скачать книгу бесплатно
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.
