Born In Secret. Kylie Brant

him to value peace. It was a quality found too infrequently for him to be indifferent to it.

      The older man looked pleased, and a bit relieved. “Before I go into the whole plan, I should tell you that you’ll be paired with a partner. I was briefing her before you arrived. I’ll get her so we can all discuss the job together.”

      Before Walker could respond, Dirk strode to the door, pulled it open and disappeared. He rose, stared after the man, something about his behavior striking him as odd. There had been an almost furtive quality to it, which was ludicrous. Dirk had never been anything but up-front with him.

      Shaking off the feeling, he strolled to his host’s desk and picked up a chunk of jade used as a paperweight. It was new since Walker’s last visit, and he hefted it, examining it critically. Worth about twenty grand on the open market, he calculated, probably half that to a fence. The assessment was as natural as breathing. He may have gotten his life straightened out a decade ago, but he prided himself on keeping up on the trade.

      Hearing a sound at the door, he turned, ready to ask Dirk about the jade. And instead stared in disbelief at the woman accompanying the older man. Fate, he’d always thought, was merely the acts of a whimsical god. And right now that god was having a good hard laugh at Walker’s expense.

      “What’s she doing here?” His voice was flat. He was afraid, very much afraid, that he already knew the answer to that particular question.

      His fear was confirmed when Dirk skirted his gaze and said, just a shade too heartily, “You remember Jasmine, of course. She’ll be your partner on this case.”

      Walker glanced at the woman and saw her looking at him, her beautiful, exotic face composed. As if she didn’t remember the one night they’d spent together. How completely she’d surrendered; how perfectly they’d fit.

      And how easily she’d betrayed him the next day.

      He gave her a careless nod. “Jasmine…LeBarr, isn’t it? Sure I remember. It’s been…what? A couple years? In Barcelona?”

      “Closer to three, I believe. And it was Venice.” Her English still held the slightly formal style of those not born speaking it, though her accent had faded to a mere lilt layering her words. Her voice was the same, warm sin wrapped in seductive velvet. Such a lovely voice for someone so unscrupulous. It had lingered in his memory far longer than he’d like to admit. The admission was bitter.

      His attention switched to Dirk. “Get rid of her.”

      “What?”

      “Get rid of her, or find someone else to take my place. I don’t lay my life on the line with a partner I don’t trust absolutely. She doesn’t come close to fitting the bill.”

      Clearly taken aback, Dirk cleared his throat. “Let’s all sit down, shall we? We can work this out.”

      “I do not think Walker can be convinced, Dirk.” Jasmine’s tone was coolly amused. “From what I remember he does not like to listen to reason.”

      His gaze narrowed. “No offense, sugar, but I don’t happen to have a death wish. And going into a terrorist stronghold with a woman of your, uh, experience doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.” He was gratified to see her lovely cheeks flush with reaction to his innuendo. She glared at him.

      “Now, Walker…surely you haven’t held a grudge all this time just because Jasmine outmaneuvered you the last time the two of you met up.”

      Dirk’s voice, damn him, was amused. But then, he would only know about the mission that had pitted Walker and Jasmine against each other, not about their brief relationship. Walker was in no mood to enlighten the other man. “I don’t need her. I can do the job alone.”

      “No, you can’t.” Gesturing Jasmine to a chair, Dirk waited for her to be seated before sitting beside her. The fact that Walker remained standing didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “It’s taken some very delicate negotiation to hammer out a plan with Sheik Ahmed Kamal. He’s touchy and has never made any secret of his distrust of westerners. He’d never agree to having this operation rest solely in the hands of an American.”

      Knowing that Dirk was right didn’t make the words any more palatable. Walker paced, hands jammed into his pockets. The sheik’s bias against the western world was well known, and second only in intensity to his distrust of King Marcus. Walker was rapidly getting a sense of finality about this whole thing. But that didn’t stop him from trying one last time. “You can get someone else to take her place then. Preferably someone with a few more years in the field than she has.”

      “That’s not possible. Sheik Kamal has already approved Jasmine for the job. In fact, he seemed quite pleased that she would be included.”

      “Another sucker duped by your charms, Jaz?” It was nasty and low, but at the moment Walker was feeling nasty, and he was feeling low.

      “I had the privilege of staying at the sheik’s home as a guest of his daughter, Leila, just last year.” Jasmine’s words were even, her gaze unwavering. “He is a man of great pride. It will be difficult for him to remain in Tamir while others fight what he believes to be his battles. I think we must handle him with care.”

      “Jasmine’s right. And if you’d stop prowling around the room, and listen, you’ll understand why.” Dirk waited until Walker took a seat before continuing. “We’ve suggested to Sheik Kamal that he pretend to send a dignitary to Maloun to hammer out an accord between the prime minister there and Kamal’s country. According to our sources, the government is little more than a front—the Brothers of Darkness hold the real power. Once there, you’ll arrange for the prime minister to introduce you to the rebel faction leaders and get yourselves invited to their stronghold under the guise of completing the negotiations.”

      The explanation sounded a death knell for Walker’s hope to have Jasmine replaced on this mission. “Don’t tell me. She’s going to play the part of the dignitary.”

      Dirk inclined his head. “Exactly. With her coloring and background she’s admirably suited to the job. You’ll go along as her driver and personal assistant. While Jasmine engages the leaders in the phony trade talks, you’ll be searching the grounds for information about the location of the virus.”

      Walker considered the idea. The thought of playing servant to Jasmine wasn’t especially appealing, but he’d be the primary engaged in the search, so he supposed he could live with the situation.

      He glanced at her, observed the knowing tilt of her lush lips. She expected him to refuse, he realized; expected his pride and ego to make the decision for him. Since he had an ample supply of both, perhaps it was a reasonable assumption.

      And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Jasmine LeBarr had misjudged him.

      “It could work,” he conceded, and paused a moment to enjoy her expression of consternation before addressing Dirk again. “Developing an anthrax virus is a huge undertaking for a Third World country like Maloun. How do we know the Brothers are developing the virus themselves? They could have contracted the job out.”

      Dirk was shaking his head before Walker had finished speaking. “Our government gathers intelligence on all countries and groups who try to produce deadly biological agents. The few who have been successful are monitored very carefully. None of them has ties with Maloun, and we’re guessing the Malounians wouldn’t make those kinds of inquiries and risk having their plans leak out. No, they’re directly involved in the development. We know they haven’t lacked for money. A man by the name of Amin Qadir was recently arrested. It’s suspected he was one of the major sources of funding for the group. The only questions remaining are how far along the virus is and where the work is being done.”

      “The development of this virus you speak of, Dirk, would require highly skilled scientists, would it not?” Jasmine’s smoky voice curled through Walker’s senses and had an immediate, unwelcome affect on his hormones. He found the involuntary response damn irritating. “They would need technical equipment,