join the NFR. Of course, I hadn’t even opened the envelope. Didn’t plan to. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I told him no way in hell. Then I told him what he could do with his questions.”
Manuel almost smiled. He could well imagine that scene.
“He didn’t appreciate my colorful language. The taxi stopped outside the town we’d been in, and he forced me into another car. He tied my hands and blindfolded me. We drove forever.”
She closed her eyes, her sadness and fear reaching out to him as if he were a lifeline. Reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed reassuringly.
“When we stopped, he made me get out, and we walked into a building. He took the blindfold off and left the room. It looked just like any office complex. We were in the city. I could tell by the traffic noises. I could hear copy machines and telephones ringing. There were other people in the building, and I contemplated screaming to get their attention. The man, Northstar as I later came to know him, walked back in before I could. The way he looked at me was frightening. So cold. I was really afraid for the first time.
“He explained that I’d been approached by a member of the NFR based on my parents’ prior relationship with the group. When I told him I had no intention of joining any sort of a group, he laughed at me. Then he told me I had no choice in the matter.
“I told him to screw off, and he pulled an envelope from a desk. He handed it to me and told me to look inside. When I did I saw pictures of Mom and Pop…and you,” she said, choking as she got the words out. “I still didn’t understand. To me you were a world away, out of this maniac’s reach. He then told me that unless I did exactly as he instructed he would have you all killed.”
Manuel bit the inside of his lip in anger.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She scooted up in the bed. “And believe me, I had the same thoughts. I figured I’d agree to anything, then I’d go to the police or the American embassy as fast as I could. And he must have figured out what I was thinking. He asked me point-blank if I thought he was serious, and in my stupidity, I said I didn’t know.
“He pressed a button on his desk and called a woman into the room. She looked like a secretary. When she walked in, he pulled out a gun and shot her in the head. Right there in front of me!” She wrapped her arms around her legs hugged them tightly to her chest.
“Mother of God,” Manuel muttered. He sat up and pulled her stiff body into his arms.
She stuck her arms in front of her, preventing him from holding her close. She fidgeted away from him, looking past him, through him with glassy eyes.
“He asked if I believed him then, and all I could do was nod. I was in shock. There was blood everywhere. And then—then—” She broke off, her voice cracking.
“Then what?” he prompted softly.
“Another man walked in. He was older. Distinguished-looking, actually. He never spoke. He just smiled. Then he raped me right there by the dead body. I was so in shock I couldn’t even fight him.”
Pure unadulterated rage boiled over Manuel. He clenched and unclenched his fingers in rapid succession. Then he pulled her close, ignoring her attempts to keep distance between them.
He rocked her back and forth in his arms, stroking her hair, her back, every inch of her he could touch. He felt in danger of losing his mind. Red crowded his vision. He’d never been so close to the desire to kill anyone before in his life, and yet if he could get his hands on the bastard who had hurt her, he’d derive great pleasure from making him bleed from every orifice of his body.
She lay lifeless in his arms. He closed his eyes and held on to her.
“When he was finished, he left me lying there on the floor,” she said, her voice muffled by Manny’s chest. He eased his hold on her to allow her more room.
“He told Northstar to take care of it. It was then I knew he was also American. After he left, Northstar took the picture of Mom and Pop and smeared the woman’s blood on it. Then he dropped it on the floor next to me and told me that if I ever had any doubts that he was serious, to look at the picture and remember whose blood was on it. He ordered me to get up and clean myself. Then he held the phone while I told the Frenchman who’d first approached me about the NFR that I was interested in joining.
“The next day, I met with him and joined the organization,” she said baldly. “Every month, Northstar sent me a new picture of Mom and Pop. It was always smeared with blood. I never found out who the man was who raped me, but I know he was in charge.”
“God,” Manuel whispered. What kind of hell had she endured? Her story was staggering. These kinds of things just didn’t happen in her world. In his they did. He was used to the twisted things terrorists did to achieve their means. But what must it have been like for a naive girl of twenty-two?
She was as stiff as a board in his arms, almost as if she couldn’t bear him touching her. He pulled her away, trying to find a comfortable position for her. Then he saw the shame in her eyes, the agony and the fear of his rejection.
“Jules, whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” He cupped her chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb over her cheek, smoothing the tear-roughened skin. “If you think any of this affects the way I feel about you, baby…you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“But I’ve done things, Manny. Things I can’t even speak of,” she whispered in a tortured voice. “Every time I went out on a mission, I carried those pictures of Mom and Pop with me. I imagined you dead. Lifeless. And then I told myself that the only way to prevent the people I loved from paying for my mistakes was to do my job. So I traded someone else’s life for yours. God, I hate myself for those decisions. I hated myself for feeling guilty over keeping my family alive.”
More than ever, she looked like a lost little girl. Reminiscent of the toddler he’d found on the street so many years ago. The torture in her cloudy blue eyes was stark. Compelling. Very real.
He could well imagine what she’d been forced to do in the last three years. According to Tony, she’d gotten damn good at her job. He remembered her earlier statement that she wished she had just messed up a job and died. He knew now she’d been deadly serious. The weight of her burdens must have been unbearable.
“I’ll help you, Jules. If you’ll let me. Together we can get through this.” He felt useless. Could he turn his back on the misdeeds she’d performed? Misdeeds. He made it sound like she had offended someone. Dead people couldn’t be offended.
She shook her head vehemently. “Manny, no. You don’t understand.”
“Have you forgotten who I work for?” He forced her chin upwards so she looked at him. “I’m not without resources. I probably know more about the NFR than you do.”
Jules’s stomach twisted into a knot. There was too much Manny didn’t know about her situation. He couldn’t know everything. But what if he did? That scared the hell out of her. She wanted to trust him, believe in him completely. But how could she when he worked for the agency that controlled her fate?
She didn’t dread death as she had in the beginning. Her fear of her own mortality had faded in the wake of so much pain and terror.
A slow burn radiated over her cheeks as Manny’s gaze bored into her. He missed nothing. He could probably reach right into her thoughts and pluck one out at will. The CIA had chosen well when they’d recruited him. His sense of honor and duty made him a solid patriot.
Though she had told him things she’d never told another human being, things she’d kept locked deep within her, she felt no relief. She would’ve preferred he never know of the humiliation she’d suffered. She felt dirty and used. No better than a piece of trash someone had discarded. But they hadn’t even thrown her away. How she wished they had. Then she could have crawled home and licked her wounds.
Instead, she’d embarked on a life she hated. No, it wasn’t a life. It was an existence. She functioned. She’d given up living a long time ago.
Manny’s hand slid around her neck and massaged the nape gently. His eyes glowed with concern, love, all the things she didn’t deserve. Right now she hated herself more than ever before. Not even killing someone in cold blood could be worse than plotting to betray this man.
“Where are you, baby?”
She ducked her head guiltily. She should just ditch Manny and get to D.C. on her own. Being so close to him was only going to bring him greater attention from the people trying to kill her. Could she live with herself if she caused his death? The answer was a categorical no. She’d already killed her parents. And who cared if they were her real parents or not? They’d loved her like a daughter. She’d loved them.
“Jules? Are you okay?” Manny sounded worried now.
She stared up at him, trying to summon a reassuring smile, but she couldn’t smile when all she felt was overwhelming grief. “No,” she said honestly. “I’m not. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay.”
He framed her face in his hands, and her heart lurched as he lowered his lips to hers. Her chest began to pound in a steady cadence, and she was robbed of breath. With infinite tenderness, he brushed his lips across hers. He was so gentle it made her want to weep. He held her like a piece of glass, one that might shatter with the slightest untoward movement.
She leaned hungrily into him, not caring that she intended to take his trust and trample it. All that mattered was that he kept on touching her. She could feel, really feel, for the first time in a long time.
His tongue laved across her lips, seeking entrance. Instantly, they parted, and he probed inward, lightly, delicately. One hand delved into her hair to the back of her head, coaxing her closer to him, as if trying to fuse their souls together.
“I should have died,” she whispered against his lips. “It should have been me. Not Mom and Pop.” She choked on the upsurge of grief.
“No. No.” He was a mere inch from her lips, his breath blowing hot over her face. Emotion knotted his voice. “Don’t say it, Jules. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. You have no idea the hell I endured when you disappeared.”
He kissed her temple then her cheek, and finally he reclaimed her lips with a light, tender kiss.
She felt the stirrings deep within, the faint whisper of something she desperately needed. Wanted. But couldn’t have. The thought threw a wet blanket over her, and she pulled slowly away.
She drew in a steadying breath, trying to regain control of her desires. She felt exhausted by the myriad of emotions she’d experienced in rapid succession. It would be the easiest thing in the world to melt in his arms and see where the night would take them. But she wouldn’t use Manny more than she already was.
“Go to sleep, baby.” Manny pulled her down beside him and tucked the cover over them both.
She knew she should return to her own bed, but she couldn’t deny herself the comfort of his embrace. Snuggling deep into his arms, she laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come.
Chapter Twelve
Manuel stood by the bed watching Jules sleep. She was curled up in a ball like a kitten. He wanted to reach out and touch her but didn’t want to disturb her. Perhaps sleep was the only time she could escape the horrors that haunted her.
How had things become such a mess? Years ago, all he had wanted was a normal life. Marry Jules, have a few kids, live the American dream. Even his recruitment into the CIA didn’t hinder his goals. He’d dedicate a few years to Uncle Sam then go on to more normal pursuits.
Instead he’d been locked in a never-ending nightmare. The difficulties facing him and Jules seemed insurmountable. He wasn’t naive, and he wasn’t an eternal optimist. He had no clear idea how he was going to extricate them from this cluster fuck.
The NFR was obviously pissed enough to want to take her out, and if the U.S. government ever found out about her involvement, much less the things she’d done during her years with a known terrorist organization, they’d throw her under the jail.
In this climate, terrorists weren’t tolerated at all. You didn’t even so much as hint that you were sympathetic to such causes or you’d draw the ever-omnipotent eye of Big Brother.
And where did that leave him? CIA agent aiding and abetting a known terrorist cell member. Jesus, it didn’t even bear contemplating.
He checked his watch. They still had an hour before he needed to wake her so they could catch their flight. He walked into the bathroom to call Tony.
“I was just going to call you,” Tony said.
“What’s up?”
“I have the info you requested. NFR’s recruitment tactics.”
Manuel burned with anger over the mere mention of their tactics. They were no better than animals.
“They’re pretty tame when compared to most radical groups,” Tony continued on. “Basically their M.O. is to approach a subject, outline the group’s objective, leave a way to contact them and disappear.”
“What else?” Manuel asked.
“That’s it. It’s up to the individual to either contact or ignore the invitation. They aren’t into forced recruitment. It doesn’t make for loyal followers.”
Bile rose in Manuel’s throat. Had Jules lied to him? Had she taken him on the ride of his life? No, she wasn’t that good. No way in hell that anguish had been feigned. “Are you sure you aren’t
mistaken, Tony?” he asked. “Are there any documented cases of more persuasive means?”
Silence fell over the line. “What are you saying, Manuel? Was Jules forced into the NFR?”
Manuel sighed. “I’m not sure what the hell I’m saying. Jules has a slightly different account of her induction into the NFR.”
“You believe her?”
He paused. “Yeah, I do. Something doesn’t add up. Her story matches what you said to a point. Some guy approached her in France. Fed her a bullshit line about who her real parents were then left her with an envelope and told her to call him the next day. Only that’s where the similarities end.”
“What do you mean, exactly? And what’s the deal with the parents? Didn’t you say the Trehans adopted her?”
Manuel frowned. He wasn’t ready to tell Tony what had happened to Jules. Not until he was able to figure it out. The whole story. “Yeah, she was told her real parents were Frederic and Carine Pinson.”
“Hmm. I’ll do some checking. Maybe I can come up with something.”
“Thank you, Tony. This just keeps getting more complicated.”
“No problem. But Manuel, you need to be careful. If she’s who you say she is, you’re going to have to keep a low profile. The higher-ups already want you to bring her in. They’ve been looking