Sheikh's Rescue
Ryshia Kennie
As a sheikh, he always got what he wanted—until he met his beautiful and challenging new partner…Zafir Al-Nassar knows everything about Jade Van Everett. He’s studied the cases she’s worked for his family’s company and for the FBI. And it's hard not to notice that she’s absolutely gorgeous. Teaming up for a routine security detail, Jade is desperate to prove herself and Zafir can't help but admire her determination. But when their assignment turns deadly, it becomes difficult to stay focused on the job. Because although they were hired to protect a Morrocan royal from a trained assassin, Zafir has also every intention of keeping Jade safe and by his side. Forever.
As a sheik, he always got what he wanted—until he met his beautiful and challenging new partner...
Zafir Al-Nassar knows everything about Jade Van Everett. He’s studied the cases she’s worked for his family’s company and for the FBI. And it’s hard not to notice that she’s absolutely gorgeous. Teaming up for a routine security detail, Jade is desperate to prove herself and Zafir can’t help but admire her determination. But when their assignment turns deadly, it becomes difficult to stay focused on the job. Because although they were hired to protect a Morrocan royal from a trained assassin, Zafir also has every intention of keeping Jade safe and by his side. Forever.
Desert Justice
He leaned over and silenced her with a kiss as he pulled her tight against him.
She could feel his arousal pushing against her and all she wanted was to give every ounce of passion she had to him. But this wasn’t the place, not here on a plane with their client only yards away from them. It couldn’t happen and she wanted so badly for it to happen.
Her heart pounded and something deep inside wanted only to melt into him. Her mind screamed to pull away. It couldn’t be—this was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong man. And yet, her body felt differently.
She put her hands on his shoulder, creating a suggestion of distance between them.
“Jade.”
“No.” She shook her head. For as much as she wanted him against her, as much as she wanted his lips ravishing hers, as much as she wanted all of it and more, she couldn’t.
She was a professional agent and she refused to sleep with her boss. No matter how good she knew it would be.
Sheikh’s Rescue
Ryshia Kennie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist for the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit www.ryshiakennie.com (http://www.ryshiakennie.com).
Every girl should be as lucky as me to have a spare mother. Ma D—for all the moments you listened and all the thoughtful advice you gave. Raise your teacup. This one is for you.
Contents
Cover (#uc2d93f3f-838f-56c9-b263-7c623b9feb21)
Back Cover Text (#u0ebc90e0-70ac-5165-b503-07fb7dd42983)
Introduction (#ued9f6d3f-33f0-5517-8776-3cc18e4d364b)
Title Page (#ud4019cfd-3fc5-51b0-97f2-cdd75c67b743)
About the Author (#ua600ed0c-8528-56ff-ba2e-292d73fa15fa)
Dedication (#u66a4bb53-a6b8-5263-ab01-9355eee0ed53)
Chapter One (#uf51ab682-44b6-595e-a7c1-c101a5e7e9dd)
Chapter Two (#u11dbd436-b14c-524d-94fe-25cb6e111585)
Chapter Three (#ub4f8733e-a174-5018-8801-5ebb5cfae419)
Chapter Four (#u8d6a519f-1907-5f13-b18e-07494c437117)
Chapter Five (#u092ec20a-50f1-5bf3-be71-ec3b09982c99)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ua6831476-c5d9-5e6c-b292-b8caaa24cfc6)
The howl of a lone wolf cut through the gray Wyoming sky, shattering the valley’s early-morning silence. The howl echoed across the sharp lines of the Teton mountain range, which rose in a jagged line against the horizon. The raw cry broke through the unseasonably late April snow as it drifted down in a freezing veil that covered the prairie grass surrounding Nassar Security.
On his office balcony just outside Jackson, Wyoming, Vice President Zafir Al-Nassar took a deep breath. A sense of foreboding ran through him. Normally he would have enjoyed the reflective stillness of the late-spring snowfall, but now his thoughts were elsewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. There was nothing disturbing the area except the blanket of snow that covered everything. It seemed to mock his unease as it powdered the nearby landscape and the roofs of the distant houses. It was Hollywood snow, big white flakes coming down in a gentle curtain beneath a still sky. It was the kind of weather that the film industry sometimes chased through the northern states and Canada. His thoughts were broken as, in the distance, he saw a dirt bike buzzing along the road that ran along the interstate.
He rubbed his temple. He’d had a low-grade headache all morning. He’d been up too late last night trying out the limits of an online game his brother Faisal had shown him a few days earlier. They’d played it a number of times while he’d been in Marrakech and Faisal had been here in Wyoming. He’d been looking forward to playing it with him in person when he arrived in Wyoming. He’d been disappointed to find Faisal was on assignment on the East Coast, departing just before his arrival. He’d just arrived with his sister, Tara, from Marrakech, Morocco, via New York, only thirty-five hours ago. Yesterday afternoon he’d seen her off on the last leg of her return journey to the university via the company jet. The travel, the online game, all of it combined into too many days with too little sleep. He stuffed his hand into the pocket of his low-rise jeans.
“Idiot,” he muttered as he watched the motorcycle. Driving a bike in this kind of weather was, across the board, a bad idea. He shook his head and would have lost interest, except for the fact that minutes later, the bike turned into his parking lot.
“What the...” His mouth was set in a grim line. Could this be one of the employees from the Wyoming branch of Nassar? Who else would come out here on a Saturday? They didn’t hire risk-adverse individuals, but they didn’t hire thrill-seekers, either. Both personality types came with their own set of problems. He stayed where he was, intrigued by whom it might be as the bike swerved in a wide arc and pulled in beside his rental. Minutes passed. The rider seemed to be fiddling with something on the bike. It was an older model dirt bike—even worse as far as handling on slick roads. The driver might be a teenager.
He shook his head. That was an ageist thought, but he couldn’t imagine who else would be crazy enough to chance riding such a vehicle in this weather. With the driver’s back to him it was hard to tell. What he could tell was that he wasn’t very big; at least, he had no bulk to him. It looked like he was tall but other than...
The man pulled off the helmet. Black hair fell to his shoulders. He turned around. The gray bomber jacket was half zipped, and it was now clear that this was no man. She held a helmet by its straps as she threaded her fingers through her hair and stopped as her eyes locked with his.
Jade Van Everett. The face and the picture on the file snapped together in his mind like an errant jigsaw puzzle. She was the agent assigned to their latest case. He wasn’t familiar with her, at least not in person. She’d been with the agency only a little over a year, and both times he’d been here, she’d been either on a case or on vacation. But he was very familiar with who she was on paper. Twenty-nine to his thirty-one, her track record was impressive and the fact that she was easy on the eye, a bonus. Again, all of it had only been on paper. Yet he knew in his gut that Jade was different.
Jade... He felt that he knew her so much deeper than he should. She’d fascinated him before he’d ever physically laid eyes on her. But it was her accomplishments in the field that really impressed him, not her picture in the file. He’d studied every angle of the cases she’d been assigned with Nassar and was familiar with her past record with the agency. He knew her like he knew no other agent, and he refused to let himself consider why that might be.
The case she was assigned to now was the same one that had found him at the office this early in the morning. He’d been making sure that everything, as low-key as it was, went off without a hitch. As a family operation, Nassar Security depended on him to manage either the Morocco or Wyoming office at a moment’s notice.
This case involved a Moroccan prince. In fact, it had been Moroccan royalty who had hired the company to provide security for the minor royal, who was visiting Wyoming. The client was a cousin too many times removed from the current king of Morocco to ever attain power, and he wasn’t wealthy. That eliminated two factors that might threaten his safety. Except for the weak link to royalty, there was nothing special about the man. Thus, only one agent, Jade Van Everett, had been assigned.
In the file picture her hair had been lighter, shorter—her expression more serious. She was an extraordinarily good-looking woman even on file, but the paper copy didn’t reflect the vibrant beauty that the real woman possessed. It was hard not to stare, for he was caught by surprise.
Now that she’d finished with the bike, she wasted no time in striding across the small lot, her attention focused on him with a look that hinted at trouble. This was clearly a woman with an issue, and as he was the only person here, he could only assume that the issue was with him.
So much for quietly sliding into the pulse of the business, he thought.
She had trouble branded on the tight line of her full red lips and in the frown that cut between her delicate, well-defined dark brows.
While he felt the chill in her azure eyes slice through him as she came closer, he couldn’t help but admire her figure. He pulled his gaze up from her full bust and met her slightly sarcastic look as she stood on the bottom step looking up.
“Have you seen enough?” she drawled. Her voice was surprisingly relaxed despite the flashing accusation in her look.
She had spunk to go along with her success.
“Maybe,” he replied easily, while at the same time he was fully aware that he deserved every ounce of her sarcasm. The accusation in her eyes faded, and he could tell from the softening of her lips that she’d decided to not push the issue. He admired her for that.
“I’m Zafir,” he began, taking a step forward.
“I know,” she said in her husky voice, and came up a few more steps. “You’re why I’m here. I wanted to meet you in person before I picked up the client.”
Her eyes raked over him as if she, too, had studied him through his work. He imagined that if she was as good as her file suggested, then that was the case. One didn’t come in blind to anything, not a Nassar agent. They were all good, but to be in the top few meant that you left nothing to chance.
Professional, he thought, despite the bike. She smiled and threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing the shining black curtain up and away from her face. She came up another step. They were only a few feet apart.
She put one hand on the railing and held out the other to him. He took it and was caught in a firm grip that held no hesitation.
“What I’d like to know is why Prince Sadiq el Eloua is flying here alone on a commercial airline,” she said as she let go of his hand. She was referring to the client. The one she was assigned to. “I know it’s too late to do anything about it but really, even if there’s no identified threat, at the least he should have been accompanied.”
“There’s apparently never been a security issue—he has no money or status,” he said, realizing that she’d mirrored many of his first doubts. “It appears more for ego that we were hired.”
“Seems like there should be more to this, otherwise there’s no need to hire us.”
He shrugged. “Overkill on Prince Rashad’s part,” he said, referring to the crown prince next in line to rule Morocco. “An easy assignment for you.”
There was something in her eyes and the way she looked at him that, if he were a vain man, he would have called admiration. Instead, it struck him how much the agency had grown, and how often, despite being vice president, he was faced with this situation—where he didn’t know the people in his employ. Not that he was complaining; his youngest brother Faisal ran this branch and had done so more than competently.
Jade brushed past him and headed toward the entrance to his office. She pulled the door open and walked in as if it were hers. “While I’m here I want to check the file one last time before I pick him up,” she said over her shoulder.
He followed her inside, closing the door behind him as a drift of snow skimmed the heated cork floor and immediately began to melt. He walked over to where she stood by his desk.
“You’ve had it out?” she asked as she picked up the only file on his desk. She did so without hesitation. But that was how Faisal’s office ran, with casual efficiency. While the Marrakech office had gone completely digital, Faisal still insisted on paper files. He loved all things retro. Retro had never appealed to Zafir. He’d take the latest smartphone over the century-old wooden file cabinet that stood in a corner of the office.
He watched her review the file. He assumed that she was going over details that she’d seen before. They were details that he’d just familiarized himself with. His mind reviewed what he knew of the client. The man was an amateur photographer. He was months short of his fortieth birthday and attached to nothing, not family, career, not even a stable home. He was rather like a man a decade or two younger. The majority of his income came from a life insurance policy that he’d received after the death of his parents. He supplemented that by occasionally selling his photos to magazines. That was why he was here, to take outdoor pictures of the Jackson Hole valley. It was the one thing he had in common with the client: they both felt the allure of Wyoming’s wild beauty. The file lay open where Jade had dropped it. He looked down and a chubby-cheeked man smiled back at him.
“Twenty-fifth in line to the throne,” Jade’s voice interrupted his private assessment. “My instinct says that’s important.”
Instinct, he couldn’t dispute that. It was what separated the good agent from the excellent.
She went to the window and stood there as snow hit, melted and slid down the glass. He took the file from the desk, closed it and put it back into the cabinet.
“He arrives in under two hours.” She glanced at her watch as she turned around. “I just can’t get over it. I mean, he’s a royal, I’m to make sure he’s safe, and yet he’s flying halfway across the world alone.” She shrugged. “That’s why his lineage was grating on me. But even twenty-fifth, with zero chance of ever attaining the throne... There’s safety in numbers, in having someone trained to watch out for you. Someone who pays attention to the surroundings to...” She trailed off. But he could see her frustration. Her blue eyes were alight with passion and concern.
“I’m not sure how it went down. He shouldn’t be flying either alone or commercial. What I know is that Prince Rashad isn’t happy about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s our client’s doing.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he isn’t our problem. At least, not until he lands...”
She frowned. “Despite what I just said, it’s a low-key case. Let’s just hope he gets here safely.” She paused, her attention not on him but on a point somewhere outside the office.
“There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Our job begins as soon as they have wheels on the ground.” She looked at her watch. “I should get moving.”
“What’s with the dirt bike?” He couldn’t help but ask.
She shrugged and looked slightly sheepish. “My pickup wouldn’t start this morning. I’m going to get a rental on the way to the airport.”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
“No.” She shook her head. “The rental agency is only a few miles up the road. Besides, I love riding the bike in fresh snow,” she said. “I’d take it to the airport but I doubt Prince Sadiq would like riding on the back.”
From what he’d seen of Jade, he doubted that Prince Sadiq would mind at all.
“I’m not looking forward to it.” She paused. “Didn’t you find it strange—the name he prefers?” It was the name that neither of them had yet used.
“A bit old-fashioned.” He slid a hand into his pocket and rubbed an American penny he always carried between his thumb and forefinger. A long time ago his father had given it to him for luck. His father had been a very logical man, but he believed in talismans and luck. His parents had died tragically three days after his father had so casually tossed him the coin. Now he withdrew his hand, curious at her take.
“Stanley?” Her frown deepened. “What Moroccan royal is named Stanley? I mean even as a nickname.” Her eyes crinkled as if she were holding back a laugh. “He uses the name exclusively.”
“Royalty. Good chance he has an attitude, which will be a challenge,” he said, knowing that he should try to be helpful instead of goading her when they both knew that she was stuck with a dull case.
“I’m betting you’re right.” She pulled a quarter from her pocket. “Want to flip for odds? Heads he’s a challenge.”
“Tails, I lose,” he finished.
She flipped the coin and looked up with a smile. “Heads. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got myself a code white.”
He smiled at both the tone of her voice and her lighthearted approach that led them to betting on a case. That was a first, but he didn’t doubt that Jade was full of surprises—crazy little firsts.
“Code white.” She shook her head, her brow furrowed as if the thought of it pained her.
He empathized with her pain. The agency had codes for assignments. They ranged from the least dangerous, white, to the most, red. There wasn’t an agent at Nassar who didn’t dread a code white. They were well-paid assignments that were the bread and butter of the agency. But they were also, as in this case, ten days of guaranteed boredom.
She waved as she turned to leave.
“Take a good book,” he called after her.
She gave him a look that would have torched a lesser man.
He only laughed.
Jade van Everett had been a pleasant surprise.
* * *
Three days earlier
THE SMALL STONE house had stood on the edge of the massive estate outside Rabat, Morocco, for generations. It had survived two world wars. Now, an explosion rattled the windows of the main house and blew the roof off the small stone house. The outer walls held for seconds after the initial explosion before the shock rippled through the structure and caused the small building to fall inward. The resulting fire licked quickly through the old wood and paper within the building. The smoke curled easily into the still air. It wasn’t until the building was engulfed in flames and the last wall had collapsed that sirens could be heard. By then, it was too late. It was exactly as he had planned. Time would take care of the rest.
His jaw tensed as he looked around in the dim light of the plane’s cabin. A young woman stood up two rows ahead of him and stretched. Behind him someone coughed. He covered his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He hated flying, hated the people, the tight space, the snotty flight attendants. He hated all of it. He pushed his seat into an upright position and tried to stretch, but one foot was trapped by the seat in front of him. He was stuffed and cramped like he, too, was one of them, like the other nothings on this plane. But he was nothing like any of them—he didn’t belong here, and soon they would know it.
He’d like to hurt someone right now. He knew that would make him feel better, but he couldn’t do that for obvious reasons. Instead, he relaxed his features and tried to keep a pleasant look on his face. The last thing he needed was to act suspicious so that when they landed he was pulled aside by security. That would have his entry into the States delayed or worse, denied.
Calm down, he told himself. There was no reason for any of that to happen. But it wasn’t over. His fingernails dug into the armrest. He looked down and forced himself to relax. He’d learned years ago as a child that one must relax to gain control. A strap against bare skin was easier to take if one was relaxed rather than tense. It was a tough but useful life skill. He looked furtively around him. But there was nothing unusual. The lights dimmed, and ahead of him a reading light clicked on. To his left was an empty seat and beside that was an elderly woman who’d been snoring off and on since takeoff.
He closed his eyes even as he knew that he couldn’t sleep. Minutes passed. He opened his eyes, and his thoughts went back to where they had never left, to all that had transpired. The explosion that was the first step in completing the job he’d been hired for. It was unfortunate that he’d only seen his handiwork from afar, that he couldn’t have stayed to hear the man’s dying screams. Instead, he’d had to leave, catching the explosion from a distance, seeing the lick of flames and knowing he was one death away from the cash prize.
Across the aisle, a middle-aged man snored, lurched forward and shook himself awake.
He looked away. To any of the other passengers he was unmemorable. A swarthy man with a tired expression in the aisle seat of the Boeing 737. He feigned reading a newspaper. His left ankle was crossed over his right. He ran a hand along the seam of his pant leg. He scowled and then glanced at the watch on his right wrist. He moved the silver band back and forth as if that would adjust the time, but no matter how he looked at it, there were still hours before they landed.
He shoved the paper into the flap in the seat in front of him and looked up. He smiled at the passing flight attendant and thought how he’d like to twist her slim neck until it snapped. He forced his eyes closed, and smiled for the first time since he’d gotten the news. For it was in Jackson, Wyoming, where he’d finally finish what had begun so long ago.
Chapter Two (#ua6831476-c5d9-5e6c-b292-b8caaa24cfc6)
Take a good book.
It was a lighthearted statement. At least that’s what she had thought at the time. Now Zafir’s comment held new meaning. At the airport, the client’s round, olive-toned face had lit up at the sight of her as if she were a prize in a game of chance. But an hour later, she would have preferred the company of a good book to the client’s chatter and fawning eyes.
She remembered trying to lead him through the airport. He’d been distracted by everything. He’d stopped to stare out a window, claiming that he hadn’t seen anything so beautiful as that particular view of the Teton Mountains. And when she finally got his attention again, he’d asked that she call him Stanley and then followed her to collect his luggage. She’d had to nudge the duffel under his arm as she gathered his bags. She’d updated him on his living arrangements as she ushered him to the rental vehicle, but she wasn’t sure if he heard a word of it.
At the van, she’d slid the door shut after wrestling his bags into the backseat. Stanley had dropped the duffel by the back door and taken his seat without asking whether she needed help with his luggage.
On the way into Jackson, she asked him about the obviously expensive Nikon camera that he pulled out of its case shortly after they left the terminal. That’s when she’d found out that Stanley was a talker, at least about his passion—photography.
“How much farther?” His voice would have been average except for the slightly nasal whine.
“Five minutes,” she said shortly. She could feel his gaze on her but kept her attention on the snowy, and now icy, road. Her knuckles were white, and it wasn’t because of the driving conditions. She knew admiration when she saw it, but she knew it could also turn into something worse. Stanley kept glancing at her in a way she didn’t like. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through an assignment that would be not only a bore but annoying, as well.
“We’re here,” she said minutes later as she parked the van. It was the only vehicle the rental agency had left that served her purpose. She would upgrade it tomorrow. Once that was done, she could take Stanley to the places he’d identified were perfect for a photo shoot.
“I’d like to take your picture, too, if...”
“No,” she bit out. “I’m sorry. That was rather abrupt but no, I’m here to facilitate your trip.” An interesting way to put it, she thought. “Not be a subject for your photography,” she finished. “I’m sure we’ll find more than you can imagine as far as scenery and wildlife to photograph. You don’t need me.”
“You’re beautiful and...”
“No,” she repeated. “Enough. This is business, nothing more.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking rather abashed and completely out of his element.
But this time she was sorry, sorry for so many different reasons than he might think. Sorry for making him uncomfortable, sorry for taking this assignment. Although she had to admit that there was no choice in the latter. It hadn’t been voluntary.
Her attention went to the building in front of her. This was her headquarters for the duration of Stanley’s stay. The three-story red cedar apartment building was small but perfectly situated. She didn’t expect anything less. Leslie, Nassar’s relocation expert, had scouted the city and located this building. It had all the amenities the client requested as well as being easy to secure. The street was quiet, part residential and part business. Even now, mid-morning on a Saturday, there was little noise other than the soft drone of traffic on nearby roads. Stanley’s apartment was located on the second floor. The apartment above was vacant, as was the one below it. Combined with its small size, its low occupancy made the building even more perfect. She’d been briefed on the other occupants. All ten were trouble-free; none of them had criminal records. They ranged from two senior citizens to a professor currently on sabbatical overseas. The ground-floor apartment was assigned to Jade. The location was perfect for her to stay close for the duration of the client’s visit.
“Let’s go,” she said as she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the van door.
No response.
She looked over at Stanley. He wasn’t looking at her but rather chewing his lower lip, almost like he hadn’t heard her. Maybe he needed a moment, she thought. But her other thought was that the man was a bit odd.
She thought of Zafir. It was hard not to make the comparison between the two men. She had just recently met them both, and they were so completely different. Sinfully good-looking, cocky Zafir, she thought. She shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. But it was like she knew him. She’d studied every case he’d worked and heard stories of his exploits from his brother Faisal. In person, Zafir was more gorgeous and sure of himself than a man outside the pages of a men’s magazine should be, and yet there was something down to earth about him, too. He’d put her off balance, off her game. As a result, her first reaction was to snap at him.
Stop it, she told herself. He was her boss on this case and not a man to be lusted after. Besides, looks weren’t everything. She’d learned that the hard way. Give her a homely man with a great personality any day, or better yet, no man. At least not at the moment. She was enjoying her job too much, current assignment aside.
“This is it,” she said to Stanley, who hadn’t moved.
He had a slight smile on his face and a glow in his eyes as if excited by the idea, yet he hesitated to open his door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I...”
He was looking uncertain, as if he had made a bad choice. Fine time to think of that now, she thought, now that he was here. Despite the thought, she was concerned. As long he was in the States he was her problem, and the last thing she needed was for him to fall apart.
His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the seat belt. “Nothing at all.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I always react like this after a flight. Kind of a delayed reaction.”
An outright lie, she thought, noticing how his voice sounded thinner and he wouldn’t look at her. With any luck it was a temporary case of fear of the unknown. “Let’s get you settled,” she said. She got out and slid open the back door to get his luggage.
“The photography will be amazing,” Stanley said from just behind her. Now his voice sounded normal, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. There was nothing but anticipation in his tone. It was like he was trying too hard to hide his unease. “I can’t wait.”
“Wyoming is known for that, scenery. A photographer’s dream,” she agreed as she tried not to let her prejudice for all things Wyoming show. She supposed she’d already failed at that mission with her last sentence.
She went to step back and was stopped by Stanley. “Give me a bit of room,” she said as she leaned in and pulled his too-heavy suitcase from the backseat. Too heavy for anyone visiting for only ten days.
“Stanley,” she bit out as she backed up and her elbow bumped his soft midsection. “Move.”
A few minutes later, she slipped the key in the lock to the apartment door. She could almost feel him breathing. She swung around.
“Look, Stanley.” She hesitated, almost stumbling on the name. “If you want me to do my job properly, I need some space.” She wondered how many times she’d have to repeat that phrase.
He took a step back. He looked puzzled and anxious. It was becoming like a dance with two mismatched partners. She took a deep breath. As soon as she got his luggage inside, it was a dance that was going to end.
“In fact, wait here. Hold this.” She slipped the handle of the suitcase into his hand and turned to push the apartment door open. She was only mildly amused to hear the suitcase thump onto the floor.
“Having trouble?” she asked. She glanced over her shoulder. He was fumbling with his vintage suitcase. It had no wheels and a worn faux-leather cover. It was an oddity. Like Stanley, she thought.
Her hand dropped to her Colt. She had just purchased it. The gun had replaced her old standby Glock that had seen her through her training and first year. The Colt was an exciting purchase. She could hardly wait to see action with this in her hand. But so far, other than target practice, she had yet to use it.
She moved past the entrance, noting everything. White laminate floors, gray walls, a couch to the left, table to the right. There was nothing else. She had to be sure. Stanley and his suitcase were forgotten. This was business. There was nothing but silence and the ticking of... She pulled the Colt, reveling in the feel of it in her hand. Other women loved new clothes. She loved guns. The thought made her smile. Something clicked. She swung, pointing the Colt in the direction of the sound. It was nothing but a wall clock in the kitchen. Someone had plugged it in since the last time she’d been here.
“Is this necessary?” Stanley’s frightened voice came from the hallway.
She held up a hand to him, motioning him to be quiet. On another assignment, in a different place, ticking had meant something so much more sinister. This wasn’t such a case, she reminded herself. Still, she needed to make sure. No matter the high probability that there was no threat. If there was, she needed to eliminate it. After all, someone had paid her to do just that.
The kitchen and living area gleamed as if they’d been recently cleaned and infrequently used. She took a step in and then two—she did a visual sweep of the area. It was overkill, she knew that, but one could never be too safe. She’d learned that through her arduous FBI training. The experience had been put into practice during the last year with Nassar.
A minute, two—she went through the small one-bedroom apartment. All clear, exactly as it should be. She went to the hallway and gave Stanley what she hoped would be interpreted as a friendly smile. One more come-hither look from him and she might punch him, she thought, knowing that of course she wouldn’t. She was too professional for that, but...the thought was out there.
“Let me take that,” she said. She lifted his duffel bag and set it on the coffee table. “You might want to take the suitcase into the bedroom.”
“Fine,” he said, looking slightly bewildered.
She opened the blinds that masked the balcony, letting in a stream of feeble sunlight. The snowstorm was on its last legs. The snowfall was a thin curtain, unlike the thick flakes that had blanketed the area in a layer of white earlier in the day.
“You’ll have a good view, and I’ll be just downstairs while you’re here.”
“Living?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes. As long as you’re here, I will be, too.” Exactly ten days, she wanted to say, no more.
His face lit up at that like she’d told him she’d be his best friend. And she supposed that in a way, for a time, she would be.
“There’s a beautiful view of the mountains,” she said as she slid the glass patio door open. She could smell his aftershave as he approached. She’d first become aware of the scent at the airport terminal, where it had preceded him as he’d disembarked in a cloud that was as pleasant as the lingering smell of cooked fish. She’d felt some sympathy for his seatmates on the flight and even those who might have been sitting nearby. Stanley wasn’t one to slide into the background; everything about him was distinctive.
She turned her attention to the street. A vacant lot was directly across from them. Beside it there was a parking lot with only a few snow-shrouded cars. The lot was blanketed in snow and shadowed by the stark branches of winter-dead trees. She frowned. The trees and shrubs blocked her view. She could see nothing between the parking lot and the low-rise brick building beside it.
“This place is small,” Stanley said as he came up too close beside her.
She moved one step over and thought again how this game was getting very old. She glanced at him, but he was looking not at the view but behind her, at the apartment. She turned back to the street.
“That’s because it’s temporary.”
And because they were staying away from the luxury homes and condos that would be harder to secure. She pressed a finger to her temple. She could feel the beginnings of a headache.
He wasn’t going away. She needed to deal. She turned to face the only headache she had—Stanley.
“Often the hunters and skiers use this same lodging, but there aren’t many around this time of year. Right now there are a few permanents, or longer stays, I guess you’d call them, and you. But you won’t spend much time in the apartment.”
“I suppose.” He turned his attention back to the apartment. “What channels do I get?”
“No idea,” she said, not caring if she was abrupt. She watched as he went back inside. That was one thing no one had checked, television channels. She knew there would be something wrong with them. Stanley was a complainer. Since the airport, he’d had a list of minor complaints. They ranged from the length of time it took for the luggage pickup, to the hard seats in the rental van. The apartment was no different. It was too small, too little light, too... He was in the kitchen now, running a finger along the counter.
“What’s around here? To do, I mean,” Stanley said a few minutes later as he came up beside her. “Other than great scenery.”
“You didn’t research before you came?” She supposed he’d want to do something other than take pictures, but that wasn’t her problem.
“Yes, but... I thought you might...” He smiled a slightly slick smile, obviously another ploy for her attention.
That was it.
“Have a seat,” she said pushing him toward the couch just off the kitchen. She picked up a couple of brochures she’d seen resting in a small squat bookcase and tossed them at him. “Looks like you have some reading to do.”
The way he didn’t look at them. The way he dangled the brochures between his thumb and forefinger like they were tainted. All of it told her everything.
“You weren’t really needing that information, were you?”
“No,” he said, and blushed.
It was apparent that he’d only wanted a topic of conversation to connect with her. She didn’t have time for conversation. That wasn’t her job.
She turned and went back to the balcony, but made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She sighed, feeling sorry for him and his rather hangdog expression. “Come here. Check out the view.”
He stood a foot away from her. Unlike last time, this time he looked at the scenery. There was an expression of awe on his face and she wasn’t sure how he could have been so wrapped up in the apartment’s conveniences, or lack thereof, to miss the extraordinary view the first time he’d stood on the balcony. But Stanley appeared to be a man with a one-track mind. He was no multitasker. Now he gazed out at the snow-covered plains and mountains that swept around the city limits seemingly transfixed, like he’d just realized all of this was here. He lifted his camera and snapped a picture then two, three... She lost count. Stanley was finally in his element and she was forgotten. Ten minutes later he put the camera down with a small smile on his face.
“Thank you,” he said. “For picking me up. And putting up with me.”
“It’s what I’m paid for,” she said, trying to inject a touch of humor into the words.
“I suppose.”
“So what’s with the name? Stanley, I mean,” she asked.
He looked at her; his hazel eyes were awash in innocent confusion. At five-eight she almost looked eye to eye with him.
“I mean, it’s a nickname obviously. How’d you get it? Did your parents come up with the name?” She wasn’t overly interested. But it might serve to get to know the man she was supposed to protect just a bit better. Actually, it would help her get to know the man she would be chauffeuring around Wyoming. That was probably a more apt statement.
“No.” He shook his head. “It was a name my older brother gave me. It’s after a cartoon character. I don’t suppose you have the program here. Anyway, I got the name when I was two. The show hasn’t played in years. But at the time, he thought that I looked like the main character.” He shrugged. “Of course, when he gave me the nickname, he was little more than a kid himself.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. How could they have missed the existence of a brother? The file listed no siblings. In fact, the closest relatives listed were an uncle and two first cousins. Then there were only distant relatives listed in order of succession. It was a major oversight, and it had her immediately concerned. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“I don’t,” he said rather sadly. “Not anymore. He died a few years before my mother.” He cleared his throat. “Accident,” he said with a rasp to his voice. “His death destroyed my parents.”
For the first time, her heart went out to him. It was tragic, and he said it so nonchalantly. The hurt in his eyes told her that wasn’t how he felt about the tragedy.
It was interesting how she’d had to tweak the profile she’d established for him. He was annoying but he wasn’t arrogant; instead he had expectations. He was socially awkward, especially around the opposite sex. She wasn’t sure if that was just her. The most surprising had been his compassion. There was a lot she still didn’t know, as the file hadn’t spoken to personality. But what she did know was that he was basically a good egg.
“Don’t hit it!” he’d yelled when she’d swerved for an elk on the way from the airport.
“Oh my goodness,” he’d said after the animal had dodged into the bush. “I’m so glad you did that. That you were able to swerve like that.” He’d taken a slightly strangled breath as if he’d been holding it. “That he lived.”
In that moment, she could have forgiven most of Stanley’s annoying behaviors, at least the ones she’d recently suffered through, when he displayed that kind of compassion for a wild animal. Add in that he was the client, and they were never wrong, and he was in a pretty good place. For the first time she relaxed and smiled at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said in reference to his brother. According to the file, his mother had died twenty-two years ago. His father had died a few years after that of a heart attack. She wondered what else the file might have missed.
“Don’t be,” he said softly. “He had a good life. Just short.”
She looked at him with a frown. It was an odd thing to say about losing a brother, as far as she knew, his only sibling. Since it was accidental, she imagined it had been tragic—definitely sudden. She had questions, but she asked none of them. None of it was relevant to the case.
Instead she mulled over the strangeness of Stanley’s response. Everyone dealt with grief differently, but she was curious. She started to say something and then stopped.
Before she could consider the matter further, there was a movement to her right. Her attention immediately focused on the cluster of stark, leafless trees on the edge of the parking lot. They were across the road, and her mind quickly calibrated the distance. Approximately one hundred feet to the right—shooting distance. She tensed, but her eyes never left that location.
“Go inside,” she said over her shoulder. She wasn’t taking any chances, code white or not. She could hear him breathing behind her. He wasn’t listening, as usual. It was strange that they had a usual in the short time she’d known him. That was the one intriguing thing about him, despite his oddness—it was easy to develop a rapport with him. She shoved the thoughts back.
She focused on the change across the street, the potential threat. She doubted it was anything. But she wasn’t taking the chance. She needed to focus on one thing, and that was keeping Stanley safe.
Something flashed across the street, like sunlight on metal. She looked up. There was a break in the cloudy sky and a glimmer of sunlight.
With her Colt in her right hand, she moved close to Stanley, pushing him back with her left.
One sparrow, then two flew out of a low-lying bush that edged the parking lot. They flew diagonally down the street, the two joined by two more, as if they’d been disturbed.
“Get inside. Keep down,” she commanded.
He looked at her, puzzled, his mouth working as if he were about to protest. She gave him another little shove when he continued to stand there.
It could be nothing. But she’d rather overreact and have Stanley safe. The other option wasn’t worth considering. For that meant failure, and she’d never failed... The thought trailed off. Now all senses were on alert.
Something was off.
She peered over the balcony. The snow was lessening, but the wind was picking up. A stray fast-food wrapper was tagged by the wind. It seemed to skip across the street. She watched as it tumbled in the direction where, if she were to pinpoint trouble, she’d point there. But there was no evidence of anything. Just the same superficial signs and now nothing. The only noise was that created by the wind. The break in the clouds disappeared, and everything seemed dimmer.
She might have imagined it. The possibility was high. She wasn’t sure if there was trouble or not. What she did know was that her instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. It was hard to pinpoint what had been the defining moment that had triggered her full attention. But now she was on and ready for action.
Seconds ticked by.
“What are you listening for?” There was a demand in his voice; it carried the edge of expectation, like someone who had always gotten his way.
A shot rang out, cutting off anything else he might have wanted to say. The glint of something, a glimpse of blue-black, a gun—or maybe that was just her imagination. The shot had been real. It seemed to come from exactly the spot she’d mentally marked as a potential problem area.
“Get down!” she shouted as Stanley let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a yip and a shriek. She hurled herself down and back so she was within range to take him down by force if necessary.
“What’s going...” he began as she had him by the arm, taking him down, too.
“Shut up! Stay there!”
She got up in a half crouch while giving him a bit of a push on his chest to remind him to stay down. She turned her back to him, moving toward the railing. Cement, she thought with disgust. The railing was a solid block of cement. Great protection and lousy visual. The only way to find the perp was to make herself vulnerable and lift her head over the edge.
Another shot.
Seconds ticked by. A minute, then two.
A rush of movement to her right and a crash directly below her.
She was blinded by the balcony. She looked to her right. The ceramic planter that had sat on the railing had been taken out. It had crashed into the parking lot. Hit by gunfire, she was sure, considering everything that had happened in the last few minutes. But the sound had been muted and the only real alert was what had followed, the noise of pottery shattering. She bet that whoever was shooting at them was now using a silencer. Why hadn’t he used it for the first shot or even the second? That was a mystery she might never have the answer to. Unnecessary question, unnecessary information, she told herself. But the shadow that flitted from one dead tree to the next and where the last shot had come from wasn’t. This might be her only chance. She took aim and fired.
She glanced back. Stanley was on his knees in a position that in yoga was called a prayer position. The only difference was that his hands were covering his head.
She turned back to the balcony. She scanned the street. She doubted she’d hit anything. There’d been no evidence of her taking out anything more than the bark of a tree.
Whoever was out there would not want the attention of the sheriff. She had to assume that they would shoot only when they spotted a target, that they would not fire needlessly and create extra noise and, potentially, undue attention. She moved slowly, trying to find a place to see and not be seen.
Her Colt was clutched in both hands as she considered the next move. Everything had changed. The white-coded, dull little assignment had just been upgraded.
To code red.
Chapter Three (#ua6831476-c5d9-5e6c-b292-b8caaa24cfc6)
“Why are they shooting at us?” Stanley looked at her as if the answer to that question would spin back the clock, as if this had never happened.
There was no time to ask who and why. No time for the volley of questions that answering that one question could turn into.
She looked over her shoulder. Stanley was crawling toward her. His face was white, but he wasn’t stopping.
“Get back,” Jade said, and waved him back toward the safety of the apartment. She should have known that there was a time limit on how long he’d follow instructions. She rose slowly to peer over the concrete railing. There was another movement to her right. A flash, and she dived down, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. Stanley hadn’t moved.
“Stay down,” she commanded in a whisper. “Stay there.”
She shifted her attention away from Stanley. The assailant might be across the street, but she had no idea if he was alone. She rose up on one knee. “This sucker’s not done with us,” she muttered as she peered over the balcony. Everything was quiet except for an odd shuffling sound behind her. She turned and found herself face-to-face with Stanley. “Down,” she repeated, and he nodded, flattening himself to the balcony floor.
She hunched down, her eyes meeting his. Panic was in his eyes and in the tense line of his lips. “There’s nothing you can do. This is why I was hired,” Jade said patiently as if more words would somehow calm him. “You’re unarmed,” she reminded him, betting that he didn’t even realize that important fact. She saw the fear in his eyes as she delivered the clinching words. “I’m not.”
This time he seemed to get it as his frightened eyes met hers.
Jade turned, rising to her knees to peer over the balcony as she scanned the street for further trouble.
Silence.
To the left of the parking lot was a two-story plain brick building. Its main floor was boarded up. She looked away. Whoever had fired at them had done so from the right. That meant that they were close to the low-rise building. It was an office building, closed on the weekends. Nothing had changed from the last time she’d looked. She glanced back at Stanley. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that he had retreated inside. Her attention went back to the street. Her Colt was in both hands. There was no sound from the other apartments. Her mind went over the last few minutes.
Two shots.
Three if you counted the one with the silencer. That shot had been muted and mostly unheard by those inside, living in the vicinity, but it appeared, so had the others. Gunshots were out of the norm. They were sounds that many people might consider part of their imagination. Television programs, online games, the clamor of day-to-day living masked all sorts of noise, including that which was unanticipated and unfamiliar, gunfire. It would be easily discounted as part of the noise of a television program. Now there was nothing but a strange silence. Was the gunman still out there? And if he wasn’t, where was he?
She slid down with her back to the concrete balcony railing. She debated whether now was the time to report in that her assignment had taken a critical turn.
One more check.
She pushed up over the balcony, looking left and right down the street. A movement to her left; she watched with bated breath. It was nothing but a jackrabbit that had made its way into the city. The hare took its time. It seemed to lope, hopping this way and that, stopping to sniff the air. Finally, it disappeared between two buildings. The street was again empty.
She sank below the railing as she put the Colt down and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“Zafir,” he answered with a concerned tone, for this number was never used except in case of emergency.
“Code red,” she said simply. “I’m pinned down at the client’s apartment. Shots from across the street at the client’s balcony. The client’s secure.”
“Last count?”
“Unknown shooter. Three shots fired. Four, if you count mine. He has a silencer.” She looked where the planter used to stand. “It’s been quiet for over five minutes.”
“Did you see...”
“Nothing,” she interrupted. “No visual. Like I said, I got one shot in, that was it. I never had a clear shot and on a public street, well, that just made it difficult.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Keep it contained if you can. I’ll be there in five.”
The call disconnected as abruptly as it had begun.
Keep it contained if you can.
With gritted teeth, she shoved the phone into her pocket. For a second she really wished that she could shove it somewhere else.
* * *
THE SNOW WOULDN’T stop falling. The man wiped perspiration and melted snow off his upper lip and swore as a car came down the street. Until now, it had been deserted.
He should have taken him out. Except he’d never had a clear shot. The woman had placed herself between him and his target. The plan was to take him out in a maximum of two shots and then get out before the authorities showed up. He’d already shot three. He couldn’t fire any more. Even with his silencer, it was too dangerous. The woman was shooting back. Her gun didn’t have a silencer. The cops could be alerted at any moment. His opportunity had slipped through his fingers, and Stanley had moved off the balcony. There was nothing to be done.
He looked at the handgun with disdain. It had failed him. The silencer didn’t work as easily as he’d been told. He’d fumbled with it. As a result, he hadn’t used it on the first two shots. The owner of the gun store had assured him that it was a “never fail.” He’d said that it was easy to use. He had lied. If he were home, he’d go back and let him know what he thought of his lie. He couldn’t. He was in a foreign country and he had to abide by its rules. If he stepped afoul of the law in any way other than planned, he had a greater chance of getting caught. That would destroy his chances at what was most important. But it was clear that taking someone out wasn’t his forte. He needed help. He would find someone else, someone who could do the job for him.
He’d been stupid to think that he could remain anonymous and complete the job. He needed the money. He hadn’t come all the way here to fail.
He considered the fact that he required assistance. He wasn’t sure why his cousin had hired him. Except that wasn’t true. He knew why. Besides his lies and exaggerations and the fact that he really had killed before, he was disposable. He always had been. He grimaced.
Maybe a hit man was what he needed, someone more skilled at killing than him. He’d killed only two people in his life—one who had invaded his home and another who’d invaded his life. That hardly made him an expert, not like a hit man. He’d read of them and seen shows, American productions. Those shows had been fiction. Still, he knew that such people existed. They just did not advertise their wares in a storefront that was easily found.
He looked at the watch on his right wrist. He fiddled with the silver bracelet. It wasn’t quite noon. He pulled out his phone and thumbed over the screen. There was one man who would know where to look. One man he could rely on to dig deep into the dregs of society and find someone who could do the job. The unfortunate thing of it was that it would not come cheap, and he needed every penny that had been offered him to get this job done.
Panic ran through him. He didn’t have time to waste. He wasn’t willing to give up on the money yet. He shoved the phone into his back pocket. He’d have to do it himself until, or unless, he found someone who was better. In the meantime, he was on his own, and he had less time than he’d anticipated.
His left leg ached from the cold and from having to scrunch into a cramped position for too long. The leg had plagued him since he was a child. It had been the result of what everyone had called an accident. He’d always known that it was no accident. Nothing that happened to him was accidental. The world was against him and always had been.
He rubbed his free hand along his calf as if that slight movement would dispel the bone-deep ache. His cousin needed to die, and he needed to do it soon. And if that meant he took out others with him, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting this job done and getting back to Morocco as soon as possible.
Chapter Four (#ua6831476-c5d9-5e6c-b292-b8caaa24cfc6)
Zafir grabbed his keys, his go-bag and an extra magazine for his Glock and headed out the door. He hadn’t expected to back anyone up. But every agent in the Wyoming office was busy and already assigned to a case. So there was no choice. He’d be stepping into the role of backup to Jade’s lead. It was an exceptional situation, but it was also policy. He and Emir had hammered out the guidelines for Nassar Security a little less than a decade ago. Those guidelines had always included the brothers’ full involvement. Action was what they loved. They’d vowed never to have that love drowned because of leadership duties and responsibility. They’d promised they’d be in the field whenever possible. Unfortunately, “whenever possible” had too often given way to days of tiring office duties. He was more than ready to move into action.
His hand brushed the gun. The solid feel of it seemed to connect with his hand in a way that was more an extension of him than the tool that it was. There was nothing more exciting than a new gun. Not even a glimpse of a spectacular woman or the chance to caress the sleek lines of the latest woman could compare—it was how he rolled. He didn’t expect any of that would ever change.
Romance was short-term fun and long-term trouble. He’d grown up with parents in a loving marriage. Yet no matter how much he liked his future sister-in-law, Kate, he recoiled at the thought of his brother Emir marrying her. In case after case, he’d seen what jealousy and anger could do. Marriage and long-term relationships could be the perfect breeding ground for both those emotions. He wanted none of it, and he’d told himself that a long time ago.
He started the rental Nissan Pathfinder and was about to pop it into Reverse when his phone beeped. His hand dropped from the gearshift and he reached for it. Only a few numbers weren’t screened out. He had two admin assistants to handle those calls that he didn’t answer.
Emir’s name showed on the screen. It wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for his twin to connect like this—unexpectedly. And as always, instinct had told him who it was before the first beep had finished.
“Yeah,” he said, knowing he sounded rushed and hurried. This was a call he knew he couldn’t miss, and even knowing that, the delay grated on him. Something was up; Emir wouldn’t have phoned otherwise. His twin didn’t phone for social chats—never had, especially now, when their agency was overwhelmed and understaffed. It was something they’d have to address soon. His grip on the phone tightened.
“What’s going on, Em?” he asked, trying to keep the edge from his voice. He knew that whatever information Emir had, it was going to put an additional crimp in his day.
“The code on your latest case just flipped to red,” Emir said. Red meant that either the client’s life was in imminent danger or there was a threat to an agent.
“I could have told you that five minutes ago,” Zafir said, and his lips tightened. He didn’t have a lot of time.
“What happened?” Emir asked.
“There were shots fired at the apartment we rented for the client. It’s under control now. Jade held them off. Just one shooter that we know of. We’re getting the client out of the area. Jade’s waiting for me now.” He dropped his hand from the steering wheel and rolled down the window an inch. A spatter of fresh snow hit his face. It was oddly calming. He loved the smell of fresh snow, but he was more anxious to get moving and make sure everything was secure.
“There’s more to this than we were led to believe,” Emir said. “It’s making me uneasy.”
The tension since he’d first answered the call retreated. He and Emir, as usual, were on the same page. But it had been the sudden change in status that he knew had really set him on edge. Moving into action always smoothed things over. “I’m at loose ends so I’ll back Jade on this. What else do you have?”
“An explosion on an estate near Rabat belonging to your client’s uncle.” He paused. “The explosion was intentional. It was a homemade explosive device and it killed one of the estate’s employees.”
“Any idea who...”
“Of the bomber, nothing,” Emir cut him off. “We believe he was acting alone. There was nothing left near the scene to even get a fingerprint. But even if there were,” he mused, “whoever did it would have to have a criminal record for them to be of any use. One thing to consider, the uncle is old and very wealthy. I’d start digging into the details of that, but I’m buried in a case we have going here.”
“I heard,” Zafir said. “We’re shorthanded with Faisal on the East Coast, and there’s five other cases on the active roster. But we’ll get it done. We always do.”
He disconnected the call and looked at his watch. He debated getting in touch with Jade. Was the new information something that would change things for her in the next few minutes? He doubted that it would. But things could also change on a dime.
* * *
WITHOUT BACKUP, THE only thing Jade could do was keep Stanley safe and wait for Zafir to arrive. But one agent couldn’t be in two places at once. They needed to get their client to a safe place. That was the priority.
She looked at her watch. They had to get moving and to find out who was after Stanley, and why.
She did a final sweep of the area. The street was silent. It had been like that for the last few minutes. She needed to make sure Stanley was safe. She stepped back into the apartment. She had to secure both him and the apartment before she went out and scouted a wider area. It was clear they needed to move him and for that they had to find a safe place. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to protect him in whatever safe house was decided.
But when she stepped past the patio doors, the silence was heavy. She took a deep breath, trying to control her over-stressed breathing. The apartment was ominously silent except for the clock measuring off time; the steady beat made her want to yank it from the wall and chuck it over the balcony.
“Stanley!” Her gun was in both hands, aimed—ready. She took one step, moving left, her arms moving with her body, keeping the gun in front, ready. There was nothing to be ready for. The apartment was empty, and all that she could think was that it wasn’t possible. She’d protected him, held off the sniper and made him safe, and now Stanley should be here waiting for her. As she moved through the small apartment she became more tense. It was clear that Stanley was gone, even his luggage was missing.
Outside a car door slammed.
She ran to the balcony, gripping the cold cement as she looked over the railing. The street was dreary, falling snow the only movement. She went to the other side, to the edge of the balcony that hugged the perimeter of the building. There, she could see into the parking lot and also see that the stall that her rental van had occupied was empty.
“Unbelievable,” she said through clenched teeth. “Un-frickin-believable,” she muttered. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. Until now, she could never have imagined it happening. So far she’d had a stellar, if short, career with Nassar—until now.
What had gone wrong?
How had this happened?
She’d handled the attack on the balcony smoothly only to lose the client. This didn’t sit well with her, and it wasn’t going to sit well with the agency. But it wasn’t the agency she was thinking of, but rather the sinfully good-looking Zafir. She gritted her teeth. Instead of impressing him, which would up her chances of success and status with the company, she looked like amateur hour.
“Damn, Stanley,” she gritted. “You’re not making it easy to like you.”
Chapter Five (#ua6831476-c5d9-5e6c-b292-b8caaa24cfc6)
Jade headed out the door without a backwards glance. The apartment door banged behind her. She never checked if it was locked or not. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be back.
Irrelevant.
They needed to get moving. She had to brief Zafir. They needed to get wheels on the road and find Stanley.
As she stepped back into the parking lot ten minutes later, Zafir pulled up in an arctic-blue Pathfinder. Top of the line. She wouldn’t have expected less. The metallic paint gleamed in the dull light. She’d had to wait for him, but she hadn’t wasted any of that time. She’d gathered what evidence she could in the ten minutes it took Zafir to get here.
What she knew was that Stanley had been in a hurry. The evidence of that was a cover for one of his precious camera lenses, lying where the van had been parked. He was frightened, panicked even, but considering what had happened, she couldn’t fault him. She ran the lens cover between her fingers.
Zafir stepped out.
“Stanley’s gone,” Jade said grimly.
He closed the driver’s door. His gaze never left her face, and his eyes told her what he didn’t. That he was waiting for her to fill him in.
“He took off while I was securing the balcony. No more than fifteen minutes ago.” There was no sugarcoating the information. There was just getting it out and getting moving. “Took everything but his camera lens with him.” She held it up with a look of irony. “He’ll miss that.” She stuffed it into her pocket.
“I don’t believe this,” Zafir said. A dark brow arched and his chiseled lips were flat, disapproving, as if this had all been her fault. “Foul play?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
Silence beat between them, and with it, so many implications. Had she watched him closer, would this still have happened? Had she kept the keys for the van out of his reach, had she...
She met Zafir’s troubled gaze. “There was no sign of scuffle. In fact, only one set of footsteps in the snow, and those are disappearing fast.” She wiped snowflakes from her brow with the back of an ungloved hand. “Tire tracks indicate he was heading west. They disappeared within fifty feet of his first turn.”
Jade glanced to the street as if the van would miraculously appear. But there was nothing, no worn white van. If they didn’t find him quickly, it would be too late. She knew that as surely as she knew that she’d had cereal for breakfast. Her stomach grumbled.
Her body was obviously not on the same page as her head. Now—there was no time for food. They had to get moving.
“I was on the balcony. He was in the apartment, or so I thought. He took the van while I was securing the area.” She brushed a strand of hair off her face.
“He couldn’t have gone far. There wasn’t enough time,” Zafir said. There was no inflection in his voice. There was no judgment, either. Somehow that made it all worse.
“You’re right, and there’s a chance he might return on his own. He’s more than likely only frightened and has taken off to get away. Maybe he’s thinking of taking some photographs. An hour or two in the countryside to calm his nerves.” She shook her head. “Not going to happen,” she said.
“It already has,” he said, his lips compressed.
Now she could see the disapproval in his eyes.
She ignored that. It was true. Stanley had disappeared on her watch. But it was also true that she’d get him back, and then they’d move on to the next step, securing Stanley in another location. “Look, he’s familiar with me. I can take your Pathfinder and retrieve him. You stay here in case he returns.”
“No.”
“No?”
“We’ll go after him. Together.”
“We?” Dread dropped into the pit of her stomach. That hadn’t been what she planned even when she’d reported the code red. Somehow, she’d thought that she’d continue on in the case. Alone. That she’d keep Zafir informed as it progressed. That he’d assign another agent as backup.
“There’s no one else available,” he said as if reading her mind. There was a hard inflection in his voice that clearly told her this was nonnegotiable.
She took a breath. She was on edge, and it wasn’t the situation. Zafir on paper was intimidating enough but in reality, even more so. She’d admired him for too long. Now she was scared that he was the one man who had the ability to pull her off her game. She took a deep breath. There were more important things to think of than her admiration for one of her employers.
She had to remember who he really was. He was a man like any other despite his legendary status with Nassar. She struggled with that, with staying focused on the job and not on him. But to her he was like no ordinary man. The cases he’d closed amazed her. She’d been in awe of what he had done, what he had faced and how he’d succeeded. She had to bring her adoration down to earth. Working with him had to be like working with any other man. She had no idea how to make that happen.
She took a breath and felt his dark eyes on her; the passion and intelligence in them was hot and commanding. She turned away. This was no time for such thoughts, and yet she had to allow them before she could discard them.
She had to remember that he was a womanizer, if office rumors were to be believed. For even now, he was looking at her with more heat than one would look at someone who was only a business partner. Worse, she wasn’t immune.
Darn him, she thought.
* * *
“WHAT’S YOUR TAKE on Stanley?” His eyes drilled into hers and he knew that he probably seemed focused on her response like it was all that he had on his mind. He knew that it was all he should have on his mind. He needed to get his head in the game, for he found everything about Jade to be distracting. Her photograph, as he’d thought earlier, on first meeting her, hadn’t done her justice. A photograph couldn’t reveal biting intelligence or a body that was meant for...
Outrageous, his internal monitor roared at him. She was a gorgeous woman but more important, she was a business associate. The reminder wasn’t much help.
His eyes went to her face. That was a safe place to remain except for the fact that her eyes—her eyes were hypnotic, and her lips... She was muddying the waters of his normally clear mind worse than a sandstorm in the Sahara.
“He didn’t seem to know how to act with a woman. I mean, he acted rather like a starstruck teenage boy rather than the middle-aged man he is. It was rather strange. Manageable, but strange.” She looked at him and then followed everything she had said with a contradiction. “At least it was manageable, until now. I can’t believe he’s gone. I would never have expected that of him. He didn’t appear to have that much initiative.”
“He’s frightened. Fear causes unexpected reactions.” He felt nothing but empathy for the missing Stanley. He was probably intimidated by Jade’s presence and likely knocked off his feet by her beauty. He bet that their client had been a mess before one shot had been fired.
He looked at Jade. Questions hung between them as well as the recently obtained intel that he needed to share. The rest of what happened, the explosion in Rabat, had the potential to impact this case. But it was information that would have to wait. First they needed to find Stanley. Then he’d tell Jade, and they could make some sense of it. He hadn’t begun to analyze it himself. At this point, he had no idea if it impacted Stanley’s presence here in the States or their ability to keep him safe.
“I should have remembered that. Fear,” she repeated softly. “If I had, I might have prevented him from running,” she said. “I should have checked on him before...”
“You didn’t have time,” he interrupted. “You were handling a potential assassin, which, by the way, was exceptional work.”
“He got away.”
“He didn’t kill Stanley,” he said. “That was your doing.” He paused and scanned the street, which was empty, deserted as if the storm had confined everyone to their homes. “Was there a reason for anyone to try to take you out?” He was pretty sure of the answer to that even as he asked it, but he needed her to verify it.
“None,” she said. “The shots stopped soon after I got Stanley out of sight.”
“The threat was assessed wrong from the beginning,” he said with a scowl, hating to admit any of that. He was on his phone punching numbers even as he talked. But that was how he ran things. His siblings joked about his ability to take multitasking to the next level.
“I’ve already called the rental agency,” she said. “I mean, if that’s what you’re doing.” Aggravation was thick in her voice. “They’re activating the location device on the vehicle so that I’ll have access.”
Another sign that none of the glowing praise of her abilities had been wrong. The client had slipped away, but he was sure from the evidence presented, and what he knew of Jade, that it was through no fault of hers. His gut told him that nothing short of tying him down could have prevented it. But instead of telling her that, he scowled at her. Then he asked in a voice that would have suited any interrogation room, “You’re sure he’s planning to leave town?”
She nodded. “He’s seriously into photography. As we knew from the file. But what we didn’t know is how passionate he is. I don’t think anything would stop him from taking the landscape pictures he came for. He’s already made that clear. Add to the fact that he had a frightening experience, and that experience was in the city.” She paused. “I suppose terrifying for someone unused to guns. He’s comfortable in the countryside. He spends a lot of time there in Morocco.”
She frowned.
“What is it?”
“You know, on the way here he asked me where the nearest international airport was. I told him that Casper was the largest and closest airport but you required a transfer for anything international. I didn’t even get a chance to explain how limited the flight choice was. The whole topic was dropped because of the elk on the road. I managed to miss it and then we moved on to other topics.”
“You think that’s where he might be headed, Casper?” he said.
“No, at least not to hop a flight.” She shook her head. “Despite the fact that someone tried to kill him, I don’t think it was enough to have him heading home, at least not yet. For all his gaucheness, he has a stubbornness about him. Plus, he loves the States. He told me that this was the trip of a lifetime for him. I don’t think he’s apt to give up so soon. No, I think it’s the opposite. Because of the extreme nature of the experience, he now thinks it’s over. He thinks that he’s safe. They tried and failed.” She looked at him, her eyes seeming to graze his face with the passion of her commitment to this case. “Is that crazy?”
“Nothing at this point is crazy,” he replied. “We’ve got to hit all angles, as you know.”
“He mentioned Casper on more than one occasion as a drive he might like to take while he’s here. There’s some great photography between here and there.”
“You don’t...”
“I think—” she cut him off “—that he’s taking that drive just a little earlier than planned.” She shook her head. “I hope he’s licensed and doesn’t hurt himself in these conditions.”
“We’ll find him before that happens,” Zafir said with gravel in his voice.
“I hope so,” she said as she glanced at her phone messages. Her brow furrowed as her right hand ran through her hair. “The rental agency is having trouble with the app,” she said. She put the phone down. “It could be anywhere from a few minutes to an hour before they get it working.” She frowned. “At least that’s what the tech guesstimated in his message. In the meantime, they’ve pinpointed his last location, so that’s hopeful.”
There was something in the way that she looked at him that held some sort of warning. Yet his attention was fixated on her lips.
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