THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) (18 page)

“Who are you?” she asked, shuffling possibilities like a deck of cards. “How do you know so much about me?” She had purposefully kept her documents referring to Alexa and her killer on her home computer, but there must have been something on her laptop giving him a clue
.
 

She could tell nothing from his shuttered look. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he insisted, sliding the seat back to give himself more leg room
.

“It matters to me!”  

“Listen.” His eyes resembled icebergs floating in a dark sea as he leaned intently toward her. “Do you honestly think you can get
Davis
to confess to killing Alexandra?” 

“Alexa,” she corrected him. “No one ever called her by her full name.” His dubious tone made her burn inside. “And, yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she insisted.

He heaved a sigh. “That’s suicide.
Davis
is going to realize what you’re up to, and when he does, he’ll do whatever it takes to silence you.”

A phantom of terror passed through her.

“Do your parents deserve to lose both daughters to the same killer?”

Her anger surged again. “Don’t you dare bring my parents into this!
Davis
has no idea who I am, and unless you tell him, he’ll never know,” she insisted.

“What if I do tell him?” he challenged
.
 

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why would you do that?”

“To force you to leave like I’ve been insisting you do for days.”

“If you do that to me, I’ll have someone else snap your picture and plaster it on the front page of every tabloid in the country,” she threatened. “Why is it so important to you that I leave, anyway?”

He leaned closer, his breath warm and fresh against her cheek. “I don’t know why,” he said intently. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to know you better.”

All negative feeling vanished with that single phrase, replaced by a buoyant feeling inside
.

“Plus, I abhor the thought of
Davis
hurting you,” he added.

“I won’t let him hurt me,” she whispered automatically, but she wasn’t evening thinking about
Davis
. Abdul had lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, and his tender touch seemed to travel through her body, zipping down every neural pathway.

“I’d like to date you one day,” he murmured. “Would you agree to date me?” His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, eliciting a shiver of overwhelming desire.

Her mouth went dry and her heart began to thud. “Okay,” she agreed in a voice that sounded strange to her ears.

“Then go home,
Lena
,” he pleaded softly. “Be safe. Once I’m out of this program, I will help you find the evidence needed to put
Davis
away forever.”

Her sluggish brain had difficulty grasping his offer. What more did he gain by helping her with
Davis
than a chance to be with her one day?

“Who are you?” she demanded yet again. “Why isn’t your criminal record in the federal database?” 

“I can’t tell you yet. Just trust me,
Magdalena
. Can you do that?” he urged. “Trust me to help you.”

How could she trust a man with an alleged criminal past and yet no documented history in the mother of all data bases? Did that mean he wasn’t really a criminal, or was his identity being protected so that other criminals, higher up the food chain, couldn’t find him?

Oddly, when his lips settled over hers, they silen
ced her confusion. It didn’t matter who he was. He was just Mocha Man, the star of her midnight fantasies, who tasted like a rum-laced piňa colada.

She met his kiss with a whimper of defeat and the barest token of resistance. Deep down, she could not deny
that she wanted him, too, that this moment had been inevitable since the day they’d met.

His tongue glossed between her parted lips, rushing into her like a wave. Retreating and returning, he coaxed her further into his arms, into the current of desire that tugged her out toward deeper waters. But she felt no fear. His kiss was a life ring, keeping her afloat, just offshore of their private, paradise island.

All too soon and with a ragged breath, Abdul severed the kiss, jarring her back to reality.

His deep voice rasped in the quiet. “Just think about my offer. I can help you,
Magdalena
. You don’t have to do this alone.”

To her sharp disappointment, he relinquished her. She watched him gauge the perimeter before rolling stealthily out
of
the Jeep. The passenger door gave a
click
. And then he was gone
.

Lena
fell back in her seat feeling like the world had tipped on its axis.
Cristemou!
Never in her life had she experienced such a perfect kiss! 

Lifting fingers to her sensitized lips, she closed her eyes and replayed the interlude. Longing tugged at her anew. How unfair of him to kiss her like that then leave, with no explanation of who he was, or how he intended to help her solve a ten-year-old murder case? 

Just trust me,
Magdalena
.
Can you do that? Trust me to help you.

The words wrung her heart. He had to be sincere. No man could have conjured the passion that had leapt to life between them.

But then doubts overtook her certainty because they were more substantive than her feelings. What if his promise and his kiss were just a means of getting rid of her, something he’d been trying to do from day one? She should not forget that he had threatened her life, wrecked her cottage, stolen her livelihood, and assaulted her in a dark alley!

It was never more obvious that he was keeping secrets, things he didn’t want a journalist to know.

Trust him?
Hah. He was one to talk about trust when he had told her nothing about himself
.

**

As he darted across the wet asphalt to his dorm,
Jackson
mentally patted himself on the back. That had gone as well as he could have hoped. He’d managed to convey his wishes and his concern
and
steal a kiss, all without giving away his identity.

And what a kiss it was,
he marveled, chasing away the grin that split his face. The only thing that had caught him off guard was
Lena
’s vulnerability. She wasn’t the diva he’d thought she might be, wresting the reins of seduction from his grasp and leading him. Rather, she had clung to him like
a
drowning person clinging to a life preserver, making him feel all powerful and protective. And now he wanted to slay all her dragons for her
.

Surely, now, she’d take him up on his offer and leave.

Seeing the light blink on in his dorm room window,
Jackson
drew up short. The night wasn’t over yet. He’d thought he’d left Corey sleeping, only now his roommate was up and no doubt wondering where
Jackson
could be. He hadn’t left a note tonight
.

Scrounging up a lame excuse, he unlocked the door and casually let himself in. Corey looked up from the desk where he’d just cracked open his book. “That’s two nights now you violated parole,” he pointed out, pushing his glasses higher. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Abdul?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ illegal, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,”
Jackson
answered, locking the door quietly behind him.

“I figured that.” Corey shut his book and laid it down.

“Can we turn out the light?”
Jackson
didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already had.

“I done figured out a lot of things about you,” Corey continued, ignoring his request and stopping
Jackson
’s heart with his words.

“Like what?” 

“Like I know you ain’t no ex-con,” Corey said.

“What makes you say that?”
Jackson
strove for a belligerent tone.

“Come on, man. You ain’t like the rest of us.”

Worse and worse.
If Corey announced his suspicion to the others, he’d be doomed.

“Since we met, I been tryin’ to figure out what you doin’ here, but now I know.”

“What do you know?” He swam in a clammy sweat. Surely Corey hadn’t accomplished a one-in-a-million feat and identified him as an undercover agent.

“You work for Imam Ibrahim, don’tchu?” Corey asked, rising from the chair to face his roommate squarely. “You one of his Five Percent followers put here to keep an eye on us. You been reportin’ to him each night. Ain’t I right?”

Relief made
Jackson
lightheaded. “You is right,” he acknowledged, even though the very thought repulsed him. “You got me. I work for Ibrahim. You gonna tell the others on me or what?”

Corey shrugged. “What I gotta tell for? ‘Long as you don’t get me into trouble, we cool.”

“We cool,”
Jackson
agreed. “You ain’t no troublemaker.”

“Jus’ make sure you tell me the next time there’s a room inspection,” the young man said, turning toward his bunk.

“Why, you hiding somethin’?”  Corey was the last parolee
Jackson
would have suspected of violating the program’s regulations
.
 

“No, but I know someone who is, only I ain’t tellin’ you.”

Jackson
chuckled. “Fair ‘nuf.” Snapping off the light, he made his way to the bathroom
.
“Thanks, man,” he mumbled. If Corey was loyal enough not to tell on his smuggling friend, then hopefully he was loyal enough not to rat out
Jackson
to the others. His reprieve dried the clammy sweat on his skin.

Once in the bathroom, he flipped on the nightlight and regarded his tormented reflection in the mirror. This was his first job as a spy, and he was finding it tougher than he’d ever imagined. He hated lying to his roommate; hated pretending to
Lena
that he was someone he wasn’t; hated being away from his family. The fastest way to shake off this undercover job was to find the evidence the Taskforce needed.

From now on, nothing would escape his notice.

Chapter Ten

Lena
sped toward Artie’s with the Jeep’s top down. Wind, smelling of the river and of rain-soaked leaves, whipped at her chignon. The
Maryland
countryside had a freshly washed look and feel now that the rain had given way to sunshine. She was days away from trapping her sister’s killer. She ought to be ecstatic.

But as she neared Gateway, the memory of her run-in with Abdul last night made her confidence waver. His insistence that she was endangering herself, coupled with a kiss that left her yearning for so much more had her rethinking her plans.