by Laura Scott
He shut the computer and lifted it off the desk. “Wait.” Diana stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What if the kidnappers contact us again?”
“I’ve enabled the call forwarding feature on my phone, sending all calls to my cell.” Jordan placed the laptop in a heavy nylon bag. When he finished with that, he opened his desk drawer to remove a gun. The weapon was a sobering reminder of the danger they faced. Freeing Bryn wouldn’t be as easy as waltzing up to the men holding her, demanding them to let her go.
She swallowed a knot of fear. “I’m not sure what good a laptop will do us in the car,” she said, gesturing to the computer case. “We need internet access.”
“It’s a satellite computer. It will work anywhere.”
Okay, then. She stepped back, momentarily reassured that they were on the right track. Taking action felt better than sitting around doing nothing.
Ironic that she hadn’t seen Jordan in twelve years but trusted him implicitly now. Despite everything that had once transpired between them. She’d given him all the inside information she had on her mother’s family, but it hadn’t been enough. The explosion on the heels of Omar’s death had been her mother’s family’s ultimate retaliation.
She knew he hadn’t believed her when she’d mentioned how going into witness protection had been for his own good.
If her mother’s family knew about her, they’d unearth every rock on the planet in an attempt to find her and kill her.
Killing Jordan and Bryn would be icing on the cake of revenge.
Jordan tucked the gun into a holster attached to his belt, then ushered her to the underground parking garage. A black SUV was parked in the corner. He tucked the computer case in the back while she slipped into the passenger seat.
When they hit the highway, they were immediately engulfed in a sea of traffic. The crush had only gotten worse, thank you, rush hour, she thought impatiently. Diana had forgotten how congested the city was compared to the quiet life she’d made for Bryn in Jacksonville, North Carolina.
“Is it possible this kidnapping is linked to your mother’s family?” Jordan asked.
She swallowed the instant denial. “Anything is possible,” she admitted. “But you killed Omar twelve years ago, remember? Shortly before the bomb exploded in the back of our car. I’ve been in hiding ever since.”
Jordan met her gaze. “Omar had a son.”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes, my cousin, Tariq Omar Haram Shekau.” Just saying his name made her feel dirty. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I already considered this angle. Tariq has definitely picked up where his father left off, but if he’d have known I had survived the crash, then why wait until now to find me? The name I’m currently living under is Deborah Martin, and Martin is Bryn’s official last name too. It’s not as if I’d be that easy to find, the US Marshals did everything possible to erase any hint of my past.”
“Well, it’s obvious someone knows that you’re alive and that Bryn is our daughter.”
The way he said our daughter made it difficult to breathe. She hadn’t thought beyond saving Bryn, but clearly Jordan expected to be a part of their daughter’s life moving forward. Instinctively, she wanted to reject the idea, but that wasn’t fair. Of course, he deserved to know his daughter, but they lived in different states. The idea of sending Bryn away for extended visits made her stomach ache.
Yet this wasn’t the time or the place to worry about how Jordan would fit into their future. Right now, she needed to focus on finding Bryn. The rest could be worked out later.
“Yes, and I can’t help but think that the leak came from within the FBI,” she responded evenly. “Who else knew they were close to capturing Mustaf in the first place? I don’t think the Department of Homeland Security announced their plan to go after him on the evening news.”
“Good point,” Jordan conceded. “But here’s an alternate theory. Your family left you alone until they needed your help, or in this case my help. So they orchestrated this elaborate plan to get us back together to free an international terrorist. Or are you going to deny Omar had ties to Syria even then?”
Shock stole her breath, holding her silent. Dear Lord have mercy, was Jordan right? Was it possible that this was, in fact, all related to her family? Had they known about her, about Bryn all this time?
No. She refused to believe it. If Tariq had known about her, he would have come after her directly to avenge his father’s death. Kidnapping Bryn seemed almost too subtle. “FBI Agent Tony Balcome is the only one who knew I survived the crash,” she said in a strained tone. “He handed me off to the US Marshals. Everyone else, even you, believed I was dead.” But the thought of Agent Balcome niggled at the back of her mind. Where was he now? Why was that classified information?
She didn’t know, but Jordan didn’t pursue the argument, for which she was grateful. Wasn’t it bad enough that her family had ties to terrorism? Her uncle Omar had denounced her mother after she married an American, but that hadn’t stopped him from taking hundreds of innocent lives.
Including her father’s.
In her case, blood wasn’t thicker than water. Dedication to the old ways, the old traditions were all that mattered. In the years that had passed, she’d done her best to make amends, in just a small way. To honor her mother.
If Tariq was involved in this plot to free Mustaf, she’d do everything in her power to help bring him down.
After they’d saved Bryn.
* * *
September 9 – 5:22 p.m. – Baltimore, MD
Jordan had taken a circular route toward Maryland, keeping a sharp eye on his rearview mirror for any hint of a tail. When he was convinced they hadn’t been followed, he turned on the vehicle’s GPS to find the warehouse owned by American Lumber, LLC.
American Lumber didn’t transport wood or any other type of construction supplies. As far as Jordan could tell, they only existed on paper. There hadn’t been time to dig too deeply, plus he didn’t much care. He planned to check the place out, and if Bryn wasn’t there, move on.
The warehouse in question happened to be located in the midst of the shipping district, making it the perfect hiding spot for holding a young child captive.
The bad news? There were dozens of buildings, and any one of them could be used for criminal activity. He pulled into a parking lot, wondering if he’d made a mistake in narrowing his search to buildings that didn’t have clear ownership.
“Well?” Diana asked impatiently. “Why are we just sitting here? Let’s go.”
Voicing his concerns out loud wouldn’t accomplish anything other than scaring Diana, so he pushed open his door and climbed out. The wind was stronger this close to the ocean, and the temperature was a bit chilly, even for September, courtesy of the low dark clouds overhead.
Diana came over to stand beside him, and he wished she’d stay here to wait for him, knowing even as the thought formed that she’d flat-out refuse. Resigned to the inevitable, he dropped to one knee and drew out the snub-nosed revolver he carried in an ankle holster and handed it to her.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asked.
She nodded. “You taught me everything I know about guns.”
He had, and he was glad she’d remembered. Just another piece of the puzzle that made him believe she really was Diana.
“Although, to be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve fired a gun.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need them,” Jordan said grimly. “Consider this a recon mission, if we see something suspicious, we’ll call for reinforcements. We’re not going in there alone, understand?”
For a moment she looked as if she might argue, but then she nodded. “Agree.”
He held her gaze until he was satisfied she’d do as he ordered. Unlike the way she’d tended to fight against him in the past. “Stay behind me.”
Diana didn’t respond, but as he made his way toward the strip of warehouses that were located across the street from
the shipping yard, she followed.
The area was busier than he expected for a Friday evening, but various longshoremen and other local workers were clearly packing up to head home.
Jordan stopped alongside the wall of a building that may have once been red but had been weathered pale pink by years of abuse from a combination of saltwater and sun. The entire row of warehouses looked abandoned, but just because there weren’t visible signs of activity didn’t mean they stood empty.
In fact, he’d bet each and every one of them was chock-full of stuff. Some of it illegal.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. The structure belonging to American Lumber, LLC was a gray building sandwiched between the pale pink warehouse and the dirty yellow one labeled Starkey’s Shipping.
“What’s wrong?” Diana whispered, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. “Do you see something?”
“No.” And that was the problem. Shouldn’t there be someone nearby protecting the place? Or at least acting as a lookout? The itch along the back of his neck wouldn’t leave him alone.
Diana moved restlessly behind him, and he bit back to urge to snap at her. It wasn’t her fault. Your average citizen didn’t have experience running covert operations.
After another full five minutes of watching, he decided to head around back. He turned at the same time Diana moved as if to follow him, bumping up against him with a muffled oomph.
He lightly grasped her shoulders with his hands. “Sorry.”
She stared up at him for several long seconds, searching his gaze for—what? Some indication that what they once felt for each other was still there? Not likely. Ignoring his racing heart, he let her go as if his fingertips were burned, carefully stepping around her.
“This way,” he said, edging along the side wall to the narrow dusty alleyway that ran behind the buildings. From this angle, he could see the outline of a door, no doubt the building codes required two exits, but the warped door frame made him think that no one had used it recently.
Disappointment stabbed deep. He didn’t like it. The setup just didn’t seem right. No way did he believe there was a terrorist cell here holding a child hostage. They were chasing their tails, nothing more. Baltimore was a huge city, who knew how far you could be from the ocean while still hearing the foghorns?
Talk about trying to find a diamond buried in a sandy beach.
Somewhere a door slammed. Diana started badly, grabbing onto the back of his belt. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you want to wait in the car?” he asked in a low tone.
“I’m fine,” she said, although her grip on his belt didn’t loosen. “How long are we going to stand here?”
“As long as it takes.” He immediately regretted his tone when she pressed her lips together, her dark eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Stay here and cover me while I investigate.”
“O-okay.” She released her deathlike grip and pressed herself against the warehouse in an effort to stay out of his way.
“Diana—” He stopped, giving himself a mental shake. “Never mind. Just stay alert, okay?”
She nodded. Before he could move, his phone vibrated with an incoming call. His pulse jumped as he recognized Sun’s number.
“Find something?” he asked.
“No. This place is completely empty, looks as if it once held big oil drums. There’re still a few left in the corner.”
Figured. He’d hoped for better news. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Do you want me to keep searching the area?” Sun asked.
“No, why don’t you check the next business on the list.” Divide and conquer was always the best approach.
“Will do. Let me know if you find something.”
“It’s not looking good,” he admitted before disconnecting from the call.
“Nothing?” Diana asked, her expression forlorn.
“No, but don’t give up hope yet.” He slid the phone into his front pocket. Jordan slipped around the corner toward the front of the buildings. Moving stealthily, he made his way down past the pink warehouse to the gray building located in the center.
Up close, the large garage door at the front of the building didn’t look as dilapidated as he’d expected. In fact, there was a large shiny new padlock preventing entry inside.
Interesting. He checked the rollers along the sides, those appeared to be greased for easy opening, too, not covered in rust. But he still didn’t see any guards, although it was possible they might be inside.
Unless there were cameras? Instinctively, he glanced up, searching for a sign of an electronic device. Nothing jumped out at him, but these days a camera could be hidden in a crevice smaller than the tip of his little finger.
After a full minute without hearing a sound, he decided there weren’t any cameras, or if there were, they were broken. He lifted the padlock, peering at the opening in the bottom, thinking about the lock-pick tools he carried, but then he realized the door in the back of the building might be easier to get through. He released the lock and hurried over to meet up with Diana.
He’d barely cleared the corner when a loud ka-boom erupted from somewhere behind him, sending him flying down onto the pavement. He managed to catch himself before his head hit the ground. Turning to his side, he glanced over his shoulder.
The warehouse was engulfed in flames.
Bryn!
Chapter Four
September 9 – 5:45 p.m. – Baltimore, MD
“No!” Diana screamed, scrambling up from the pavement, ignoring the zinging pain shooting through her body. “Bryn!”
“Don’t, Diana, please. Stay here!” Jordan lunged up to his feet, grabbing onto her with a steel grip. “We don’t know for sure that anyone was inside.”
She fought to free herself. “But why else would it explode? We need to go and check—”
“No, we need to get out of here.” Jordan ruthlessly pulled her through the alley, away from the burning building. “Hurry!”
She didn’t want to go, but Jordan wasn’t taking no for an answer. The heat of the blaze caused beads of sweat to sting her eyes. Stumbling in his wake, her mind tortured her with images of her daughter lying dead in the midst of a horrific fire.
My sweet baby!
Her stomach rebelled and she gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. Thankfully, she hadn’t eaten in hours, so she didn’t have anything in her stomach. Instead, she swallowed hard and took several deep breaths.
When Jordan stopped, she slumped against him, her legs shaking with shock and grief.
“Are you okay?”
His gentle tone nearly did her in. She needed his strength more than she realized. “As much as I can be.”
“Good, let’s go this way.” He turned again, heading straight into the throng of pedestrians gathering around and pointing at the black smoke rising above the warehouse fire. She stayed close to his side, her senses assaulted by the screaming sirens as police vehicles and fire trucks threaded their way through traffic.
She stared at the smoke, unable to bear the thought of leaving without knowing the truth. Jordan’s arm was anchored around her waist, and his head was turned toward the smoke too. It occurred to her he was trying to blend into the crowd.
She forced herself to think rationally. If by some miracle Bryn hadn’t been inside the warehouse, they couldn’t afford to be detained for questioning. Jordan was right, they needed to get away from here. She pulled herself together and attempted to mirror the casual yet distressed expression on Jordan’s face, as if they were innocent bystanders just like everyone else.
It seemed they walked forever, but it was likely just a mile or so when Jordan angled around the block, heading back in the direction of the warehouse district.
Despite her earlier wishes to see for herself, she slowed her step, dragging her heels. “Wait, Jordan, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back there.”
“We’re not going to stay long, but we need our vehicle and the sat
ellite computer,” he said. “We won’t be able to get too close anyway, the police will keep everyone at a distance.”
Since the computer and Jordan’s phone were their only link they had to Bryn’s kidnappers, she didn’t argue. Moving at a casual pace, they made their way closer. She could see the fire trucks were in place, hoses streaming water onto the building, police cars blocking off the street while the firefighters worked to contain the fire. The parking lot was effectively shut off. There was no way they’d be able to drive out of there anytime soon.
A sense of hopelessness hit hard. “Now what?”
“Stay here, I can at least get the computer.”
Letting Jordan go wasn’t easy. She watched his dark handsome profile, biting back the urge to beg him to stay. It hit her then just how much she was depending on him to find Bryn.
If their daughter was still alive.
The tightness in her chest returned, making it impossible to breathe. She didn’t understand what had caused the explosion, but it seemed crazy that the fire could be linked to the terrorist cell holding Bryn hostage.
But what other explanation was there?
Without Jordan’s steadying presence, she found herself sinking further into the depths of despair.
They shouldn’t have tried to find Bryn on their own. They should have called the police. The FBI. The NSA. Even the CIA.
All of them and more!
Dear God, help me! Show me the way!
* * *
September 9 – 6:08 p.m. – Baltimore, MD
Jordan ducked low and darted between the vehicles. Using the confusion around the scene of the explosion to his advantage, he managed to get close to his SUV without attracting any attention.
Once he had the satellite computer case tucked beneath his arm, he looked up at the fire-encased building. The dry tinder burned ferociously, the flames leaping into the sky, smoke billowing out in black clouds. Anyone or anything inside would be completely destroyed.
Not Bryn, he told himself as he zigzagged back to where he’d left Diana. He couldn’t believe the terrorists would hurt her, not if they really wanted him to rescue Mustaf.
