Secret Agent Sheikh. Linda Conrad
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God, was she ever good at her job.
Who else could’ve finagled their way into a room full of third world terrorists and wannabe bad guys? Certainly not that handsome but insufferable ex-agent, Tarik Kadir. She proudly noted that Kadir was nowhere to be found—even after he’d called the DOD’s attention to this meeting in the first place.
Whatever was really going down here, Jass was about to make the premier bust of her entire career. She almost rubbed her hands together in satisfaction. But first she wanted to know about the rest of the players in addition to the Nigerian.
There was Karolek Petrov, of course. And a number of bodyguards. Then the high-priced pimp she’d paid to bring her and the other two phony call girls tonight. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the other bidders included an Indonesian member of al-Qaeda, a rogue member of the IRA, a Georgian separatist and—hmm … The two Middle Eastern–looking newcomers were men who’d not been on her radar before. Interesting.
She supposed it was possible these were the representatives from the Taj Zabbar that Kadir had insisted were coming to buy tonight. But no one in her unit or their superiors had imagined he could be right.
Okay, the people known as the Taj Zabbar, from the new Republic of Zabbarán, had recently struck it rich with oil. Rich enough to buy whatever they wanted. But no rumors of their having terrorist leanings had reached the ears of the international intelligence communities. Why would the Taj Zabbar suddenly want to buy nuclear arms? Certainly not to attack the Kadir family as Kadir had insisted when he’d asked for assistance from the unit.
Perhaps it would be worth her effort to question Tarik Kadir at some point. However, tonight she was all about taking down the Nigerian. She wouldn’t allow any of the other people in this room to stand in her way. She’d been after him and his information for six months.
Jass clicked her hidden mouthpiece twice to notify her backup that she was all set. According to the plan, two agents would burst through the door five minutes from her signal. That should be about right. By then everyone would be seated around the table and she could position herself close behind the Nigerian.
The Russian murmured to a bodyguard and a silver briefcase appeared on the table. Petrov nodded toward it and most of the men sauntered to their seats. All but the Middle Eastern men.
“Why are females in attendance?” the older one asked the Russian with a sneer.
“A prize for the losers tonight, Elder bin Khali.” Karolek Petrov beamed as though he had a secret he couldn’t wait to tell. “These are no ordinary women. Each represents a dozen young virgins who will give a man the night of his life before they gladly lay down their lives and die for him. They are worth a king’s ransom … and are my gift for participating this evening.”
Jass was glad the two actresses she’d rounded up looked young and didn’t speak English. She tried to move farther away from the man Petrov had addressed as Elder.
But before she could take a second step, the younger Middle Eastern man grabbed her by the wrist. “This one is no virgin. If I am not mistaken, she is no lady of the evening either.” He swung her around to face the other men. “Look at the intelligence in these eyes. She sees too much.”
Jass didn’t have a moment to react before the man brought a dagger to her throat. “I will let her fulfill her contract and die for my pleasure right now.”
Oh, brother. There went all her best-laid plans.
She gritted her teeth to notify her backup with three clicks that she was in trouble. Then she overpowered her surprised assailant by using a nifty thumb hold she’d perfected years ago. The knife went flying and he went to his knees with a yell and a thud.
Chaos erupted in the room. Shouts in several languages bounced off the walls. Guns were pulled from under jackets. The door banged open and a shot rang out. And somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she heard the balcony’s glass doors sliding open.
But she was too busy to notice. She appropriated a gun from one of the hulking bodyguards with a smooth move he never saw coming and then headed through the crowd toward the Nigerian, who had been standing closest to the balcony. She caught a glimpse of him before he ducked out through the open balcony doors.
Oh, no you don’t. We’re twelve stories up. You’re mine, you bastard.
Tarik was inside the room and fighting to reach Jass O’Reilly before he could think twice about it. His mind had blanked when the head of Taj Zabbar secret police had put that dagger to her throat. Tarik had been intrigued with her from afar for years and the idea of his fantasy woman going down in a slash of bloodshed had moved him to action.
But by the time he overpowered the Russian and put him out of commission, she was nowhere to be found. Had she ducked out the front? Impossible. That exit was now clogged with men in various stages of being apprehended.
He twisted around and as his eyes darted across the room, he realized two unsettling things. The suitcase was missing from the table and the two Taj Zabbar reps were gone.
Worse, with another sweeping glance, he noted both the Nigerian and Jass had also disappeared. But they could not possibly have gotten past him. They’d both been too close to the balcony when the sting went bad.
He would have to consider the Taj Zabbar later. Right now he needed to back up his former comrade in covert operations.
When he barged through to the balcony, Tarik was hit with another shock. Jass and the Nigerian were leaning over the balcony wall, wrestling over a Ruger .357 Magnum. The Nigerian had a good fifty pounds and six inches on her.
Tarik’s weapon was useless under the circumstances. He couldn’t get off a clean shot. He held his breath and moved in closer, waiting for a moment to let the Nigerian learn of his presence—the hard way.
But the longer their struggle went on, the more he could see Jass weakening. The Nigerian had her bent over backward with her upper body hanging out over nothing but night air.
Tarik couldn’t wait. He had to make a move now.
Grabbing the assailant by the shoulder, he tried to turn the Nigerian around to face him. But right at that moment Jass made her move, too.
She hooked her leg around the Nigerian’s knees and used all her power trying to bring him down. But Tarik’s shove had overbalanced the assailant and all three of them slid closer to the balcony wall.
Horrified, he watched as both Jass and the Nigerian slipped over backward and disappeared completely into the black night. With a roar, he dove over the wall, landing tenuously on the ledge beyond.
“Help me, you idiot.” The small voice coming from below him finally cleared away the hazy panic in his head as Tarik spotted her fingers gripping the edge.
“Jass.” He flattened himself on the ledge and made a grab for her arms.
When he felt the warm skin of her wrists and fastened his hands around them, he began to murmur quiet encouragement. “I’ve got you. Take it easy.”
She groaned. “Stop talking and pull me up.”
Earlier