Covert Evidence by Rachel Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

transformed from the timid American he’d met on the plane into a sultry siren.
    Her reluctance to reveal too much about herself had faded as she warmed to her subject, but what surprised him even more was how much he—Ian, not the prick John he pretended to be—was turned on by her.
    But he couldn’t let his dick do the thinking, especially since she hinted she had a lead on ancient tunnels in the Kurdish region of Turkey. If such tunnels existed, the information would be valuable.
    Turkey had many security issues, the least of which were bordering unstable regimes like Syria, Iraq, and Iran. The real concern for the government was the country’s Kurdish population. Years of government-sanctioned second-class treatment of Turkish Kurds, whose very language was forbidden, had created a large discontent population. The recent alliance between the Turkish government and the local Kurdish population due to the threat from ISIS in Syria and Iraq wasn’t enough to make up for decades of repression. The Kurds remained uneasy, untrusting, and not all factions were on board with the alliance.
    The restaurant they were eating in was owned by a local Kurd who’d once whispered—in Kurdish—his frustration with the ongoing harassment by Turkish military officers who acted as the governing authority in the region. The very fact that Ian was fluent in the forbidden language made finding Kurdish allies in this part of the country easy. The hard part was letting them know he spoke their language when everyone was a potential informant.
    Smugglers’ tunnels in the region could be a game changer. The Partiya Karkerên Kurdistan, or PKK, was only the largest and most well-known rebel group. Hejan’s group was smaller, was not allied with the Turkish government, had designs on becoming the leading separatist group in the region, and had a history of using terrorist tactics to make it happen.
    After learning the focus of her study, one thing was clear to Ian. It was no fluke that Cressida had been selected as courier. She might be unwitting, but somehow, her research had nabbed the attention of Hejan’s group. Given that, as tempting as Cressida was, sex with her could screw up the mission. For starters, if she was in bed with him, she could hardly be out passing off the microchip.
    After dinner, Ian placed a hand on the small of her back as they strolled down the narrow street. If this were a real date, he wouldn’t hesitate to duck into a covered doorway with her so he could slide his hand lower, pull her against him, and taste her.
    Damn, she smells good.
    But this was a date between Crista Portman and John Baker. John couldn’t get laid when Ian had work to do.
    The street was quiet as they walked the blocks to the hotel. Neither Ian nor John entwined fingers with hers, no matter how natural such an action might have felt. John wouldn’t start something he couldn’t finish, and Ian wasn’t invited to play at all.
    Inside the hotel, they crossed the lobby to the lift. She paused and met his gaze before hitting the button for her floor. He smiled as he again inhaled her sexy scent. From her pause, he figured she’d hoped he’d invite her to his room, but with his silence, she’d caved and would lead him to hers.
    She’d left the cautious woman on the airplane, apparently.
    They reached her floor, and he followed without a word. At her door, she paused and met his gaze, one eyebrow raised in question.
    This was the moment when John, if he existed, would pull her close and taste that mouth. He’d run his tongue along the full upper lip that had fascinated him from the first time he saw her—right before she decked a man.
    He was hard and ready. Ian would have trouble walking away if John kissed her. “I’m afraid the evening ends here, Crista.”
    Her brows flattened in confusion, not anger, but with the right pressure, he could push her in that direction and debated which reaction would suit his needs.
    “I’m