Avenged (Hostage Rescue Team Series) (Volume 5) (13 page)

“What about you?”

He blinked, forced himself to relax. “Pardon?”

“Well, here I show up in town and suddenly all hell breaks loose, then you volunteer to be part of my security detail. Am I going to have to worry about a jealous girlfriend or two coming after me as well?” Her tone was teasing but her words struck deep. And suddenly Nate felt dirty. Cheap.

He jerked his gaze away, focused on the rollers crashing on the sand because he couldn’t take the scrutiny of her stare any longer. “No. No girlfriends.” Just a string of faceless, nameless lays that made him feel like the worst kind of player. He was done with that lifestyle though.

Shame rose up, thick enough to choke him. Taya would be disgusted, at the very least disappointed if she knew the truth. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her looking at him like that. “But even if I did, you wouldn’t have to worry. Legally I couldn’t tell anyone about who I was working security for,” he added.

“Oh. I guess that’s good, then. Because I’ve got enough on my plate to worry about at the moment.” When he didn’t answer or respond to her wry attempt at humor, she sat up straighter. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Just that I hate who I’ve become. I don’t want to be that guy anymore.
Looking over at her, he forced a smile. “It’s just… Seeing you again has inspired me to want to be a better person.”

She searched his eyes. “I think you’re a very good person. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

Only because you don’t really know me.
“Trust me, I could stand some improvement.”

Taya didn’t say anything for a long moment. The breeze picked up, colder than before. She shifted, trying to huddle deeper beneath the quilt. Nate saw his chance and took it.

“Cold?”

“Yeah. And getting sleepy,” she admitted.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her up from the swing. “Time for you to go inside and get back to bed. Sun’ll be up before you know it.”

“What about you?” she asked as he led her to the French doors.

“I’ve got some work to do. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He shut the doors behind them. Immediately he felt warmer, the sound of the surf muted now.

“Okay.” She stopped at the threshold of the kitchen, glanced back at him with those too-wise eyes. “I’m really glad you’re here, Nathan.”

“I’m glad too.” And he truly was. It was almost a miracle that they’d met again. There was no place on earth he’d rather be right now than here, watching over her.

He listened to the creak of the stairs as she went up, alone. Standing in the shadowy kitchen, he wished like hell he had the right to follow her there. He wanted to crawl into her bed beside her and hold her tight in his arms all night, keeping the monsters at bay.

Especially the ones in his head.

Ayman dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the shower after allowing himself a brief half hour nap. He and Jaleel needed to get away from the apartment but he’d been so exhausted he couldn’t have functioned without at least some sleep.

He was supposed to be at the restaurant well before breakfast service started, but he’d already called in sick a couple hours ago. He had more important things to take care of, and the money he wanted depended on him carrying out The Brethren’s orders.

Though it was still dark outside and he was beat, he couldn’t afford to sleep anymore. They’d been up all night trying to find a lead on the whore, and all they’d managed to find so far was a short video clip of her entering the hotel yesterday afternoon with some big, government security-type guys, then her leaving late last night with a different team.

That was it. No location, no clues that would help narrow the search. There were no cell phone accounts or credit card transactions to tip them off. All the searches they’d run, all the websites Jaleel had managed to hack into, all for nothing. And his father had asked way too many questions when he’d let them in last night. It made Ayman extremely nervous. If his father suspected something was up, he wouldn’t let it go.

The hot shower did little to help clear his brain. He walked out of the steam-filled bathroom and into the living room to find Jaleel dead asleep in his seat at the desk shoved into the far corner of the room. His laptop was still on, a bunch of coding Ayman didn’t understand typed onto the screen. Jaleel lay with his cheek on the corner of the desk, a pair of headphones covering his ears, his body slumped over in what looked like a really uncomfortable position.

Ayman let him be for the moment, heading instead to the kitchen to put on the second-hand coffee maker he’d bought when he moved in. As it perked he stuck a container of leftover pasta in the microwave, his eyelids drooping as he watched it go round and round on the glass tray inside. His phone rang in the middle of the third rotation, startling him.

Recognizing the number, he kept his voice low as he answered in Arabic. His pulse beat faster, nervousness curling in his gut. “Yes.”

“Have you found anything?” the man demanded.

Ayman dragged a hand through his hair. “No.”

A frustrated sigh came from the other end of the line. “And what are you doing about that?”

“We’ve looked everywhere we can think of,” he responded, a bite to his tone. “We were up all night trying. I only got thirty minutes’ sleep and—”

“
Sleep
? You think you have time to sleep? You were told to find what we need, and you haven’t done it yet.” The man made a sound of outrage. “Get out of there and meet me at the usual place in forty-five minutes. You’re putting us all at risk now. Understand?”

“Yes,” he bit out, but an undercurrent of fear threaded through him at the man’s words.

The line went dead. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, then turned to face his roommate as the microwave beeped behind him. He couldn’t be sure, but based on that conversation he got the feeling that The Brethren knew something he didn’t. Maybe they’d discovered that the FBI were already hunting them. Ayman could practically feel the seconds ticking past, slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass.

“Jaleel.” He didn’t stir. “
Jaleel
.”

His friend jerked upright and winced, putting one hand to the back of his neck as he blinked wearily and looked around. “What?”

“We have to go. Another meeting.”

Jaleel made a face. “Now?”

“
Right
now.” He wasn’t messing around with these guys. Part of him wanted to run as far and as fast as he could before he got in any deeper with them. But he knew the situation was already beyond that. The Brethren had contacts and resources all over the country. If he ran, they’d find him, and kill him. And maybe even his family, too.

More guilt squirmed inside him, blending with the growing anxiety.

“Gimme a few minutes to shower, at least,” Jaleel grumbled, and headed for the bathroom.

“No, just delete everything you’ve been doing there,” he said, waving a hand at the computer.

His roommate turned widened eyes on him. “What? Are you kidding me? It took me almost four hours to program that code.”

“Do it.” If anyone intercepted them between here and the meeting, Ayman didn’t want anything on that computer to incriminate them.

“No, because that’s just stupid. This thing is totally encrypted and if anyone besides me tries to login, everything gets erased anyhow.”

“Yeah, that’s great. And you think that’s gonna keep an FBI or NSA analyst from being able to access your stuff?”

Jaleel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Happy?”

“No. Get moving and grab your stuff. We’re on a tight deadline.”

While he waited for Jaleel, he loaded another pistol for his friend and poured himself a cup of coffee. His phone rang again. He thought of ignoring it, expecting it to be The Brethren again. Instead it was his father.

Ayman frowned. His father had likely only just finished work a little while ago. He’d been far too observant and almost suspicious last night when they’d used the computers at the office building. Why the hell was he calling Ayman at this hour? He should have been headed home to sleep.

For a moment he worried that something terrible had happened, maybe with his mother or sisters, but that was unlikely. And he sure as hell didn’t want to speak to his father right now.

Unless…

He paused with the coffee cup partway to his mouth, then lowered it as a sickening possibility occurred to him. Had someone at the office building figured out what Jaleel had done last night? Maybe some internal system had detected the hack. Had they somehow gained access to the history Jaleel had opened, even though he’d sworn he’d erased it all along with the surveillance camera footage and was an expert at covering his tracks?

The coffee rolled in his stomach, suddenly bitter and acidic. Ayman dumped the remainder into the sink and pocketed his phone, not about to call his father back. Jaleel reappeared from his bedroom a moment later, carrying a large backpack. “You’re sure you erased the search history last night, right? And you made sure no one could detect your hacks?”

Jaleel threw him an insulted look. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re seriously joking.”

“I’m just checking to make sure you covered our asses.”

“Erase my history,” he muttered in disgust, rummaging in the cupboard and coming up with a protein bar. “You think that’s gonna stop people from tracking us?” He snorted. “What I did is a little more complicated than erasing history, Ayman. For the hacks, it’s harder, but I did what I could. There’s only a small chance anyone would notice that we were in their system, and it would take a lot of digging to uncover what we were searching for.”

But someone knew they’d been up to no good. Cold settled into Ayman’s belly. “He knows,” he murmured to himself.

Jaleel’s expression froze. “Who? Who knows?”

“My father.” As he said it his phone buzzed with a text message. Ayman didn’t want to look.

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t answer.”
And I’m not going to.
His father was smart. If he suspected something was going on—and Ayman was pretty sure he had—there would be hell to pay.

He sighed, ran through their options and came up with nothing. Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned about getting caught, none of them had involved his own father. “Make sure you’ve got enough packed to last you at least a week. We won’t be coming back here for a while.” If ever. “And take this.” He handed him the loaded pistol. Jaleel wasn’t nearly as good a shot as he was, but his friend definitely needed to be armed now. Ayman would protect him if necessary.

Jaleel nodded, all visible traces of fatigue now gone. He tucked the weapon into the back of his waistband, pulled the hem of his hoodie over top of it. After a couple minutes to pack he followed Ayman to the door. Together they stepped out into the empty hallway that smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The entire building was silent as a tomb at this hour, most of its tenants either fast asleep or still not home from their graveyard shifts.

They took the stairs to the lobby. Ayman unlocked the front door and pushed it open, the brisk, damp breeze instantly clearing his head. He took one step up the sidewalk and froze, his heart careening in his chest.

His father stood a dozen feet away against the brick wall, arms folded across his chest, clearly waiting for him. Ayman’s mind went blank.

His father eyed the two of them, taking in their backpacks. “Where are you going?” he demanded in Arabic.

Ayman’s mouth was dry, his pulse thudding in his neck. He didn’t want to do this. Not now, not ever. He could feel Jaleel hovering uncertainly behind him. “A meeting.”

Those shrewd black eyes studied him critically. “With whom? It’s not even five o’clock in the morning.”

“It’s an interview for a different job. For both of us.” Not exactly a lie. “We wanted to make sure we left early so we arrived in the city in plenty of time to find the building.” He blurted it all out.

“That’s strange.” The hard look on his face made Ayman’s stomach pull into a knot. “I was hungry so I stopped at the restaurant on my way home but they said you’d called in sick at about three this morning. Which would have been soon after you left the office building.” He paused. “But you seemed fine then. And you don’t look sick to me now.”

Oh shit.
Ayman’s heart jackhammered against his ribs. “I’ll make up the hours later. We have to go now, father. We can’t be late.”

At that his father’s expression transformed into a frightening mask of outrage and alarm. “There is no interview, is there.
Is there
?” he demanded, taking the two steps between them and grabbing Ayman by the lapels of his beat-up leather jacket. “Answer me! There isn’t one. You’re going to meet those men from the mosque, aren’t you?” He shook him once, hard, fury and fear stamped all over his worn features. “The ones who have poisoned your mind and heart against everything you’ve been taught.”

Ayman automatically gripped his father’s fist and leaned back, trying to hide his panic. This was something he’d never anticipated. Right now Jaleel was the key to this operation. They needed his skills to find their target. Once they did, Ayman was prepared to take the woman out, any way he could. He couldn’t let anything jeopardize their operation, not even his family. And their lives could be at stake just as much as his was. “No, I—”

His father’s face contorted. “Don’t you lie to me! I know what you’ve been doing!”

How did he know?
How
?

People on the street were staring at them now. A few stopped in their tracks and watched them warily. Ayman’s face began to burn. Even though chances were none of them spoke Arabic, this scene was humiliating enough.

His father shook him again, the rage on his face making Ayman cringe inside. “What are you involved in? Huh? What are you doing that makes you lie, skip out on work and avoid your own family? I’ll tell you what—evil things. They are
bad men
, Ayman.” He shook his head sharply, the disappointment in his eyes much harder to take than his rage. “I raised you better than that. I gave up everything to bring you and your sisters here to make something of yourselves, not so you would throw your life away on a bunch of brainwashed radicals! What is
wrong
with you? How could you be so stupid and selfish?”