Sheikh's Rescue. Ryshia Kennie
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used it on the first two shots. The owner of the gun store had assured him that it was a “never fail.” He’d said that it was easy to use. He had lied. If he were home, he’d go back and let him know what he thought of his lie. He couldn’t. He was in a foreign country and he had to abide by its rules. If he stepped afoul of the law in any way other than planned, he had a greater chance of getting caught. That would destroy his chances at what was most important. But it was clear that taking someone out wasn’t his forte. He needed help. He would find someone else, someone who could do the job for him.
He’d been stupid to think that he could remain anonymous and complete the job. He needed the money. He hadn’t come all the way here to fail.
He considered the fact that he required assistance. He wasn’t sure why his cousin had hired him. Except that wasn’t true. He knew why. Besides his lies and exaggerations and the fact that he really had killed before, he was disposable. He always had been. He grimaced.
Maybe a hit man was what he needed, someone more skilled at killing than him. He’d killed only two people in his life—one who had invaded his home and another who’d invaded his life. That hardly made him an expert, not like a hit man. He’d read of them and seen shows, American productions. Those shows had been fiction. Still, he knew that such people existed. They just did not advertise their wares in a storefront that was easily found.
He looked at the watch on his right wrist. He fiddled with the silver bracelet. It wasn’t quite noon. He pulled out his phone and thumbed over the screen. There was one man who would know where to look. One man he could rely on to dig deep into the dregs of society and find someone who could do the job. The unfortunate thing of it was that it would not come cheap, and he needed every penny that had been offered him to get this job done.
Panic ran through him. He didn’t have time to waste. He wasn’t willing to give up on the money yet. He shoved the phone into his back pocket. He’d have to do it himself until, or unless, he found someone who was better. In the meantime, he was on his own, and he had less time than he’d anticipated.
His left leg ached from the cold and from having to scrunch into a cramped position for too long. The leg had plagued him since he was a child. It had been the result of what everyone had called an accident. He’d always known that it was no accident. Nothing that happened to him was accidental. The world was against him and always had been.
He rubbed his free hand along his calf as if that slight movement would dispel the bone-deep ache. His cousin needed to die, and he needed to do it soon. And if that meant he took out others with him, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting this job done and getting back to Morocco as soon as possible.
Zafir grabbed his keys, his go-bag and an extra magazine for his Glock and headed out the door. He hadn’t expected to back anyone up. But every agent in the Wyoming office was busy and already assigned to a case. So there was no choice. He’d be stepping into the role of backup to Jade’s lead. It was an exceptional situation, but it was also policy. He and Emir had hammered out the guidelines for Nassar Security a little less than a decade ago. Those guidelines had always included the brothers’ full involvement. Action was what they loved. They’d vowed never to have that love drowned because of leadership duties and responsibility. They’d promised they’d be in the field whenever possible. Unfortunately, “whenever possible” had too often given way to days of tiring office duties. He was more than ready to move into action.
His hand brushed the gun. The solid feel of it seemed to connect with his hand in a way that was more an extension of him than the tool that it was. There was nothing more exciting than a new gun. Not even a glimpse of a spectacular woman or the chance to caress the sleek lines of the latest woman could compare—it was how he rolled. He didn’t expect any of that would ever change.
Romance was short-term fun and long-term trouble. He’d grown up with parents in a loving marriage. Yet no matter how much he liked his future sister-in-law, Kate, he recoiled at the thought of his brother Emir marrying her. In case after case, he’d seen what jealousy and anger could do. Marriage and long-term relationships could be the perfect breeding ground for both those emotions. He wanted none of it, and he’d told himself that a long time ago.
He started the rental Nissan Pathfinder and was about to pop it into Reverse when his phone beeped. His hand dropped from the gearshift and he reached for it. Only a few numbers weren’t screened out. He had two admin assistants to handle those calls that he didn’t answer.
Emir’s name showed on the screen. It wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for his twin to connect like this—unexpectedly. And as always, instinct had told him who it was before the first beep had finished.
“Yeah,” he said, knowing he sounded rushed and hurried. This was a call he knew he couldn’t miss, and even knowing that, the delay grated on him. Something was up; Emir wouldn’t have phoned otherwise. His twin didn’t phone for social chats—never had, especially now, when their agency was overwhelmed and understaffed. It was something they’d have to address soon. His grip on the phone tightened.
“What’s going on, Em?” he asked, trying to keep the edge from his voice. He knew that whatever information Emir had, it was going to put an additional crimp in his day.
“The code on your latest case just flipped to red,” Emir said. Red meant that either the client’s life was in imminent danger or there was a threat to an agent.
“I could have told you that five minutes ago,” Zafir said, and his lips tightened. He didn’t have a lot of time.
“What happened?” Emir asked.
“There were shots fired at the apartment we rented for the client. It’s under control now. Jade held them off. Just one shooter that we know of. We’re getting the client out of the area. Jade’s waiting for me now.” He dropped his hand from the steering wheel and rolled down the window an inch. A spatter of fresh snow hit his face. It was oddly calming. He loved the smell of fresh snow, but he was more anxious to get moving and make sure everything was secure.
“There’s more to this than we were led to believe,” Emir said. “It’s making me uneasy.”
The tension since he’d first answered the call retreated. He and Emir, as usual, were on the same page. But it had been the sudden change in status that he knew had really set him on edge. Moving into action always smoothed things over. “I’m at loose ends so I’ll back Jade on this. What else do you have?”
“An explosion on an estate near Rabat belonging to your client’s uncle.” He paused. “The explosion was intentional. It was a homemade explosive device and it killed one of the estate’s employees.”
“Any idea who...”
“Of the bomber, nothing,” Emir cut him off. “We believe he was acting alone. There was nothing left near the scene to even get a fingerprint. But even if there were,” he mused, “whoever did it would have to have a criminal record for them to be of any use. One thing to consider, the uncle is old and very wealthy. I’d start digging into the details of that, but I’m buried in a case we have going here.”
“I heard,” Zafir said. “We’re shorthanded with Faisal on the East Coast, and there’s five other cases on the active roster. But we’ll get it done. We always do.”
He disconnected the call and looked at his watch. He debated getting in touch with Jade. Was the new information something that would change things for her in the next few minutes? He doubted that it would. But things could also change on a dime.
* * *
WITHOUT BACKUP, THE only thing Jade could do was keep Stanley safe and wait for Zafir to arrive. But one agent couldn’t be in two places at once. They needed to get their client to a safe place. That was the priority.
She looked at her watch. They had to get moving and to find out who was after Stanley,