“And you don’t want that?”
She shook her head. “I’m having too much fun right now. I own my life. If I were to get married, especially to someone they chose for me…well, everything would change.” She looked at Levi. He was a complete stranger. She rarely had men up here—she never brought strangers up. “Jamal was one of their choices. He’s the son of a man my father knew a long time ago.”
Levi’s expression hardened. “What makes him right for you?”
“Other than they vetted him?”
Levi nodded.
“I don’t know. He’s the founder and CEO of a tech company and an adjunct professor of computer science at CSU. They like that he’s got his life in order. But he’s too much of a traditionalist, too conservative for me. He is too enamored of the old ways—the very traditions that forced my parents to come here in the first place back in the eighties.”
“Parents are funny creatures. Why did he scare you?”
“He can be overbearing.” Zaida went into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, wine?”
“Got any beer?”
“No.”
“Water would be great.”
She was relieved he didn’t ask for coffee. She really should learn how to make it. She filled two tall glasses with ice water.
“What about your parents?” she asked as she handed him his glass. They were only minutes into their acquaintance and already he’d dragged a lot of personal stuff out of her. She didn’t like that.
“They’re gone. While ago. Big pile up on a frozen interstate. Took them both.”
“Oh, how awful. I’m so sorry.”
Levi shrugged. “I was in the service. It was a long time ago.” He set his drink on the big island that separated the kitchen from the living and dining rooms. “Mind if I check your place out?”
“Check it for what?”
“Terrorists. Bugs. Bad things.”
Icy fear knotted in her stomach. She nodded. “Sure. Do you think they could get in here?”
“I could.”
“How?”
He shook his head. “My secret.” He took out his phone and walked around the place, opening every door. Her apartment was spacious—three bedrooms, two bathrooms. One of the bedrooms was her office. Everything in her life was exactly as she wanted it. The perfect apartment in the perfect town. Perfect furnishings. A schedule that was of her own making. The independence to work when she wanted—where she wanted. The self-discipline to meet her goals.
Everything was just great…until this terrible wrinkle in her life. A friend of the family murdered…possibly because of her. Her parents pressuring her to settle down. And now a stranger walking through her home…a stranger who might have come straight out of one of her books. Rough, manly, and mysterious. But unlike a hero she’d write, Zaida had no idea what this man would say or do…or if he even was a hero.
She followed him from room to room, turning on lights for him, then shutting them off behind them. Her bedroom was the last stop on the tour. As he had in each room, after a physical sweep, he did an electronic one. Zaida was glad he was focused on his task and not on her, but that didn’t last long. He glanced up just as he came to a stop next to her Kama Sutra sofa. It was a long, elegant lounging couch in the shape of a stretched-out S. A girlfriend had gifted it as a joke, given the erotic nature of some of Zaida’s stories.
Levi stared at it a moment, then looked at her, a single brown brow lifted.
She felt heat rise up her neck. Did he know what it was? Most people didn’t. Her parents didn’t. They’d mentioned it once, but she was fond of modern furniture, so she shrugged it off as being a comfortable place to read and put her feet up. She gave Levi an innocent smile.
He looked around her bedroom once again, then at her. The heat in his gaze almost melted her knees. She wondered if he’d be good in bed…or if he was a get-it-done-and-have-a-sandwich kind of guy. He stepped closer to her. Her breath quickened. She wanted to fan herself.
Never had she reacted to a man this way.
“Got something on your mind, Ms. Hussan?”
“Um…so no bad guys, huh?”
“Looks like.” He followed those two words with a slow grin, apparently not intending to back down.
“Great.” She walked out into the hallway and returned to the living room, forcing him to follow her. “Glad we got that resolved.”
Crazy that she felt spent just having him in her bedroom.
Levi followed Zaida down the hall, watching her hips move with each step she took. She’d taken her heels off at the front door. He wondered now whether he should have removed his boots.
“Tell me what you told Mike,” he said.
“I run a weekly salon.”
“Salon?”
“A women’s group. We talk about everything, including my books and ones by other authors in different genres, but also our lives, what help we need. I’ve been doing it for almost a year. The group’s getting large—I may soon break it out into a second group. I learned a couple of days ago that some of my readers have gotten a ransomware message.”
She handed him her phone with a photo on it. It was the same message that had been found in Mike’s hotel room. Levi had already cloned her phone when they exchanged numbers downstairs; it was good she’d brought this to his attention rather than leaving it to him to find.
He looked at her as he handed her phone back. “Did you call Mike or did he call you?”
“I called him. The women who received this threat have stopped coming to my groups. They have no one they could turn to. Not their husbands, not their families. They’re scared.”
“Are they likely to comply?” he asked.
She gave him a wounded look. “No. Of course not. They love their families. They don’t want them to come to harm by sending money to terrorists.” She gestured toward her phone. “This is anti-Muslim, just as it is anti-Christian…anti-anyone with a thinking mind or half a conscience.”
“This threat has been popping up in communities in the Middle East as well. Did you know that?” he asked.
Her eyes went wide. “No. Mike said that it had shown up on the computers of a terrorist group, not that it was widespread.” When Levi didn’t appear to accept her innocence, anger took over. “If you think that I’m a party to any of this, then you can just get out right now. I write romance fiction. Talk about rose colored glasses.” She gestured toward her phone. “I want the world to be perfect, full of love and joy and happily-ever-afters. Not this ugly hate.” His silence further infuriated her. She walked over to her front door and opened it for him. “Get out.”
Levi walked over to her door and shoved it closed. “Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other. I don’t know whether you’re a victim in all of this or if you’re up to your neck in it through your own actions. I aim to find out. But to do that, I have to keep you alive. Jamal would have kidnapped you tonight if I hadn’t been there.”
“No.”
“You didn’t see the black van speeding toward you?”
Shock filled her features. “When you pushed me against the wall—”
“Yup.”
“What makes you think it wasn’t just a black van using the same street we were?”
“Because I saw Jamal wave it off.”
“Oh, my God.” She gripped his arms as she gasped, “What about my parents? Are they in danger? If Jamal wants me but can’t get me, will he take them?”
“I’ll get them some security. But right now, we need to get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“Someplace that’s not here. I suggest you pack for a more rugged existence. We may be gone more than a few days.”
“I have to call my parents.”
“No.”
“I can’t just disappear.”
“That’s exactly what you have to do. The less they know, the safer they’ll be. Unless they’re involved in all of this…if s
o, they can kiss their asses goodbye.”
She released his arms, but still stood close. Too close. He could smell the fragrance she wore. Something exotic and faint, heated by her skin. A spice and flower blend…cardamom and geraniums, with just a hint of vanilla?
“How could they be involved in all of this? They don’t do anything with my books. I don’t think they even like that I write them.”
That gave Levi pause. Maybe sabotaging her work was the goal of this whole deal. Before he could insist she pack, her phone rang. She answered it as she stepped away from him. “Hi, Mom… Mother? Slow down.” Zaida’s brows knitted. “Mother? What’s happening? Are you safe?”
The line must have gone dead. Zaida lowered the phone as she stared at nothing for a moment.
“Talk to me, Zaida,” Levi said.
Her eyes met his. Panic covered her face…until it didn’t. She drew a breath, then her features settled into a calm mask. “Thank you for helping me tonight. I’ll be more careful of Jamal.” She took Levi’s arm and turned him toward the door.
He put the brakes on. “Hold on. What just happened?”
“Happened?” She blinked. “Nothing. My mom often does that.”
“Does what?”
“Safety drills. Really, I’d like you to leave now.” Her expression was resolute.
Under any other circumstances, he’d have complied. “They got to your parents,” he said.
“No. I just forgot that I promised I’d meet with my mother in the morning. I need to hit the sack. She worries so if I show up with bags under my eyes.”
Shit. They didn’t even have time for her to pack. “We have to get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. For all I know, you are the problem.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. Dammit, Zaida, I’m trying to keep your beautiful head on your hot-as-fuck body.”
Just then, someone began fussing with the lock on her front door. There was no other way out of her apartment—he’d seen that on his tour. “Go into your room. Lock your bedroom door, then go into the bathroom. Lock that too. Do you have a gun?”
“No. No, I don’t have a gun. I write romances for a living. It’s not exactly a dangerous career path.”
He took out his XDM40, chambered a round, then handed it to her. “Hold it like this.” He adjusted her hold so it covered the grip safety. “Don’t give a warning. Just pull the fucking trigger if you see anyone who isn’t me.”
She nodded toward her front door. “What if it’s the cops?”
“It’s not. They would have announced themselves.” He shoved her toward the hall. “Go. Now.”
Levi was glad she had a cover on the peephole in the door—kept the bad guys from seeing into the room with a reverse peephole viewer. It disadvantaged him, too—he had no idea what kind of weapons the bad guys were carrying.
He moved to stand behind the door. The guy fussing with the lock finally got it. The door opened—just a crack at first, then wider. Levi let them all get inside. They didn’t close the door.
“Hurry, get the girl,” the last man through said in hushed Arabic. “Be fast and quiet.”
“But we have time to—” the second man never finished his sentence. He saw Levi as soon as he turned to speak.
Levi grinned. “Something I can do for you, gentlemen?”
The man closest to Levi rushed him. The middle guy hurried to help the first. Levi ducked their punches and slammed his fist into the diaphragm of one guy, following it with a blow to his throat. As that guy started to bend over, gasping for breath, Levi put a hand on the guy’s shoulder and hoisted himself into the air, kicking the second guy in the face, cracking his jaw. The guy’s head hit the wooden arm of one of Zaida’s side chairs, breaking the chair and snapping the guy’s neck.
The first guy straightened and grabbed for Levi. Turning, Levi yanked his hand forward, straightening it over his shoulder, then slamming downward, breaking the man’s arm at his elbow. He cried out.
The third man, who’d barely made it to the hallway, rushed back to help his friends. He pulled out a pistol with a suppressor and waved it around, trying to get a straight shot.
Seeing him, Levi turned again, pulling the guy whose arm he’d just broken in front of him as the guy fired. The man Levi was holding slumped in his arms. Levi shoved him aside, knocking a lamp off a side table.
The guy with the gun was only a couple of feet from Levi now. Levi lurched forward, ducking as he shoved the guy’s gun up and aside. The guy squeezed off another round. It hit the wall. Keeping a hand on the gun, Levi kneed him in the groin. A quick twist of the fist holding the gun, and Levi took possession of it. He stepped back and fired a round into the guy’s chest.
As fast as it happened, it was over. Three men were down.
Levi locked the door again. He cleared the weapons from each of the intruders, then checked to see if they were alive. They weren’t.
He collected their identification. They had regular driver’s licenses…and passports. Their passports showed they were from Turkey, but who knows how valid any of their IDs were. Their names weren’t ones he’d been given in the packet, but he had to assume they were from Tahrir al-Sham’s crew.
He dragged them into the kitchen, away from Zaida’s carpets, wondering how many more were waiting for them downstairs…or already on their way up.
He and Zaida had to clear out of there. Fast.
Levi went to get her. Her bedroom door was locked. He grabbed the lock probe that one of the other bedroom doors had over the doorjamb and let himself into her room.
“Zaida—it’s me, Levi. You’re safe. For now.” No answer. “Zaida, I’m coming in. Don’t shoot me.”
“Levi?”
“Yeah.”
She fumbled with the lock, then stood back as he opened the door. His gun was in her shaking hands. Black streaks of makeup ran down her cheeks. She looked behind him, watching for someone else, but didn’t resist when he reached for his pistol. He slipped it into his holster.
Zaida’s face was pale. Her whole body was shaking. He pulled her close. Wrapping his arms around her, he lost a few precious minutes waiting for her panic to recede. “You’re safe. For now.”
“Did they come in? I heard a shout, but nothing else.”
“Yeah. Three men came in. All are dead. My people will come clean up. We need to get out of here.” He leaned back and checked her over. Catching her face, he forced her to look up at him. “I have a safe place for us to go. Grab some things. Be quick about it. We have to get out of here.” He left her, but called over his shoulder as he walked away, “Bring your laptop. And pack for rough accommodations.”
Back in the living room, he took snapshots of the intruders and their IDs. He sent them to Lambert and got a call right away.
“What am I looking at?” Lambert asked without preamble.
“Three guys who broke into Zaida Hussan’s apartment. Not clear if they would have taken her alive.”
“You take them out?”
“Affirmative. I’m leaving them for you. There was an attempt to nab Zaida off the street earlier tonight by a man she thought was a friend. Some guy named Jamal. I’ll text you the license plate on the van. Our enemies want her…so we want her. I’m taking her to my place. We need to get to her parents ASAP. They called her with some kind of warning just before these guys broke in here. Not sure if or how they are involved, but either way, we want them too.”
“Agreed. I’ll handle it. Get out of there.” Lambert dropped the call.
4
Levi waited for Zaida to come out of her room. Didn’t take long. She brought out a leather satchel, stuffed to the brim, then went into her office to get her laptop. When she came out, her messenger bag was stuffed with papers, cords, supplies, and a laptop in a pink case.
“Got everything?” Levi asked.
“Probably not.” Her gaze snagged on the three bodies lying side by side in the kitchen. “Oh, my God.
”
“Don’t worry about them. Like I said, my team’s coming in to clean up.”
“How will they get in?” she asked.
Levi tilted his head. “Security—here or anywhere—just keeps out the less determined. Let’s go.” He dropped her satchel strap over his head, leaving her to carry her laptop bag.
“Wait—I want to call my parents before we go. They must be worried sick.”
“Not now. When we get where we’re going, you can. Leave your phone here.”
“I can’t. It has all my information.” She turned panicked eyes on him. “I don’t even know their phone numbers. I did, but they got new numbers a year ago when they moved closer to me and I haven’t bothered to memorize them. I just put them in my phone.”
“Shut your phone off and leave it here. I don’t want anyone tracking you. I have your contacts. I have all your vitae.”
“How?”
“I cloned your phone.”
“When?”
“When we were downstairs swapping numbers. And you can bet if I did it, your enemies did too.” They went to the front door. His boot crunched on broken glass from the lamp. “Hope that wasn’t valuable,” he said.
“No, but it was one of my favorites.”
“Well, if you don’t go to jail, I’ll buy you another one.” He threw out that jab to distract her from the fact that she was running from her apartment in the middle of the night, heading someplace she’d never been with a man who was a stranger, leaving behind three dead guys on the floor in her kitchen. Anger was better than fear.
She took the bait and stopped in the hall outside her apartment, furious. “Why would I go to jail? I haven’t done anything. I haven’t broken the law.”
He met her angry gaze. She’d washed her face and fixed her makeup. The shaking, crying, terrified woman she’d been just minutes earlier was gone. She’d changed into a crisp white cotton blouse with three-quarter length sleeves. The shirt’s collar was turned up. It was fitted at the waist then flared slightly over her hips. She wore a pair of tight jeans and high-heeled boots that went up her calves.
Freedom Code Page 4
