Authors: Misty Evans
If anyone at Rock Star Security downtown was still paying attention, they’d see her and Al-Safari on the cameras and notify someone—probably not Homeland, since they didn’t know who to trust, but possibly the local SWAT team or FBI office. Someone would come. Someone, along with Jax and his crew here at the apartment, would stop Abdel.
If she could drag this out, they’d have a chance at saving Beatrice, Cal, Emit, and the others, and keeping the terrorist from leaving the country.
With her onboard.
“You will not leave my sight,” Abdel repeated.
There was no way she was flying out of the States with him. Once he had her in the air, she would be much harder to track. She’d be without resources, without any partner or backup. Her chances of survival as anything more than Mohammad Izala’s prisoner plummeted to zero.
She’d kill herself before she let that happen. “Fine. You wanna watch me change my tampon? Come on in.”
Swinging around, she started into the bathroom. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of the mirror over the sink. Reflected in the glass was a hulking body she knew all too well.
Shit!
Whirling back and blocking her captor’s view, she put her hands on either side of the doorframe. “I’ll be sure to let your boss know what a perv you are. How you liked watching me while I—”
“Stop!” Abdel demanded, his lips firming in a thin line. “You have one minute. Leave the door cracked open. Try anything and your friends will indeed die.”
All she needed was that tampon box. Every plastic “tampon” case held a weapon. Some held syringes filled with drugs that would immobilize a man, put him to sleep, or even kill. A couple held extra bullets for her gun. A few more held tracking devices. Her favorite weapon was a steel projectile that resembled an old fashioned car antenna. It retracted down to a two-inch long pen of sorts, easily hidden in a purse, a pocket, even her hand. Once activated, it extended up to a foot with a razor-sharp end, perfect for poking an eye out, driving up the nose of the enemy, or into the ear of an attacker.
If she could just get her hands on that…
First, she had to figure out what to do with the ex-SEAL trying—and failing—to hide himself behind the bathroom door.
Abdel was still staring her down and she could tell his resolve to allow her this whopping minute of time was wavering. She’d pushed him as far as he would go. Time to get down to business and get that damn tampon box.
She was about to nod agreement to his terms when she felt the weight of Jax’s stare on the back of her head. It wasn’t hard to read his mind. She’d seen it in his face in the hallway, his hate of the man. His rage over this situation.
Jaxon Sloan had the overwhelming desire to pull the trigger of the gun she knew he had pointed at the door, right where Abdel stood on the other side. One wrong move on Jax’s part and Al-Safari would see him. The gig would be up.
And they’d be burying bodies.
Be still
, she mentally ordered Jax.
I’ve got this
.
To Abdel, she said. “Turn your back. Give me at least that much privacy.”
Abdel raised the gun, pointed it at her forehead. “Get this done. Now!”
But as she raised her hands and backed into the bathroom, he turned sideways.
Sideways was not the best, but it was workable. Especially since he faced away from the mirror.
“Thank you,” she said, the thrum of relief making her voice go soft.
Ignoring eye contact with Jax in the mirror, she went to the closet and knelt down. The tampons were on the lowest shelf and she made a big deal of rummaging around for them.
Jax could see her, Al-Safari couldn’t. She raised her gaze to her bodyguard and showed him a yellow encased tampon. He watched as she ripped the plastic off and withdrew the tiny, but effective syringe.
One of his brows cocked but he grinned. Ruby slid the syringe into her pocket.
By weight and color of the plastic they were wrapped in, she counted her collection of various weapons. Then she went to the toilet, in case Al-Safari was listening or happened to peek in.
She didn’t need a real tampon, so she faked it, made a lot of noise with unrolling tissue paper and flushing. When she glanced up, Jax was holding up a small square of toilet paper he must have snagged before she’d entered. On the square were five hastily scribbled words.
With you all the way.
She wasn’t in this alone. She had a partner she could count on. Locking eyes with him briefly, she blew him a kiss and winked.
At the sink, she washed her hands, smiled at him in the mirror.
“Finish,” Abdel demanded. “We leave now.”
From his end of the counter, Jax slid the square of toilet paper her way. She touched his fingers with hers, then snatched up the message and hid it in her bra. As she gathered the tampon box and jammed it into a cosmetic bag with a few makeup items, she said to the terrorist, “Coming. I have everything I need.”
She did, too. She had weapons, her craft, her cunning.
She had Jax.
Tearing her gaze from Jax’s, she took her cosmetic bag and left the bathroom. Abdel took the bag, pushed the gun into her shoulder and hustled her toward the door. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” he ordered.
Putting her hands behind her back, she laid out her mental plan of attack as they walked out of the apartment.
Mission first and always.
A
L-SAFARI’S
D
RIVER
W
AS
waiting downstairs in a long, black limo. The kid barely looked legal and must have been hiding around the corner. He came driving up as Ruby and the terrorist hit the bottom of the inside stairs and emerged into daylight.
Dan was in good hands with Zeb. Colton hid inside Jax’s car, ready to pick him up and follow the limo. Jax, having taken the fire escape and beat Ruby and her kidnapper to the ground, was peeking out from around the corner of the building.
Overhead, the skies were gray, cumulus clouds gathering for a storm. Rain already fell sparsely, a few drops hitting Jax in the face, mixing with his sweat.
For all of Al-Safari’s cunning, he hadn’t searched her. Ruby had her earbud in once again—he’d have to ask her how she’d managed that—and her comm was switched on. She had some kind of syringe filled with a drug in her pocket. More in her little striped bag.
Most importantly, he wasn’t going to lose her.
The driver opened the back door of the limo for his boss. Al-Safari holstered his gun and tied Ruby’s hands with a fresh zip tie before shoving her into the backseat. He said something to the driver, pulled his gun back out, and glanced over his shoulder.
Jax was sure the terrorist couldn’t see him, but only released the lock on his lungs when Al-Safari climbed into the backseat.
Zeb chimed in his ear. “Dan is stabilized. Ambulance is on its way.”
The limo’s brake lights flashed as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. Static came from Ruby’s comm. The limo probably had a signal jammer for security purposes. Either that, or Al-Safari had finally discovered it.
Out of the blue, Rory spoke. He’d been silent for so long, hearing his voice both startled Jax and spiked some relief. “Roger that. We are covered here. I repeat, Nickleback and Halestorm have found and neutralized Al-Safari’s snipers.”
Another surge of relief hit Jax in his solar plexus. Two of the new Rock Stars had come through for them.
He hauled ass across the backside of the parking lot as Colton jetted forward in the Jeep to pick him up. “What about the car bomb?” Jax asked, jamming himself and his weapon into the front seat.
Rory’s voice was replaced with a female one, a voice Jax was afraid he might never hear again. “A private bomb squad of my choosing is going over the car now. We have alerted the proper authorities to begin a controlled evacuation of the surrounding area, and they are sending in their SWAT team. Mine will have the bomb neutralized before they get here. Our biggest concern, due to the fact Abdel Al-Safari is involved, is the possibility of a chemical dissemination.”
Beatrice. Always one step ahead of everyone else. Except, in this case, a man who was supposed to be dead.
“Are you safe?” Jax asked her as he and Colton zoomed out of the parking lot. Jax’s hands itched to be on the wheel—his whole body itched to be in control, not relying on Colt to drive—but he focused his attention on the limo ahead of them.
“As safe as I’ll ever be,” Beatrice assured him. “We’re in a safe room below ground level. Well, at least I am. Cal, Emit, and Rory are still in the conference room, refusing to leave until Agent McKellen is returned to us safely.”
Jax almost laughed. “A safe room? You have a fucking safe room at HQ and you didn’t say anything?”
“Keep your britches on,” Rory griped. “We discovered it on the blueprints I pulled up from the county courthouse five minutes ago. There’s a tunnel under the building—”
“One of the reasons I chose this particular building,” Beatrice interrupted.
“But we only just found the panic room,” Rory continued.
Even when Beatrice didn’t have all the facts, she chose wisely. Jax hoped she’d chosen wisely with him. “I am in pursuit of Al-Safari and Ruby.”
Rory gave him a status update. “Airports have been alerted, but none have confirmed any private jet with flight plans using an ultimate destination to or from Northern Africa or the Middle East. If they are flying international, they would use O’Hare. No planes registered, obviously, under Al-Safari or Izala’s names.”
The limo merged with traffic on Interstate 290. “We’re definitely headed west,” Jax told them. “Could they be using a smaller airport to get to Canada first?”
“We’ll alert Homeland.” Beatrice sounded disappointed that she couldn’t pull a Hail Mary on this one. “That’s the only way to stop them.”
“
I
will stop them,” Jax told her. “Homeland will only fuck it up, and we don’t know who we can trust. Remember what Al-Safari told Ruby? He and Izala have infiltrated everybody from Mossad to Homeland. If we call in the wrong person on this, Ruby could die. A lot of people could die.”
A brief silence ensued. In his mind, Jax saw Beatrice screwing up her face the way she did when she was calculating odds.
Impatience made him want to argue with her even when she hadn’t said a word. He gripped the armrest with one hand and his gun with the other so tightly, Colton shot him a questioning look.
Jax cut his comm so no one else could hear him. Colt did the same to his. When Jax was sure the comms were muted, he tried to explain. “Ripping the armrest off is better than yelling at Beatrice.”
“Agreed,” his wing man said after a pause. “She’s just trying to do the right thing.”
Jax knew that. But sometimes doing the right thing fucked you over. He should know.
“All right.” Beatrice cut off their conversation. “Take all of that rage and frustration you’ve been subduing for months, Megadeth, and go do your worst to this bastard. Once you get the all-clear from Rory about the bomb, I want you to bring our client home.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. Jax hit his comm, opening communication again. “Roger that, boss.” The he looked at Colton and grinned. “Floor it.”
Tailing someone in Chicago traffic was challenging. The only benefit was the fact they were tailing a limo. What terrorist used a limousine to kidnap a CIA operative? Jax could not figure Al-Safari out.
Colt knew his stuff when it came to following a perp without being seen. Tough to do with only one vehicle to keep an eye on it though. Tailing always worked better if you had two or three cars to tag off so the driver didn’t get suspicious.
Hopefully, the kid wasn’t experienced enough to keep watch over his own six, and Chicago drivers, who, Jax had learned in past few days, should audition for the
Fast and Furious
movies. They drove like Indy car drivers, hammering in and out of the multi-lane highways with a speed and precision he admired.
Rory was keeping tabs on them via the GPS signals in their SFI watches and phones. “You’re headed north again. Available airports are O’Hare and a small, professional executive airport in Wheeling. Seems unlikely Al-Safari is headed there.”
We’re businessmen
. Al-Safari’s statement rang in Jax’s ears. “That’s it,” he said, both to Rory and to Colton. “That’s exactly where he’s going.”
Jax heard Zeb in his ear. “Why would Al-Safari be going to that little airport?”
“He told Ruby that he and Izala were businessmen. They’re running a business. Do they have their own company? Do they have their own private jet? He’s not planning on taking her to the Middle East. He’s taking her somewhere closer, I’d bet on it.”
“But Izala’s in North Africa.” This from Rory.
“Is he?” Jax asked. “If Al-Safari made it to America, what’s to say Izala didn’t come with him?”
Traffic thinned and the rain picked up. The windshield wipers worked furiously to keep the water at bay.
“He’s picking up speed,” Colt announced.
Jax wanted to punch the dash. “We’ve been made.”