by Pamela Clare
Hunt clapped him on the back and turned to walk toward the elevators. “Never a dull moment, brother.”
Not in Gage’s life, apparently.
As the elevator doors slid closed he looked to the hallway Claire had walked down. She might not have anything to say to him, but that was just too damn bad because if they were going to work together they had to clear the air enough to at least be civil, and fast. He’d take care of that right after she got off work tonight.
Chapter Two
Stepping out of his apartment building into the late September sunshine, Mostaffa walked down to his favorite neighborhood coffee shop on the corner. The sunlight felt good on his face as it filtered through the scarlet and gold leaves of the trees he passed, transforming them into blazing pieces of jewel-toned stained glass. Though it was warm out now, the temperature overnight had been chilly and a lingering dampness hung in the air.
The heady scent of freshly roasted coffee beans hit him when he opened the door to the shop and held it for a woman carrying a to-go cup in one hand and leading a toddler with the other. She smiled her thanks and he carried on to wait in line.
At the counter, the barista smiled at him. “Morning, Mo. Usual today?”
“Two of them, please. To go.”
“You bet.” She took his money and he walked around to wait by the side counter for his drinks. He filled the first one with a good amount of cream and laced the other with four packets of sugar, fit on lids and left the shop.
Partway down the first block on his walk home, his cell phone rang. He stopped to set one of the coffees down and dug the phone out of his pocket. “Hello?”
“Peace be upon you, Mostaffa.”
The familiar greeting in that soft male voice punched his heart rate up a few notches. He instinctively glanced around before answering, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. The few people walking near him weren’t paying any attention to him at all. “And upon you, peace,” he answered, a strange mix of excitement and dread filling him. What did they want?
The man switched to Pashto, signaling this was a business call. “We have need of your trusted services. In regard to recent events we have discussed before.”
He meant the events surrounding the John Patterson incident and everything that had happened since in the Pakistan operations. “Go on,” he replied in English, so as not to draw unwanted attention. Not that he was really worried about that. He didn’t stand out at all here even in this quiet part of town. No one would ever suspect what he was involved in, not even his closest friends.
“There is an envelope in your mailbox which details everything we need, and all the information you require. Once you read it and take the necessary measures, you will need to inform me of your decision. Call me at this number.”
“I understand.” He disconnected, thinking of all the preparations he’d made over the past two years in order for the chance to be of service to the organization. To his fellow Muslims.
He was so lost in thought he’d taken two steps toward home before he remembered the second cup of coffee he’d set down earlier. Retrieving it, he continued down the sidewalk and turned right at the next corner instead of going left back to his place. Under the glorious blaze of red from the towering Japanese maple planted near the edge of the park, a lone figure lay on the park bench beneath it.
Mo’s feet crunched in the dew-damp leaves that had fallen overnight as he approached the bench. The man beneath the woollen blanket stirred at his approach, cracked an eye open and sat up with a wan smile on his scruffy face. Mo nodded at him. “Morning, Neil.”
“Mo,” the homeless vet answered, eyeing the steaming cup in Mo’s hand. “Is it Saturday then?”
“Friday.” The holiest day of the week. “It was cold overnight so I thought you could use this.” He held out the coffee. “Lots of sugar, the way you like it.”
Neil accepted it with a nod of thanks, eyed him with a sideways look. “Why do you do things like this for me? God knows no one else ever does.”
“Charity is one of the most sacred tenets of Islam,” he explained with a shrug. “The Quran compels us to give to those in need.” Over the past few years he’d become more devout in his practices. It drove him crazy that so-called “Christians” walked past this man each day without giving him a second thought, let alone help of any kind. Though he suspected Neil didn’t accept charity easily. He seemed too proud for that.
Neil shook his head and wrapped his gloved hands around the paper cup, inhaling the fragrant steam that rose from the hole in its lid. He was probably somewhere in his late thirties, but life on the street had aged him far beyond that. His dark hair was long and greasy-looking, and those dark eyes were filled with ghosts of the terrible things he’d seen and done in the name of service to his country. “Gotta tell you man, after my tours overseas I never thought I’d be friends with a Muslim.”
“I understand.” Perfectly. The irony of their situation wasn’t lost on him, but despite his radical beliefs he was first and foremost a devout Muslim and this man was as deserving of help as any other. Glancing away from him, Mo nodded toward the bright sapphire sky and changed the subject. “Nice day today, but it’s going to get cold again tonight. You should find a shelter to sleep in.”
Neil took a sip of hot coffee, his bearded face transforming into a blissful expression as he savored the mouthful. Swallowing, he said, “Just might do that. Thanks for this. You have a good weekend, Mo.”
Dismissed, but not in a rude way. “You too, Neil.” The small charitable act boosted his mood even more. He took a shortcut through the park on his way back to his place, walking quickly up the street to his historic brick building. Mrs. Grandham, the elderly lady from the apartment across the hall from him was struggling with the front door when he arrived.
He took the paper bags of groceries from her and opened it with his own key to let her in.
“I hate getting old,” she huffed. “Enjoy your youth, Mo. It goes by way too fast.”
“It does. How’s your kitchen sink these days, by the way? Still draining okay? I can come by and look at it again later today if you need me to.” Being the building’s superintendent had its perks, including giving him the perfect cover. No one in his building would ever suspect him of being involved with a terrorist organization.
“It’s perfect, thanks to you.” She beamed up at him as she took the bags with a murmur of thanks and headed for the elevator without looking back.
The mailboxes were on the left hand wall of the foyer. Unlocking his he found a few flyers, the few bills he didn’t pay online, and a white envelope with only his name typed on the front of it.
Glancing around to make sure he was still alone in the foyer, he tore it open and pulled the two sheets of folded paper from inside with nervous fingers. The first page listed several addresses for him to check out. Two were close by, in outlying suburbs of Baltimore.
As he got ready to examine the second sheet, he was aware of his pulse thudding heavily in his throat and his palms growing damp. The anticipation was heady, a sensation he wanted to savor. He’d been waiting a long time for this moment.
He took a deep breath and turned the page. The second sheet had a high resolution photograph scanned on it. His target. Interesting, he thought as he studied the image. Not what he’d expected at all. Bigger, more important and complicated than he’d imagined. And below the image, in English, Eliminate by whatever means you determine necessary.
Relief crashed over him, so strong it made him dizzy. It wasn’t a suicide mission then. Not unless he chose to make it one.
His blood pressure equalized and he tucked the papers back into the envelope. He’d have to burn them once he memorized the information and studied that photograph until it was burned into his brain.
The elevator dinged from down the hall. The old lady was still standing there, waiting for the ancient doors to open. He tucked the envelope into his coat’s inner pocket and jog
ged down the hall, excited to embark on his first true mission and prove himself worthy of the cause. “Mrs. Grandham, wait up. I’ll ride up with you.”
*
Claire checked her phone for messages on the way down the elevator to the lobby and found a curt text from Danny.
I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.
Sure he was, she thought with a spurt of annoyance, not about to believe him. She’d already planned to go over and see him, but that seemingly innocuous message threatened to suck the remaining energy out of her. She’d had a hard enough day already without dealing with one of her brother’s moods.
Coming over. Be there soon, she responded and put her phone away. What she really wanted was to climb into her car, drive to her favorite takeout place and bring dinner home so she could curl up on the couch for the evening in front of a good movie. But family duty called, just as it always did, so the takeout would have to wait.
Outside the sky was lit with streamers of orange and vermillion, the sun painting the undersides of the clouds in blazing red as it sunk toward the horizon. The air was cool, the breeze rich with the scent of damp fallen leaves. She breathed it in and rolled her head from side to side to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. As she straightened she looked over the rows of cars for her silver compact SUV—and came to a halt so abrupt she had to grab her purse strap to keep it from sliding off her shoulder.
Gage was leaning against a black SUV parked beside hers, his ridiculously sexy tattooed arms folded casually across his muscular chest. To anyone who didn’t know him he probably looked like a thug. In reality Gage was a people person with a good heart and a strong sense of loyalty, which was why he’d had such a successful career as a Green Beret. Apart from being some of the best soldiers in the world, they were first and foremost teachers who worked with local populations and trained foreign forces. People naturally gravitated to him no matter where he went, men and women alike. And lord knew, all the ladies loved Gage.
The dark shades he wore prevented her from seeing his eyes but she knew he was watching her intently. She could feel the weight of his gaze from halfway across the lot and it sent an unwanted frisson of warmth through her. Which was the last damn thing she needed.
Head up, spine straight, she strode across the asphalt and wove her way between the rows of parked cars to her own. She’d be polite and civil, nothing more. Because she couldn’t afford to be anything more. As she approached she nodded to him. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
She hit the keyfob and unlocked the driver’s side door, every cell in her body hyperaware of him standing so close. She struggled to find something to say, something pleasant yet not personal, since she couldn’t just hop in and drive off. Their breakup hadn’t been hostile and it had been her decision so she didn’t hate him or anything. No, unfortunately her feelings ran more in the opposite direction and she couldn’t let him know it. She had to play this casually. If given the chance, she was afraid he might try to change her mind since he’d done that a few times early on in the breakup.
Tossing her purse on the passenger seat, she held the door open and half turned to face him, the gesture letting him know she wasn’t planning on chatting long. “So, how was your first day on the job?”
He tilted his head. “Not bad. I’m more interested in how your day was though.”
“It was…interesting. I’m excited to be working on the taskforce.”
“You’ve been wanting something like this for a long time.”
Despite herself she stalled for something else to say, not quite ready to leave yet. “How long have you known about the taskforce?”
“Four days but we got in last night. I gather Alex sprung it on you this morning?”
“He loves to keep me on my toes.” He’d also known that telling her about Gage beforehand would have caused her more stress than she was under now. In a way he’d done her a favor by not saying anything.
He didn’t nod or make a sound of understanding. The weight of his hidden stare pressed on her, making her want to fidget. “You worried about what Alex told you?” he finally asked.
What, that a terrorist cell might be tracking her? Just the cherry on top of the mountain of shit her life had become over the past six months. “Should I be?”
“I think it wouldn’t hurt for you to take extra precautions.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I plan to.” She’d already increased her vigilance and had a 9 mm in the drawer of her bedside table she wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary.
When a few beats of silence passed, she opened her mouth to tell him goodbye but he spoke before she could get the words out. “Have you eaten?”
She blinked at the invitation. No. Oh no, she was not going out to eat with him and suffer the torture of watching him across the table while being bombarded the entire time with the reminder that they were over. That wound had barely begun to scab over, she wasn’t about to rip it off and let it bleed all over again.
Facing him now, six-feet-two-inches of mouth watering, protective alpha male, it was hard enough to remind herself of all the reasons why she’d ended things with him in the first place. Reasons that had seemed so strong and logical at the time seemed more like excuses right now. Their dozen year age difference for one—she was thirty and he was forty-two. That he came with the baggage of an ex-wife and a teenage daughter. That she wasn’t ready to be a stepmom to said daughter or give up the idea of ever having kids of her own because he’d had a vasectomy over a decade ago. That she absolutely wouldn’t be in a relationship with someone in his line of work. Not under any circumstances.
She shook her head. “I have to run by Danny’s place, so I’ll grab something later. But thanks.”
“How’s he doing these days?” he asked, giving no reaction whatsoever to her refusal.
“The same.” No point trying to hide it. Gage knew all about her brother’s battles, had seen a few of them firsthand while they were together. “My dad asked me to stop by and check on him on my way home. Guess Danny had a bad night last night.” There’d been a lot more bad nights than good lately. And she already knew that tonight would be no different.
“Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged, the familiar tightening starting up in her gut whenever she spoke about him. “It is what it is, right? Anyway, I gotta go, so…” She let her words trail off, plastered on a smile that belied just how weary she was and hid how much her chest ached at the sight of him standing there, tormenting her with all she’d given up. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll follow you to Danny’s place though.”
She stiffened, bracing for an argument. “Not necessary, but thanks.”
“I’d feel better if I followed you there.”
Because of the TTP thing? For a second she thought about asking him what else he knew, but if there really was a credible threat against her she was sure either he or Alex would’ve said so. And talking to Gage any longer was just asking for trouble because he’d made it clear when she’d left him that he wanted her back. Right now she was too mentally exhausted to deal with another attempt to sway her.
Rather than stage a pointless argument about it she simply said, “Fine. See you.” The man wasn’t going to change his mind about following her, so why waste her breath?
Without allowing herself to look at him again she got behind the wheel, started the engine and steered out of the lot. Danny’s place was a twenty-plus minute drive from NSA headquarters in the opposite direction from her house. Gage stayed right behind her the entire way there. She shook her head at his protectiveness, although his actions didn’t surprise her. While she was relieved about not having to talk to him anymore tonight, it still made her heart flutter to know he cared enough to want to watch over her. She just had to be careful not to give him any false signals or allow him to charm his way back into her life, because at the moment she was feeling weak enough to let him do it.
The ch
eap and slightly rundown apartment building where Danny lived was surrounded by blocks of others just like it. The wooden exterior’s paint was peeling and nothing had been remodelled since it was built in the 60s. Since he lived on government assistance and wouldn’t take any money from her or their father, this was all he could afford.
Claire parked at the curb out front and climbed out as Gage pulled up behind her. She offered him a wave of thanks and he raised his hand in acknowledgement. Then to her surprise, he cut the engine.
She stopped on the sidewalk to look back at him. Was he seriously going to sit there while she checked on her brother and then follow her home afterward? She sighed and headed for the frosted glass door at the apartment’s entry. Yeah it felt nice to know he still cared, but she refused to let that sway her. It wasn’t fair to either of them. She couldn’t live the kind of life he wanted.
Facing the prospect of dealing with her brother in a few minutes only strengthened her conviction about never getting involved with a military man, let alone one in Spec Ops. Except Gage had slipped past her defenses so effortlessly she hadn’t been able to stop him. She absently rubbed a hand over the dull ache beneath her sternum. Sometimes she thought the pain of being without him would never go away.
The interior of the building was in worse shape than the exterior. A whiff of stale, musty air hit her as the glass front door closed behind her. The ancient elevator always gave her the heebie jeebies so she took the stairs to the fourth floor. Stained and threadbare beige carpeting awaited her in the hallway, the stink of cigarette smoke permanently trapped in the fibers.
At Danny’s door she paused to gather herself before knocking, calling upon her reserves of inner strength that Gage’s unexpected appearance had already depleted that morning. It took over a minute for her brother to open the door and when he did a stab of pain hit her in the heart. He stood there bare chested, wearing a pair of ripped cutoffs that didn’t do up beneath the belly he’d put on from a steady diet of meds, junk and no exercise. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, a week’s worth of growth on his face.