He whispered, “Looks like whoever was living here might have moved out already. He may have left a while ago.”
As he sidled along the brown siding to the next window, Nicole hooked her finger in his belt loop. He cupped his hand over his eyes to look into the frosted glass of the next window. “This has to be the bathroom, and I can’t see anything.”
He put a hand out behind him to stop Nicole while he reached the corner of the house that led to the back. He eased around that corner and squinted at yet another dumpster. Maybe they’d tossed out a bunch of trash before they moved.
The dumpster squatted on a cracked cement patio next to a rusted-out barbecue. A sliding glass door led from the house to the patio.
He crept along the back wall with Nicole breathing down his neck. He rested his hand on his weapon inside his pocket. He didn’t need any surprises coming out of that sliding door, but he’d be ready for them if they did.
Pointing to the sliding door, he said, “Look at that.”
She poked her head around his shoulder. “The glass is broken.”
“It looks like someone already tried to break in here.”
“Not a surprise in this neighborhood.” She poked his waist. “That makes it easy for us, right?”
“A little too easy.”
He placed a gloved hand against the glass door and inched his fingers closer to the gaping hole. “I could reach right in here and open the door.”
“Then let’s do it. Maybe they didn’t leave anything behind, but perhaps you can pick up more clues to their identity. The house can be dusted for prints.”
Slade sawed his bottom lip with his teeth. The air felt heavy and still, and he felt like he should hold his breath for something.
“They wouldn’t leave any clues like that.”
Nicole stepped around him and faced the door. “Let’s find out.” She gripped the door handle. “You reach in there and unlock it, and I’ll yank it open.”
Slade placed his gloved hands against the door again, running them across the glass. He stuck one hand through the hole in the door.
As Nicole leaned back to slide open the door, the setting sun behind them glinted off the window, highlighting a silver strand running across the bottom of the door.
Nicole tugged once before Slade’s adrenaline kicked in. “Stop! Get back! Get back!”
He hooked an arm around Nicole’s chest and threw her body behind the dumpster on the patio.
Then the explosion behind him rocked his world.
Chapter Twelve
The ringing in her ears wouldn’t stop. Between half-open eyes, she followed a billowing scrap of material on fire, floating through the air. She hoped it wouldn’t land on her.
She tried to suck in a breath of air, but her lungs wouldn’t expand. The air settled on her tongue instead, a dark, acrid taste filling her mouth.
She squirmed beneath the heavy, solid object on top of her but couldn’t move. Had the house fallen on her, just like it had on the little pig in his flimsy wood construction?
The implacable object on top of her shifted. It spoke. It touched her face. She couldn’t hear a word Slade was saying, but she didn’t care. He was with her and he was safe.
Orange flames danced behind his head, illuminating his sandy-blond hair and giving it all kinds of highlights, making him look like an angel with a glowing halo.
Slade rolled off her body and hauled her to her feet. The fire from the burning house scorched the side of her face, and she turned it toward Slade’s chest.
He half dragged, half carried her into the empty lot next door, over the fence downed by the blast.
Finally, she gulped in lungfuls of fresh air, or at least air that didn’t have soot and particles floating in it. She glanced over her shoulder at the house consumed in flames, her gaze then darting to a cluster of people in the street.
Someone called out. “Are you okay over there?”
“We’re fine. Call 911,” Slade shouted back.
He hustled her through the empty lot, holding her steady as she stumbled through weeds and trash. When he got her to the sidewalk, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her toward him.
“Are you hurt, burned? How’s your hearing?”
“I can hear your voice now, although my ears are ringing. I’m fine.” She looked down at her jeans, which seemed to have little burn spots in them, and brushed some dirt from her skinned palms. She should’ve put on those gloves when Slade told her to. “I think.”
Curling an arm around her waist, he said, “Thank God. Can you get on your phone and call the car service? Have him pick us up at that fast food place across the street from where he dropped us off.”
“Are you hurt?” She reached up and cupped his jaw. “Your beautiful golden eyelashes are singed.”
“I’m okay, and the eyelashes will grow back. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He grabbed her hand and strode down the sidewalk, away from the burning house and the gathering crowd—and the sirens wailing in the distance.
“How did we survive that blast, Slade?”
“I noticed the trip wire seconds before it was triggered and managed to get us behind that dumpster. A trash can saved us.”
She squeezed his hand. “You saved us.”
When they got to the corner, she pulled out her cell phone and called her mother’s car service. “Give it about fifteen minutes and pick us up across the street from where you dropped us off. We’ll be waiting on the sidewalk for you.”
Five minutes later, they reached the fast food restaurant and Slade touched her cheek. “Go wash up a little. I’ll do the same and then I’ll get us something to drink. How do your lungs feel?”
She scooped in a deep breath, which caused a slight burning sensation in her lungs. “Feels like I just smoked three packs of cigarettes, but it’s not that bad.”
They parted ways in the short hallway containing the restrooms, and Nicole shoved through the door. She walked to the sinks and gripped the edge of the counter as she stared into the mirror.
Black smudges marred her cheeks and her hair looked as if someone had taken a crazy hair dryer to it. Burn marks dotted her jacket, and the heels of her boots were misshapen and partially melted away.
Her body jerked as adrenaline spiked through her veins. She’d almost died in a bomb blast. She had an urge to run. Her gaze darted from mirror to mirror to mirror and the blood rushed to her head so fast she reeled with dizziness.
The nausea punched her gut, and she staggered to the first stall and threw up in the toilet. She retched a few more times and felt better for it.
Back at the sink, she said to her reflection, “If you can’t run, get sick.”
She filled her palm with soap from the dispenser and lathered up her hands. She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth. Then she wet down a paper towel and brushed it over the burn spots on her clothes—now she just looked trendy instead of like an escapee from a burning building.
A woman charged into the bathroom with a baby hooked to her hip and barely gave Nicole a glance. The mom busied herself with the diaper-changing station, and Nicole finished her high-end toilette by running her fingers through her tangled hair.
She left the bathroom in better shape than she’d entered it and even managed a smile when she saw Slade by the soft drink dispenser.
He held up a cup. “Didn’t know what you wanted.”
“For some reason, pink lemonade sounds about right.”
“You look better.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re gonna have to trash those jeans, though.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She ran a hand across her thigh, the denim of her jeans dotted with holes. “I think they look pretty fashionable.”
“If you say so.” He tipped his dri
nk toward a plastic table by the window. “Let’s sit down before we both collapse.”
She filled her cup and grabbed a couple of napkins before joining Slade at the table. She sucked up pink lemonade, although her taste buds still seemed tainted with some chemical taste. She sloshed the drink around in her mouth.
“They were expecting us in a big way.”
She nodded. “A big bang way.”
“They lured us with the broken window on the sliding door, making sure we entered through the back.”
“Anyone could’ve gone through that door. Kids. Transients in the area. The owner of the house.” She rattled the ice in her cup. “They just don’t care who they hurt.”
“That’s for sure. They would’ve been just as happy to nail a bunch of FBI agents as the two of us.”
“Why wasn’t it a bunch of FBI agents, Slade? Couldn’t your unit or command force have made that happen?”
“Eventually. It would’ve taken the FBI a day or two at least to get the authority to descend on that house. As far as they could tell, there was no imminent danger. Friedrich is just a small-time crook who hadn’t done anything lately.”
“Except go after a few people on a train.”
“That’s off the FBI’s radar. If more than just a few people at the agency knew about this operation, they could make a stink to shut it down. We have to be careful. We’re stepping all over their territory.”
“I hope Dahir has the goods tonight and we can put a stop to this.” She folded her hands around her cup. “I’ve faced danger before and that kidnapping by the Somali pirates was no picnic, but this seems...more serious. I never really believed the pirates were going to kill us. They were in it for the big payoff.”
“Probably.” He pointed out the window. “I think that’s our car. Are you sure you’re up for a meeting with Dahir tonight? It could be more of the same.”
“Exploding buildings? I doubt that. I told you, Dahir is loyal.”
Besides, my own personal SEAL has my back.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING after a dinner of takeout pizza and Caesar salad, Nicole stretched out on the couch and watched the flickering images on the TV of the FDNY putting out the flames on a burning house in the Jamaica area of Queens.
She snorted as the reporter said that the cause of the blaze was still under investigation but authorities suspected arson. “Ya think?”
“The firefighters had to know from the get-go that the fire was caused by an explosive device. They’re being careful about the info they’re releasing. I wonder why.” Slade tossed a crumpled napkin into an empty pizza box.
“What did your superiors have to say about it?” She nibbled on a piece of crust. “Did anyone ever respond to your report?”
“Nope. It’s not that kind of assignment. In fact, it’s not like any kind of assignment I’ve ever been on.”
“Seems like the kind of assignment where they hang you out to dry.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He squeezed her calf. “You’re sure you want to go out and meet Dahir?”
“Of course. He may give us everything we need.”
“Then we’d better get going. I want to have some time to scope out the place before he gets there—or before anyone else does.”
“My guess is that nobody even knows he’s here. He must’ve traveled on forged documents if your people don’t even have a record of him entering the country. I’m sure he’s here on the sly.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” He wagged a finger over her stretched-out form. “You’re not going to a club in that getup, are you?”
“These?” She plucked at her baggy sweatpants that she wore only at home, usually in private and never in front of anyone. She was getting too comfortable with Slade. “Give me fifteen minutes to change and slap on some makeup.”
She slid from the couch, hiding her grimace from Slade. If she was sore now from that dive behind the dumpster, tomorrow she was going to need a whole lot of something to ease the pain.
Upstairs, she stripped out of her comfy sweats and shimmied into a pair of black leather pants. Maybe she’d gotten a little too comfortable in Slade’s presence—not that she wanted to seduce him. Not that she had to seduce him. He’d been hers for the plucking last night before Dahir called, but she’d sworn off men with dangerous passions—and Slade’s commitment to his SEAL team and his desire to protect his country at all costs were his passions.
She pulled on a lacy white camisole and buttoned a white silk blouse over it. A pair of high-heeled black booties completed her ensemble.
Now she just needed to put on some makeup, including some eyebrow pencil to fill in the brows that had been singed in the blast—wasn’t that what every woman did before a night out in Manhattan?
After making up her face, she twirled her hair into a low, loose chignon. If she was going down tonight, she’d look stylish on the descent.
She sashayed down the staircase and had the satisfaction of seeing Slade’s mouth hang open for a brief second. He recovered quickly.
“You look...nice.” He smacked his chest, covered by a black cotton T-shirt. “It’s a good thing we’re not going in together or I’d be seriously outclassed.”
“The only fashion accessory you need is your big gun.”
He patted the pocket of his jacket. “Got that.”
“Taxi or car?”
“Let’s take the car again. It’s safer when I’m packing heat.”
“It’s also safer for a quick, discreet getaway.”
“I thought you trusted Dahir?” He rolled his shoulders and winced.
“Are you in pain?”
“Nothing a couple of ibuprofen can’t mask. You?”
“Oh, yeah.” She stepped off the last step, brushing past him. “I’ll call the car service.”
A half hour later, the car stopped one block away from the club. Slade leaned forward and addressed the driver. “Ms. Hastings is waiting in the car for now. You can idle here or take a few trips around the block.”
“I’ll wait here for as long as I can, sir. If I’m not here when you come back, wait by the corner of that building and I’ll pick you up or drop off Ms. Hastings—whatever you want.”
“Thanks, Pierre.” Slade liked this driver. He hadn’t said one word or raised an eyebrow when he’d picked them up in Queens, slightly worse for wear than when he’d dropped them off and with sirens wailing in the distance.
Slade gave Nicole a quick, hard kiss on the mouth and a wink. “I’ll do a recon and be right back.”
He stepped out of the town car and jogged across the street, dodging a few taxis. He spotted the blue awning of the club up ahead and cut over a block early. All these places had to have side or back entrances to meet fire regulations.
He slipped into an alley and maneuvered around a few dumpsters. The dark blue building that housed The Blues Joint stood out from the rest, and Slade approached the back entrance.
He tried the door handle, but it didn’t budge. He pounded on the metal door with his fist.
A minute later it cracked open and an eyeball traveled the length of his body and back again. “The entrance is around the front—and there’s a cover charge.”
“I’d be happy to pay the cover charge, but I’m wondering if I can come in this way and look around for a place to position myself.”
The door opened wider and a substantial-looking African-American man stared him down. “Position yourself for what?”
“I have a client coming in here later and I don’t want to be in the way. You understand?”
“No.” The man folded his arms, resting them on his massive belly. “What kind of client?”
“I’m a bodyguard. My client’s a top model.” He shrugged. “You know, probably delusio
ns of grandeur. Nobody would notice her anyway, but she’s borrowing some pretty expensive jewelry tonight and I’m supposed to watch over her. I don’t want to create a scene. You feel me?”
The man puffed out his cheeks for a few seconds.
“I mean, the broad’s willing to pay for it.” Slade pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and slipped it into the other man’s hand. “I’m Nick.”
“Eli.” The cash disappeared as Eli dipped his head. “Yeah, sure.”
The door widened and Slade squeezed past Eli, who hadn’t exactly given him a wide berth. Slade hesitated at the top of a staircase. “Where does this lead?”
“That goes down to the club. This level has a small dining area around the front. We don’t allow food downstairs, but some patrons come early for the show, have a meal and head down to hear the music.”
“Can you see the club from the stairs?”
Eli leveled one finger in the direction of the staircase. “Help yourself.”
Slade ducked beneath the low ceiling and jogged down the stairs. At the first landing, he got a full view of the club, already half-full with the band tuning their instruments on the stage. Was Dahir already here?
He scanned the patrons, but didn’t see anyone resembling Dahir. The meeting was in another forty-five minutes, and Slade planned to camp out right here to watch Nicole.
He went back up the stairs and met Eli at the top. “The main entrance leads right to the club, right?”
“Yeah, that’s street level in the front.”
“Are many more diners going to head this way?”
“A few.”
Slade took another couple of bills from his pocket. “Okay if I station myself on the landing? I think I already paid the cover charge, and if there’s a drink minimum, I’ll order a coffee.”
Eli stuffed the money in the front pocket of his black shirt. “I think this takes care of the drinks, too. But if there’s any trouble in here? I never saw you or spoke to you, and I have no idea how you got in here. You feel me?”
“Absolutely.” Slade retreated to a pantry off the kitchen and called Nicole.
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