6
8:30 AM
Adeel Shah had spent the previous night tossing and turning on the cot in the basement of Sultan’s Feast Restaurant. He’d sought refuge in the basement as he waited for Hazeem’s phone call and any other orders that he might receive.
His brother, Suliman Shah, turned a blind eye to Adeel’s hobbies and allowed him to use the basement for storage and meetings as long as Suliman didn’t have to get involved. Adeel hated that Suliman was a coward and stayed out of the never-ending war that ravaged their homeland. Even though Suliman hated the wars that destroyed the home of his ancestors, he wasn’t willing to join the fight. Suliman enjoyed his life in America. He’d embraced the American dream and now owned his own restaurant, Sultan’s Feast. But Adeel hadn’t been able to so easily forget his roots. Adeel lost cousins and nephews in the wars that plagued his homeland. And now, in retribution, he was bringing the fight to the Americans on their soil.
Adeel swung his legs over the side of the cot and looked at his watch. It was after 8:30 a.m. Hazeem should have contacted him hours ago to let him know that the bombs had been successfully planted at Savage Security. Hazeem would then wait for the men from Savage Security to show up for work and then detonate the bombs. But Hazeem hadn’t called to confirm his success.
Adeel’s stomach twisted on the fear that Hazeem had failed. If he’d been captured, would he talk? Would Adeel and his family be safe? Or perhaps Hazeem set the bombs and then enjoyed the evening with the pretty woman. He smiled as he imagined how nice it would be to settle himself between her legs.
Then, with a twinge of guilt, Adeel thought of his wife, Amani. She hated the wars too. She wanted peace for her people, but she still didn’t agree with Adeel’s plan. Not that he told her much.
Amani believed that war after war would never bring peace. She was too kind. She believed in forgiveness and love. Those qualities matched her feminine constitution, but Adeel couldn’t indulge in those womanly ideals and fantasy. Rage and vengeance took up too much of his heart.
Standing, Adeel rubbed his hand over his splotchy, salt-and-pepper beard and trudged up the stairs to the restaurant. From the way things looked, he needed to don the mantle of courage and do his part. He’d have to go to Savage Security and detonate the bombs, which Hazeem had hopefully planted. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was the best he could do. They’d already agreed that if something happened to Hazeem, that it would be his responsibility to carry out the destruction of the men who’d unleashed death on his homeland.
Sounds of a knife rhythmically clacking against a cutting board and Arabic music filtered through the hallway. Adeel pushed open the swinging door and stepped into the restaurant’s kitchen.
“Morning,” Suliman bit out as he chopped vegetables at the island. The kitchen was his place of solitude. He did most of the prep for the lunch and dinner rushes himself in the quiet morning hours, and he didn’t appreciate his brother messing with the positive vibe he wanted flowing through his restaurant. He didn’t know the particulars of Adeel’s business with Hazeem and the beautiful woman, but he knew that Adeel was up to no good.
Suliman had instantly disliked Hazeem when he’d met him. It always annoyed Suliman when white people took on Middle Eastern names. What were they trying to prove by shucking their parent-given name? Why were they masquerading as someone they were not? A name didn’t make one a good Muslim. In his opinion it showed a disrespect for their own heritage. Besides, he didn’t trust chameleons.
Glancing at his brother as he continued to chop, he hoped that he wouldn’t be dragged into whatever mess threatened to pull Adeel under. He had no plans of moving to the Caribbean at Uncle Sam’s expense.
With cautious eyes Suliman asked, “Did you sleep well?” He knew Adeel didn’t sleep on the cot in the basement because of a fight with Amani, but he allowed Adeel the lie.
The pleasant scent of pita bread filled the room and lured Adeel to the counter. He came to a stop across the island from his brother. Picking up a piece of pita bread, he ripped off a section. Stuffing it in his mouth, he mumbled, “Yes.” Swallowing, he finished, “Thanks for letting me stay here.” He tore off another piece of soft bread and stuffed it into his mouth, but it turned to rocks in his stomach. Nerves ruined his appetite and festered in him, churning his gut.
Suliman’s hands moved quickly as he chopped the peppers into tiny bits. He glanced quickly at his brother before scooping the peppers into his hands and tossing them into a bowl. “Will you call Amani this morning?” he asked, lifting a brow.
Amani? “Why should I do that?” Adeel replied with a shrug. He had more important things on his mind. Sometimes his brother was a nuisance.
Disappointment weighed heavily on Suliman. “Was it not your fight that caused you to sleep on a cot in my restaurant?” He didn’t want to know the truth. He allowed the guns and ammunition to be held in the basement because he feared for his family. Sometimes standing up to the wrong people had unfortunate consequences. Maybe that made him a coward. He wasn’t sure. But he knew for sure that he didn’t want to anger the wrong people. He hated Adeel for bringing him into the mess. He just wanted to be left alone to live in peace.
Oh yeah, Amani. Adeel’s nerves were throwing him off balance. “I will do better than call. I will go see her.” Adeel pointed at his brother with an air of confidence and then ripped off another chunk of the soft bread. After I detonate the bombs. Would the whole building crumble? Probably not, but he would see bloodshed. Perhaps the news reporters would compare this to the federal building bombing in Oklahoma during the 90s.
Although Adeel would never reveal his part in the bombing to his wife, he would hold the secret of his bravery to himself and those involved in their cause. They traversed a deadly path. There were many who were like his brother, enjoying the pleasures and wealth of civilization when they should be warriors in the battle. With a grunt, he said, “I’ll talk to you later,” and walked out of the kitchen.
Relief washed over Suliman when Adeel left. Picking up his cell, he called his wife, Mariam, and told her to meet him at the restaurant. She usually worked side-by-side with him, but when Adeel asked to sleep in the basement the previous night, he didn’t want her at Sultan’s Feast in the morning. He didn’t like some of the men who came to his restaurant calling themselves Adeel’s friends. Even though Adeel and his friends always met in the basement, they still scared Suliman, and he didn’t want Mariam in their sights.
Adeel pulled his coat tighter around his neck as he exited the restaurant and made his way to his car. It was an old, beat-up Nissan, but it was paid for, which made it priceless. Turning up the heat, he drove to the other side of Carrisburg and circled the big office building that housed Savage Security.
Pulling into a parking space, he turned off the engine and rested his hands on the steering wheel. The early morning sun reflected off the glass walls like brilliant crystals. Adeel was both impressed and blinded by the beauty before him. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was 9:00. People slowly wandered across the parking lot and into the building as the work day began. Some people carried briefcases or wore backpacks, while others talked on their cell phones.
He snorted with disgust. Americans were clueless. They lived in relative safety and didn’t bother observing their surroundings for danger. They’d lock eyes on the tiny screen in their hand and never know the killer next to them. Adeel didn’t know how that kind of peace felt. He’d lived in the bombed-out sections of cities filled with armed men patrolling the area. He had no concept of safety. The notion made him twitchy.
Scanning the parking lot, he instantly recognized two of the men that walked towards the building. The big black man was Tyson Smith. The pale redhead was Ryan Marks. He’d followed them for a short time to compile a dossier on them, which he then handed over to Hazeem. His connections had confirmed that they’d been involved in covert operations during their time in the military. Their very presence was daunting
. But this morning, they weren’t dressed in their usual work attire. They wore faded jeans and what looked like casual t-shirts under their open leather jackets.
Adeel knew that was a bad sign. Although the men were typically casually dressed, they always wore Henleys or a collared shirt with Dockers. He gave them a few minutes to get into their office, then he picked up his cell. He wasn’t sure how many of the Savage Security personnel were in the building, but he knew at least two would die when that side of the building collapsed. His fingers twitched as he tapped out the number on the cell phone and hit call.
He stared at the building, not sure how long it would take for the first bomb to blow and trigger the other bombs. His heart pounded against his ribs as if it would burst from his chest. A sticky film of sweat covered his palms. He forgot to breathe as he waited for the deafening explosion and subsequent rain of twisted metal, glass, and ash to burst from the building.
Nothing happened.
He gasped in a breath of air and slid a piece of paper out of his pocket. He’d memorized the number, but he wanted to confirm that he’d tapped out the correct numbers. The bombs had to be there. There was no way that Hazeem had failed.
He tapped out the numbers again and prayed for an explosion.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck!” he cursed and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Had the bombs been discovered? Where was Hazeem? Did the bastards have him?
He tossed the cell onto the passenger seat beside him. Staring at the building, he squeezed the steering wheel as if he could squeeze the life from the men by sheer will. His short nails bit into the flesh of his palms.
He needed to kill them… someone… anyone. If he failed, he’d look like a fool to the others in his group.
Adeel wiped his hand across his sweaty brow. Although it was cold, his nerves messed with his body and set a fire deep within him. He thought about what he knew. First, Hazeem had not contacted him. Second, the bombs did not go off. From there he had to assume that Hazeem and the bombs had been discovered. How that happened, he had no clue. Hazeem’s plan of using the woman at Savage Security had been brilliant. She didn’t have the training or the skills to out-think or overpower Hazeem. How had Hazeem been captured?
7
Dr. Quinn stood and lifted his suit jacket from the back of the chair. Folding it over one arm, he used his free hand to dig into one of the pockets. His fingers sought out the little bottle, and he pulled it out. He held it between his index finger and thumb for Hazeem to see. Shaking it gently, the pills rattled against the plastic sides of the container.
Suit cleared his throat and draped his jacket over the chair again. “I have to say, Eric…”
“My name is Hazeem Ali,” Eric interrupted, pissed that the old man kept calling him Eric.
Dr. Quinn continued, “So far you haven’t been very helpful.” Taking his seat again, he set the pills on the table, just out of Hazeem’s reach.
Hazeem glared at the old man. They’d asked him so many questions about the terror cell that lies were merging with truths, and he was having trouble keeping his story straight.
Sweat covered him, dripped down his forehead and stung his eyes, yet his body shook with chills. His shoulders burned and throbbed where they’d removed the bullets. A ravaging fire licked down his arms while the metal cuffs chafed his wrists.
Taylor never tired of watching assholes like Eric, or Hazeem, or whatever the fuck he called himself, suffer. They purposely spread disaster and pain, and there was something cathartic about watching karma bite them in the ass.
Hazeem craned his head and looked at the wooly beast beside him. Hatred for the power and confidence the man oozed sickened him. Wooly stood there, staring at him with the indifference of a monster. He knew that Wooly kept his beard scruffy, puffed his chest out, and twitched his arm muscles to intimidate him. “What are you looking at?” he screamed at Wooly.
Wooly knew his calm demeanor was rattling Hazeem. It always did. Displaying a lack of emotion always frightened the prisoner. They felt as if anything could happen, and that unpredictability horrified them. They didn’t trust the look of indifference. It was too threatening, even more so than when anger was displayed. Anger they understood.
Wooly stood there silent, his face unmoving. He kept his breaths shallow. His chest hardly rose with each intake of air as his eyes cut through Hazeem.
Hazeem swallowed hard and shot his glance back to Suit.
Dr. Quinn cleared his throat and tilted his head to the side. “I know you’re in pain.” He motioned towards Hazeem. “Look at you, you’re shaking. The pain must be nauseating. You don’t need to suffer like this.” He tapped the top of the pill bottle. “These will ease your suffering. All you have to do is give us a few names.”
Hazeem’s vision blurred as he stared at the bottle. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Surely giving up a few names wouldn’t hurt anything. The people in his group were dedicated to the cause and knew the dangers they faced. Although he’d lost track of time, he knew the others had to be aware of a problem by now. They were probably already covering their tracks and disappearing.
Dr. Quinn looked at Taylor and then eyed the water cooler in the corner of the room. Taylor stalked to the cooler and grabbed a paper cup. The cooler gurgled as Taylor filled the cup. Then, walking around the table, Taylor set the cup in front of Suit as his eyes pierced Hazeem.
“Thank you,” Dr. Quinn said, giving Taylor a polite nod. Taylor made his way back to his spot just behind Hazeem as Suit brought the cup to his mouth and slowly took a sip. Suit relished the coolness of the water. His blood pressure medicine always made him feel thirsty. After swallowing, he set the cup back on the table and gave a contented sigh.
Hazeem eyed the cup of water and licked his lips. He’d been without something to drink for too long. His lips were dry and exhaustion was beginning to muddle his mind. He was sure that they’d let him die of dehydration or shock without a care. What would they do with his body? Would they just dispose of him like trash? Would his death go unnoticed by the world?
Dr. Quinn noticed the way Hazeem focused on the cup. It was obvious that Hazeem’s resistance was weakening. If the desire for water and pain meds didn’t loosen Hazeem’s tongue, he’d be forced to move on to other tactics. There was no greater motivator than fear.
“Are you thirsty?” Dr. Quinn asked. He brought the cup to his lips and took another sip.
Hazeem glared as the old man taunted him. He knew what the bastard was doing. He was lording his power over Hazeem to manipulate him.
“Give us a few names, and I’ll give you a pill to ease the pain. I’d imagine you’re also thirsty by now.” Suit took a deep breath and waited for Hazeem’s response.
Hazeem licked his lips again, but his mouth was so dry that it did him no good. He needed to do something to ease his pain. He thought about his group. He didn’t want to give any of them up, but then he thought about Aditya. The bitch was probably already on a plane seeking refuge. He’d give her up. If he were lucky, they’d bring her back here with him. He’d love to spend some time alone with her in a cell.
Hazeem tried to settle his shaking body, but the pain was too strong. “There’s a woman,” he bit out. “She’s after one of the Savage Security guys.”
Taylor didn’t smile even though he wanted to. He’d known it was just a matter of time before the man caved.
Dr. Quinn grabbed the bottle of pills and held it between two fingers. “I need a name,” he said, tracing the cap with his finger.
“Aditya,” Hazeem barked. “Aditya Chopra.” He shifted in his chair as he licked his lips again. “She’s of Indian descent but was raised in the States.”
Dr. Quinn pressed down on the bottle cap and twisted. Tilting the bottle, he shook two pills into his palm. “Tell me about her.”
Hazeem stared at the pills in Suit’s hand. They looked so small in his palm, yet they would bring such relief. “She’s a
bitch. She fucks men and then kills them. How heartless is that?”
Dr. Quinn nodded to Taylor, and Taylor turned to the water cooler. Dr. Quinn already knew about Aditya. He’d been informed about her suicide when he’d received the case. “I’ll be sure to inform my team about her. She’s a woman. I’m sure she’ll be very helpful.” He smiled with satisfaction at the subtle barb. Hazeem was just the type of man to underestimate women and appreciate the putdown. “But I need more than that. Where do you meet your friends?”
Shit! He’d willingly give them the bitch, but he didn’t want to turn on his friends. The water cooler bubbled behind him. Craning his head, he watched as Wooly took a long sip of water from one of the paper cups. That had been his fucking water!
Dr. Quinn watched the anger rise in the trembling body handcuffed to the table as Taylor drank the water. Hazeem would crumble at any moment. “I need a location. Another name. Trust me, you don’t want to make this harder on yourself than it already is. We both know that you will talk. The condition of your body is up to you.” He set the pills on the table just out of Hazeem’s reach.
“Please,” Hazeem started, “give me some water as a sign of good faith. I’ll tell you something else.”
Taylor stood beside the cooler and waited for Dr. Quinn’s decision.
Suit played with the two pills as they lay on the table, spinning them in circles. “You don’t get something for nothing.”
“I already gave you the bitch,” Hazeem spit out. He wanted to shake his hands in frustration, but the metal of the cuffs bit into his raw skin. His fingers tingled, so he wiggled them, trying to ease the prickles that shot through his hands. “She’s staying at the family suite hotel on Airport Road.” That had to be enough. He needed those pills. He couldn’t take the shaking or fiery pain any longer.
Coveted Kiss (Savage Security Book 3) Page 3
