Targeted (FBI Heat)

by Marissa Garner

  A fist pounded on the door.

  She fought the urge to peek at him again. Why are my hands trembling? She started toward the bedroom.

  “Baheera.” His voice; deep, strong.

  She went still, then gulped.

  “Baheera, I know you are in there.” The words were Arabic, and the tone pleading.

  Her throat tightened.

  “Your friend Ben said I could talk to you.”

  She frowned. Had Ameen actually spoken to Ben?

  “Baheera, please. I want…I need to talk to you.”

  Marissa closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She couldn’t deal with personal issues now. She had to stay focused on the op.

  As if he’d read her mind, Ameen said, “I have news about Dawud, the man…looking for you.”

  Dawud, not Liban? This new intel must be why Ben had let Ameen come to the suite. She exhaled sharply, laid the Glock on the coffee table, and hurried back to the door. She unlocked it but kept the chain latched. Her face met his in the opening.

  “Let me in,” he insisted.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Ameen. Tell me the news and go. Please.” She feared her eyes were saying something else.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “It’s not you I don’t trust.” She hugged the towel tighter around her.

  He smiled. “I can take care of myself. Let me in, or I swear I’ll make a scene.”

  Reluctantly, she unhooked the chain and allowed him inside. She relocked both locks before facing him.

  Ameen’s eyes traveled downward from her face. His gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts above the towel, swept across the curves beneath it, and followed her bare legs to the floor. When his eyes came up, he pressed his palm against her chest, feeling her heartbeat. His index finger touched the throbbing pulse in the hollow of her neck before tracing her collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. His fingers slid down her right arm to her hand, where he caressed her palm.

  Her breathing quickened. “This is making you uncomfortable,” she said. “Let me put my clothes on.”

  His hand wrapped around her wrist before she could move.

  “I’m not the one who’s uncomfortable,” he said softly and led her to the couch.

  “What do you know about…Dawud?” she asked, once they were settled with Ameen sitting dangerously close.

  Slowly, he raised his gaze from the towel to connect with hers.

  “Dawud is coming to the mosque around noon. He says he’s looking for his brother, Samir. I think he’s looking for you. Am I right, Baheera?”

  “Yes. But since none of the men from the cell will be at the mosque, I don’t think he can find me.”

  “I can make sure of that.”

  “You shouldn’t be involved. We have agents watching the mosque. If you just point out Dawud, they’ll take care of him.”

  “That’s not much fun for me.” He grinned.

  She relaxed slightly. He continued caressing the palm of her hand. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

  “Thank you for the information, but let us handle it. You should go now. I need to rest before…before—”

  “Before you meet Juan at the tunnel.”

  “Ameen, you shouldn’t know these things. I’ve been careless.” She looked away.

  His other hand brought her face back to him. “I don’t want you to do this, and neither does your friend.”

  “Now you’re conspiring together to stop me?”

  “Ben cares about you. As I do. We’re afraid for you. We don’t want you to be hurt or… Is that so bad?”

  Her breath caught. The premonition.

  “No, it’s not bad. But you have to respect my decision. I care for you, too, Ameen. I’ll make you a deal. This operation will be over by tonight, if everything goes as planned. I’ll meet you at your condo at nine.”

  He dropped her hand, stood, and stomped across the room. He stopped with his back to her. “I don’t want to make a deal. I want to protect you. I want to understand the connection I feel to you. I want to know your feelings for me.” He pounded his fist on the wall and then leaned his forehead against it.

  Marissa walked over to him. She hesitated, holding her hands a few inches from his body and feeling the radiating heat, before massaging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Ameen. I have a job to do. You need to leave. Whatever is going to happen between us will have to wait.”

  He spun around so suddenly and with such force that she teetered backward. He caught her arm and steadied her. Torment shone in his eyes.

  “I don’t want to leave, and I don’t think you want me to leave either.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I learned in combat that there’s danger in waiting. You might not be alive the next minute, the next hour, the next day.”

  The premonition. Tears stung Marissa’s eyes.

  Ameen’s face softened. He let go of her arm. Their eyes locked for a moment before his dropped to the towel. While she watched the emotional struggle on his face, he brushed the long strands of black hair from her bare shoulders. When his fingers rested on the edge of the towel, his eyes flicked to hers. She didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe.

  But a tear crept down her cheek.

  With a slight tug, Ameen dropped the towel to her feet. His mouth fell open, inhaling a ragged breath. The next instant, his lips were on hers. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  * * *

  “Talk to me,” Rawlings growled impatiently, pacing in his office. He looked down as he massaged the back of his neck and wondered when he’d worn the path in the carpet. Was the gray, industrial-strength flooring collateral damage of this op? Would there be more?

  Standing stiffly by his boss’s desk, the agent cleared his throat. “We caught a call from a phone used by al-Qaeda grunts in Pakistan to a sat phone at LAX.”

  Rawlings’s head jerked up. “Who?”

  “No names.”

  “Message?”

  “The Pakistani said, ‘Allah’s sword waits with the four wheels.’”

  “And LAX replied…?”

  “Not one word.”

  “Fuck.” He slumped into his chair. “Okay, so Husaam has managed to get Liban a weapon and a vehicle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you checked the airport car rental sites?”

  “Yes, came up with a few customers with foreign licenses. They all checked out though. But about an hour ago, we got lucky at a small agency offsite. One called Four Wheels and an Engine Rentals—”

  “First-class place, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah. At first, they were reluctant to talk to us. Some of their customers are probably a little shady, but not as bad as the one we’re interested in.”

  “Did you find Liban? Or Dawud? I just learned from Agent Alfren that’s what the asshole’s calling himself. For now.”

  “No, sir, but we found Pablo Lopez.”

  He snorted. “Hell, there must be thousands of Hispanics renting cars in LA every day.”

  “Yeah, but they usually know Spanish.”

  Rawlings arched his eyebrows.

  “The rental clerk started chatting in Spanish with this Pablo, and the guy clearly didn’t understand half of it. That’s the only reason the clerk even remembered him. All his paperwork, Mexican driver’s license and passport, looked legit.”

  “Sounds flimsy, but I guess it’s all we’ve got. And what about the weapon? Did the clerk see anything?”

  “Maybe. He saw some guy approach Pablo as he was putting his duffle bag in the trunk. He handed Pablo a plastic shopping bag, and Pablo reached in his pocket and gave the guy something the clerk couldn’t see. Probably cash. Of course, the clerk thought it was a drug deal.”

  “And it could’ve been. Seems unlikely Pablo’s our guy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where do we stand?”

  “We put out a BOLO to all law enforcement agencies with the plate number and full description of
the Chevy Impala that Pablo rented. We also warned them that he’s armed and dangerous.”

  “Let’s say we find this car, this guy. How do we determine if he’s Liban? He won’t have his real name tattooed on his ass.”

  “We’re coming at it the other way, proving Pablo isn’t real by checking out the Rosarito Beach address from the driver’s license.”

  “Okay. Now let’s hope some cop can find the damn car among the handful of vehicles on those deserted California freeways.” The agent choked on his laugh when Rawlings scowled at him. “If this is Liban, he’s got a good head start on us and plenty of time before the meeting with Ameen at the mosque. He could lay low in LA or take a more indirect route than I-5. Be sure everyone in the op knows about the Chevy Impala.” He sighed. “This is one helluva long shot.”

  Chapter 21

  Ameen laid Marissa on the bed as gently as if she were a delicate, porcelain doll, an image that clashed so absurdly with reality that she would normally have laughed. But something about the tender gesture touched the loneliness and emotional turmoil which had been brewing inside her for two excruciating weeks. So tears flowed instead of laughter.

  Still fully clothed, Ameen sat on the bed beside her, his eyes dark with desire but his face solemn with concern. “You are crying. I have offended you.” He reached for the sheet to cover her nakedness.

  She caught his hand and laid it on her breast instead. “No, not offended. Touched. You’ve connected with me in a way… Living with the cell, I’ve felt so alone. I…I…” She shook her head. “Their hate is changing…” She gave up when her fractured thoughts refused to form a complete, coherent sentence.

  His thumb wiped at her tears. “I understand, Baheera, more than you know, about the evil of their hatred.” He drew a deep breath and looked away. “When I was on a mission in Afghanistan, an IED hit my SEAL team’s vehicle. I was the lone survivor of four men, and the Taliban terrorists took me prisoner. They tortured me for five days before I was able to escape.”

  “Oh God, Ameen.”

  He shook his head at the memory. “The physical pain paled in comparison to the psychological torment. My hatred of them became overwhelming. When the opportunity to escape came one night, I hesitated—believe it or not. I almost wanted to stay for the chance to kill them more than I wanted to be free. Almost. Thank Allah, I came to my senses while I still had time to get away.”

  His gaze returned to her when she laid her hand on his arm.

  “You see, Baheera, I really do understand the emotional war raging inside you. And I know it is a factor in your need to finish this op. A factor that scares you. And it should. Just don’t let it become who you are.”

  He sighed. “In my case, before dawn the next morning, I led a helicopter raid on the house where I’d been held. We blew the place to pieces, killing everyone inside. And the hatred left me, didn’t continue to dominate me.” He touched her cheek. “Finish what you must do and then move on with your life.”

  He understands. He really does. Another connection. One she’d never shared before with anyone, even Ben. And now she wanted more than anything else to make love with this amazing man.

  “I want you, Ameen.”

  “I want you too. But are you sure, Baheera? I’m afraid your emotions make you…vulnerable. I don’t want you to look back on this and regret it.”

  “I won’t regret anything I’ve done with you. I believe in connections, and I think we are ready for the next one. A sexual connection.” Tears welled and overflowed. “Please, Ameen, I want…I need you to make love to me.”

  Her pleading must’ve overcome the last of his reservations because he shed his clothes without another word and lay down beside her. The admiration shining in his eyes was almost embarrassing. He probably hadn’t been with a woman in a long time because of his vow of abstinence.

  His vow. Oh God. What have I done? “Ameen, stop.”

  The hand caressing her breasts stilled instantly. He slowly dragged his gaze away from them to meet her eyes. “You have changed your mind?”

  “No. Yes. Oh, Ameen, I’m so sorry. I forgot about your vow of abstinence.”

  He hesitated. “My vow is your only reason for stopping me?”

  She nodded.

  “Then there is no reason to stop.”

  Before she could voice another objection, Ameen covered her lips with his. While his tongue explored her mouth, his hands returned to her breasts, gently cupping and kneading them. Then his lips trailed kisses down her neck and across her breast to capture a firm, pink point. His tongue circled and flicked her nipple until a bolt of heat flashed through her. She moaned, and he shifted to her other breast to repeat the torment.

  When her next moan signaled mission accomplished, his carnal attack moved south, fingers and tongue, touching and tasting, down her belly to the V of her thighs. He cupped her sex gently as his long fingers probed her opening. She gasped and pressed against his hand. He pushed her legs apart and leaned over her. As his finger slid inside her, his tongue stroked her most sensitive spot.

  Marissa cried out and arched off the bed, riding the radiating waves of pleasure.

  Chuckling, he raised his head to meet her eyes. “You are so responsive.”

  Catching her breath, she smiled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” She pulled him on top of her and wiggled until she was strategically aligned with his erection. She rubbed against his hard dick and watched his restraint ebb.

  His head drooped, his eyes closed, and his forehead pressed against hers. “I want inside you, Baheera, but you can still say no.”

  “I want you inside me too,” she whispered. “Now.”

  He obliged with a slow, firm thrust. Her mouth formed an O of satisfaction as he filled her. He withdrew and thrust again, harder, deeper. His own pleasure produced a primal groan. His hips began a steady, accelerating rhythm, and his breathing turned ragged.

  She looked up into his eyes and saw need and desire fill them. Pressure built, fire ignited. Her body tightened around his dick. With a soft cry, she wrapped her legs around his hips.

  His eyes widened, and all restraint disappeared. He pumped with desperate urgency.

  Their eyes locked a second before he sent her over the edge. A moment later, he tumbled after her.

  * * *

  Ameen felt her tears on his chest. “It cannot be a good thing that you cry before and after I make love to you.”

  “I feel awful,” Marissa whispered.

  “I was that bad?” he asked, feigning indignation.

  “No, you were wonderful. But I’m so…so selfish for seducing you and tempting you into breaking your vow.”

  He remained silent for a long time. “You mock me?”

  She pushed up so she could see his face. “Mock you? Never. I’m crying, Ameen, because I’m ashamed of being so selfish.” More tears dripped onto his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  He wiped away the stream of tears while he contemplated her words. “I am a good Muslim, Baheera. Not as devout as some, but still a good one.” He exhaled. “But I am also a man, not a boy. And if you seduced me, it was not with your body but with your heart. This was not your decision. I chose to break my vow of abstinence…with you.”

  “What if Allah punishes you for doing this? I’ll feel responsible.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t believe Allah is vengeful. Especially for something like this, a very human weakness.”

  “But you’ll never forget I was the one who—”

  “I will never forget anything about you, Baheera.”

  “Your words sound like I’m…already gone.” A grim look crossed her lovely face.

  “I am practical, not foolish. I don’t believe you live here in San Diego, so you will be leaving.” His fingers traveled up and down her bare back.

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “You’re right. I live in DC.”

  He tried to ignore the emptiness filling him. “When you return home, will you al
so return to your lover, the one you broke up with?”

  “No.” She cringed. “You must think I’m terrible to sleep with you so soon after breaking off a relationship.”

  “I do not judge you. He was a lucky man to hold your heart, even for a while. I envy him.”

  She rose onto her elbow to look into his eyes. “Ameen, at this moment, I feel more connected to you than I ever felt to Ian. Right now, you are my lover.”

  His throat tightened. “Then Allah has truly blessed, not punished, me.” He drew her to him and kissed her passionately.

  When she pulled away, her fingernails traced through his chest hair and teased his nipples. A trail of heat followed her touch, and he watched her every move. Her tongue toyed with his earlobe. Then her hand slid down the center of his chest, across his tight abs, and stopped just before the mass of curly black hair. His breath caught in anticipation before she grasped and stroked him. His erection swelled again, strong and demanding.

  Marissa rolled her slender body up onto his. His chest rose and fell against her breasts with each breath, and his dick throbbed between their naked bodies. Sitting up, she straddled him and molded his hands around her breasts.

  “Hold on. Now I’m going to make love to you,” she whispered.

  She slid down on him. Her hot wetness swallowed him to the base.

  Ameen moaned and closed his eyes.

  The outside world disappeared.

  For thirty wonderful minutes, they were simply lovers.

  Chapter 22

  When the engineers rushed inside, they found Fateen guarding the front door and Masoud the back. Khaleel thought their anxious faces looked haggard, evidence they’d hardly slept in the last two days.

  While taking the partially assembled bomb out of the bedroom closet, Khaleel and Nadeem also armed themselves with semi-automatic rifles. Then they persuaded Fateen and Masoud to take a nap in the front room so they could work on the bomb in the back room alone. After some initial resistance, the two exhausted terrorists agreed to the suggestion and were soon asleep on the floor.

  Even though Nadeem had left his scarf in his car, the oppressive heat in the house beaded his face with sweat. Khaleel’s scarf was already wet as he carried in the C-4 from his vehicle. To ease his discomfort, he removed his sweat-darkened shirt and wiped his eyes.