Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4)

by A. D. Justice

  When I stood beside his little casket for hours without moving, you were beside me, holding my hand.

  When they lowered his casket into the ground and my legs wouldn’t hold me up, you stood behind me, supporting me.

  When I had a complete mental breakdown after I realized I’d never see or kiss his little face ever again, you stood in front of me, protecting me. Shielding me. Putting me first. Even though you were dying inside, too.

  I needed you, and not once did you let me down.

  You needed me, and I repeatedly let you down.

  At the time you needed me the most, I failed you. My lapses are truly unforgivable.

  Yet, in your goodbye letter, you took all the blame. You’re still protecting and supporting me, even though I retreated inside myself from the intense grief I didn’t know how to deal with in my own mind.

  Even though I have no right to ask this of you, I have to try. Please forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you. I’m here for you, Braxton. I want to stand beside you and hold your hand. I want to stand behind you and support you. I want to stand in front of you and protect you. I want to take away the responsibility you feel for Dalton’s death because it doesn’t rest on your shoulders. I want to take away all the pain I’ve caused you in my ignorance, selfishness, and weakness.

  I’ll wait for you to come back to me for as long as it takes. My life is with you—it always has been, and it always will be. People say we’re still young, we can still find love and happiness, we can still have a family one day. They’re exactly right, Braxton. We can still find it all in each other—love, happiness, and a family. You’re all I want, all I need, and I won’t settle for anything less than what we already have together.

  I’m waiting to hear from you.

  I love you, Braxton. With every ounce of love I possess, I love you.

  Your wife,

  Heather Reed

  Heather walked into the kitchen where Bryan and Jackie Reed sat at the table and held up a thick envelope. She was so grateful to them for taking her in and letting her stay in Braxton’s old room. The apartment had become suffocating, and not from the small size. All the memories it held were impossible to escape during the best of times, but being there alone every night had become unbearable.

  “I’ve written Braxton a long letter. I love him so much, and I can’t go one more day without telling him exactly how I feel. Do you know how I can get this letter to him?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, he gave me his mailing address while he’s at AIT. I’ll be glad to mail it for you tomorrow.” Jackie wiped her eyes as she stood and took the letter from Heather. “We were just talking about all the attacks today—in New York, Washington, DC, and the plane that went down in Pennsylvania.”

  “It’s so scary, especially since Braxton is in the service now. I’m worried about him. I can’t lose him too.” The tears had flowed so freely while she wrote the letter to him, she was surprised she still had tears to cry. But a mere fleeting thought of losing Braxton reduced her to tears every time.

  Jackie wrapped her arms around Heather to comfort her daughter-in-law. “I know, sweetie. We have to be strong and believe he’ll be okay, though. He needs all of us to believe in him and give him the strength to succeed.”

  The following week, Braxton was fully immersed in the Army’s intelligence AIT program. When the attacks occurred, he’d insisted he wanted to be on the front lines of any imminent retaliation. But since he’d just started his job-specific training, he was stuck there until he finished it. Until that day, he vowed to keep his head in his training program and learn everything he could possibly learn.

  “Reed!”

  He heard his name being called and looked up from his training manual. “Yes, sir.”

  “Mail call. Come get your letter, princess. I don’t deliver.”

  He took the thick envelope and eyed it warily. He immediately recognized the handwriting as Heather’s. His heart dropped to his feet, and he wanted to stomp it into the ground so he’d never feel anything again. As packed as the envelope was, he assumed it must hold the divorce papers that were waiting for his signature.

  “You’ll have to get that divorce without my help, my love,” he said as he put the sealed envelope away with his other private belongings. “There’s no way I can sign those papers.”

  7

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Present Day

  Rashad Samir moved through the hospital corridor as though he belonged there, walking with purpose and a casual stride. The pretty nurse with the short black hair had continued to evade him with her cleverness and preemptive moves. At first, it only served to make him angry at her, more determined to outwit her and beat her at her own game. But after he’d had time to calm down and consider the skill it took for her to pull it off, he became impressed with her competence. Now it was a game of wills and wit to him. A way to demonstrate once and for all who would be the better opponent in the game with human chess pieces.

  Dressed in clothing that closely matched the hospital’s maintenance crew uniforms, Rashad blended into the background noise of the normal hustle and bustle of the hospital. Patients and their families assumed he was supposed to be there. Nurses and other hospital personnel only briefly glanced at his attire and continued what they were doing. His ball cap covered his hair, and the brim was pulled low to hide his face, completing his makeshift disguise.

  As he strode past the patient rooms, he kept his ears attuned to the conversations inside for any morsel of information he could glean. He heard a man’s deep laughter reverberate into the hall and immediately recognized it as belonging to the only male nurse in the oncology wing.

  “Mr. Steele, you have to give Heather a break. She can’t work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  “No offense, Rob, but you’re just not as pretty as she is.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Rob laughed in agreement. “But I’m afraid you’re still stuck with me for the next couple of days.”

  “I would say you could at least dress up and pretend to be her, but I’m afraid that would just make you even uglier.”

  The older man’s voice held a blatant teasing tone. Anyone simply passing would know the two men were kidding with each other, an attempt to lighten the mood of the otherwise morose unit with their witty banter.

  “You know what, Steele? Just because you’ve now put the idea in my head, I may just do that one day and shock the hell out of you,” Rob laughed.

  Rashad’s curiosity got the better of him from the repeated use of the name Steele. He had to see the man’s face and find out exactly who he was. He knew he was taking a huge, unnecessary risk by even stepping into the room, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Just as he cleared the doorway, Rob the nurse turned around and looked directly at him, catching Rashad off guard.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Rob asked. He obviously knew Rashad was in the wrong room.

  “I’m looking for my partner. I heard voices and thought he might be in here,” Rashad lied.

  “I haven’t seen any maintenance guys on the floor lately except you,” Rob replied. “Have you, Mr. Steele?”

  Rashad shifted his gaze to the patient lying in the bed. He was obviously a sick man, judging by his color and gaunt frame. This man was older, but the similarities between him and the younger man from Miami were undeniable. Mr. Steele’s hair wasn’t as black or thick as the younger man’s, but age and illness had a tendency of changing those characteristics. There was no denying the eyes, though. Mr. Steele’s eyes had a dull sheen to them, no doubt from the cancer in his body, but they were just as piercing as his son’s.

  They were also just as cunning and keenly aware of his surroundings.

  “No, I haven’t seen any maintenance guys up here today,” he confirmed, keeping his eyes locked on Rashad’s. “And my door has been open the whole time.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep looking. Thank you both.”

  Rashad
left the room, cognizant of the fact that Mr. Steele wasn’t completely buying his act. He didn’t even attempt to hide the suspicion in his eyes or in the inflection of his voice. Rashad had no doubt that the elder Steele would call the younger one as quickly as he could reach for the phone. He realized he’d made the same impulsive mistake his brother, Turan, had once made.

  In his quest to outwit the others and prove his superiority, he’d taken unnecessary risks that could’ve jeopardized his entire operation. The others he worked with, and those who worked for him, wouldn’t hesitate to take his life over his foolish decisions. But they wouldn’t give him as many chances to redeem himself as he’d given his brother before he finally killed Turan.

  “No matter,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe there’s a way I can use this to my advantage, after all.”

  Armed with the confirmation that Heather wouldn’t be at work for a few days, he knew the printed work schedule he found in the nurses’ break room was accurate. While keeping his face down as he left the hospital, he carefully avoided the security cameras strategically placed around the campus and parking area. He’d done his homework, changed vehicles he used to visit the hospital, and altered his appearance to blend in, but the plan was far from over.

  As he drove away, his smile covered his face when an extended plan formed in his mind. The scenes played out with expert precision as he visualized the fall of the prideful soldiers who’d invaded his childhood home. The one who’d taken his father’s life would suffer first. The looks on all of their faces would be priceless when they realized how epic their failure was in the end, just before he killed them, too.

  He stopped at the large merchandise store before heading back to his rented house. The magazines he was forced to buy in order to implement his plan were beyond embarrassing and insulting for a man of his caliber to have in his possession. If anyone in his group had witnessed the abomination, he would’ve been excommunicated and publicly disgraced when his body was returned to his homeland. But they were necessary to carry out his genius plan, and he would execute it to the fullest extent.

  With the pages torn out of the numerous magazines scattered across the floor of his den, Rashad began the arduous task of cutting out individual letters. It was crass, it was obvious, and it was brilliant. Threatening notes made from the various sizes and colors of letters and words cut from magazine pages and glued to a plain white sheet of paper screamed “amateur.”

  “The simpleton approach will give them a false sense of security and superiority. Their foolish pride and misguided bravado will lead them directly into my trap. They won’t know what hit them until the exact moment I want them to know,” Rashad remarked to himself.

  When the first letter was finished, he held it up in front of him to admire his handiwork. “It’s really too bad Turan isn’t here with me. He would appreciate this approach.”

  Thoughts of his brother had him picking up his laptop to perform the basic searches for information he knew how to do. With Turan’s computer abilities, Rashad could’ve accessed even the minutest of details to help tip the scales in his favor. Without Turan, he could only find the information that was available to the general public. There were others on the team who could help, but they wouldn’t. Not with this personal vendetta. Not with his personal chess game.

  The names of the other soldiers were still hidden from him, locked away on a computer that was inaccessible from anywhere except onsite. In a highly secure, secret building. In a room necessitating above top secret security clearance to enter, behind an armored door that required a unique passcode and biometric identification. Protected by some of the deadliest men in the world, who would shoot first and ask no questions later if any unauthorized person attempted to enter.

  When Turan had been an active member of his team, he’d installed a facial recognition program on Rashad’s laptop that scoured social media sites for possible matches. With a few clicks of his mouse, he could upload a photo and the program would automatically locate anyone whose characteristics met enough distinguishing points. Not that anyone as skilled at being covert would be so foolish as to have a profile on the popular sites, but distant relations and long-lost friends could always be counted on.

  That was the only way he’d been able to find Heather. The program ran day and night, scouring through millions and millions of photographs uploaded on a daily basis, looking for any connection to Rebel through her. It was as if fate herself smiled upon him, because the program finally located one potential match out of all the pictures on social media sites. The proverbial hidden needle that was lost in the haystack, the program indicated the youthful, carefree face that smiled at him from his computer screen had enough facial feature matches for an eighty-nine percent certainty the man was Rebel.

  The class pictures were connected to a high school reunion in Houston, posted by someone who was very blatantly not Rebel. Heather and the unnamed young man posed together in this particular picture, smiling and very much in love. But the young man’s face wasn’t tagged, his name wasn’t mentioned in any of the comments, and Rashad knew that for certain because he’d painstakingly checked each one. But Heather Greer’s maiden name was listed, along with her married name. Rashad was able to find her fairly easily since she was a nurse and her license was on display in the state database. Unfortunately, every shred of information about her wedding—including the groom’s first name—had been removed from public records everywhere. When he snapped the picture of Heather Reed and sent it as a threat, he’d played a wild card he’d only hoped would pan out.

  But Noah Steele’s name and information were more readily accessible because he was the owner and operator of Steele Security out of Miami. Once Rashad found the initial information on Noah, he was able to expand the search to include Noah’s known family members. The demographics he found on one Mr. Steve Steele appeared to match the man he’d met earlier at the hospital. It at least gave him enough information to call the hospital and verify what he’d found.

  After going through the information desk to reach the oncology unit’s nurses’ station, he waited patiently as the phone rang several times.

  “Oncology. How can I help you?”

  “I’m trying to reach a patient’s room, but the phone just rings repeatedly. Is there any way you can go check on him for me? He may be sleeping, but I just need to know he’s okay.”

  “Of course. What’s the patient’s name?”

  “Steve Steele.”

  “Just a moment, let me check the census for tonight. Here he is. I’m going to put you on hold for a minute while I go check on him.”

  “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.”

  After a few minutes, she came back on the line. “He was asleep and said he didn’t hear the phone ringing. He’s awake now if you want to call his room again. Or I can transfer you.”

  “I’ll just dial his room directly. You’ve already been so helpful. Thank you for checking on him.”

  “My pleasure.”

  With that, they disconnected, and Rashad smiled at his own cleverness. With the privacy laws, the information desk wouldn’t give out patient statuses or even if the person was actually a patient there. But the caring and helpful nursing staff could always be counted on if a patient’s health and well-being were in question. Going off a gut instinct and following his hunch, he got lucky in confirming his suspicions.

  “Why stop at his dad, though?” Rashad laughed sardonically as he finished the cartoonish letter to threaten the elder Steele man. “Let’s make it a family affair.”

  Going through the extended family information, he located Brianna’s name. From there, it was relatively easy to find more information on her than he needed. Her time as an investigative reporter gave him plenty of ammunition to use against the entire Steele family, naming Noah’s wife directly in his threats. She’d be the main topic of the next letter he created, maybe even followed by Noah’s mother and then h
is sister.

  But Heather would be the initial focus, the spark that would ignite his plan and draw Rebel out first.

  “I’m so glad you decided to come back to the hotel with us, Sara.” Brianna put her arm around her mother-in-law’s shoulders. “You needed a break from the hospital, and Amelia needed to spend time with you.”

  “I think I need her more than she needs me. She’s such a good baby.”

  “We’ve been very fortunate. She still wakes up at night to eat, but she goes right back to sleep. Of course, Noah and I sitting up longer every time just to hold her and rock her probably doesn’t hurt either,” Brianna laughed. “We just can’t seem to get enough of her.”

  “You’ve had a long day. If you want to take a nap, I’ll be glad to watch her,” Sara offered.

  “You’ve had a long day, too, Sara. In fact, you’ve had a long, hard few months. We talked you into leaving the hospital so you could get some rest.”

  “I’ll have plenty of time to rest later. While you’re here with my granddaughter, I want to spend time with her,” Sara insisted.

  “Okay. I’ll go unpack all of our suitcases while Noah’s on his way back to the airport to pick up Chaise, Bull, and Silas.” Brianna kissed Sara’s cheek and Amelia’s forehead before she walked toward her bedroom.

  “What about Shadow? Where’s he?” Liz asked, stopping Brianna.

  “He’s still in LA. He’ll contact Noah as soon as he can. They have specific times they’re required to check in when they go off on their own, and he hasn’t missed it yet.”