by Loye, Trish
Zach grit his teeth. He didn’t need to be reminded. “I’ve got nothing to report. The same as you.”
The man actually puffed out his chest. Marc snickered, but Zach just unfolded himself from his seat and stood over Masters, letting him know without words who was actually in charge.
Masters took a step back. “Well, I want to know the minute you know anything.”
“Of course,” Zach said, and turned away. Why the fuck had E.D.G.E. sent him here as an underling to this guy? He grabbed his cell and dialed E.D.G.E.
Blackwell answered. “Sergeant. What do you need?”
“You know the situation?”
“We’ve been monitoring it.”
“I need backup,” he said. “These people are good, but time is running out. Al Shabah is escalating. Something is going to happen soon.”
“I have a team on the way. Stay frosty, sergeant. ETA two hours.”
Relief eased the tight muscles in Zach’s chest. The idea of having his own competent and highly skilled people around him eased his mind. “Thanks, sir.”
“Zach,” Riley called from across the room. “We’ve got another message.”
“Fuck,” he said. Their reprieve was up. “Show it to me.”
Riley put the message up on the main monitor. It showed a black-swathed person wearing sunglasses, who seemed slighter than the figure they’d seen in the previous video. Zach frowned as he heard the voice-modified Arabic coming from the video. It was the typical rhetoric of ‘Death to America.’
“They’ve never used voice modification before,” he said. “We need the real voice, Riley.”
Riley nodded. “Working on it. But this is the interesting part.”
Zach focused on the video.
“Today, Qatil Atfaal, you will feel some of the pain that you have dealt out over the years. Today is for Nasir.”
Nasir.
His chest tightened as the memory of the laughing child with blue eyes forced itself to the surface. He breathed deep, through the constriction.
“What do you think it means?” Riley asked.
“It means another attack is coming.”
18
Alyssa debated calling Zach as she ran to her car, but decided she’d just send him a text if the lead panned out. She didn’t want him to tell her to stay off the case. It was too important. She could at least interview a possible witness.
Her car was parked on the street just past Lattes and More. Mr. Almadi came out just as she strode by the door. “Alyssa,” he called.
“Mr. Almadi,” she said as she turned and walked backwards. “I got called in. I can’t stop today.”
“No,” he said. “It’s my wife. She said she saw someone that night.”
Alyssa stopped and frowned, trying to piece together what he was saying. “You mean the night Rob was murdered?”
Mr. Almadi nodded. “She said she saw a woman talking to him.”
“A woman?”
He nodded. “She was giving him a sandwich.”
Her heart rate lowered. Probably just a do-gooder. Rob had attracted people who wanted to help him. People like her. She nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Almadi.”
“Was it helpful?”
“I’m sure it will be,” she reassured him. “Tell your wife thank you for me. I have to run now.”
“Okay, but you come by soon for some basbousa. My wife made some yesterday.”
Alyssa nodded. She loved the light almond cake that Mrs. Almadi made. She waved and hopped in her car. She made it to the shelter within fifteen minutes and parked around back. The rear door was open. It led to a large utilitarian kitchen. No lights were on.
“Beth?” she called. “It’s Detective Harrison.” She flipped the switch, and light reflected off the stainless steel appliances and counters. Swinging doors led to the front of the building. Chairs were upside down on top of tables and the blinds were drawn. Surrounded by silence, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Her cop instincts went on alert.
“Beth?” she called again. “It’s the police.” She placed her hand on her gun, unsnapping the leather strap on the holster.
The room was empty. She forced her hand away from her weapon. How would she explain shooting the mouse of a woman who worked here? There was no visible threat. She’d had a rough week and it was taking a toll on her.
She checked the front door. Locked. She didn’t see anything unusual when she peered out through the blinds. She walked back to the kitchen. Another door led to the office. It was cracked open.
“Beth?”
The dark office was empty. Irritation flared inside her, until she saw the feet sticking out from behind the desk.
She pulled out her phone as she went to the body. A man in his late twenties. Ratty jeans, scuffed sneakers, ripped combat jacket, long dirty hair. Everything about him screamed homeless.
Except for the bomb strapped to his chest, which screamed victim.
Her heart skipped a beat and then began thundering. She took a step back, then two more before she stopped. She could only see the man’s legs again and somehow not seeing the bomb helped her focus.
“Fuck,” she said as she dialed the CTB with shaky fingers. “This is Detective Harrison. I’ve got a victim wearing an explosive device and need the bomb disposal unit and backup ASAP.”
She moved forward and knelt by the man, feeling for a pulse as she gave them the rest of the details. She kept her gaze off the bomb. The man’s heartbeat was slow and regular, his breathing even, though dried blood stained one side of his neck. It still welled from a lump and cut on the back on his head.
She forced herself to study the bomb. Blood roared in her ears.
Focus, Alyssa.
The vest seemed similar to the one that had been on Craig Douglas. She cursed silently. She didn’t want to see another man die.
Focus.
There was no timer on this one. Or not that she could see.
The edges of her vision darkened. She would not faint. She looked away from the bomb and breathed deep and even. She should get outside and wait for the bomb squad to take charge. But could she leave an innocent man behind?
The man’s breathing changed. His eyes didn’t open, though they flickered slightly. She wouldn’t have noticed had she not been looking right at him.
“It’s very important you don’t move,” she said to him. “I’m Detective Harrison and I’m here to help.”
The man’s eyes popped open. He scanned his body, but didn’t move a muscle. “Fuck,” he whispered.
His calm reaction focused her. “You don’t seem too upset about wearing a bomb,” Alyssa said.
His hazel eyes widened. “You want me to freak out?”
“No,” she said. “Just commenting on your reaction.”
“I’m an ex-soldier,” he said. “Justin.”
Another vet. He fit Al Shabah’s MO exactly. “Nice to meet you, Justin,” she said. The polite conversation seemed a farce for the situation, but she grasped onto it as a lifeline.
He still hadn’t moved, not even an inch. “You an explosives expert?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“Then you’d probably better leave. I don’t see a timer and that means this thing could go off at any moment.”
His words spoke of experience and gave evidence of courage beyond the norm. There was a hint of anxiety around his eyes. His jaw flexed every now and then, but otherwise his face appeared calm and serious.
It was the look of a man who knew he was going to die, but refused to take others with him.
“Who are you?” she asked.
A small smile broke onto his rough face. “Like I said, my name’s Justin.”
“Okay, Justin,” she said. “I’m not leaving you until the bomb squad shows up.”
His lips compressed, but he didn’t shake his head. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but you need to leave.”
Like she’d left Craig Douglas? Like she’d left
Scott?
She didn’t know who this man was, but she knew she couldn’t handle having the death of another person on her hands. It wasn’t her that had victimized him, but she was a cop and a soldier, and she couldn’t leave him behind.
She shook her head. “How about you tell me why you’re so calm?”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Help is almost here. You should leave.”
She focused on her questions rather than on her pounding heart and the bomb she refused to look at.
Her phone rang.
Zach.
“Hello, Zach,” she answered. Her hand trembled so badly she almost dropped the phone. She forced herself to maintain an even tone. “You’re on speaker.” She set the phone down between her and Justin.
There was a pause, and the sound of sirens could be heard over the line. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into another situation.” Zach’s deep voice seemed to reach out and wrap itself around her. Calm, strong, and steady.
She looked at Justin. “Yes.”
“She won’t leave,” Justin said. “Make her leave.”
“Alyssa, tell me what’s going on,” Zach said.
“The bomb is a vest similar to the one on Douglas, but there’s no timer that I can see.” She moved closer to Justin.
“Don’t touch me,” he warned. He still hadn’t moved. “Without a timer, the trigger could be a motion sensor.”
“Unless it’s a remote activation,” she said, her throat constricting.
Zach cursed. “I’m almost there, Alyssa. Please get out of the building. I’ll keep talking to Justin.”
It was a sound plan. Zach could keep Justin calm. But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave another person alone to face their death. A voice on the phone just couldn’t compare to someone there with him.
She swallowed hard. “Just get the bomb squad in here.”
“Don’t touch it, Alyssa,” Zach ordered. “Don’t try to move him. Don’t-” His voice cracked, and she heard him swear. “I will be there in two minutes.”
“We will sit here quietly,” Alyssa said. “Justin was about to tell me why he’s so calm. I don’t think he’s homeless.”
“If I tell you will you leave?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she lied.
The small smile came back and his gaze flicked to her hands clenched together. “No ring. You’re not married.”
There was a small sound of protest from the phone.
“Zach’s your boyfriend?” Justin asked.
“Yes,” Zach answered for her.
She frowned at the phone. “No, he’s not.” Then she looked at Justin. “Are you trying to ask me out? You do realize you have a bomb strapped to your chest.”
“A beautiful woman is risking her life for me. Of course I’m going to ask her out,” Justin said.
A strangled sound seemed to come from the phone.
Alyssa ignored it. “Tell me who you are,” she said.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Who’s ignoring the bomb now?”
“Undercover,” Alyssa stated. “Did Masters put you on this case?”
“Courageous, beautiful, and smart,” Justin said.
The phone was conspicuously silent.
Alyssa smiled. Then it faded as her gaze went to the vest again. “I wish I could do more,” she said.
“You can leave,” he said, his eyes serious. “I’m sure your friend on the phone would agree with me.”
“Don’t worry about him,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m FBI. I’ve been posing as a homeless vet,” he said. “This seemed like the place where the bomber has been getting his vics. I figured the manager, Frank Costa, was involved, though I didn’t have proof. So I came to the office to look for information. Someone, maybe Costa, surprised me and knocked me out from behind.”
Sirens blared outside, getting louder before they shut off abruptly. Doors slammed and people shouted outside.
Zach appeared in the doorway moments later, alert and weapon drawn. He nodded at Justin. “Let’s go, Alyssa. The bomb techs are here.”
Alyssa could see two men in heavy, padded bomb suits waddling through the industrial kitchen to the office. She turned to Justin.
“It’s okay, beautiful,” he said. “You’ve done everything you can. It’s someone else’s turn.”
She nodded. “I’ll see you when this is over.”
Zach grabbed her hand and hurried her from the building. He didn’t stop walking until they’d reached his car parked across the road. He had a radio in his free hand, and they listened to the explosives expert give his report.
“It’s a motion-sensor switch,” the bomb tech said. They heard him moving around. “We’re lucky. It’s a fairly simple device. I suspect the bomber thought you would move as soon as you woke, which would have set it off.” Another pause over the radio. “I’m removing the detonating wire now.”
Alyssa thought about Justin lying in there. Please, let us save this one. Please.
A loud sigh came over the line. “It’s defused. I’m coming out with it now.”
Justin was safe. Alyssa’s knees almost buckled. They’d done it. They’d managed to stop Al Shabah from killing.
“Take that, you bastard,” she whispered.
A smile broke out on her face and everyone around them cheered when Justin came out of the building accompanied by two officers.
Alyssa took a step forward and waved. Justin grinned at her. He looked at Zach behind her and his grin widened. He nodded and then turned to a paramedic waiting to check him out, accompanying her to the ambulance.
“He was very brave,” Alyssa said.
“You were brave,” Zach said. He pulled on her hand and turned her to face him. It surprised her that she still held his hand. “It drove me crazy to think about you in there.” He shook his head. “What were you doing down here?”
“I was meeting Beth. She said she’d found a potential witness. We need to find them.”
“Right after you get checked out,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “I’m okay. For once.”
His smile was slow, but she saw it and the warmth in his eyes. She smiled back, unable to help herself, not that she wanted to.
“And just for the record, you’re taken.”
She shook her head. “You know I’m still pissed at you about getting me kicked off the task force,” she said, not releasing his hand.
“I know,” he said quietly. He leaned closer. “I’m going to kiss you now, and you can just add it to the list of things you’re pissed at me about.”
Her heart leapt and her thoughts jolted to a fuzzy silence when his lips touched hers, warming them. She shivered and then his arms were around her, dragging her up against that delicious hard body of his, overwhelming her with his taste, his scent, his touch.
He pulled back slightly, and she followed. She ran her hands over his strong jaw to the back of his head and pulled him back, opening her mouth to his again. Her heart beat hard in her chest. She felt reckless and wild. Alive.
She nipped his bottom lip and he growled. “We will finish this later.”
“I’m still mad,” she whispered against his lips.
“I think I like you mad,” he said.
She stepped back. “Time to find this asshole.”
“Agreed,” he said, and with the steely light in his eyes and his set jaw, he’d never looked so much like a warrior. A warrior willing to battle for her. It made her want to jump into his arms again. Soon.
But first they had to send Al Shabah to hell.
19
“We have Hajjar in custody,” Agent Masters told Zach and Alyssa back at CTB. Alyssa had had to give a report and ended up staying at the Bureau afterward. No one had said anything yet, and Zach wasn’t about to point it out—he preferred to keep her in sight until Al Shabah was caught.
“Fadi Hajjar fits the profile,” Masters continued. “He teaches
English at the Language Learning Center and has plenty of opportunity there to meet with newly immigrated Middle Easterners. DAS caught him in the vicinity of the shelter near the time my agent was attacked.”
Masters held up a file. “My guys went through his place and found traces of C-4. He’s our guy. We’re interrogating him now. You might want to come watch.”
Zach stood close to Alyssa as they viewed the questioning through a large one-way mirror. He couldn’t seem to stop his protective instincts and, to be honest, he didn’t want to try.
His heart beat hard and fast every time he thought about how he’d seen her kneeling by a bomb. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. And then did it again, calming himself. She was safe beside him.
Inside the interrogation room, Hajjar sat at a table, his wrists cuffed together with a long chain that threaded through a steel link on the table. The chain was long enough that he could sit in a chair with his hands on the table, but he could scratch his nose only if he leaned over.
One agent stood by the mirror inside the room while another, an interrogation specialist, sat across from Hajjar.
“Tell me again why you don’t use your real name, Mr. Hajjar?” the agent asked.
Hajjar sighed. “I told you. Too many people have a prejudice against anyone from the Middle East. Frank Costa is just a name I use with people at the shelter. I still use my legal name for teaching.”
The agent leaned forward in his chair. “I understand the pressure you’re under, Mr. Hajjar. You’re only defending your country from the evil influences of the United States.”
Mr. Hajjar shook his head. “I don’t und—”
“It makes sense that you want to get back at the country that has sanctioned and invaded yours.”
Mr. Hajjar opened his mouth, but the agent kept talking in a soothing voice.
“Tell me about your decision to bomb the VA hospital. Was that something you’d planned in advance, or was it more of a spur-of-the-moment decision?”
Mr. Hajjar’s eyes widened. The agent kept talking in a soothing voice about why he understood Hajjar’s need to kill Americans after all their country had done to his. Hajjar kept shaking his head. He looked at the other agent in the room.