Special Agent Booker

by Mimi Barbour

  “Uh, huh. Used to be where everyone lived at one time. Sloan and his Dad shared that area and Les and I had those two bedrooms. We were a bit crowded but they were the good old days. Until Sloan bought his own house and moved. Then his dad was killed in a car accident, and now it’s just me and ole pain-in-the butt Les.”

  A kitten’s meow cut off their conversation and Kean swiveled in time to see the fluffy tabby jump to the windowsill near the kitchen door. It sat, peering inside, yowling for attention.

  “Awww. It’s a baby cat. It’s so pretty.” Kean’s heart swelled and his excitement grew until he noticed that Roy was watching him. He cooled it, not wanting to seem like a little kid. But cats were special animals. His classmate had brought his to school the other day for Show and Tell, and the cat had been really smart, even came when it was called.

  Roy opened the door and lifted the kitten off its perch. “She’s homeless, the poor little thing, keeps coming around to get fed.” He passed her into Kean’s waiting arms. “She needs a good owner who can look after her.”

  “You can take care of her, can’t you?”

  “Well, you see there’s a slight problem with allergies. Nothing that can’t be handled with some shots, but when you’re dealing with a stubborn jackass, one who’s scared of needles, well… let’s just say, this little girl and I have been keeping our relationship on the sly.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Sloan walked into the Amans’ summer kitchen behind Alia, his embarrassing discomfort likely noticeable after their interaction on the street. Shit, man, you need to get control of this predicament. Tonight… For sure. Jesus!

  He quickly leaned against the side of the couch and crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear nonchalant.

  Janna, unaware of his suffering, called to her husband. “Sam, we have company.” Anya, who had been playing with her toys, spotted Sloan and her tiny face lit up with a huge grin. She scrambled to her feet, fell once and then crawled to him instead. Moving like a speeding train, babbling with joy, she reached up, her intentions clear, and they were instantly obeyed.

  Sloan passed the empty measuring cup over to Alia and gladly picked up the beaming infant, nuzzling her tummy the way she loved and chuckling at her screams of delight.

  Janna spotted the cup in Alia’s hand and reached for it. “I know what you have come to borrow. Your sugar was empty yesterday. You’re very welcome to some of mine.” She hustled to the counter and filled the container and put it on the small table by the doorway.” Then she scurried around, loading the table with mugs and plates. Doilies decorated the table center and there she placed platters of cookies and cakes.

  Sam entered the room and rushed to Sloan, his hand outstretched to shake and welcome his neighbor. “Please come in. Faisal, take your sister for her nap.” The boy collected the little girl from Sloan’s arms and ignored her wails of dismay. Once Anya saw the bottle her mom held out, she reached for it and settled right down while her brother took her from the room.

  To Sloan, Janna appeared anxious, even nervous, as did Sam. Wanting to reassure, he admitted. “Yes. We’re out of sugar and I’ve come begging. But please don’t fuss.” He pointed to the small suitcases by the entrance. “You have company. We’ll leave you to your guests.”

  “Nonsense. You must meet my niece and nephew, right, Sam?”

  “Of course. Dina, go and ask your cousins to come and join us.” Sam touched his five-year-old on her shoulder and she rushed from the room.

  A few seconds later, a twenty-something man entered, walking in front of a young woman. His skin was dark, hair black and his mahogany eyes appeared furtive, almost shifty.

  Sam made the introductions, and Sloan reacted as he would with any stranger he’d just met. But Yasir hesitated before shaking hands. He wouldn’t look at Sloan. The floor held more interest.

  When Alia stepped forward, Yasir nodded, and then brushed rudely past her and took a seat at the table.

  Leah, the young woman who’d followed held more interest for Sloan. She looked like her brother but with one difference: her eyes held hatred, cold and simple. She didn’t like him, and he instinctively returned the sentiment. What a disagreeable witch! She was nothing like her aunt, who was showing her discomfort by talking much louder than normal.

  “Please, everyone sit.” Janna gently led Alia to the chair next to her and graciously pulled it out for her guest.

  Sam, anger covering his face at the disrespect shown to his neighbors, followed and sat next to Sloan. The other two guests slumped into their seats next to Alia and began conversing in their own language.

  Janna fussed, making sure that everyone had a chance to select some baked goodies. She blushed at the obvious disrespect of her family, and Sloan applauded Alia’s attempts to open a conversation with Yasir and Leah.

  “Are you here for a long visit, Yasir?”

  “Two weeks. We have time off from our jobs.”

  Alia continued, still trying hard to make a connection. “I hope you get to see as much of Hawaii as you can during your stay. The island is beautiful.”

  “Yes.”

  The following silence was wrought with discomfort. Leah began talking with Yasir in their own language, their voices low, leaving the others out of the conversation.

  Suddenly Sam banged his fist down hard. The contents on the table rattled and Janna’s expressed dismay rang in the silence. “We will speak in English. That is the language of this country, and we will respect it. Understood?”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Both his relatives spoke together, their disrespect appearing on their faces rather than in the tones of their voices.

  “Now, pass the plates and let us eat.”

  Sloan let Sam lead him into conversation, but all the while he watched the others. Yasir and Leah ignored attempts from their aunt to draw them out by answering in terse, short sentences. Within a short time, they thanked their aunt for the food, excused themselves and left the room.

  Janna had the last word on the subject. “I’m very sorry for my niece and nephew’s bad manners. Truly, they are like strangers to me. Once we married, my brother and I didn’t live close and we seldom saw each other. I’m sure after they have a sleep and recuperate from the long flight, they will behave better.”

  Sloan knew that Sam had felt offended by their behavior and disgraced by the pair, and he wished to smooth things over. But he wasn’t sure how to go about doing so without appearing rude.

  Thankfully, Alia knew exactly what to say.

  “Please. You mustn’t be annoyed with them. They’re new to the U.S. and maybe they’ve heard misleading information about how we live. Let them experience for themselves that most people here on the Islands are kind and friendly. No doubt, they will go home with a completely different attitude.”

  Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Janna’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears and she reached across for her husband’s hand. “You see, Sam. It will all work out fine. We must have patience.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Alia stepped out of the house first, waved one last time and turned to Sloan. As they made their way across the street, she whispered. “We’ll need the car tonight.”

  “Seriously, what did they say?”

  “Those two rascals are up to no good. They’re being picked up and going to a meeting, where they’ll be assigned some sort of equipment. I couldn’t hear everything they said, but it’s true that they have connections in Honolulu, and there’s mischief brewing.”

  “Okay. I’ll get the car and park it around the corner so when they leave, they won’t pick up on our tail.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Guess we’ll be needing Roy to babysit then.”

  “Guess so.” She grinned up at him, interest glowing in her teasing look.

  Accepting her invitation, he rushed her into the house, or at least it seemed that way. Once the door closed, he had her in his arms and his lips were taking full advantage o
f her surprise, her open mouth and her willingness to play.

  “I can’t get enough of this, of you, your taste…”

  “You like me.”

  “Now you sound like your son.”

  She laughed, her lips moving against his. And she felt his grin form too. They stood there, lips glued together, smiling and it was a sweet moment. “Sugar.”

  “Yes?”

  “Not you. The sugar. You’re spilling it.”

  She jumped away and righted the mug, her expression of dismay comical once she spied the white granules spread over the tiles. “Oh, no. What a mess? I’m sorry. Where’s your broom? I’ll clean it up.”

  “Leave it, who cares about a bit of mess? Come here.” He yanked her back into his arms. He was gentle, yet forceful.

  “You do.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says Don, Roy, Les —”

  “Big-mouthed bastards. I’m not that bad.”

  “OCD was the term they warned me with.”

  “Okay, I’m a little fussy, sometimes. But at this exact moment, I seem to have overcome my psychosis.” He nuzzled her neck and worked at her ear, kissing and sucking the lobe into his hot mouth. Then he whispered, “The only sugar I want to pick up is you—and put you in my bed, naked and willing.”

  She couldn’t have stopped her moan of agreement even if she’d tried. “We can’t.”

  “Yes we can.” His hands travelled to her bare legs and then cradled her ass. Seconds later, he lifted her close to him as he rubbed against her body.

  “No.”

  As if she’d spilled ice water over his head, he wrenched back and glared. “No? Are you kidding me?”

  “No. You don’t understand. Yasir and Leah are being picked up in a few minutes.”

  “Aw, fuck.” He actually whined.

  She laughed. Her lover sounded exactly the way she felt. “Sorry, bro. We’ve got to get out of here now and set up around the corner if we’re going to tail them.”

  He kissed her hard once more and, as if he couldn’t help himself, he did it yet again. Then turned her toward the garage door and slapped her gently on the ass. “Let’s go. And enough with the ‘bro.’ Instead, start figuring out how you’re going to explain our close relationship to your son.”

  ***

  Alia went to follow Sloan to where he stored the car, but hesitated at the door.

  “What’s up?” He saw her stop.

  “Wait here for a second. I’m going to get my firearm. You never know what we might be heading into. I’ve learned over time not to go unprepared.”

  “Right. I keep a spare in the glove box.”

  She joined him a few minutes later in the vehicle, this time wearing her uniform yoga pants and a black island T-shirt, her hair swept back in a ponytail.

  “Whoa. You look different; all businesslike now.”

  “Yeah. Well, it’s best not to stand out too much from the crowd. Don’t know where we’ll end up, so just taking precautions.”

  He looked down at himself. His shorts were navy but the golf shirt was white. He reached into the seat behind and whipped out an article of clothing. She couldn’t make out what it was until he shrugged out of his shirt.

  His muscles gleamed in the light of the garage and his tanned skin had her fingers itching to touch. Good Lord, the man was well built. Saliva pooled in her mouth and she swallowed rapidly. Then gripped her fingers to stop from following her instincts to touch and caress.

  “Quit looking at me like that.” He quickly donned the black golf-shirt with the word Booker’s embroidered discreetly in white on the pocket.

  “Like what?” Dazed, she’d heard the words but hadn’t taken in the meaning.

  “Like you want to eat me.” Voice husky, he pushed the lever that opened the garage door and started the car, winking at her before putting it in reverse.

  “I do.” Too much! Back off, or he’ll get the wrong impression and think you’re needy. “I mean, I am?” This time she formed a question, and made it sound like it was an outrageous thing for him to say. “Looking at you like that? You exaggerate. How can you think I’d want to eat you?”

  Sloan chuckled. “Methinks the chick doth protest a whole lot more than she really needs to.”

  “That’s just silly.” Did her voice sound as squeaky to him as it did to her?

  “Not to me. I’m planning to do the same to you just as soon as we can get some privacy.”

  A gush of moisture pooled low down, and she squirmed from the image she’d visualized. “Stop talking like that. It – it’s annoying.”

  Sloan chuckled and headed around the corner to park under a palm tree. Once stopped, he reached for her hand and twined his fingers around it, swallowing hers in his large palm.

  Both stared at their joined hands. He swiveled his palm so he could rub the skin gently, stroking it in such a tender way as to wrench her heart right out of its normal place and rev it up to where she couldn’t breathe.

  She knew it was foolish but she imagined swirls of energy around their connection and wondered if he felt the same.

  “You don’t wear any rings.”

  “Not since my divorce six years ago.”

  “Was it an amicable separation?”

  “Yes… No. I don’t know. I guess it was.” She pulled back but he held on. “Paul, my husband, Kean’s father, couldn’t have cared less about me leaving him. He was so wrapped up in his job, we didn’t matter. At all. In fact, I have no doubt he was glad to see us go, even signed over full custody of Kean without making any demands.”

  “Were you still in love with him?” Sloan switched his gaze from checking the street to looking at her, measuring her reaction to his question.

  “Good God, no. He wasn’t easy to love. A narcissist like him takes care of that all on his own. He’d become closely associated with the type of people I wasn’t comfortable with. Unless I was arresting them, that is.”

  “He’s broken the law?”

  “Let’s just say he skims very close to the edge. He’s a contractor and pays off a lot of scumbags to keep the filth from rubbing off on his thousand- dollar, silk suits.”

  “Sounds pretty much the opposite of my kind of dude.”

  Considering that Alia had only seen Sloan in a suit once, the shoulders ill-fitting and the jacket creased, no tie and his shirt open-collared, she could truthfully agree. “No. He’s not up to your standard whatsoever.”

  His eyes narrowed as he read her expression. She hoped he’d recognize her sincerity because she wasn’t too good at giving compliments. But this was the pure, unaltered truth. There wasn’t a hope in hell for Paul to ever be half the man that Sloan Booker was. Not now, not ever.

  “I hope you mean that in a good way.”

  “Are you soliciting compliments?”

  “Yeah. I need to know the lady’s feeling some of this crazy-assed shit that’s been blowing my mind ever since I met her.”

  “Crazy-assed shit” Alia laughed. His voice had expressed a whole different feeling than his words had spoken. “Is that supposed to be good or… not-so good?”

  “Baby, it’s beautiful and we both know it.” Just then a car drove by and stopped across the street from his house. He squeezed her hand hard before letting it go. “Remember where we left off.” He put the car in gear, and they both watched as the two young Pakistanis walked away from their distraught aunt who had followed them to the curb.

  Alia edged forward in her seat. “Friggin’, shittin’ hell. We can’t follow them until Janna goes back into the house, or she’ll recognize the car.”

  “I know.” He sat ready. “What was that you just said? It’s an expression you use frequently.” The laughter in his voice made her grin.

  “I don’t know. It’s just an expression I say whenever shit happens.”

  “And it just did. Can you read their license plates?”

  “Not from this far away.”

  “Okay, I’m going to circle
over to the next block and try and pick up the trail from there. Hold on.”

  Sloan pulled a wheelie, actually riding over the curb, and headed to the intersection just ahead. Then he took a right and flew up that street, only to be forced to stop when a car pulled out of their driveway and cut him off. The white-haired oldie took so long angling the car around to head in the right direction that Alia found herself grinding her teeth with vexation.

  Finally, the old guy straightened the car enough so Sloan could pass him. As they flew by, she ignored the open mouth and waving fist, though she had no doubt the poor senior had gotten a fright.

  Sloan sped around the stop sign, took another right and headed to that corner, only to see the empty street and Janna entering her house. He quickly headed in the direction Yasir and Leah’s friends had most likely taken, but there were no vehicles anywhere in sight. By the time he’d reversed, that road too was empty.

  “We lost them.”

  “I know.” She groaned with frustration.

  “Blasted old fart just had to leave at that exact time.”

  “Go figure. But there was nothing you could do.”

  He hit the steering wheel. “That’s what makes it so damn frustrating.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  “Where are we going?” Alia knew Sloan was upset. Hell, she felt the same. They had screwed up on their first task and it didn’t sit well with her at all.

  Sloan turned her way and answered. “First I’m going to the office and get a couple of microphones that we can plant in the room where those two are staying. Sam said they opted to take the guest suite off the summer kitchen and wanted to sleep in the bunk beds there.”

  “I remember they both came out of the same room when Dina called them earlier.”

  “I figure if one of us can get in there and plant the tap, you can listen to their conversations and we can get a better idea of what we’re up against. I know that Homeland can’t step on toes when trying to get intel about possible suspects, but it’s hard to fathom that those two mixed-up young people are involved in espionage or terrorism.”