THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) (19 page)

Stripped of her pendant, she felt doubly vulnerable. What had once seemed a fairly straightforward process now seemed crisscrossed with trip wires. And on top of her sudden doubt, she was strapped with a nagging desire to get naked with an ex-convict
.

The sight of
a
police officer lounging in a cruiser on the far side of Artie’s parking lot, distracted her from her angst. The horse and buggy parked just off the narrow road behind him was nothing out of the ordinary. But why was an officer of the law hanging out in Artie’s parking lot?

Lena
rolled smoothly into her usual spot, happy to find it empty. Raising the Jeep’s roof, she chased the Amish man’s broad-brimmed hat into the store, while the officer watched her through narrowed eyes.

“Good afternoon, Bill,” she said, pushing through the little gate that admitted her behind the counter.

“Afternoon, Maggie. I’m sure you’ve met Seth by now,” Bill responded, introducing her to the man purchasing a scratch-off ticket. “Seth, this is Maggie.”

“How are you?” she asked, as she stowed her purse.

Seth drummed his fingers on the countertop, sent her a shy nod, and kept quiet.
Lena
’s gaze went to the black ink tattoo peeking out from under the rolled sleeve of his homespun shirt. She could just make out the letter “a.”  An Amish man with a tattoo—really?

“Anything else today?” Bill asked.

With a mumbled negative, Seth thrust the money at him, swiveled on his brown leather boots, and stalked out of the store, sending a frown at the watchful deputy.

Her curiosity piqued,
Lena
watched the Amish man climb into his buggy. “How long have you known Seth?” she asked Bill
.

“Oh, ‘bout ten years.”

“Has he always been so moody?”

“Long as I’ve known him. He never did assimilate with the local Amish.”

“Assimilate? You mean he’s not from here?”

“No, he came down from
Pennsylvania
with his aunt and uncle, who died soon after. I reckon since he flouts the rules by playin’ the lottery and such, he continues to be seen as an outsider.”

“Huh.”
Lena
’s attention slid to the police cruiser. The man had stuck his brown-sleeved elbow out the window, in no apparent hurry to go anywhere. “And what’s with the Sheriff’s car?” she asked
.
 

“Oh, that’s Deputy Doug Hazelwood. Don’t know, really. Something about the parolees coming over here so often.”

Heat stole into
Lena
’s face. She looked quickly away.

“I expect it’s just a precaution,” Bill said. “I should get that camera outside the back door fixed. You haven’t had any trouble with those Gateway men, have you?”

Had he viewed the surveillance footage lately? “No, not at all,” she answered, glancing gratefully toward her buzzing purse.

Bill nodded to the clock. “You’ve still got three minutes,” he assured her.

Lena
dove for her cell phone. It had to be Peter calling. Had he managed to identify Abdul? After last night’s kiss, she was dying to know more about him. “Hey,” she said, her hopes riding high
.
 

“Hello, beautiful.”

Ignoring the endearment, she concentrated on his tone of voice which told her he had news to share. “What have you got?”   

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?” She stabbed a finger in her other ear so she could hear him better
.

“Abdul Ibn Wasi lives in
Baltimore
with his wife and baby.”

The announcement hit her like a punch in the gut.
My God,
he was married.
“Does he?” she said stiffly.

“You don’t understand, babe. He works full time as a janitor in a building owned by Homeland Security.”

“What? I still don’t get it.”

“Listen up. The man you say is Abdul Ibn Wasi isn’t. I’ll send you this guy’s mug shot when we hang up so you can see for yourself. He works in
Baltimore
and hasn’t missed a day of work in the last week and a half. I found that out by calling his employer and pretending to be his parole officer.”

“Okay,”
Lena
murmured
,
conscious of Bill’s curious glance. “So who’s the guy I want to identify?” she whispered, moving toward the store room to ensure her conversation was private
.

“That took me a little longer to find out. Everything pointed to the federal authorities being involved, so I called on a favor from a senator to get some information.”

Senator? Federal authorities?

“The man calling himself Abdul Ibn Wasi is an FBI special agent, babe. His name is Jackson Maddox.”

Astonishment rooted
Lena
to the spot. She gave a squeak of disbelief
.
 

“He’s working undercover,” Peter added confidently. “The question is, what for? Not even the senator knows, but Gateway is an Islamic organization, so I’m thinking the Feds are alleging some kind of terrorism is being played out there, which is total bullshit.” 

Lena
scarcely heard him. All she could think about was how blind she’d been not to guess the truth earlier. The signs were everywhere from Abdul’s insistence that she delete his pictures, to his missing criminal history, to the cultured way he spoke when the others weren’t around. Not Abdul, she corrected herself, Jackson Maddox
.
She repeated the name in her head, thinking it suited him.

“I’ll be down there Friday night.” 

Peter’s announcement plucked her from her deep thoughts. “What? Why?”

“I just told you. I’m tired of the Feds violating the Fourth Amendment. Someone’s got to blow the whistle on them.”

“Peter, no.” Her protest was immediate. “You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can.”

“What would the senator think? You can’t violate his trust.”

“Oh, that’s cute. Why do you think he told me,
Lena
?” Peter’s voice dripped sarcasm. “He’s not exactly a fan of the current administration.”

“But you’ll jeopardize the agent’s safety if you expose his cover, not to mention other people’s safety if he’s investigating a crime.”

“Relax. All I’m going to do is photograph him next to the mosque.”

She’d taken a dozen pictures of the undercover agent in front of the mosque, but those had all been stolen along with her camera and laptop. “Why don’t I do that for you,” she offered, “since I’m already in the area?” 

“I thought you said your camera was stolen.”

He’d seen straight through her offer. “Oh, yeah.” 

“I’ll see you Friday night,” he reiterated.

She tried thinking of a way to stop him.
Jackson
would leave again on Saturday. All she had to do was delay Peter’s arrival. “Better come down Saturday,” she advised, thinking fast. “My cottage is tiny; I don’t even have a couch for you to sleep on, plus you’ll want to avoid the Friday traffic. It’s hell in the summer.” She held her breath, hoping he fell for it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. So I’ll see you Saturday morning, then,” he amended.

“Okay.” Having protected the man who had her rethinking her future with a single kiss, she heaved a sigh of relief
.
Not all law enforcement personnel were wholesome.
Lena
knew that better than anybody. But the Adonis who’d captivated her imagination wasn’t corrupt. She intuited that much the same way she was able to read his thoughts. Jackson Maddox was a good guy, not an ex-con with a shady past. She wished she’d known that when he’d kissed her
.
“Oh, send me that photo of the real Abdul,” she requested before Peter could hang up
.

“I’ll do it right now. And if I learn anything else, I’ll let you know. See you Saturday, babe.”

The phone clicked loudly in her ear, followed by a chime as the image from Peter showed up in her messages. The dark-skinned, sullen looking stranger looked nothing like her Abdul—Jackson Maddox, she amended. And he wasn’t
hers,
either; though that could change if they were both agreeable, couldn’t it?

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

A flame of hope flared within her as she’d considered that, with his FBI resources, maybe Jackson Maddox really could help her incriminate Davis. But then the flame flickered and went out. It had been ten years since
Davis
had murdered Alexa. Hell, if the PIs Lena had hired over the years had failed to find incriminating evidence in all that time, what made her think Jackson Maddox would have any more success?

Subdued by the reality of the facts,
Lena
returned to the register to relieve her employer and start her shift. Maybe if Special Agent Jackson Maddox rocked her world with another world class kiss, she’d be able to think more clearly.

**

“Man, what’s that cop doin’ over there?” Jamal groused. Tonight was his turn to be interviewed by Maggie.

Jackson
peered through the chain link fence surrounding the basketball court. His gaze went automatically to Schlesser’s Jeep, which he’d spotted the moment he’d stepped from the mosque earlier. So much for thinking
Lena
would abandon her plans and trust him to help her later. She’d apparently decided to stick it out, with or without his promise of help.

He’d had a feeling she would take that route. She was an independent woman on an important mission. As frustrating as it was, he could understand her reasons for not taking a blind leap of faith and trusting him.

The police presence at Artie’s had been
Jackson
’s idea. As he’d explained to Ike, who’d pulled the strings to make it happen, a cop in the parking lot would dissuade the parolees, especially
Davis
, from interfacing with Maggie. Then maybe she’d give up and go home. Plus
Lena
would be safer, over all. Hearing Jamal balk,
Jackson
inwardly celebrated
.

“Man, whatchu got to be afraid of?” Muhammed gave Jamal a friendly shove. “You done served your time.”  

“You know cops can hear through walls, right?”
Jackson
spoke up, playing the devil’s advocate.

Startled, Jamal looked back at the cop.

“Man, he ain’t gonna spy on you,” Muhammed insisted. “He listenin’ to his radio. Can’t you hear it?”

Jamal’s eagerness to visit
Lena
apparently defeated his reservations. “You right,” he said, hitching his basketball shorts and swaggering off the basketball court.

Damn
.
Jackson
glanced at
Davis
, wondering what he thought about the cop. The man’s scowl gave him hope that he’d stay away from Artie’s from now on.