Avenged (Hostage Rescue Team Series) (Volume 5) (21 page)

“Ah!” She was drowning in need, clinging to him, wanting him closer.

Nathan slid his free arm beneath her back, firmly anchoring her to the bed. He caressed the swollen bud at the top of her sex, his body so hot and hard against her side, then pushed his fingers inside her again. This time he curled them upward, finding the hidden bundle of nerves inside her then rubbing his thumb against her clit at the same time.

Taya whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, the muscles in her thighs and abdomen pulled tight. Thick, syrupy pleasure spread inside her with every movement of his hand, his talented mouth. It coiled low in her belly and expanded outward with each skilled caress. She rolled her hips against his hand, her yearning increasing at the way he pinned her down with his weight and strength.

The orgasm rose inside her, looming like a giant wave and she reached for that crest, needing the release with every cell in her body. Those maddening fingers pushed inside her then withdrew before plunging back inside in a steady, unhurried rhythm that drove her mad. He increased the pressure of his thumb slightly, rubbing her clit in tiny circles as his teeth scraped her nipple and his tongue soothed the slight sting.

Ecstasy exploded inside her, release shattering her in powerful waves. She heard herself cry out his name and shuddered, letting it roll through her for long, endless seconds.

Gradually it faded, leaving behind a blissful lassitude that made every muscle go lax. Nathan kissed his way up her chest, up her throat to her chin, lingered on her mouth for a long moment before he pressed his lips to each of her closed eyelids.

Taya was still catching her breath as he withdrew his hand from between her legs, then collapsed back against the mattress with a groan. She rolled toward him, let out a deep sigh of contentment when he gathered her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. He chuckled low in his throat and squeezed, one hand running through her hair.

The denim of his jeans felt rough against her inner thigh as she draped one leg over his. She could feel how hard he still was, knew he had to be hurting. But when she reached down for the button fastening his jeans, he grabbed her hand and made a negative sound.

Surprised, she leaned her head back to look at him. “Why not?”

His thumb stroked over the inside of her wrist, igniting tiny tingles across the fragile skin. “Because you’re not like the others. And I’m not that guy anymore.”

Her heart turned over at the serious look in his eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Nathan. I want to touch you too.”

He shook his head. “But I’ve got something to prove to myself.”

Taya stared into his eyes for a long moment before deciding he was telling the truth. This was important to him and it made her care for him even more. She leaned up to press her lips to his. “Thank you.” But she still hoped he’d change his mind before they left the room in the morning.

She felt his smile form beneath her lips. “Was my pleasure, sweetheart. Happy to do that any time you want.”

She wanted to do the same for him before they left this room. “You’ll sleep beside me tonight?”

Another low chuckle, his fingers sliding through the length of her hair. “Not budging from your side for a second, little warrior.” Reaching down to grab the covers, he tugged them over them and leaned to the side to switch off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

Taya snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder. She felt utterly, blissfully relaxed for the first time in recent memory. With his arms wrapped securely around her and the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, she closed her eyes and sank headfirst into oblivion.

Ayman sat in the front passenger seat of a rental vehicle Darwish had gotten them last night using fake IDs. He rubbed at his eyes and smothered a yawn before shifting his attention back to one of the exits at the rear of the hotel.

After arriving in Raleigh and meeting up with Darwish just a couple hours ago, they’d gone to the hospital and quickly discovered that the security there was way too tight. There was no chance they’d be able to get inside and up to the ICU unnoticed, and with that many trained bodyguards watching the target, trying an attack there would have been useless. And suicidal.

While he was willing to die for their cause if necessary, he wanted his death to be worthwhile and not wasted.

They’d had to wait until the very last bodyguard had left, a built Hispanic guy who moved with military precision, half an hour after the target and two other bodyguards had. Thankfully Darwish had managed to follow the Hispanic guard to this hotel.

Ayman hadn’t asked how he’d been able to do it without being detected and Darwish hadn’t volunteered any details. The specialized training Darwish had received during six months at a military camp in Mauritania was coming in handy and Ayman continued to learn as much as possible from his more experienced mentor.

The driver’s side door opened and Darwish slid behind the wheel, a black 9 mm pistol in his grip, his once full beard trimmed into a short goatee. “We’re in.”

Ayman blinked. Already? “You found her? She’s here?”

He sank farther down into the seat and cast a surreptitious look around. “I paid off an employee to find me the whore’s room number, and for some extra cash he told me they’d just placed a room service order a few minutes ago, so it’s perfect. Although he won’t be using my money anytime soon.”

His sly smile left no doubt that the man was dead. Ayman tried to ignore the way his conscience pricked at him. People had to die in this operation; there was no way to avoid it and he’d known that from the outset. Killing the target to prevent her from testifying and helping in the effort to free Qureshi was worth far more than the lives of a few innocent infidels.

“Jaleel’s getting changed into a uniform now,” Darwish continued and Ayman didn’t ask where they’d gotten it. “He’ll go up to the room first with the room service order.”

“What? Why Jaleel? He’s not trained for this.”

“Because we need someone else to verify whether the whore’s inside the room, and my other operatives are busy. You and I can’t do this. We need to be ready to attack later, after Jaleel leaves and her security lets their guard down a little bit. We can’t do it during the room service delivery, it’ll be too obvious.”

He shook his head, continued. “We’ll each wait in the opposite stairwell at the end of the hall until he’s inside and can verify that it’s her. He’ll alert us by radio when he leaves the room, let us know what kind of security is with her. If I decide there’s a good opportunity, we attack the room as planned and take her out. If we get clear after that, we meet back here.”

He said it all without so much as a hint of inflection in his voice, his restless gaze scanning the rear loading area for any threats. He was better trained and more experienced in ops and combat than either him or Jaleel, but Darwish was also far more valuable to The Brethren than either of them. They’d put him in charge of this op for a reason—and Ayman knew it was because they had far bigger plans for him in the coming weeks.

Darwish was to play a critical role on the main attack planned for the trial, so if he wasn’t certain about being able to assassinate the Kostas woman here, he’d withdraw and wait. If they couldn’t kill her today, they’d let her come to them and take her out at the trial.

“He’s got a uniform for you too, waiting in the supply closet just inside those doors.” Darwish indicated the steel doors that led into a loading area off the kitchen. “The rifle’s not an option now—too hard to disguise. You’ll have to do it with your pistol. Now get going.” He shoved Ayman’s shoulder.

Ayman set his jaw, pushing aside the resentment as he mentally prepared for what lay ahead. Everything hinged on Jaleel’s recon, then on Darwish’s decision afterward.

This was all happening way faster than he’d anticipated.

He didn’t like rushing this, even though they’d gone over the plan several times and studied the layout of the hotel last night and he knew where all the emergency exits were located. Security was down in the lobby, and unless they’d posted extra men on the target’s floor, only the bodyguards would be up there. The men watching over the whore were far better trained than him, but he and Darwish would have the element of surprise.

Still, a cold knot of fear formed in his belly, his mind trying to overrule his heart. He ignored it, reminded himself that he was brave enough to do what needed to be done.

With no option now but to carry out the plan, Ayman gathered himself and exited the vehicle. Thankfully there was no one else around and he’d pulled the ball cap down over his ears and forehead to help conceal his face from any security cameras. The car’s engine whined as Darwish put it into reverse and backed around the corner out of sight. Would Darwish wait for him if they aborted and had to evacuate? Fleeing on foot would leave him too exposed.

He kept his gaze straight ahead as he crossed the parking area, staring directly at the metal doors before him, his heart slamming hard against his chest wall. It was open a crack.

Pushing it inward, he saw that the small entry room was deserted except for stacks of pallets loaded with food, and stepped inside. In front of him was the door to the kitchen, and to his right lay another, he assumed for the supply closet.

He tensed as it cracked open, automatically reaching for the weapon stashed in the back of his waistband. Jaleel’s voice floated out toward him. “Come on,” his friend whispered impatiently.

Ayman hurried inside the small space. Jaleel shut the door and switched on the dim flashlight he carried, illuminating the body lying on the floor, naked but for his underwear. The man’s eyes were still half open, his lips parted in a silent cry. But there was no blood. Why wasn’t there any blood?

“Is he dead?” Ayman whispered, trying not to stare. Dead bodies didn’t bother him—he’d seen more than his share back in Syria. But he’d never personally taken a life before and knowing this man had died as part of this operation suddenly made this situation real.

No second thoughts. I’m ready.

“Yeah. Syringe to the neck. Here, quick, put this on.” Jaleel thrust a fistful of garments at him. “I’ve gotta take the room service order upstairs in a few minutes. Hurry.”

Ayman’s hands shook a little as he shrugged out of his clothes and put on the hotel uniform: gray pants that were too short and a burgundy jacket that hung on his frame. The nametag on it read Raul. Ayman assumed Darwish had killed him as well, with another syringe, likely filled with morphine or cyanide.

He slid his weapon into the back of the waistband and wiped a damp palm over his freshly-shaven jaw. It felt weird and sacrilegious to be without the beard he’d been growing for the past four months, but it would hopefully help him avoid suspicion and change his appearance enough to fool anyone looking for him.

“Which room is it?” he whispered to Jaleel.

“Six-oh-three. We don’t know if she’s still in it or how many guards there are. I’ll find out when I take the food in.” His friend’s voice was tense, slightly higher in pitch than normal. This was outside of Jaleel’s area of expertise, and that increased Ayman’s anxiety.

Jaleel’s nervousness spread to him like a virus, spiking his heart rate. “How long will you need?” He wasn’t scared. He just had to shut off his brain and act. Once it was done, it would be a relief. Then his part in this operation would be over and he could start a new life elsewhere.

But knowing Darwish was armed and waiting made him nervous. He didn’t trust the other man not to turn on them if it saved his own skin. Ayman was prepared to take out whoever he had to in order to protect himself.

“Won’t take me long,” Jaleel said, sounding steadier now. “Once I’m at the door it should only take a minute or two, tops. I’ll wait for you down in the stairwell afterward, in case you need backup.”

“Okay. But if anything goes wrong, just get out of there. I’ll cover you.” Jaleel was armed, but he wasn’t nearly the shot Ayman and Darwish were. And he had no experience with the kind of violence Ayman had witnessed time and time again back in Syria.

Ayman clapped his friend on the shoulder, smiled to lend him courage. “You can do this. May Allah be with you.”

“And with you.” With a nod, Jaleel exited the supply closet.

Ayman waited a full minute before following, and headed to the west-side stairwell that led to the guest floors. He’d already memorized the layout of everything, so he could choose the best option when it came time to escape. He jogged up to the sixth floor and stole a peek through the hallway to make sure he could access it without a problem. Thankfully it was empty.

On his way down he froze at the sound of footsteps above him on the concrete stairs. More than one person. Seconds later a young mother with a toddler in tow and a baby on her hip came into view. She smiled when she saw him, and Ayman made himself unfreeze and smile back.

“Good morning,” she called out.

“Good morning.” He even smiled at the kids, stepping aside to let her pass him on the narrow landing, careful to keep his back to the railing to hide the slight bulge beneath the back of his jacket.

“Oh.”

Gripping the railing with one hand, Ayman looked back at the woman, who had stopped a few steps below him. She wasn’t looking at him in a suspicious way, merely curious. He didn’t want to hurt her but he couldn’t afford to have her delay or report him. And he didn’t like that she’d seen his face up close.
Walk away
, he told her silently.
Walk away NOW
.

“One of the faucets in our bathroom ran all night. Could you have someone take a look? Room three-nineteen.”

He relaxed. “Absolutely. Have a nice day.”

She smiled again before turning away. “You too.”

Ayman released his grip on the cold metal railing and began his swift ascent to the sixth floor, preparing himself for what lay ahead. He’d come too far to fail now. Everything he’d ever wanted—money, the respect of his peers, his freedom—was almost within his grasp now.