by KaLyn Cooper
“Gwen.” He waited for her to look at him.
Moving only her head, she glared at him over her shoulder. “What?”
“How often do the boys come in?” he repeated.
“About two to three times a week.”
Good. He waited for her to continue but she turned back to watch Quin. Well, damn. This was going to be a hostile interrogation.
In a stern, slightly louder voice, he asked, “When were they here last?”
She obviously read him correctly and turned slightly this time. “What you really want to know is when do I expect them next.” Her lips were a tight thin line.
“Do you think they might come in tonight?” Jonathan asked as politely as his tense body would allow.
“Probably.” Her voice lost its sharp edge. “Unless they caught onto me.” Her shoulders fell. “They haven’t been here in a few days.”
“Excellent.” Quin handed her phone back. “What time do they come in? I’d like to have a few of my men around to follow them so we can get addresses. It would really help to know who we’re dealing with.”
“You can do that?” she asked.
Quin’s smile was reassuring. “Yes. They’ll never know they’re being followed.”
“Two Westerns,” the waitress stepped up to the empty side of the table and served. “More coffee?” she asked nodding to the nearly empty pot.
“Yes, please, Mandi,” Gwen instructed as the two men dug into what Jonathan considered the best food in all of Dallas.
When the girl was out of earshot, Gwen said. “After school, around three forty-five.” She sipped her coffee. “Do you want me to call you when they come in?”
“No.” Quin and Jonathan said in unison.
“We’ll take it from here,” Quin explained. “I’ll have my men positioned in the area so the kids will never know they’re being followed.”
Mandi dropped off a fresh pot and tended to Viola and Gladys who had parked their aging bodies in a booth up front.
“What if they don’t come in this afternoon? You’ll have wasted…I’m sure your men have better things to do than hang around—”
“We’ll consider it a training exercise.” Then Quin added, “Until the boys show up. You don’t think those kids are armed, do you?” All three knew that back in the Middle East, especially in areas deep in unrest, they probably had carried rifles and pistols, and knew how to use them.
“No, they talk about older siblings, uncles, fathers, friends of their parents being involved,” she reassured them. She thought for a moment and added, “They almost seem disgruntled that they aren’t part of it.” She huffed out a breath. “That’s what is so frustrating. I have no idea what it is. They all seem to know but won’t say out loud.”
Quin leaned in. “Gwen, you have given us so much more than you will ever believe. As far as we know, a terrorist action happening in Dallas next week wasn’t even on Homeland’s radar.”
Jonathan caught her glancing in his direction.
Apologetically, she said, “I was going to show you what I had and ask what you thought...”
“I’m sorry, Gwen.” And he regretted what he had to do all the way to his boots. He laid his hand over hers and was thrilled when she didn’t jerk it away.
“I need to make arrangements for a surveillance team.” Quin wiped his mouth and rose. “Take your time, Jonathan. I’ll see you back in the office and we’ll strategize.”
“Thanks, Quin.” His boss was a smart man.
When he’d left, Jonathan tried to explain, hoping the knot in his stomach would ease. “I really enjoyed last night, supper, the rooftop, everything.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear, “And especially being with you upstairs.”
She glanced away then back to him. “I had a good time, too.” Then she smiled. “No one has ever romanced me the way you did. You blew me away. Then…”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t sure what…if you were involved—”
She stiffened under his grasp. “I wasn’t, and now you know.”
“Yeah, now I know what a wonderful woman you are, willing to put yourself out there to continue to protect the United States.” He sighed. “Fuck, Gwen, you took one hell of a chance. If those boys knew you were onto them or their families, they’d run home and your name would be at the top of the cell’s kill list.” He wanted to wrap this brave woman in his arms and protect her forever.
“Do you think I am?” She rolled her hand over and squeezed his.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think they have any idea. So let’s keep it that way. Let us take over from here.” He made his decision right then. He’d be inside the diner when those kids arrived.
“I’ll be back this afternoon.” He looked at their joined hands and felt the heat coursing through his body. “Feel it? The connection we have?”
Staring into her eyes, he saw the moment she admitted it.
Yes. He mentally fist pumped. “I’d like to see you again. Not just this afternoon on the stake out, but to take you out again.”
“We’ll see.” She gave his hand one last squeeze and stood up. “I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
Jonathan stuffed the last bites of his omelet into his mouth. He wasn’t going to let food this good go to waste. Finishing off his coffee, he stood, threw a few bills on the table for Mandi and headed out.
“Is your company doing the security for the American Airlines dedication?” Gladys asked as he passed their table. “American usually hires on a few extra guards when they have an event like that.”
Before he could explain that Guardian didn’t have those kind of guards, it struck him what she’d said.
“Big ta-dos, you know.” Viola leaned toward him and conspiratorially lowered her voice. “They say even the governor is coming but don’t want to announce it. Crowd control, you know.”
“That Greg Abbott is so cute.” Gladys grinned ear to ear. “He looks like Dr. Kildare from that TV show, back in the day.”
“So what’s this about American Airlines?” Jonathan tried to interrupt.
“No,” Viola corrected, “he looks like Richard Chamberlain.”
Gladys rolled her eyes so dramatically Jonathan thought her eyebrows were going to touch her hair, which was…he had to look twice to be sure…yes, that was definitely purple. “Same person. Richard Chamberlain played Dr. Kildare.”
“Excuse me, ladies, but I haven’t heard about this.” He set his hand on the table garnering their attention.
Gladys smiled up at him with teeth too perfect to be real. “My second husband, Henry, God rest his soul—”
“God isn’t going to give Henry any peace,” Viola interrupted. “Because the man is burning in hell and should be for all that cheating lounge lizard put you through. He thought he was such a big shot, Director of Security at American Airlines. The only thing the man did was direct his fingers, tongue, and dick into as many women as possible. He brought new meaning to the term cavity search. And I’m too old to think about what other orifices he searched that way.”
Jonathan didn’t know whether to laugh or just walk away and find some mind bleach, if there was such a thing.
“He wasn’t all that bad, and besides, he was wonderful in bed. You’re just jealous because your Charlie always seemed to get called out at night to go deal with Ranger stuff.”
“I’ll have you know that Charlie and I had an excellent sexual relationship up until he had his third heart attack.” She cocked her head. “We even had sex before the doctor said we could after his bypass surgery”
Oh my fucking God. Talk about too much information. Before the women started comparing dick sizes of their husbands, Jonathan said loudly, “Ladies. Can one of you tell me,” he smiled now that they were both looking at him, “please, what’s happening at American Airlines and when.”
“Well, next—”
“See, they’re—”
They both spoke at once so Jona
than held up his hand. He looked at Gladys. “You first.”
“Well, you know that American merged with US Air a few months ago and that old headquarters just wasn’t big enough for everyone, so they blew it up last May.”
“Kaboom.” Viola threw her arms into the air. “It was glorious, and we had front row seats.”
Gladys glared at her. “Thanks to me being the widow of Henry.”
“That doesn’t change what he was,” Viola countered.
“Ladies. Ladies.” He finally got their attention again. “The American Airlines event?”
“Yes, well, as I said, American merged with—”
“He already knows all that.” Viola leaned on the table. “They built these new towers and they’re dedicating them Friday, in the heat of the day.”
“What time?” Jonathan quipped.
Gladys dug in her purse, pulled out a wallet and laid it on the table. Next came a folder of pictures. “Would you like to see my children? I have six and a half grandchildren.” She started to open the thick album.
“Thank you, Gladys, but I’m late for getting back to work,” he lied. “Perhaps another time. Speaking of time, what time is the ceremony?”
“Oh, here it is.” She whipped out the invitation. “Two o’clock.”
“In the damned heat of the day,” Viola complained.
“Quit your bitchin’,” Gladys chastised. “At least we get to wait inside the training and conference center, then ride through the tunnels to the ceremony.”
“But we’re still outside for the ceremony,” Viola retorted.
“Tunnels?” Jonathan needed to know about those. They’d probably be able to get the building schematics but one never knew. And who’d look for tunnels?
“Yes,” Gladys explained. “There are tunnels connecting all the buildings. It’s a very large complex, you know.”
“But it’s so pretty out there,” Viola added. “It has all these trees, a stream—”
“It really is a very nice area.” Gladys raised one eyebrow. “If your guards are going to protect the place, I would have thought someone as important as you would have been out there and looked things over.”
Rather than try to explain, he smiled at the two elderly ladies. “I think I’ll go do that right now.”
Chapter 11
Gwen had been a bitch. She felt bad about the way she’d treated Jonathan. He had taken the information and run with it. Sure, she wasn’t happy how he’d obtained it, but she’d sat on the sidelines wringing her hands. She knew better. Every tidbit she passed on while overseas could save lives and the same went here in the USA. She’d fallen into the same mindset of that-can’t-happen-here as most Americans. But another 9/11 could happen, right there in Dallas.
She owed Jonathan and vowed to make it up to him. She liked him, and he seemed to be one of the good ones. She’d dated enough toads to know.
Yesterday afternoon he and Quin sat for two hours drinking coffee, covertly watching the door. Unfortunately, the refugee boys hadn’t shown. Their pictures had been sent to Homeland, but it was too soon to know anything. She wasn’t sure they’d tell her when, and if, they found out anything.
Maybe the teens would show today. Gwen wasn’t sure Jonathan would since it was supposed to be his day off. Midafternoon, Jonathan and a rather tall man, both wearing jeans and western shirts, entered the diner and took over the same table as he and Quin had the day before. This time, they had papers and truly looked like they were discussing work.
Jacki waited on them and pie was added to their coffee order, but he hadn’t requested her. Damn it. Well, she didn’t need an invitation. It was her diner, at least until her aunt and uncle returned, so she’d just check on them to be sure their service and food was adequate, like managers and chefs did in fancy restaurants.
She pasted on a smile, not that smiling at Jonathan was a chore at all, and strode to their table. “How is everything? You two doing all right?”
Her gaze automatically tracked to Jonathan. “Perfect, Gwen. This is Griffin Mitchel, the manager at our Miami office. He’s flown in to help us out for a few days.”
Message received. Guardian was calling in reinforcements at the highest levels.
“Oh, that’s nice.” She held out her hand. “Gwen Shaw, temporary manager of this fine eatery.” She cocked her head and looked at Jonathan. “Didn’t you just transfer here from Miami?”
Griffin smiled as though in recognition and Gwen leaned on her back foot. Wow. The dark and broody man transformed into a male escort, beyond handsome with a rugged side to him. She could see him dressed in leathers straddling a Harley.
“Gwen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” When Griffin stood, she had to look up, and up some more. He stood a few inches above six feet, with linebacker shoulders, making her feel petite. He glanced around then lowered his voice. “You have helped our country more than you can believe. I’m not at liberty to expound, but know, your translation skills have most likely saved hundreds of lives.”
Shocked, she straightened, as though her commanding officer had just pinned a bronze star on her uniform. “Really?” Her voice broke on the single word.
“Yes,” Jonathan assured as he moved beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a possessive move. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her temple. When he pulled back, she saw the miniscule earbud.
Giggling girls broke the spell. All gazes flew to the door where plaid and pony tails filled the entrance.
“Hi, girls,” Jacki greeted and nodded toward the back of the dining area. “Go ahead. I’ll be over in a second.” She finished the silverware she was rolling. “You want menus?”
A chorus of “No, thank you,” filled the air as they passed Gwen and the two men.
She glanced out the large windows facing the street and saw the local high school boys. A few feet behind them were five Middle Eastern youth. “Show time,” she announced quietly and unfastened her apron. Hurrying her steps, she grabbed her computer from under the counter and planted her butt on a round stool seconds before the boys entered.
After ordering, the boys complained in Arabic for fifteen minutes about their overbearing parents. They hadn’t been allowed out of the house except for school, until that afternoon.
“You would think we had done something wrong,” one boy protested. “They worry the Americans will discover their plans and deport us before they can finish the caliphate’s plan.”
From the mirror, Gwen saw that was who she now referred to as number two.
“By this time next week, these American pigs will know the power of Allah and IS,” the scar-faced boy said with pride.
Gwen didn’t have time to think about the statement. All her concentration was on the conversation.
“American Airlines will pay for its failure fifteen years ago,” boy number three declared. “And al Qaida will see how the true caliphate—” Makes things happen? Gwen wasn’t sure what the boy’s words meant. Dialect could be a bitch kitty.
“My Uncle Aqil is so clever. No one will ever find the bombs.”
Gwen was so stunned by the declaration she forgot to look to see which boy had said that. Damn it. Focus. But they had a name. Finally.
“Your Uncle Aqil is so old he probably can’t remember where he put them all.”
Gwen looked up in time to see that was number two talking.
“He has lived in America too long,” number three said. “He smokes. So smelly.”
“That’s part of his blanket,” number one said.
No, not blanket, cover. The man had been here undercover.
“Here you go boys,” Jacki’s friendly voice broke the conversation.
“Thank you,” many said in English.
“More soda?” the waitress asked.
“Yes, please,” numbers two and three said.
“I’ll be right back with those.” Jacki was so good with everyone.
“Boys,” scar-face
said in English then switched to Arabic. “I am a man and would show her, over and over again.”
All the boys looked at Jacki, laughing and leering.
Gwen’s blood ran cold. Would they try to kidnap her? She’d feared something like that since the first time they’d come in and bragged about having sex.
Then she got mad. No. She would stop their families and get the lot of them deported out of this country. She was all for helping peaceful Muslims. During her off hours in Afghanistan, she assisted with healthcare in dozens of villages. She couldn’t count how many inoculations she’d given, cuts she’d cleaned and bandaged, or surgeries she’d helped with. She knew there were thousands of refugees in the USA fleeing the abuse and starvation from too many years of war, wanting a better life for their children.
Then there were those bent on the destruction of the American way of life. They needed to be identified and removed.
Gwen studied her computer screen. She was going to stop these men.
When the boys left ten minutes later, she never saw the Guardian men follow them. They were good. Really good.
Jonathan sat down on one side of her and Griffin on the other, saying nothing. She moved her screen so they could see.
“Holy, fuck,” Griffin whispered as she slowly scrolled through her notes.
A few clicks later, she handed Jonathan a flash drive. “At least we have a name.”
“And soon we’ll have five addresses.” Jonathan smiled at her. “Two are already being processed.”
“They live that close?” It had only been a few minutes. The possibilities of what they could do to the girls who worked for her made her shudder. She immediately instituted a new policy. No one walked out alone, no one went home alone. Hell, if she had to, she’d tap all the cops who ate there regularly to escort her employees home. This could get really ugly.
Jonathan must have heard the distress in her voice. He slid his arm over her back and pulled her toward him. He smelled like spice and man. Memories of the two of them together in bed, the way he’d wanted her, made her feel, pushed out the fear that had been building inside.
