Targeted (FBI Heat)

by Marissa Garner

  Yasir’s response got lost in the whirring of the fans and the rumble of another generator.

  One by one, the men climbed up the ladder out of the tunnel. As she approached, she realized one man stubbornly waited for her. Unfortunately, it was Juan. Was he still suspicious from the incident with Khaleel? He had definitely been keeping a close eye on her.

  “The pulleys for the platform at this end are broken so I thought you might need some help getting up the ladder with that damn briefcase,” he said gallantly, although the lust gleaming in his eyes exposed an entirely different reason for his presence.

  “I’m fine, really. I would prefer that you insure our safe arrival outside.”

  Juan moved closer. “Why? Are you expecting trouble?”

  Marissa leaned against the side of the tunnel and set the briefcase, rifle, and purse on the floor. Time to play to the man’s weakness. Closing her eyes, she pretended to be overwhelmed.

  “I don’t know what to expect anymore. Khaleel’s betrayal has devastated me. He may have accomplices at this end determined to disrupt our plans. They could be waiting to kidnap me. They might attack you and your men.” Her eyelids fluttered open, and she peeked seductively at him through her lashes. “I don’t know, Juan. I just don’t know. You seem like such a strong leader. You understand how people can deceive and disappoint you. Can you help me? Please.”

  Juan’s eyes darkened, and he shifted his body so he touched her hip. His testosterone had obviously refused to accept that this female Arab terrorist was not interested in him screwing her. His gaze undressed her, and his breathing quickened. “What’s in it for me?”

  She played dumb. “I don’t have much money with me.”

  His fingers lifted a strand of her hair and slowly rubbed its silkiness before draping it across her breasts. “I don’t want money.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  He pressed his body hard into hers, his lips already parting in anticipation. Her palm shot up in front of his face. He scowled at her hand and rubbed his rigid erection against her.

  “Wait, Juan. We don’t have a deal.”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Take everyone else outside first and make sure it’s safe for me to come out with…my precious package. Then you come back inside, alone, to…see me.”

  “Okay. Deal. Now come here, bitch.”

  He yanked her head forward and planted his lips on hers. Holding her head firmly, he forced her lips apart with his tongue and thrust inside. He tasted disgusting, smelled even worse. His other hand groped her breasts while he rubbed his erection against the V of her thighs. A guttural groan vibrated in his throat.

  “Juan! Juan!” an anxious voice shouted from above.

  The words took a moment to penetrate his aroused state. When they did, he backed away from Marissa, shaking his head vigorously. She hid her disgust behind a seductive smile.

  After several ragged breaths, Juan answered. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I cannot find José or Esteban.”

  Juan shot an edgy glance at Marissa. “They’re outside,” he hollered up the shaft.

  “I went out and looked. No sign of them. I called their names. Nothing.”

  Juan stroked his swollen dick through his jeans and studied Marissa with veiled eyes. “Maybe you are right about that Khaleel asshole. Wait here.”

  She watched him climb the ladder and then peered up the opening. He was already out of sight. The absence of his men had raised his concerns and quickened his footsteps.

  A sound in the tunnel spun her around. She grabbed the AK-47 from the floor and aimed into the shadowy passageway.

  Holding her breath, she listened. Nothing.

  She stared down at the briefcase. As soon as she brought it to the surface, the cell phone inside would be able to receive calls and detonate the bomb. If Khaleel had avoided capture or if Nadeem were still alive…

  Marissa dropped to the ground and opened the briefcase. So many wires… The cell phone had several attached to different parts of the bomb, but none connected near the detonation switch. Shouldn’t this be simpler than it looked? Had Khaleel booby-trapped the wiring to prevent someone from easily disabling it?

  She frowned. The setup didn’t look like anything in her training. She needed help. Her handler could connect her with a bomb expert so she didn’t accidently detonate the damn thing. She fumbled in her purse until she found her Bureau phone. She pushed the button before it hit her that she had no service either.

  Marissa dropped her head back and groaned. Calm down, think smart, almost done.

  She stood up and listened for sounds from above. The voices weren’t directly overhead but came from another part of the building. Hopefully, near the entrance.

  She hastily slung the rifle over her shoulder and onto her back, then grabbed the bomb and purse. With her left arm, she wedged the briefcase tightly against her side and clutched the ladder with both hands, the arrangement extremely awkward. But she couldn’t leave anything in the tunnel, and she sure as hell didn’t want to be down below if Juan managed to return. She needed to get topside and get help to defuse the bomb as quickly as possible.

  She set her right foot on the first rung and lifted the left. The weight of the bomb and gun dragged on her so heavily that she had to place her second foot beside the first instead of advancing to the next rung. Staring upward, she steeled herself. The climb to freedom would tax the last of her remaining strength.

  As she struggled to move one leaden foot and then the other, the voices above her grew clearer. Juan and the others were still inside. Damn.

  “Where are those fucking idiots? When I find them, they’re going to be damn sorry they fucked with me. You, stay here with these freaks,” he ordered in Spanish, apparently referring to the four terrorists. “You, come outside with me.”

  She heard the door clang shut. Jumbled, anxious voices speaking Arabic filtered down to her.

  “What is that stupid Mexican doing?”

  “I do not like this delay. We need to pray and get back through the tunnel.”

  “Where is Baheera?”

  “Do you think they are planning to kill us?”

  “Yasir, you wait here for Baheera. We should get back to Tijuana.”

  “No. We promised we would pray with her in the sunshine. It is her last request. We should honor it.”

  “Yes, we must. Allah would not want us to abandon her.”

  Panting in the humid air, Marissa paused and clung to the ladder. The bomb seemed to grow heavier with each step. She strained to hear over her panting and her pounding heartbeat, but the talking had stopped.

  She climbed five more rungs. The bomb weighed a ton. She took a second to glance below her. Nothing. She drew a deep breath.

  Seven more rungs.

  Finally, her head breached the opening in the floor. She froze, listening.

  The door slammed again.

  “When José and Esteban come back, they’re going to pay for fucking with me,” Juan vowed in Spanish. Neither of his men responded. “Let’s get these bastards outside. Then I have unfinished business with the bitch down in the tunnel. Be sure we aren’t disturbed.” His nasty laugh sent a shudder through her. He switched to English to speak to the terrorists. “C’mon outside. We’re gonna make sure it’s safe. We don’t trust that Khaleel dude either. Let’s go.”

  An incomprehensible mix of Spanish and Arabic reached her ears.

  Thank God, they’re finally going outside.

  Two more rungs and the bomb cleared the shaft opening. Setting it carefully on the floor, Marissa fell forward at the waist. She lay with her chest on top of it for a few moments while she inflated her lungs fully again and again. Then she slid the rifle strap off her arm and laid the gun beside the bomb. After a long, shuddering breath, she hoisted her body through the opening.

  She poked her head back into the shaft. Listened. Only fans and gener
ator. She scrambled to her feet, draped the rifle strap and purse over her shoulder, and grabbed the bomb. Standing beside the doorway, she peered cautiously around the corner. She concentrated, remembering the layout of the building from her previous visit before stepping hesitantly into the hallway.

  The large, metal, outside door clanged shut.

  No sounds came from the room at the front of the building anymore. Alone; she was alone. The premonition flashed behind her eyelids. Only a few more minutes. She inched through another doorway into the next room. Closer to freedom and to safety.

  Shouting erupted outside. English. Spanish. Arabic.

  Her chest heaving with relief, Marissa dropped to her knees and laid everything on the floor. She prayed Rawlings had a bomb tech assigned to appear any minute. Meanwhile, she needed to confirm that Khaleel was in custody and to warn the agents in Mexico about the cell phone. Then, if necessary, her handler would patch her through to someone who could help her quickly disable the bomb or at least disconnect the cell phone detonator.

  Marissa smiled as she reached into the purse for her phone. I did it. I finished the op. We stopped the bad guys. I’ll be spending the night with Ameen. The premonition was wrong…

  “Don’t move, Baheera, or whatever your real infidel name is,” a hate-filled voice growled behind her.

  Chapter 26

  Ben watched the lone Mexican search for the two missing guards. The guy did a half-assed job of checking the general area and never came close to discovering the small army of agents surrounding the building. He hollered a few times for José and Esteban before heading back inside.

  “Hold your positions,” Stan Williams, the JTTF leader, ordered in his earpiece. “We’re expecting eight to come to our party.”

  Seconds ticked by. Then minutes.

  What the hell are they waiting for? What the fuck are they doing in there? Ben didn’t let himself speculate on the possible answers to his questions. He had to stay totally focused on the moment, so instead he tried to pry open the door with his angry glare. C’mon, you bastards. Get out here.

  The door swung open. His fingers automatically tightened on the Glock.

  Two Mexicans appeared this time. Both carried semi-automatic rifles. He recognized the one who walked with a self-important swagger as Juan, who’d shown Marissa the tunnel yesterday.

  The men surveyed the area cautiously. Juan motioned to his partner to go right while he turned left.

  “Evasive action only. Do not get spotted,” Williams warned.

  Ben eased back from the empty oil barrels and down the side of the building. He dropped around the back corner just as Juan stepped beside the barrels to look behind them. Catching movement in his peripheral vision, Ben spun around to find Wahid had joined him along the rear wall. Their gazes connected and each returned to peek around his respective corner.

  The two Mexicans wandered through the area carrying out an ineffectual search. Juan looked pissed but not especially worried.

  After several minutes, the sound of the warehouse door closing reached Ben.

  “Return to original positions.”

  Following Williams’s instructions, Ben nodded to Wahid and slipped back along the wall to the front corner.

  Again, time stood still.

  Ben refused to check his watch. His gaze remained glued to the damn door.

  Any second now, any second. We’ll finish the op. Marissa will be safe. C’mon out, you fucking bastards.

  Finally, his wish was granted.

  The door swung open.

  Juan emerged first, his gun raised. Two other Mexicans came out next, also brandishing their weapons.

  Every muscle in Ben’s body tensed, anticipating the appearance of the five terrorists.

  One at a time, they appeared, seeming unnerved by the Mexicans’ aggressive actions. The four Arabs hurried toward the car they’d left there earlier.

  Four? Shit! Now we’re missing two terrorists.

  “Anyone see the fifth motherfucker?” Williams asked, voicing Ben’s alarm.

  No one responded.

  A terrorist was still inside with Marissa, with the bomb.

  Damn!

  “Hold positions.”

  Juan circled the car, his gaze darting around the area. “I don’t like this. Too quiet. But I don’t see any problems,” he said in English to the whole group. “I’m going back inside for the woman. We…have plans.” He snickered nastily. “And keep your eyes open for any signs of trouble related to that Khaleel dude.”

  Related to that Khaleel dude? The name was used for one of the engineers. He hadn’t been identified as one of the two terrorists captured at the hideout, and no terrorists had been seized at the Tijuana end of the tunnel. He obviously wasn’t one of the four standing nervously by the car. Where the hell was Khaleel and why was Juan worried about trouble with him?

  Just as Ben reached a gut-wrenching conclusion, the long-awaited order came.

  “On my command.” At the same time, Williams stood up from his rooftop hiding place. “Halt! FBI! Drop your weapons! Hands behind your heads,” he yelled. “Agents, now!”

  After a split-second of shocked paralysis, Juan glanced up and shot at Williams. Several agents returned fire from their positions. The hits spun Juan around even as his semi-automatic rifle continued to spew bullets. Two burrowed into the ground in front of the empty oil drums and others made a trail to the dumpster where they clanged against the metal and ricocheted wildly.

  Seeing their leader go down ignited panic in the other two Mexicans. They fired indiscriminately in broad, sweeping motions as they sprinted for cover. Two of the terrorists hid behind the car, but the other two unwisely joined in the fray. Mayhem reigned.

  “Wahid, now!”

  Gun raised, Ben dashed into the open from his protected position. A bullet whizzed by, lodging in the wall behind him. He turned, squatted, and fired at the shooter who was advancing toward the building. The hit made the man stumble, but he got off another futile shot. Ben’s next bullet brought the terrorist down.

  Ben spun back toward the entrance and ran. His partner wasn’t in sight. Where’s Wahid? Is he inside already? A few feet from the door, he glanced toward the dumpster. A pair of shoes stuck out from behind the huge container. Not hesitating a second, Ben raced toward that corner.

  Abruptly, the roar of gunfire stopped. The fight was over. Eerie silence returned for a few seconds. Then the air filled with voices.

  Williams barked out the next round of orders in Ben’s ear as he skidded around the corner. Wahid lay sprawled on his back, his neck covered in blood.

  “Agent down!” Ben yelled at the top of his lungs and dropped to his knees. “Hang on, man, help’s coming.” He pressed his hands against the wound, but he knew it was too late to help Wahid Jabbar.

  The wounded man moved his trembling lips. Ben leaned closer.

  “Tell…Jam…” Wahid’s voice was whisper-thin. “…love…her…and…ba…by.” He choked once before his eyes fixed on nothing.

  “I will, Wahid.” Ben felt for a pulse, found none. “Fuck!” he screamed to no one as he jumped up.

  His rage and grief were short-circuited by the sound of several shots from inside the building.

  * * *

  Marissa’s heart lurched. The premonition. Nooo…

  “Hello, Khaleel. I thought you were going to miss the party.” The calmness in her voice surprised her. Was she resigned to her fate?

  He laughed an ugly laugh. “No, it is you who is going to miss the party.” He sneered at her. “You think you are so smart. I am curious, though. How did you find me out?”

  Shielding the bomb with her body, Marissa twisted around slowly on her knees until she faced him. With one hand, he aimed a pistol at her. In the other, he held a cell phone. Where the hell had he hidden it? In the crate with the handguns at the other end of the tunnel?

  She swallowed hard. “I recognized your voice and eyes.”

  “
Interesting. You know, I also figured out that you were the woman Ameen brought to my house that night. Ameen is a fool and a traitor to Islam. He’s been duped by you American infidels. Does he also work with you?”

  “Ameen has nothing to do with this. He simply showed me some kindness that night.”

  Gunshots outside jerked their attention toward the door. But at the same time, Marissa grabbed for her rifle.

  “Don’t touch it. I’ll shoot!” Khaleel yelled.

  More shouting and gunfire. The Mexicans and terrorists weren’t giving up easily. She couldn’t count on help from anyone. Alone. Just like in the premonition. She studied Khaleel. He’d definitely be able to get a shot off before she could. But how good a shot is he?

  A shadow passed across the hall doorway. She didn’t blink, didn’t look. Keep Khaleel talking. “Won’t this hurt your wife? She’ll miss you and be very disappointed in you.”

  “Safiya will understand.”

  “Will she? Safiya will not respect you for bringing shame to the Muslim community. She won’t consider you a servant of Allah.”

  “Shut up!” His wild, fanatical eyes glared at her. “How dare an infidel speak to me of Allah? I don’t care what Safiya or you or Ameen or anyone thinks. I know the will of Allah, and I obey only him.” He cocked his head. “I’m trying to decide whether I should shoot you first or let you feel the blast of the bomb as it tears your body into tiny pieces.”

  “As it will also tear yours.”

  “Yes, but Allah will reward me.” He held the phone out toward her. “Listen, infidel, as I dial your death.”

  At the sound of the first button, Marissa snatched up the rifle.

  A gunshot exploded and searing heat tore through her right shoulder.

  “The phone!” she yelled.

  The next few moments sped by in a haze of pain.

  A second blast. From the doorway.

  A scream. Clattering on concrete. Cursing.

  A heavy shadow landed on her. Her head slammed hard against the floor. Darkness crept into her vision.

  A third shot. The shadow jerked, groaned, shuddered. Warm wetness…