Coveted Kiss (Savage Security Book 3)

by Karen Tjebben

  “Three guesses,” Ryan said with a smirk. Then his eyebrows pulled together when he spotted a card. “Hey, look at this.” He picked up a business card from a local hotel.

  “Is that where they’re headed or where someone’s been?” Tyson asked, pointing to the card.

  “Good question.” Ryan peeled off his gloves, careful to turn them inside out so the dirty side was not exposed. He always tried to follow OSHA’s recommendations. Shoving the balled-up gloves into his pocket, he snapped a picture of the card and sent it to Logan. Maybe Logan would learn something from it.

  Tyson tossed the last of the garbage back into the trashcan. He returned the trashcan to its spot between the toilet and sink. “Now for the kitchen garbage,” he said with a sigh.

  Ryan groaned. “I hate the kitchen garbage.” Every time he’d searched through someone’s kitchen trash he’d always encountered raw fat trimmings. The stench of chicken fat and the squishy texture through his gloves never failed to tickle his urge to vomit. He pulled out another pair of plastic gloves and slid them on as he made his way to the kitchen.

  Ryan found a newspaper in the family room and spread out the pages on the kitchen table. Then he dumped the garbage onto the newspaper. Together they made quick work of going through the trash. It was the typical stuff to be expected in the kitchen, meat trimmings, cling wrap, balled up aluminum foil, and various discarded papers and ads.

  Once all the garbage was back in the trashcan, Ryan returned the container to its rightful space.

  “Let’s get back to the office and figure out our next step,” Tyson said. “Maybe Logan or Cole have learned something new.”

  The men made a quick trip through the bungalow to make sure everything was the way they found it. If Adeel did return home, they didn’t want to alert him of their suspicion.

  They made their way out of the sliding glass door and snuck through the backyards until they stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for the truck.

  19

  Trudy Tuggle had kept her vigil at the curtain ever since she’d noticed the good-looking men get out of the truck a few houses down. She’d watched as the white man made his way to Amani’s front door while the black one had disappeared down the sidewalk.

  Trudy had never seen either of the men before, and she kept up on the comings and goings of the people in the neighborhood. She’d immediately decided that if either of the men came to her house, she was going to let them know about the neighborhood’s ‘no-soliciting’ policy and then politely shut the door in their faces.

  Trudy had raised an eyebrow when Amani hadn’t answered the front door and the man hadn’t gone to any other houses, trying to sell whatever he was selling. Instead, the white man wandered down the sidewalk and disappeared from her sight. That piqued her interest. She’d heard about sleeper terrorists’ cells, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Adeel Shah was into something rotten like that.

  “I knew it,” Trudy whispered to herself as the two men returned up the sidewalk and headed for their truck. She wasn’t going to sit around and not do her part. Marching to her front door, she hustled into a fleece jacket and slid her feet into a pair of slip-on shoes.

  “Bob,” she yelled over her shoulder, “I’m going outside real quick. Something’s up with that Adeel Shah. I told you that man was trouble.” She quickly brushed her hands through her hair to give it a little umph.

  Bob peeked over the top of his laptop towards the front door at his wife. “Don’t get yourself killed,” he stated without emotion and then continued reading the on-line article. He’d been hearing for years about the evil doings of Mr. Adeel Shah. He didn’t like the guy either, but just because he was Muslim didn’t mean he was a terrorist. Jerks came in every color and religion. He shook his head as the door slammed behind his wife.

  “Hmm, you see this?” Tyson mumbled to Ryan. A woman, he’d guess to be in her sixties, was power walking towards them with her arms swinging back and forth with determination. Her bright red Christmas sweater would be a contender in any ‘Ugly Sweater’ competition.

  “This should be good,” Ryan said and stepped to the front of the truck to wait for the woman.

  Trudy waved to the men. “Hi,” she called out and slowed her pace when it became obvious that the men were waiting for her.

  Now that she was closer to the men, nervousness settled in her core and sped up her heart. They were much bigger than she’d realized from a distance.

  What was she thinking, approaching two strangers?

  She had no idea who the men were, and if they were linked to Adeel Shah, they could be no good. But she finally decided that no man as white as a ghost with fiery red hair was likely to be involved in terrorist activities. Of course, if she thought Shah was involved in the Irish Republican Army, that would be a different matter, but she doubted that the IRA was Adeel Shah’s issue.

  Taking a quick look over her shoulder, she confirmed that her husband had not come to the door to ensure her safety. He probably wasn’t even watching from the window. She shook her head in disgust knowing that he was probably still on his computer. Her lifeless body could chill in the streets for hours before he’d noticed she was gone. The rumblings of his stomach would be the only reason he’d come looking for her.

  “Can we help you?” Tyson asked, leaning casually against the truck. He smiled, knowing that he could sometimes be intimidating.

  Trudy came to a stop in front of them and wasn’t sure what to say. She fidgeted while she thought, and then she decided to go with the helpful angle. “Hi, I noticed you earlier,” she looked at Ryan and continued, “are you looking for the Shah’s?”

  Ryan noted the big red nose on her sweater sticking out from the opening of her jacket. It flashed repeatedly and cast an odd red glow on the woman’s pale face. His grandma had that Christmas sweater. It was a big hit in the old folk’s home. He decided it would be best not to share that information with the lady.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ryan brought his hand to his chest. “My name is Ryan Marks, and this is Tyson Smith.” He flicked his hand in Tyson’s direction. “We’re looking for the Shahs. Have you seen them?”

  “Are you with the police?” Trudy leaned in with raised eyebrows as she studied the men. They were both dressed appropriately, no baggy jeans hanging to their knees or gang colors on their clothes. They looked like respectable men.

  “Not the police,” Tyson replied, and then added, “exactly.” He would let her mind wander down all the different options that his vagueness presented. “But let’s just say we’d appreciate your help. We think Mrs. Shah may be in danger.”

  She knew it. Adeel Shah was no good. And the two men before her were clearly with the FBI or CIA. But if that were true, why not just say it? She quickly decided that they must be part of a black ops group. There was no way the government actually paid hundreds of dollars for a single hammer or a toilet seat. That money was going somewhere.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Ryan said. “You are?”

  She cleared her throat and finally noticed the blinking nose on her sweater. She slid her hand to the underside of her sweater and flicked the switch. “Sometimes it gets bumped and turns on.” She pointed to the nose. “The grandkids love this sweater,” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. She felt foolish now, realizing that the nose had been blinking while she tried to carry on a serious conversation. That must have made her look silly. “My name is Trudy Tuggle. Trudy is short for Gertrude,” she said proudly.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tuggle,” Ryan replied politely. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary recently?”

  Trudy eyed the men. She didn’t see the hatred in their eyes that she saw in Adeel’s. She brought her hand to her chest and began, “Well, I have to tell you that I love Amani. If you can help her, please do. But that Adeel,” she snorted with disgust. “That man makes me sick.” Her own husband was sometimes clueless, but at least he wasn’t a jerk.

  “Are you and Mrs. S
hah close?” Tyson asked.

  “Very,” she said with passion. “That man doesn’t let her drive. Can you imagine? A grown woman not allowed to drive.” She rolled her eyes and continued, “I take her shopping with me when I go. He prefers it that way,” she stated with attitude. “That way he isn’t bothered with,” she used air quotes, “women’s work. We often get lunch too.” She shuffled a little as the wind blew through her hair. Brushing a hand through her messy hair she continued, “If he doesn’t want the hassle of shopping, he should let her drive. You’d think a grown man could figure that one out.”

  Tyson liked this woman. Her blunt words reminded him of his mother. “Is Mrs. Shah afraid of Mr. Shah, or would you say they’re happily married?”

  “Hmm, that’s hard to answer. Amani says she loves him. I guess that’s how her brain was wired when she was a child. No help for that.” Trudy shrugged. “She sees him as a good provider and is grateful that he takes care of her. But if you ask me, the relationship is a little one-sided.” She nodded her head as if she were sharing an obvious truth.

  “Have you seen any evidence of abuse?” Tyson asked.

  Trudy pursed her lips. “No, but the woman is always covered. Although she does remove her head scarf when she’s inside my house.” She leaned forward and added, “She even lets my husband see her hair. I think that may be a big deal to them.” She straightened and continued, “Anyway, I think she’d like to be a little more progressive than he allows.”

  “Do you know when they’ll be back?” Ryan asked. “Or where they went?”

  She snuffled and folded her arms across her chest. The cold wind blew through her cotton pants and made her shiver. “I have no idea when they’ll come back. I saw them load the car with suitcases and a cooler. But I know that this trip was last minute. When I talked with Amani yesterday, she was excited that the kids would be home soon for the winter break. She and Adeel weren’t going anywhere.”

  “Do they have family in the area that they may stay with?” Tyson asked.

  “Hmm,” Trudy looked up at the dark sky as she thought about that. The moon shone brightly and she could even see Venus. “Adeel’s brother owns a restaurant in town, but other than him, I don’t know of anyone they’d stay with.”

  “You’re referring to Sultan’s Feast?” Tyson asked.

  Trudy liked the sound of the black one’s voice. It was deep and flowed smoothly over her the way Marvin Gaye’s voice did when she listened to his songs. And now she felt foolish because she’d been so nervous when the men introduced themselves that their names had gone in one ear and out the other. She wasn’t about to ask again.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Sultan’s Feast. Good place to eat, but not the best part of town,” she added with emphasis.

  Tyson pulled out his wallet and removed a business card. “I’d like to give you my contact information in case you see or hear from them.”

  She took the card and glanced at it. According to the card he worked at a company called Savage Security. She’d be sure to have Bob look that up as soon as she got home.

  “One last thing,” Tyson added. “Do you have a contact number for Mrs. Shah?”

  “Yes,” Trudy nodded, “Yes, I do. Amani has her own cell phone.” Trudy slipped her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out her cell. “I have to find it.” She waved her cell in the air and then scrolled through her contacts and tapped on Amani Shah. “Here it is.” She held out her cell for them to see.

  Both men typed Amani’s number into their cells. Ryan slipped his cell back into his pocket. He gestured towards Trudy and said, “Thank you for your help.”

  Trudy smiled and shrugged, “Well, please just know that whatever is going on with them, it’s all Adeel’s fault.”

  “Good to know,” Tyson said with a smile. He’d noted the way she’d emphasized Adeel’s name. She was clearly not a fan.

  Trudy gave the men one more appreciative look and then turned, thrilled she’d talked with them. Hopefully they’d help Amani and put Adeel behind bars.

  Tyson eased behind the wheel of the truck while Ryan slid onto the passenger seat. “That was helpful,” he said, starting the truck.

  “She doesn’t like Adeel,” Ryan said with a laugh as he tapped on his cell.

  “You got that impression, too?” Tyson chuckled. “It does give us a little insight on how to handle Amani. She could be useful if handled correctly.”

  “Yep,” Ryan replied. “Just sent Amani’s number to Logan. Hopefully he’ll be able to track them through it.”

  20

  Mike moved to Mariam’s side and studied her as she sat at the little card table. Her hands trembled as she rested them on the table. Her big brown eyes darted between the men. Tears moistened the smooth skin of her face. Tiny streaks of mascara were smeared under her eyes.

  Jack tapped the message app on her cell. He scrolled through the texts, looking for her husband’s thread. Tapping on the thread, he typed in a message to Suliman as Mariam, telling him to come to the basement.

  Handing the cell to Mike, Jack walked to the stairwell and stood behind the wall to wait for Suliman to join them.

  Mike stood next to Mariam as she struggled to contain her composure. “Don’t warn him that we’re down here,” he cautioned. “We won’t hurt you, but we do need to talk.”

  Mariam didn’t believe the man for a second. Images of her dead body sprawled out on the concrete floor of the basement filled her mind. Damn Adeel for bringing this to their doorstep.

  The door at the top of the steps creaked open. Suliman’s footsteps sounded lightly on the wooden steps as he descended.

  “Mariam?” Suliman called as he made his way down the stairs. “What’s wrong?” Had Adeel left something damning? His brother’s hatred seeped into everything he touched. Suliman could only lie to Mariam for so long.

  Suliman’s heart clenched when he was far enough down the steps to see Mariam. She sat at the card table, tears streaked her face, and her lips quivered as she pressed them tightly together. A burly man stood beside her. Suliman had noticed the two men when they’d entered the restaurant. He’d figured them for military or something of that sort. Being so close to D.C. and the ever-present military presence, it wasn’t unusual to see physically fit men in his restaurant. He’d never seen them as a threat when they came into his restaurant.

  Suliman’s hand shook as he extended it towards Mariam and stepped off the stairs. “Please, don’t hurt her. She’s not involved.” He’d do anything to protect Mariam. He’d tried to shelter her from his brother’s bizarre beliefs and behaviors. He should have known that one can’t orbit psychopathic people without being pulled into their destructive path.

  In a heartbeat, Jack stepped from the shadows. His arm snaked around Suliman’s neck and his hand covered Suliman’s mouth. Jack whispered in Suliman’s ear, “She’s not involved in what?”

  The big man’s breath washed over Suliman. He didn’t even try to fight. He knew it would be a waste of his energy and put the men even more on the defensive. Hopefully, if he helped the men, they’d leave his family alone.

  Jack and Suliman shuffled over to the table. Suliman didn’t take his eyes off Mariam as he slid into the chair across from her at the little table.

  “I’m going to remove my hand. Will you cooperate?” Jack asked. They didn’t know Suliman’s part in the terrorist cell. Hazeem had mentioned his name, but he hadn’t said anything damning about the man, unlike Adeel. They knew Adeel was bad news.

  Suliman nodded his head. His gaze shifted to the dark-haired man beside his wife. He knew the men had blood on their hands. He hoped none of the blood would be his or Mariam’s. Suliman laid his hands flat on the table. He hated the slight tremor in his fingers, but he was scared.

  “Please, we are not involved,” Suliman scratched out. “It is my brother that you want.” He hated throwing his brother to them, but he hated the fact that his brother brought this to his doorstep even more.
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br />   Mike made a show of looking in the box of guns on the table. “These aren’t toys. And they’re in your restaurant.” His voice was gruff as he motioned to the box. “Want to explain?” Mike narrowed his eyes, further intimidating Suliman. Fear was a powerful motivator.

  Suliman’s heart raced like a gazelle on the prairie running for its life. He’d say what he needed to in order to save his and Mariam’s life. He held no loyalty for his brother. “Adeel stores things here.”

  “You let your brother store guns and ammo here?” Mike’s arm swept towards the shelving. “What else is in here?” Mike walked to the shelves and pulled down another box. Cradling the box in the crook of one arm, he lifted the lid with the other hand. “This one is full of nails and screws.” Disgusted, he shoved the box back into place on the shelf and pulled out another box. “This one is full of knives.” He replaced the box and grabbed another box. Peering inside, he said, “Blasting caps and wire.” Mike eased the box back onto the shelf. “The contents of these boxes are damning, and they’re in your basement.”

  Mike let out a low rumble as he stepped over to some bags that lay in the corner. Kicking the bag with his booted foot he said, “Fertilizer. Do you know what fertilizer is used for?” He cut his gaze to Suliman. The man was clearly terrified. “This is basic, Suliman,” Mike waved his hand towards the boxes. “You don’t store explosives with food? That’s some serious shit.”

  Suliman felt each damning blow as the big man laid bare his brother’s offenses. Adeel had made Suliman complicit in whatever mess he was involved in. Suliman had no explanation or excuses for the contents that were stored in his basement. He shrugged as he scrambled to come up with a defense, but there was no defense. Right now, he looked guilty for some very bad things.

  “Please, my brother is a difficult person.” Suliman shook his head and pitifully shrugged his shoulders. “If I didn’t help him, he threatened to make me regret it.”