Coveted Kiss (Savage Security Book 3)

by Karen Tjebben

  Agent Moore’s deep voice rasped, “I hear you men have a personal connection to this.” That was the only reason they’d waited for them before going in. They’d been set for a few minutes, but he knew they would arrive soon. He’d want to witness the downfall of a cell if it was going after him. Of course, that would also mean that they probably shouldn’t be involved, but the men from Savage Security apparently knew the right people.

  “Yes,” Ryan said as he studied the people in the room. There was a lone woman in the group. Everyone was dressed in fatigues, complete with gloves, kneepads and utility boots. Their bullet-proof vests identified them as FBI, and they also carried extra ammunition. Each agent wore a helmet and held an MP5. They looked ready for battle. It was probably overkill, but then again, one could never have too much ammo or too many weapons.

  The agents stared back at Ryan and Tyson. Ryan gave a polite head nod in greeting. “We want to see justice. And we have a few questions we’d like to ask the couple before you process them.”

  Agent Moore moved his lips in a way that made his mustache appear to do the wave. “Nothing physical,” he stated. He didn’t want this operation going to hell and everything they learned from it poisoned by illegal acts. He tended to believe the rumors that people working off the books occasionally crossed a few lines by confusing black and white for gray.

  “Of course not,” Tyson replied. “We just want to talk to them.”

  Agent Moore nodded and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “My people will be present at that talk.”

  Tyson’s head bobbed up and down. “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he smoothed out. He was pretty laid back, so he’d perfected a way of spreading that chill to neutralize issues before they became problems. “Just tell us the plan, and we’re good to go.”

  Agent Moore motioned to the table in the middle of the room. They made their way over to it. A schematic of the hotel floorplan was spread out on the table.

  Agent Moore tapped a beefy finger on the schematic. “We’ve marked the rooms with customers. The red star is of course the Shahs. The blue dots are other guests. The Shahs are in room 308.” A red star marked the rectangle that represented that room on the schematic. “There is a single business man in the room beside them on the left.” Agent Moore pointed to the blue dot that was stuck beside the red star. “On the other side of the Shah’s, the room is empty. As you can see from our graphics, a family is in the room directly above the Shahs, while the room below them is vacant.”

  Along the hallway on the schematic, Tyson noted a few other rooms with blue dots, but none in the immediate area of the Shahs. “What are you doing about the other civilians?” He tapped one of the blue circles.

  “We will contact those in the immediate area and remove them to a safe zone. As long as their evacuation goes smoothly, they will not be in danger.” Agent Moore was conflicted. Removing all the guests would be the safest thing to do, but that may alert the Shahs to trouble which could cause bigger problems. No one knew if Adeel Shah was armed. Agent Moore was taking a calculated risk that he hoped wouldn’t bite him in the ass.

  Tyson appreciated the man’s optimism, but he knew from experience that missions didn’t go the way you hoped.

  Agent Moore finished explaining the plan and gave Tyson and Ryan headsets so they could be in the communication loop with the federal agents who would storm the room.

  Tamika drummed her well-manicured nails on the counter as she stood behind the computer with the phone to her ear. She’d tried to contact her boss several times already, but he wouldn’t answer. She’d left messages, but he hadn’t returned her calls. Biting her bottom lip, she dialed his number again. It went to voicemail. After leaving another brief message, she mumbled, “Damn,” and hung up. He must have turned off his ringer. When this was all over, at least she wouldn’t be accused of not trying to contact a higher-up. She would go above his head if she could, but the only numbers she had for any other superior was a work number, which wouldn’t do her any good in the middle of the night.

  Tamika startled when Agent Moore stepped up to the counter. His bulky body and macho persona intimidated her. He reminded her of an aged cowboy or sheriff from a western. He looked like the kind of man to shoot a rattler, skin it for a belt, and chomp away at the meat without a moment’s notice. So, for her comfort, she forced herself to think of him as a grandpa rocking on the porch instead of a dangerous man.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling at him. “How can I help you?” She tried not to stare at his graying mustache, but it was distracting the way it twitched with every movement of his lips.

  Agent Moore wanted to allay her fears, but he didn’t like that she was calling people. The last thing he needed was for the television news trucks to set up in the hotel parking lot. “Who were you calling?” he knew he sounded gruff, but sometimes he had to lay down the law.

  Tamika didn’t like the accusation in his scratchy voice or the way his bushy eyebrows rose as he spoke to her. “My boss. I didn’t mention you or your men. I only said that I needed him to call because of a work emergency.”

  Agent Moore narrowed his eyes. “You do understand that we can’t have this hit the news channels before we have the suspects in custody? People could get hurt.”

  “Of course,” she said, straightening her spine. Did the man think she was an idiot? The last thing she wanted was news trucks filling the parking lot and recording her potential demise. She knew she wasn’t qualified to handle this situation. The hotel should probably have a lawyer present, or at least someone with more experience than her, but she couldn’t get ahold of anyone. “Believe it or not, I want this to be over even more than you. And I’d like to still be employed tomorrow,” she added with spunk.

  Agent Moore scoffed. “You and me both.” He couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could take a nice, long drag of a cigarette. The pack rubbed his chest like sandpaper as his movements shifted the pack in his shirt pocket. “Let’s make some phone calls.” He slid a piece of paper across the counter towards Tamika. “You can read from that.”

  Tamika scanned the paper. Agent Moore had scripted a dialogue for her to use with the guests. Everything seemed straightforward. With a weak smile, she nodded her head and dialed the number for the room above the Shah’s.

  “Hello?” a woman’s groggy voice answered with a hint of worry. Calls in the middle of the night were never a good thing.

  Tamika perked up and said, “Hello, Mrs. Chung. This is Tamika Baker from the front desk. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but there’s been an incident. We need to move your family to another room.”

  Mrs. Chung glanced at the clock and interrupted, “You do know it’s the middle of the night, right? We don’t want to move. My kids are asleep.”

  “I understand,” Tamika said and returned to the script. “There are FBI agents in the hallway right now. They will knock on your door and assist you and your family to a better room. If you could do this as quickly and quietly as possible, we’d appreciate it. Please feel free to return to bed in the new room.” As if anyone would go back to sleep after being shuffled around the hotel by FBI agents.

  “FBI agents?” Mrs. Chung asked, sitting up in bed and tapping her husband on the shoulder. Tamika could hear her telling her husband to get up.

  Agent Moore hit the comms button and gave the two-man team at the Chung’s door the signal to knock.

  The light knock had Grace Chung’s head snapping to the door. Putting the phone back on the receiver, she got out of the bed and made her way to the door. Pressing her eye to the peephole, she saw two men in bulletproof vests standing on the other side of the door. Her heart pounded at the realization that something bad was happening. Agents in vests don’t wake you up in the middle of the night for no reason.

  Opening the door, Grace said, “Yes, come in,” her voice shook as she signaled the men into the room. Adrenaline flooded her system and gave her the shakes. “Let me grab my purse.” She
wasn’t leaving the room without her wallet. She didn’t know how long this would take or if they’d need their credit cards or identification.

  An Chung scratched his balding head and shoved his wallet into his wife’s purse. “Do we take our stuff?” he asked the agents.

  “No,” the taller agent replied. “Let’s get the kids and go.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

  An pulled back the covers on the kid’s bed. Both children still slept with their stuffed animals clutched to their chests. “Grace, you get June. I’ll get Lin,” he stated, his voice full of concern.

  An slipped his hands under the boy’s arms and pulled him close to his chest. The boy’s legs dangled awkwardly, so he adjusted his hold to ease the carrying of the kindergartner.

  Grace walked around the bed and lifted June into her arms. The toddler was easy to carry once she got her on her hip. The child’s face rested on her mother’s shoulder. Grace was thankful that she’d stayed asleep and hadn’t started crying.

  “This way,” the taller agent whispered, leading the family out of the room. The shorter agent followed from the rear. They led the family to a room on the first floor on the other side of the hotel.

  Agent Moore tapped the next room number. “Call this one,” he said to Tamika.

  Tamika noted the room and checked the name on her computer. This was the single business man. She pushed in the buttons and repeated her spiel when he answered.

  Tyson, Ryan, and the four-man assault team waited in an empty hotel room at the end of the hall on floor 3. Most of the agents shifted their weight on their feet while a few paced in the small room as they waited for the guests to be moved to a safe zone. Adrenaline primed their bodies for the take-down.

  Agent Moore spread out the schematic on the counter and confirmed that all the civilians near the Shah’s room had been moved. Looking at Tamika, he said, “Almost done.” He gave Tamika a soothing smile. Considering her age and inexperience, she’d handled this situation with professional courtesy.

  Tamika forced her lips into a smile and gave a nod, “Uh-huh,” she replied. Her heart hammered in her chest. She still hadn’t heard back from her boss. When this was all over, she’d have a hell of a story to tell her friends.

  Agent Keith Tyler listened to Agent Moore through his ear piece and replied, “Copy that.” Rolling his shoulders, Agent Tyler looked at his team and said, “Go time.”

  The agents quickly fell into formation and silently filed into the hallway. Agent Tyler led his team down the hallway towards the Shah’s room. They came to a stop outside room 308.

  Agent Tyler stopped at the door and the second man in line stopped at the other side of the door. The men paused, listening for movement in the Shah’s room.

  Tyson loved this part. The take-down was always intense. Adrenaline flowed and exhilaration sped through his body like supercharged particles soaring through space.

  Agent Tyler slipped the key card into the door lock. The light in the lock turned green. As Agent Tyler eased open the door, the other agent beside the door slipped the bolt cutters through the opening and cut the chain.

  The chain broke apart and Agent Tyler pushed the door fully open. “Go,” he whispered and stalked into the room with the stealth and speed of a panther.

  Tyson and Ryan entered the room behind Agent Tyler’s team. The Shahs were in the bed. Both slept on their sides with their backs towards each other. Amani Shah slept with one arm under her pillow to support her head. Adeel slept with a hand hidden under the pillow near his face. Adeel Shah snored, the loud noise almost humorous if it wasn’t for the awkward situation that was playing out. The Shahs were unaware of the assault team surrounding their bed, like a herd of hungry seals circling sleeping penguins on an ice float.

  Three agents encircled the bed on each side, their guns in position. Agent Tyler was closest to Adeel Shah’s head. After confirming with silent head nods to his team around the bed, he barked, “FBI,” and moved to subdue Adeel.

  Amani screamed when she saw the horrifying men in assault gear bearing down on them. Three guns were focused on her. In fear, she pushed herself against the headboard.

  The loud words startled Adeel, and he went for the Glock that was tucked under his pillow.

  Agent Tyler saw the metal of the Glock as Adeel slipped it from under the pillow. “Bad idea,” he said, landing a punch to Adeel’s jaw and snatching the Glock from him.

  “No!” Amani screamed and threw herself over her husband. Shrieking and with tears streaming down her face, she begged, “Please, don’t hurt him. Please, don’t hurt him.”

  Her life had fallen apart. She’d been a good wife. She took excellent care of the home, worked tirelessly to please her husband, and raised obedient children. She didn’t deserve to have her life destroyed, but her husband had been her downfall. No matter how much she loved him, she was never enough. His anger and hatred always crushed her love and sent him down a path of destruction. Now what would become of her?

  Adeel Shah’s jaw throbbed from the punch, and the shrieks of his wife screeched in his ear. He saw the men, their guns, and realized he was finished. There was no way for him to get out of this. Fleeing hadn’t helped. Somehow they’d found them. Had his wife slipped up and told that busybody neighbor of theirs what was happening when he left for the ATM?

  Tyson pulled Amani Shah off her husband. “Stop it,” he ordered. There was no mistaking the order in the big, black man’s words. Amani draped her legs over the bedside and crossed her arms over her breasts. Her whole body shook with fear and shame. Subconscious about exposing her large chest to the men in the room through her pajama top, she gripped the thin comforter and covered herself, never making eye-contact with the men.

  Anger threaded its way into Adeel’s veins and filled him with an overwhelming need to fight. With the scream of a warrior, he threw himself at the man who’d punched him.

  Agent Tyler blocked Adeel’s effort and flipped him onto the floor. Settling his knee into Adeel’s back, he ripped a set of heavy-duty Flexi cuffs from his waist and secured Adeel’s hands behind his back.

  Adeel gasped to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him on impact. His head throbbed in response to being slammed into the floor. Amani’s screams returned, making him feel powerless. He was captured, like a worthless piece of shit to be discarded.

  Tyson hated that he had to be so gruff with the woman. After talking with her neighbor, he realized that Amani Shah was a victim of her husband too. She had no power over him, no way to force him to assimilate into a culture that he despised.

  “Watch her,” Tyson said to the agent beside him. Tyson knew she was embarrassed about being in her pajamas the way she covered her chest. He wanted to give her the comfort of modesty if he could. Walking around the bed, he made his way to the closet. He pulled open the door and was disappointed, but not surprised, that there wasn’t a bathrobe hanging on a hanger. This hotel wasn’t that nice. But there was a coat. Pulling the woman’s coat off the hanger, he carried it to her.

  Amani kept her eyes on the carpet. She heard the men talking with Adeel and hated the panic in his voice as he replied. She couldn’t bear to look over her shoulder at him and see him like this. She’d known he was involved in some bad stuff, but twenty-four hours ago, she’d never expect the FBI to arrest her husband, let alone track them down through the dark of night.

  Suddenly her coat appeared in front of her, blocking her view of the floor.

  “Here, put this on,” Tyson said, holding out her coat to her. Giving her some dignity could go a long way towards gaining her trust and cooperation. Then, pointing to a chair beside the little table by the window, Tyson said, “Sit there.”

  Raising her head, Amani’s caramel eyes, now red from tears, took in the black man’s face. For as big as he was, there was a kindness in his eyes that eased some of her fear. She’d met violent men before, and they’d seldom shown any kindness at all. She reached out and took
the coat, slipping her hands through the arms and pulling it closed around her. “Thank you,” she mumbled and sniffled.

  Ryan pulled Adeel to standing. With one hand wrapped around his arm, Ryan said, “We have some questions for you.” He guided Adeel across the room to sit at the table with Amani.

  Adeel plopped into the chair. “You can’t do this,” he seethed. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on his scraggly beard. He moved his jaw around, working through the discomfort.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Ryan said. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Surely you knew the consequences for your actions before you got involved with the dangerous people that you’ve been calling friends.”

  Adeel stared with hatred at the Americans surrounding him. They thought they were powerful, that they could squash the network of cells that was popping up in the States, but that would be impossible. There were more like him. Even if they got rid of him, another would take his place.

  “I want a lawyer,” Adeel said.

  The agents chuckled, their shoulders rising and falling with the action. Ice encircled Adeel’s heart. “I want a lawyer!” he screamed.

  The sole female agent in the assault team took her place beside Amani. Agent Cara Copeland had conflicting emotions battling inside of her. The woman before her was a pathetic mess. Tears trailed down fleshy cheeks, red, swollen eyes looked at her with hope, and a heaving chest betrayed her fear as she struggled to stop her tears. Agent Copeland knew there was nothing she could do to help this woman. She’d been unlucky enough to marry a man who wanted to hurt people, and since she hadn’t left him, she ended up being one of the people he hurt.

  Agent Copeland cleared her throat, “Mrs. Shah, you will come with us.”

  Amani stared at the woman dressed for what seemed like war. Had she and her husband truly needed such a response? Did a middle-aged couple really scare the Americans so badly that this assault team had been warranted? How bad was her husband?