Edge of Danger (Edge Security Series Book 3) (2 page)

“You’re no closer to tracking down his identity?” Cat asked him.

Zach gave a sharp shake of his head. “No one is. This guy literally
is
his name. Al Shabah. The Ghost. He had small cells working with him in each country he struck, but none of them have ever actually seen him.”

“How long have you been after him?” Jake asked Zach.

“Since the bombing that killed those soldiers in Iraq. Two years now.” Zach shook his head. “We were so close last year. I will find this guy and bring him down.”

“Don’t worry, Doc,” Marc said from the other end of the table, where he’d been sitting quiet. “If he comes to New York, we’ll find him.”

Blackwell closed his laptop. “You’ve each been given a copy of the file we have on Al Shabah. Most of that has been created by Zach. Because of that, he will be team lead for this op. Wheels up in two hours.”

“Yes, sir,” they all said together.

Zach stood with the others, already going over his list of what he’d need for a covert mission in a major city, when Jake stopped him.

“You know I’m from New York, right?” he said.

Zach nodded.

“My parents live upstate, but my sis is a cop with the NYPD Counterterrorism Bureau. Chances are you’re going to run into her.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll say hi for you.”

“No,” Jake said, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. She’s fanatical about Al Shabah. She knew some of the guys who were killed by one of his bombs. She’s been hunting him ever since.”

“I thought you said she was a cop. What was she doing over there?”

Jake sighed. “Military intelligence. She followed me into the service out of school.” He ran a hand over his short hair. “God, I wish she hadn’t.”

“Why? What happened?”

Jake stepped back and his face went blank. “Nothing. Just… Watch out for her, okay?”

“Of course,” he said. “You don’t have to ask. Besides, she might not even be assigned to this.”

Jake huffed a breath. “Oh, she’ll be assigned to it. She’ll demand to be on the task force.”

“She sounds like a firecracker.”

“You have no idea.”

T
he souq overwhelms
; with people, with smells, with stalls. Spices, perfumes, teas, jewelry, clothing, prayer mats.

She meanders the aisles in the market square, Brian and Scott beside her. Their eyes bright and they laugh, tease her, though she can’t hear their words. She stops and fingers the silky shawls. The smell of cardamom seeds and cumin scent the air.

Other soldiers stroll past. They nod to her, smile, and she smiles back. They are all friends here. Near the middle of the souq there is a cloth seller’s stall. Alyssa’s skin tightens, ants climb her spine, and she doesn’t know why.

Brian and Scott move further into the souq.

Don’t go.

But she doesn’t say the words. She turns from them. A woman with a black hijab and an embroidered tunic fingers the linens.

Just then, an overweight boy walks past—his body large, his arms and legs thin. Like a spider, she thinks. His eyes are wide as he stares at the soldiers.

“Something’s wrong,” she says.

Scott is back beside her. He shakes his head. “You brought us here. This is your fault.”

A
lyssa sat
straight up in bed. She panted and her heart thundered too fast. She began taking deep breaths, holding them for a count of three and then releasing them. Sometimes Dr. Martinez actually recommended things that helped. When her heartbeat slowed, she eased herself out of bed, the sweat drying on her body.

2 a.m.

She knew from experience she wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so she might as well get some work done. She threw a faded ARMY hoodie on over the cami she slept in and dragged on a pair of soft leggings. Fluffy slippers completed her comfy clothes, and she shuffled to her kitchen.

She made a cup of mint tea, though she wanted coffee. But then she really wouldn’t go back to sleep. She eyed the bottle of scotch in her cupboard. Having a drink usually relaxed her enough to put her back under.

She shut the cupboard door. She was becoming too dependent on it. She’d refused sleeping pills for the same reason.

Her tiny one-bedroom was typical for Manhattan. She was lucky she’d found an apartment in the Upper West Side in her price range at all. Thankfully, she had never been a collector, so even though her apartment made a closet look big, it wasn’t cluttered. She had her couch, TV, and a shelf full of books. The kitchen had a two-person breakfast bar separating it from the main area.

She had no art up, nor did she have any pictures. Dr. Martinez would probably have something to say about that, which is why she didn’t tell him.

Alyssa flopped onto her couch and checked her phone. Her older brother Jake had called yesterday and left a voicemail. Jake, her overly protective, ex-Navy SEAL brother, now worked for E.D.G.E. Security in Montréal. His message would just say the same thing it always did. She stared at the phone a moment before deleting it.

The thick file on her coffee table waited for her.

“So, Al Shabah, you’re coming to America.”

A
lyssa woke on the couch
, panting from the latest nightmare. Her file on her lap. Her heart thundered while sweat dried on her skin. All the lights in her tiny apartment were on and the wall clock showed four-thirty. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour.

She scrubbed a hand over her face, trembling slightly as she used the remote to turn off the infomercial about miracle blenders. Her head throbbed and her neck ached from the position she’d slept in. She blinked, trying to get some moisture back into her gritty eyes. It was almost as if she'd actually spent the night in that dry desert climate.

An empty glass and the scotch bottle sat on the coffee table. She’d given in and poured herself a drink when the night had seemed endless.

It was the last time, she vowed. She picked up the glass and the half-empty bottle of scotch from the coffee table and stalked into the galley kitchen. She opened the cupboard beside the fridge and shoved the scotch inside, back behind the vinegars and oils she kept there.

She wouldn’t use it again. The Advil sat on the same shelf. She grabbed two and filled a glass with water. The cool liquid made her mouth and throat sigh in relief.

The clock said four forty-five. She didn’t need to be into work until seven. The captain had frowned at her the few times she’d checked in too early. He suspected something, and she was determined not to prove him right.

She dressed in shorts and a running top, threw her red hair into a ponytail, and put a ball cap on over that, pulling her ponytail through the back. After lacing her sneakers, she grabbed her key and dragged her protesting body out of her apartment. Living on the third floor of an old building meant no elevators, which was a downside to most people, but it helped keep her rent down.

She stepped out into the cool morning. The sun would be rising within thirty minutes. Her gaze automatically went to the cardboard lean-to in the narrow alley between the coffee shop on the corner—Lattes and More—and her building. No movement. Rob must still be asleep.

After a few warm-up stretches, she ran the two blocks east until she hit Central Park and its pathways. The birds sang in the gray predawn light. Other runners crossed her path even this early in the morning, though she didn’t wear any lights or reflective gear like the others. The thought of not being able to hide if she needed to made her skin crawl.

Her muscles began to warm, her breathing evened out, and she relaxed into the run along West Park Drive. Her head no longer ached and she could almost feel the alcohol and her demons sweating out of her system.

She followed a route that would be about four miles, keeping a fast pace. As she passed over the 79
^th
Street transverse, a runner coming toward her caught her eye.

She ran through his stats. Six-foot-two, one hundred and ninety pounds, dark brown skin. Close to thirty years, she’d guess, his bald head a choice rather than a necessity. He wore shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that couldn’t hide the hard muscles underneath. She couldn’t see his eyes.

He kept a relaxed pace, but it still seemed a sprint compared to the rest of the runners. The easy, fast rhythm reminded her of her brother Jake when he ran, an elite soldier who pushed his body beyond what most people thought possible. She watched the runner approach her and knew that if she tried to outrun him, he would catch her. Her muscles tensed at the thought, but she plucked out the sliver of fear before it festered. This man hadn’t done anything. Besides, she could take care of herself; both her military background and her police training had taught her that.

He drew close, running under a streetlamp where she could see him clearly. His sculpted cheekbones and beautiful dark skin could have made him a model, but the way his head moved almost imperceptibly as he scanned his surroundings, his gaze never settling on any one thing, said he was a warrior. This man had seen action. His eyes found hers and she nodded. He slowed and nodded back.

She didn’t break her stride, having nodded in greeting only as one runner to another, not to invite any kind of attention. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He studied her as she approached. She pulled her cap lower to hide her tired eyes from the streetlamp’s glow.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep voice a warm caress. An image flashed in her head of a lazy morning with twisted sheets and hard arms holding her.

Where had
that thought
come from?

Intrigued, she kept her gaze on this man. He was even better looking up close, and his smile alone would have women drooling. But not her, she reminded herself.

He looked entirely too awake and not out of breath at all. No one should look that happy this early in the morning. She was only here because she couldn’t sleep. She’d never been an early riser before joining the Army.

“Morning,” she mumbled. Then she was past him and struggled against the urge to look back. She was only curious, she wasn’t actually interested. She counted to five. Surely that was enough time? She looked back.

He watched her.

Not in any creeper way that would have her cop instincts going off. His smile broadened and something tiny fluttered in her stomach. Surprise widened her eyes. He gave her a little salute and ran off, his pace strong and sure. She watched him for a few seconds more, jogging in place.

That had been one fine specimen of a man. Someone she would have jogged after before her tour. Her lips pressed together. But not now. Now she was different.

Damaged.

She shut down those thoughts. Dr. Martinez would be proud. She’d have to tell him about it at their next session.

She finished her run. She didn’t quite feel the runner’s high like she used to, but the endorphins moving through her body soothed her, taking off the ever-present edge, like the scotch she used at night to sleep.

She walked the last couple of blocks to her building. All thoughts of the male jogger cooled with her body, as if she needed a pounding heart in order to think of him in any way other than as a fast runner and a set of stats.

She headed into the coffee shop. The only customer was Mr. Almadi from the building across the street, who sat drinking his coffee and reading the paper like he did every day. He said it was the only time he could get away from his wife’s chatter.

The owner stood behind the counter fiddling with his espresso machine. He was a lean man, with his glasses perched on his large nose and an easy smile on his face.

“Morning, Alyssa,” he said, placing two cups on the counter. “Vanilla latte and a caramel macchiato, extra sweet.”

“Morning, Frank. How’s things?” Alyssa grabbed the cash from the tiny pocket inside her shorts and handed it to Frank.

“Kids are complaining about school, wife is complaining about the apartment.” He shrugged and laughed. “The usual. But it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

She forced a smile she didn’t feel and thanked him. Fake it until you make it. One day she’d feel something besides fear again. She frowned. She had felt something early this morning when that jogger had gone by her. Maybe she was making progress.

Or maybe she just had a fever.

She turned into the alley and stopped before the cardboard lean-to. A man sat cross-legged before it, a tattered Army blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his matted brown beard matching his long stringy hair.

“Good morning, Rob,” Alyssa said. She handed him the caramel macchiato.

Rob’s brown eyes held too much pain for her to look into for long, but he smiled at her. “Thanks, detective.”

“It’s Alyssa.”

“Sure thing. Detective Alyssa.” He smiled, and she had a flash of what he would look like cleaned up and off the street. She thought he might even be younger than her.

She shook her head at him. “Stay safe.”

“Alyssa?” he called softly. She turned back.

“How do you do it?” At her questioning look, he explained. “You were there. You know what it was like. How do you keep the memories away?”

“I don’t,” she said. “I can’t. You just have to find a way to live with them.”

He stared into space a moment, his face an anguished grimace as he watched some personal nightmare play out.

“I saw someone today,” he said, his voice almost dreamy.

She moved closer. “Who’d you see?”

“Someone from that day.”

“What day?”

He blinked and stared at her. “The day my friends died.” He put his arms around his knees and began to rock. She’d seen him do this before. He wouldn’t be talking again anytime soon.

She took her latte and slowly climbed the stairs. She didn’t know much about Rob, and he liked to keep it that way. She hoped one day he could beat his demons and get off the streets.

Z
ach and Marc
left their hotel on the Upper West Side and made their way to the nearest subway stop.

“I hate suits,” Marc said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“Copy that,” Zach said. “But we blend better.”

He trotted down the steps to the subway and Marc followed, grumbling. They swiped the metro cards he’d gotten the day before when they’d explored the area.

The concierge had told them what line they needed. A pale-skinned woman walking past him eyed Marc, but then averted her gaze and hurried her steps. Zach almost snorted. He shouldn’t have bothered with the suit.

Zach found most women fell into one of two groups: ones who were scared of him and avoided him, and ones who managed to control their nervousness because they wanted to sleep with him. Not many saw beyond his size and the color of his skin.

A small smile tugged at his lips. Though the cute little redhead this morning hadn’t seemed scared, and the look on her face when he’d caught her glancing back at him had almost made him turn back to talk to her. But he wasn’t here for fun.

They found the subway that would take them to one of the outer boroughs, and eventually made their way to a nondescript brick building beside an auto-body shop and across from a junkyard.

No one was finding this place unless they knew where to look. On the side of the building in the shadow of an elevated highway was a plain metal door. He rapped twice before entering.

A glaringly white room greeted them, partitioned by a tall counter and thick bulletproof glass. Another metal door waited on the other side. A vested and heavily armed officer worked at a counter. He raised his graying head, his hard eyes scrutinizing Zach and Marc. He didn’t say a word, but his one hand slipped below the level of the counter while the other touched his sidearm.

“Agents Zach Grayson and Marc Koven,” Zach said. “We’re here to see Captain Marin.” They pulled out the IDs E.D.G.E. had given them and slid them through the slot in the glass meant for that. Someone in the upper echelons of the government had requested E.D.G.E.’s presence, but that didn’t mean anyone in this unit could learn of E.D.G.E. According to his ID and false record, he was from the Defense Intelligence Agency.

The officer scanned it and checked his logs, his face not quite as forbidding now that their IDs had checked out.

“This way,” the officer said, pressing a button. The partition door clicked as it unbolted, and Zach walked through. The officer ushered them through the second door, this one steel and six inches thick. “Captain’s office is to the left.”

Zach hummed in appreciation at the futuristic room revealed to him. One wall was covered in electronic maps, another held time readouts of major cities: Moscow, London, Tel Aviv, Riyadh, Islamabad, and others. Headlines raced across LED news tickers. Officers in sharp suits or the Bureau’s navy polo shirts sat at polished desks with large monitors.

They found Captain Marin’s office. The wall facing the main room was clear glass, though Zach wouldn’t be surprised if it was bulletproof too. The man inside frowned at his computer screen when Zach knocked. Captain Marin turned his frown on them. He looked like a bar brawler forced into a suit.

“You two the counterterrorism specialists the military is foisting on me?” Captain Marin said, standing up and coming around his mahogany desk.

“Yes, sir,” Zach said. “We’re here to help in any way we can.”

The captain grimaced. “Well, you’re not the only ones. You’ll be working with Special Agent Masters from the FBI. He’ll be taking over the Al Shabah task force.”

“We know, sir,” Marc said. “We’re just here to assist.”

Captain Marin’s eyes narrowed as he eyed them both up and down. “Neither of you has much of a file.”

“No, sir,” Zach said, shaking the captain’s hand. “Our superiors like to keep it that way.”

“And who are your superiors?”

“Men far smarter than me,” Zach said.

The captain crossed his arms, apparently unwilling to give up. “Where are you from, soldier?”

Zach wanted to smile, but didn’t. The man didn’t honestly think he was getting any information from them, did he? “Not far from here,” Zach replied.

“It’s like that, is it?”

“Afraid so, sir.”

Marin expelled a deep breath. “Well, we’ve all got our orders. Let me show you two around. I expect Agent Masters later this morning.”

They followed the captain back into the main room.

“This is impressive, sir,” Zach said.

Marin stood a little straighter. “Your first time here?”

“Yes,” Zach said. “It’s definitely something I’ll be telling my superiors about.” And it was true.

“Wait till you see the Global Intelligence room.”

Hallways led off the main room, one leading to another room almost as large. Here, twelve large flat-screen TVs suspended from the ceiling broadcast Al Jazeera and other foreign programming. Officers with headsets watched them.

“We have officers monitoring all possible channels for potential threats. We also have several who scan the dark net.”

“Twenty-four-seven?” Marc asked.

“Of course,” Marin replied.

He gave them a quick tour of the rest of his domain, pointing out more conference rooms, offices, and a kitchen. He told them of the range, armory, and gym on the other floors. Zach suspected there were other intelligence rooms Marin kept from them, but either he or Marc would recce the whole building later.

They were making their way back to the main room when a woman with red hair and pale skin caught his eye. His interest flared as the sexy jogger from this morning strode down the hall toward them. A black suit covered those amazing legs, and she held files in her hands.

He smiled. His lucky day.

“Captain, I need a moment.” Her eyes widened when she spotted Zach before a frown settled on her face.

“Detective Alyssa Harrison,” Marin said, waving his hand at her. “One of my best analysts, in charge of the Al Shabah task force. Or was, until the FBI took over,” he said.

So this was Jake’s little sister. Zach could see the resemblance now, especially around the cool gray eyes. Disappointment flickered. His jogger was Jake’s sister, and a member of the task force. Definitely hands-off.

Captain Marin continued the introduction. “Alyssa, this is Agents Zach Grayson and Marc Koven. They’re here to help with the investigation. They’re military counterterrorism specialists.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said tersely to them, with only a quick nod before she turned back to the captain. “Sir, it’s about my task force.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Alyssa, but it’s not my call. The FBI is taking over. Be ready to brief Masters when he gets here.”

“Sir, no one knows Al Shabah better than I do. It should be me leading.”

“I gave them your qualifications,” he said. “You will be on the team that takes him down. I’ve made sure of that.” He paused and tilted his head. “Now why don’t you show these two gentlemen around?”

She shook her head. “Sir, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do.”

The captain stared hard at her. “They will shadow you. You can explain what we’ve got.” He nodded at them all and walked away, a satisfied look on his face.

Zach raised an eyebrow and Marc snorted softly.

“You’re Jake’s little sister,” Marc said.

She turned her frown on him. “How do you know my brother?”

“We’ve worked together,” Zach told her.

She nodded and turned away, walking back toward the main room.

His brows drew together at her lack of response. Marc shrugged at him.

“Did I say something wrong?” Zach asked as they walked after her.

“No,” she said, stopping at a desk on the far side of the room from Marin’s office. She plopped the folder down. “Look, I wasn’t kidding that I have a lot of paperwork. I’ll arrange for you to shadow one of the other officers on the team.”

He cocked his head. She hadn’t even asked after her brother. He turned to Marc. “Why don’t you go explore while I stay with Detective Harrison?”

Marc gave a small happy smile, like Zach had just given him the keys to the candy store. Which, in a way, he had.

“Copy that,” he said, walking back the way they’d come. Marc would find someone to show him the terminals and start delving into their information.

She scowled. “He shouldn’t be going off on his own.”

“Don’t worry about Marc,” Zach said. “He’s happiest when he’s alone.”

She didn’t say anything, but something in her eyes told him that this woman was also happiest when she was alone. He got the sense she hadn’t always been that way.

“Don’t you want to join your friend?” she asked.

“Sorry, but I’m going to shadow you, like the captain said.”

Her lips pressed together and a spark lit her gray eyes. Finally, a sign of life.

“So your friend is the rule breaker and you’re the good boy who does what he’s told?” she asked.

That actually made him laugh. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” he said.

Her face wiped clean of emotion. “Suit yourself. You can grab a chair and watch me work.”

She opened the folder she’d been carrying, perused it for a moment, and then started typing, ignoring him completely. He hid his smile and grabbed a nearby desk chair, pulling it over to the front of her desk. She kept typing, her eyes straying only briefly to him before they fixed once more on her monitor. He was in special operations; patience wasn’t just a virtue but a necessity. He used the time to study her.

She had the same gray eyes as Jake, but the rest of her features were delicate rather than square. With her red hair back in a braid, her pale skin showcased the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks.

She didn’t look sweet and innocent, though—not with that steely look in her eye and the start of a scowl drawing her brows together. He half expected her to turn and scold him with an Irish lilt in her voice. Her face may have seemed country-girl innocent, but it was her eyes and attitude that told her story. According to Jake, she’d been a sergeant in the army, had at least one tour under her belt, and now was a police detective. Impressive stuff.

The muscles in her jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth. He tried not to laugh. Her gaze stayed calm and cool, though. An interesting dichotomy. Jake had told him to watch for her temper, but it didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t handle. He wondered what it would be like when her eyes truly flared with anger. Unbidden, an image of her in her running shorts and tank top from this morning came to his mind. She had great legs and…

Whoa. He needed to stop those thoughts. She was his friend’s little sister. The mission came first like always, and then if he had time he was to check up on her. That was it.

He leaned back. But he could look a little more, he decided.

Her fingers tapped harder on the keys. If it wasn’t for the subtle signs, he would have thought she’d forgotten he was there.

After ten minutes, she heaved a sigh. “Fine. You win. What would you like to look at first?”

Just you.

He squashed the errant thought, not really sure where it had come from. His buddy’s sister, he reminded himself.

He smiled as if he hadn’t been sitting there for ten minutes. “I’m interested in your Global Intelligence room and what you’ve learned about Al Shabah,” he said. He needed to see if they had any information that he didn’t.

She stood and walked straight to the GI room, not looking to see if he followed. At the door, she waved him through with an exaggerated motion.

He raised an eyebrow at her show of reluctance and stared at her until her face flushed. At least she had some feelings.

“Look,” she said. “I have a lot of work to do before Masters shows. I don’t have time to catch you up on the terrorist we’re after.”

“Al Shabah? I’ve been after him for over a year. I probably know as much as you about him.”

“Al Shabah has been in the wind for the last six months.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you hunting him? And who do you work for again?”

“That’s not important,” he said. “What’s important is that I can help you. Or if you’re too busy, you can leave me here to go over some of the chatter your crew has gathered.”

She stared at him a moment longer. “Okay, let’s see if you really can help.” She brought him into the room. “Generally, we’re searching for any whispers of an attack on U.S. soil, the same as the FBI, but more specifically we’re listening for anything about New York.” She waved at the screens. “I don’t suggest it, but you could listen to one of the channels and give an officer a break, but you’d have to speak that language.” She cocked her head. “What languages can you speak?”

“Arabic, French, and Russian.” He didn’t think it would matter if she knew that about him. Most people in their line of work could speak multiple languages.

She studied him. “You’re military?” she said.

Zach shrugged to evade answering. “I’ve just got a knack for languages.”

“I’ll set you up on one of the stations and you can go over the information we have on Al Shabah. Once you’re caught up, you can listen in to our strategy session when I brief Masters.”

Zach smiled. “Listen in?”

She sighed. “Look, this isn’t about egos. Just get to know the tango and then if you have any good ideas, we will take them into account.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Zach drawled.

She frowned at him and opened her mouth to speak when a tall, lean man with brown hair burst into the room. “Al?”

Alyssa turned to him. “What’s up, Drew?”

“There’s a report of a bomb in Central Park.”