The intensity of the argument escalated until it echoed in the empty hallway, so Maddy wandered out of the classroom to investigate. Guli and Rasa were standing close to each other, and Guli was speaking quickly in a harsh voice, her intonation and sharp gestures telling Maddy the older woman was angry. Rasa shook her head and started to walk away. Guli grabbed her arm and fiercely pointed in the young woman’s face. Maddy heard Guli screech: “Kaafar—infidel.”
Maddy stepped back into the classroom before the women noticed her. Only nonbelievers were called infidels. What had Rasa done to deserve such an offensive insult? Was it because she didn’t wear a burka?
Maddy plastered a smile on her face and waited at the door to greet the angry women. Rasa arrived first, and Maddy could see the tears pooling in her eyes. Maddy welcomed her, and Rasa nodded and went to sit in the circle of chairs. Neither Guli nor Sadia came into the classroom until class had begun. Obviously, they didn’t want to be greeted by an American infidel. Their attendance in this class didn’t add up…unless Abu had required them to attend.
After the hour, Maddy walked to her desk, pleased with how the class had gone despite the stormy beginning. Of course, Guli and Sadia offered nothing when she asked the women to discuss their family’s favorite recipe. Rasa, who sat on the other side of the room from Guli and Sadia, remained subdued, with no smiles or jokes for her friends.
Maddy was excited to get Hunter’s take on the argument and what it might mean. She wanted to discuss other strategies to engage the Hamman women.
Who was she kidding? She was plain excited to see Hunter. She had never felt this way about anyone. Did he miss her the way she missed him?
Maddy started to stack up the pictures of American foods she had displayed during the class after the women left. A moment later, Rasa came back into the classroom.
Rasa smiled tentatively and walked toward the desk. “Do you have plans for this afternoon?” The little hairs on Maddy’s arms prickled in awareness. Did the argument with Guli have anything to do with this sudden interest in Maddy’s afternoon? Was Maddy the infidel Guli had referred to?
Rasa’s eyes gave nothing away, and, because she wore a niqab, Maddy couldn’t read any changes in her facial expressions.
“Cirus loved playing with you at the market, and you like babies so much. I thought you might enjoy visiting with me and Cirus this afternoon.”
This was the problem with their line of work—everyone was a suspect. Including an outgoing mother with an adorable baby boy.
“I’d be delighted to come to your home some another afternoon. Maybe next week?”
Rasa’s eyes darkened. “You cannot come today?”
“No, I’ve already made plans.” She certainly wouldn’t go into specifics—that she planned on seducing her pretend husband after making him dinner. She might not know how to cook, but she, too, could grill steak and make a salad. Based on the way Hunter had responded to her taking her clothes off, she wasn’t sure when they’d get to dinner anyway. She definitely had plans.
The woman shifted her weight and fingered her veil. Her sudden nervousness alerted Maddy. “Are you worried about Cirus?” Maddy had learned from her time in Afghanistan that she always learned more by asking about a woman’s child instead of asking direct questions—like why were you and Guli arguing? She couldn’t let this opportunity to learn more about Abu’s family slip by. Did Rasa hope to talk to her about the argument?
“Yes, he has a rash, and I hoped you could look at it.”
Truly concerned, Maddy came around the desk. “Is he sick? Have a fever?”
“I don’t think so, but he is hot. Maybe just the heat, but you know how a mother worries. I only live a block from here. Could you please come over for a minute to look at his rash?”
Maddy nodded. If Rasa took Cirus to the clinic, it could take hours. “I will walk with you and take a quick peek at Cirus.” She didn’t believe anything could be wrong with the happy, healthy toddler she had played with yesterday, but here was an excuse to discuss other, more intriguing matters.
* * *
Maddy was now in a rush to get home. Home. She liked the idea of a home with Hunter. She hurried down Rainier Avenue, her skirt swinging back and forth. She was an hour late after her stop to see Cirus. The baby had a little heat rash on his neck, nothing alarming. The visit had taken longer than she’d hoped since all the social niceties had to be observed. Unfortunately, Rasa disclosed nothing about the argument.
Maddy hesitated to believe subterfuge was involved in Rasa’s request, but she did want to discuss the whole episode with Hunter. Her first priority was resuming where they had left off last night, but tonight, she planned to do the seducing. Then she’d snuggle against his hard chest, and like a married couple, discuss the day. The thought made her impatient and eager as she waited for the light to change.
She had texted Hunter when she left Rasa’s house, but he hadn’t responded. Why wouldn’t he respond? Above everything else, Hunter was reliable.
She had also stopped to buy steaks at Halal Meats, the butcher shop right next door to Abu’s restaurant. She decided to do a bit of reconnaissance in her role as a wife shopping for dinner. She had asked innocently if the butcher had eaten at the restaurant. The man was very polite. He told her he supplied the meat for the restaurant, smiled…and that was the end of the conversation. She had failed at investigating today, but she was confidant she’d excel in her role as Hunter’s wife tonight.
She hurried up the front porch steps, ready to throw herself into his arms. She didn’t think of Hunter as a demonstrative man, but after last night, she realized the careful man was ready to express a lot of stored-up, passionate feelings, and she was delighted to be the recipient. She turned the knob, but the door was locked. Where had Hunter gone, and why hadn’t he texted? Did he have a surprise planned?
Maddy dug into her shoulder bag for the key. She opened the door and yelled. “Hunter, I’m home.” Her voice came out breathless, as if she had run home.
No answer. She walked to the sparkling kitchen. Hunter had cleaned. She strode back to their bedroom. Hunter had tidied the entire room, her clothes, thrown on the floor last night in wanton abandon, were now folded on the neatly made-up bed.
Nothing looked out of place. She went back to the dining room to see if Hunter had left her a note like a real husband might do.
Nothing. A light shiver bristled down her neck and spine. Having worked with Hunter on their last assignment, she knew he was a stickler for staying in communication. Something didn’t feel right. But after last night, her whole perception of Hunter had been turned upside down and sideways. He had been right that their relationship changed her perspective about the assignment.
She texted him again. If he had been out running errands, he’d have given her a heads-up.
She carried the steaks to the refrigerator, and a rush of warm emotions came over her, remembering Hunter lifting her onto the counter. The way she had pressed against him, her legs wrapped around him, his stubble had abraded her neck in the most scintillating way. She needed to get her act together. But intimacy with a caring man was new to her.
She’d give Hunter a half hour, and then she’d call Forret from the burner phone. If Hunter was delayed, he’d be pissed she made the connection with their handler, but if the roles were reversed, he would definitely follow protocol.
She walked to their bedroom to change out of her hot clothes. The man had almost an obsession about orderliness. Growing up with a Marine father, Hunter probably never knew any different. She’d try to pick up to please him, but she was not a tidy person about anything, so they both would have to adjust. She liked the idea of bringing a little bit of chaos into Hunter’s controlled world.
She peeled out of her long skirt and wondered how the Afghan women could stand being covered up all the time. Like Hunter’s strict orderliness, the women had never experienced the freedom of having the cool air caress their bare skin and
couldn’t possibly know what they were missing.
After changing into shorts and a tank top, Maddy decided she would look at the surveillance tapes Hunter had been watching this morning before she alerted Forret. Maybe Hunter had seen something. It still didn’t explain his lack of communication, though.
She sat at the desk and turned on the multiple screens monitoring Abu’s apartment. There were cameras monitoring the parking lot, the entrance, and the hall outside their apartment.
Maddy checked each screen. A short Asian man parked his beat-up Honda Civic and walked toward the six-story, remodeled apartment building. Maddy reached to scroll back for earlier tapes when motion on the screen monitoring the entrance caught her eye.
Rasa, with baby Cirus, was walking into the building. Rasa had told her she planned to put Cirus down for his nap as soon as Maddy left her apartment. Maddy’s entire being went on hyper-alert focus. Her muscles constricted, and her brain narrowed into single-minded concentration.
She watched the screen as Rasa walked through the front door of the apartment complex, waiting to see if she would enter the Hammans’ hall. Since their apartment was on the ground floor, she didn’t have to wait long before she saw Rasa walk down the narrow corridor. Maddy’s suspicion grew exponentially when the woman kept peering over her shoulder as if she knew Maddy was watching her.
Sadia opened the door for Rasa, who hurried into the apartment. Maddy’s heart punched hard against her chest. What the hell was going on? During his surveillance, had Hunter seen something at the apartment?
Maddy kept her eye on the monitor, tracking the Hammans’ front door as she simultaneously scrolled through the earlier tapes from the other cameras. Like a hammer kick delivered to the chest, her body bolted backward at seeing Hunter walking next to Sadia into the apartment complex. Maddy assumed it was Sadia from the way she moved, but she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure because of her burka.
Confounded by the sight, she replayed the moment over and over. Her brain sped as her muscles knotted into a tight fist of fear and anxiety. Hunter marched next to the woman like a Marine, his shoulders back, chin thrust forward, spine and neck rigid. He went willingly to the apartment, but he was in fighting mode. Sadia was no threat to him, so what did he expect to encounter that had him wound up into battle mode?
Maddy quickly went through the tape monitoring the apartment door. Her hands were shaking as she scrolled through the recording. Maddy watched Guli open the door and say something to Hunter, who rushed into the apartment.
Maddy felt something black and frightening skitter up her spine. She tried to logically recount the possible reasons Hunter might have gone to the apartment. Nothing made any sense.
She shouldn’t be worried for his safety since she knew he could easily disarm two women, one of them old. But uneasiness still tugged at her chest, and fear was inching its way into her mind when she considered the possibility that it had been a setup to draw him into the apartment for Abu and his men. Hunter was an experienced military agent—he would have assessed the threat.
Was there a more innocent reason? She’d like to believe it was innocent, but she read Hunter’s body language. He had gone into the apartment expecting trouble. She would have known if he had called for backup, wouldn’t she?
Maddy went to the locked safe and got out her Glock and one of the many burner cell phones stored there. She noted that Hunter’s Glock was gone. She dialed Forret while she continued to watch the monitors for any further movement from the apartment.
Her breathing quickened into aggressive surges. Her body was pulsing with adrenaline, like a caffeine rush from too many espressos. She recognized the rush—the sweaty palms, the rapid breaths, the racing heart. She was ready to take down whatever shit Hunter had gotten himself into. Taking slow, measured breaths and willing her body to relax, she cracked her neck, trying to relax the taut neck muscles as she waited for Forret to pick up.
“Forret,” came the imperious voice of Homeland Security.
“Forret, this is Jeffers. We might have a situation.”
“Might have. What the hell does that mean?”
She was going to kill Hunter for this phone call once she saved his sorry ass. Why had he broken protocol and gone into the apartment alone? “I have Hunter on the surveillance tape going into the Hammans’ apartment with Abu’s sister, Sadia. According to the time on the tape, he’s been in there a half hour.”
“Go on.” Forret’s voice was calm now, but she knew he was preparing himself for the worst.
“He isn’t answering his phone and he’s taken his Glock.”
“Where were you while he decided to act like the Lone Ranger?”
“I was at class and then delayed by one of my students.”
“Do you have any idea why Hines would do this?”
“No, but by the way he’s moving on the tape, I’d say he was suspicious of the situation.”
“You’re supposed to be the one making contact with the women. It makes no sense. These are observant women who don’t speak to men. Why is he there?”
“Look, if I knew, I wouldn’t have called you. I thought you might know.” Maddy was now getting pissed. It was time to act.
“He’s your partner, and you’re calling me? I should never have okayed you two for this assignment.”
A slow burn of rage was working its way up her body and about to blow out the top of her head.
“Forret, I’m going into the apartment. And you need to put the team on alert. And despite your asshole attitude, Hunter is a top-notch agent. Just do your job. Give me backup.” She ended the call and stormed out of the house.
Chapter Twelve
His first sensation was a razor-sharp pain drilling into the back of his skull. The second was an overwhelming urge to barf up his guts. Disoriented and in agony, Hunter got one eye open. The silent darkness and an overpowering resiny, spicy smell hit him smack in the face. Acid bile rose into his throat, and he gulped against the involuntary spasms.
He closed his eyes and panted through his mouth, willing his body to cooperate. The pungent smells were familiar. Cinnamon and cardamom. Was he back in Afghanistan?
Wanting to fade back into oblivion, he closed his eyes for a brief second. Maddy. His brain jolted wide awake. Where was she? Panic pumped through him. Had they gotten to her? He tried to push to an upright position, but not only were his hands and feet tied, he was also wrapped in something, immobile. From the rough feel against his face and the overwhelming smell of Afghan spices, he surmised that he was wrapped in a dining carpet from Afghanistan.
A rush of faded memories flashed through him in seconds. He had been suspicious when Abu’s sister had appeared at their house, maintaining that a feverish Maddy was vomiting in their apartment. It was a simple ploy, but it had worked—not because he completely accepted the story, but because if they had captured Maddy, he had to rescue her. And he hadn’t been willing to delay because, in either scenario, Maddy needed him. He’d rushed over to the apartment.
He couldn’t move his hand to touch the back of his skull, but he recognized the excruciating throbbing pain of a blunt force injury. Hadn’t he learned anything from his time in Afghanistan? The women could be as fierce as the men. What choice had there been? Maddy was either ill or held hostage. Despite his painful injuries, he still would risk his own safety to rescue Maddy.
He had to get out of here, wherever here was, and find her. She didn’t suspect that the mother and the sister were working with Abu. Did they already have her? He couldn’t allow any thoughts to distract his purpose. One step at a time.
His skull pain and the need to blow his guts were a distraction, but his years of discipline and training kicked him into focus. He brushed his back against the floor, feeling for his gun. They had taken his Glock.
He didn’t know if he had enough space, but he was going to get out of this damn rug and then deal with the next problem of his shackled hands and feet.
&nb
sp; Hunter stiffened his spine and neck and shoved his shoulder forward as hard as he could to roll over. Because his feet were tied together, he had to exert a huge effort to accomplish the smallest awkward progress. He threw himself against the floor. He sucked into the hurt as he rolled flat on his face, pressing into the musty smell with the wool fibers brushing against his nose and lips. He couldn’t be sure this effort wasn’t futile. His next move, going from his stomach to his back, was more difficult and required more focused coordination than brute strength. He scrunched his feet and knees up to lever the weight of his legs and hips and flipped.
Visions of Maddy needing him kept his concentration sharp and him oblivious to the background noise of a piercing headache and nausea. Nothing equaled the tangle of his emotions and fears for Maddy right now. Nothing. The mission where he had been stabbed and left for dead in the Registan desert didn’t come close to the terror gripping him now.
His gyrations told him he was in a larger space than the apartment where he had been whacked. Had they driven him away from the complex? Was he rolled in a carpet to cover their exit from the apartment building?
The final push exacerbated his headache until the pain reverberated in his ears. This last roll left him facedown again, but he was free of the confines of the rug. He quickly rolled to his back, sat up, and checked out the space. He was in a small storage room, about twenty-five square feet, in a damp basement. There were two small windows, neither big enough to allow him to escape. The floor and walls were cement, and on one wall there were computer screens and an array of tech gear—a hell of a lot more than he and Maddy had from the FBI. The enemies were tech rich and violent.
The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series Page 70
