Coveted Kiss (Savage Security Book 3)

by Karen Tjebben

“One minute,” Jack replied. As long as Bella kept with the script, everything would be fine. Jack pulled open the door and greeted them.

  Detective Sam Malone hadn’t been at the hotel earlier when his partner, Detective Webb, had found some men from Savage Security in Aditya Chopra’s hotel room. But he had enough experience to know that this case would be swamped with curious and curiouser events. Sam extended a hand to Jack. “Detective Sam Malone,” he said.

  “Come in.” Jack backed away from the door and motioned for them to come inside. He led them to the family room and Bella joined them. He didn’t want to talk to them, but he had to at least look like he was cooperating.

  Bella’s breakfast tumbled in her stomach the way clothes swirled through the dryer. She now regretted the big breakfast and hoped to keep it down. She sat on the sofa opposite the detectives and folded her hands in her lap. Looking down, she also regretted the fact that she was still dressed in her Game of Thrones bathrobe, but she wanted this over as fast as possible, so she didn’t bother to ask to change clothes. She also figured that Jack wanted the men out of his home as quickly as possible.

  Jack sat next to her, his thigh against hers in a silent show of support. “How can we help you?” he asked.

  Detective Sam Malone held his notepad in his hand and tapped his pen against the paper. “Ms. Chan, I’m sorry for the horrific event you experienced. Can you tell us what happened the night of the attack?”

  Bella knew the fact that she’d been unconscious was the fact that she needed to cling to in this. “Um,” she started, taking in a calming breath. “Eric and I went to dinner.”

  “Where?” Hal interrupted. They’d verify later.

  “The new restaurant. The Del Mar.”

  Hal and Sam nodded while Sam scribbled something on his pad.

  “Afterwards, Eric took me back to work to pick up my flowers.” She took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably.

  “What flowers?” Sam asked. He focused on her, trying to read her body language. She was uncomfortable, which was typical for victims. He hated making them relive the experience as they recorded the events.

  “Eric had sent me flowers earlier in the day. When we got back to work, he lost it.” She reached over and grabbed Jack’s hand for support. “It was like Eric morphed into this other person. He attacked me.” She swallowed hard as images of his abuse flipped through her mind like one of those cartoon books that show how movies are made.

  Jack felt the heat of her sweaty hand. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand in a show of comfort.

  Bella swallowed hard and was instantly reminded how painful and terrifying it had been as Eric’s hands tightened around her neck as she gasped for air. “He punched me. He groped me. Then he strangled me. I blacked out. I don’t really remember anything after that.”

  Detective Malone nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I am happy that you survived.” He’d read the report from the hospital. She hadn’t been raped, but her shirt had been torn and bruises covered her face, throat, and torso.

  Detective Webb shifted his gaze and studied Jack. He knew Jack’s type from his days in the military. They kept to themselves and weren’t afraid to do what needed to be done. He had a great respect for that kind of warrior, but he also knew that kind of man wasn’t easily fooled. “Mr. Black, could you tell us how you got involved?”

  Jack kept Bella’s hand in his as he leaned forward a little. “When I arrived at Savage Security, I found Eric with his hands around Bella’s neck. I shot him in the shoulder. He went for a weapon on his leg. I shot him again in the other shoulder. He then fled. As I approached Bella, I realized that she wasn’t breathing, so I took my focus off Eric and began chest compressions and rescue breathing.”

  Sam Malone tapped his pen against the pad in a constant rhythm. He knew there was more, but he also knew he’d never get anything else out of them. “So, you didn’t go after Eric? You let him escape.”

  Jack’s impulse was to clench his jaw, but he refrained, willing himself to remain calm and collected. “Correct. My focus was Bella. Saving her life was the priority.”

  Hal shifted his gaze back to Bella. She looked small and nervous compared to the hardened man next to her. “Ms. Chan, why do you think Eric attacked you?”

  Bella let out a breath of surprise, and Jack rolled his shoulders. Jack responded before Bella had a chance. “Detective Webb, why are you asking a victim why she was attacked? Are you really asking if she did something to provoke it?” He knew he sounded pissed, but he couldn’t allow Detective Webb’s questions to go down that route.

  Jack took a deep breath to rein in his frustration. He stood, taking a deep breath to expand his chest. “We are done answering your questions. If you have anything else, please contact our lawyer. I believe our boss, Cole Savage, already gave the police his name.”

  Sam had noticed the lawyer’s name as he read over the thin file on the attack at Savage Security. He found it interesting that they’d basically lawyered up before anyone from the police department even had a chance to talk to them.

  Sam stood, rolling his shoulders to adjust his suit jacket. He glanced at Bella. She looked like she was barely keeping it together. She twisted her hands together in her lap and her lips were pressed tight in a line.

  Looking at Bella, Sam said, “Again, I’m glad that you’re alive.” He pulled a card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held it out for her. “Here’s a number for a therapist who deals with victims of violent attacks. It would be a good idea to talk with her.”

  Bella’s hand shook slightly as she accepted the card. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  Jack led the detectives to the front door and locked it behind them. When he turned, Bella stood in the hallway, leaning against a doorjamb. “You did well,” he said.

  She scoffed. “I was scared.”

  Jack nodded and took the few steps to her. Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed the top of her head. “I know, but that was to be expected. It’s over.” He leaned back and cradled her face in his hands. “Don’t answer any more questions from the police. If they want something, they need to go through the lawyer. That’s your right, and that’s what you need to do. Keep quiet.”

  She shook her head in understanding. “I know,” she breathed out. Sliding her hands around Jack’s waist, she nestled her head against his chest and listened to the steady pounding of his heart. He’d see her through this, and then they’d see where their relationship would go. Would they become a couple? Would it destroy her work environment? Was it worth the risk?

  Hal started the car as Sam buckled himself into the passenger seat. “What do you think?” Hal asked.

  Sam rested an arm beside the window. “I think the wagons are circling. Her answers seemed rehearsed. They’ve basically got her under protection at Mr. Black’s place.” He tossed his hand in the direction of Jack’s house.

  Hal put the car in gear and started down the street. “Yeah, she definitely kept to a script. But it’s possible she doesn’t remember much.” He doubted it, but victims often repressed shit. “I’m sure Mr. Black doesn’t mind the inconvenience of guarding her,” he added with a smirk.

  Sam guffawed. “I doubt Mr. Black considers it a hardship.” He chuckled and then continued. “We won’t get anything else out of them.”

  “Is there video from the work?”

  Sam scoffed. “No. The system was down for maintenance. If you can believe that,” he added. He didn’t believe it. They’d done something to the recording for a reason, and he didn’t think it was to hide the fact that Eric escaped through another door.

  Hal stopped at the red light and looked before he turned right. “I think our part on this case is done. It wasn’t a coincidence that a woman shot herself at another employee of Savage Security’s home on the same night that a different employee was attacked at the office.” He sighed, knowing that he wished he could
delve deeper into this case, but he understood that he’d meet dead ends at every point.

  Sam grunted a reply. “You heard about the FBI taking down a cell the other night. They killed a few people.”

  Hal needed an antacid. He pressed his fist against his chest and gave it a good rub. “How much do you want to bet the events are related?”

  Sam wasn’t a betting man. He preferred to keep his money in his pocket and not give it away, but he knew this was a sure thing. “You think the good people of Carrisburg dodged a bullet?”

  “Yep. I think we got pretty lucky.” Hal knew that it was common for security companies owned by former military personnel to work side jobs for the government. Whatever happened that night would remain hidden in a fog. He was confident that was a good thing.

  36

  Hazeem’s head lolled as exhaustion crashed over him in pounding waves. He’d lost the ability to hold his head high hours ago. Now it bobbed aimlessly like a buoy on the ocean’s waves. The bullet wounds in his shoulders burned. Sweat lined his forehead and trickled down his neck. His heart thudded in his ears, and nausea churned in his gut.

  All night he’d wrestled between sleep and misery as noise bombarded him through the speaker system. He was alone in the room, but he knew he was being watched behind the large mirror. Lights had also flashed intermittently throughout the night, jarring him awake when he had managed to slip into sleep.

  The bastards were doing their best to wear him down. Sleep deprived, thirsty, and ravenously hungry, he was close to breaking completely. He’d given them a few names, people who were ghosts in the desert, but the bastards wanted more. They wanted the names of people in his cell in the States. The ones who were immediate threats to American citizens. But all he wanted to do was rest his head on the table and escape into a sea of dreams. He kept telling himself that this nightmare would end eventually. It had to.

  A buzz sounded, alerting Hazeem to the return of his interrogators. Lifting his head off the table, he glanced at the door. He narrowed his eyes as Suit strolled into the room with the arrogance of a king before his subjects. The old man looked rested and refreshed, even his sparse, white hair was neatly combed over the bald spot on the top of his head.

  Suit was followed by Wooly, the hairy man-beast, and Hazeem’s heart raced. He hated the big brute. The man had been trained in intimidation, and Hazeem hated to admit that he was intimidated. He told himself that his fear didn’t make him any less of a man, but his gut told him that wasn’t true. He was supposed to strike fear into others, not have fear flood his system and overwhelm his resolve.

  Hazeem watched as Suit unbuttoned his jacket and glided to the chair across from him. Suit slowly slid his jacket down his arms and set it neatly over the back of the chair. Hazeem figured this must be part of Suit’s ritual, the power play of the one in charge forcing the weaker to wait on his command.

  Hazeem scowled at Wooly as the brute stepped past him and disappeared out of his peripheral vision. The fact that Wooly was out of his sight frazzled his nerves. Hazeem craned his head and spotted Wooly standing a foot behind him, close enough to inflict pain but not within his line of sight.

  He forced himself to turn away from Wooly and look at Suit. “I’m hungry,” Hazeem said as his stomach rumbled loudly. He was embarrassed by his body’s betrayal. So far, he hadn’t done a great job of withstanding their techniques.

  Suit set the folder on the table in front of him. Then, pulling his glasses out of his shirt pocket, he set them low on his nose.

  “Did you hear me?” Hazeem barked. “I’m hungry.” The bastard was ignoring him, and it pissed him off. He deserved better treatment. He was an American.

  Suit rested his hands on the table, interlocking his fingers. “I understand.” He nodded solemnly. “I’ll send for some food when you give us the names of your friends in the States.”

  Suit knew the man would break. He was already a mess. It was just a matter of time.

  Hazeem growled and hunched forward to relieve the pain in his shoulders. But he hadn’t been able to find a position to ease the burn. Chewing on his bottom lip, he finally admitted to himself that he was screwed. In desperation, he offered up a few more names.

  37

  Brian Wilson eased into his chair behind his computer and set his coffee on the desk. This was his second cup before 9 am. The strong, black coffee cruised through him like jet fuel, triggering synapses and clearing away the fog so he could process his work clearly.

  Lifting the lid to his laptop, he tapped the button to wake up his computer. He knew today would be another important day. He was supposed to be on vacation, but with the terrorist threat, he’d been pulled in to work. Terror didn’t take vacations.

  With his security clearance, Brian knew that Eric James, otherwise known as Hazeem Ali, was a home-grown terrorist. He was being interrogated to learn about his cell and any possible attacks. It was Brian’s job to verify any information or names the man gave up. So far, so good.

  Brian had confirmed everything and even made a few connections between the mosque in Carrisburg with a mosque in Afghanistan that had been linked to several bombings. He wasn’t privy to what the other counterterrorism units knew or did, but he would report his findings and then they’d insert a man into the mosque if they hadn’t already.

  He typed in his password and took a sip of coffee as his computer loaded. He loved his job. He’d struggled with asthma his whole life, so a life in the military was never possible for him. But working for counterterrorism was his dream job. He felt like he protected the country even though he wasn’t carrying a gun or physically taking out bad people.

  The night before, he’d set up an algorithm to look for anything suspicious in regards to Hazeem Ali or Eric James in search sites. He clicked open the file and started reading. Sweat heated his armpits and dotted his forehead as he connected the information he’d captured in his algorithm.

  This was big.

  He double-checked the information and printed his findings.

  Closing his laptop, he grabbed the printouts from the printer and marched into the hallway. He needed to show this information to Dr. Quinn immediately.

  Brian walked down the hallway that led to the interrogation room which held Hazeem. He gave a curt head nod to the two men in uniform who stood guard at the door. He’d seen them both before, but he respected their positions and never tried to be friendly with them at work. Maintaining a professional relationship was tantamount in this field of work.

  Holding his identification badge up for them to see, he said, “I need to see Dr. Quinn. I have time-critical information.”

  The tall one’s eyes darted between Brian’s badge and Brian’s face. He recognized the man, some techie genius. “Dr. Quinn is busy right now,” the guard said without a trace of friendliness.

  Brian hated this. He avoided confrontation at all costs. Typically, his reserved nature didn’t hamper his job, but he knew that if he didn’t share this information immediately that lives could be lost. “I understand. But as I said, this is time-critical information and related to this case.” He waved the folder in the air.

  Brian’s heart thudded in his chest as the heavy stares from the guards assessed him. The short, stocky one twitched his lips and gave a decisive nod. “It’s your ass,” he said, rapping on the door.

  Hazeem’s eyes darted to the door at the sound of the knock. He was running out of information that he was willing to give up, but it seemed that the interrogation wouldn’t end. Fear shortened his breaths as he thought of who would enter the room next. What if it was someone who specialized in pain? He didn’t think he’d survive waterboarding or any other type of torture. Did they do that shit?

  The door opened and a geeky man entered the room. A laptop was tucked under his arm and a file folder was in his hand. Hazeem’s heart rate slowed as he measured up the man and took him for a techie and not a torture specialist.

  Brian entered the room and note
d that Taylor Riggs was Dr. Quinn’s muscle. He nodded politely to Taylor in recognition but didn’t try to appear friendly. The interrogation room wasn’t a place for bonding with friends.

  Stepping to the table beside Dr. Quinn, he glanced at Hazeem. The man looked exhausted and his red eyes were filled with fear.

  Brian held the file folder out to Dr. Quinn. “Dr.” Brian said, “I have something to show you.”

  Dr. Quinn adjusted his glasses and took the file folder from Brian. Setting it on the table, he flipped it open and angled the first piece of paper so Hazeem couldn’t read it upside-down.

  Dr. Quinn read through the information on the first page and then closed the folder. He shot a look to Taylor who stood guard behind Hazeem and then scooted back his chair and stood. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said. Turning, he casually made his way out of the room with Brian following behind.

  Hazeem craned his head and noted that Wooly stood mere inches behind him. When their eyes met, the hairy beast’s lips curved into a sneer, altering the way his scruffy beard shaped his head. Apparently Wooly wasn’t going to follow Suit out the door. Turning his head to watch the door close behind the other two men, Hazeem called out, “What’s going on?”

  Panic flooded him. Whatever the techie showed Dr. Quinn must have been important. His mind wandered through all kinds of scenarios. Who had they caught? Who’d turned? What had they discovered?

  Dr. Quinn led Brian into the room behind the two-way mirror so they could still observe Hazeem and Taylor. Another psychiatrist, Dr. Maki, was in the room to observe and take notes during the interrogation. The Japanese man shifted in his chair and set his hands on the table in front of him.

  Brian nodded politely to Dr. Maki in greeting as he approached the table and set his laptop down.

  Dr. Quinn placed the folder on the table and slid it to Dr. Maki.

  Dr. Maki flipped open the file and read through the pages.

  Dr. Quinn cleared his throat and tilted his head towards the file while still making eye-contact with Brian. “Please explain what I just read.”