THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) (13 page)

At her overblown gesture, his eyes narrowed into slits. For a second,
Lena
quailed as she recalled his death threat. But then, with a shake of his head that was practically an admission of his guilt, he turned and stalked out of sight, freeing her to release the breath she was holding.

Ding, ding. Round one goes to me.

Smirking,
Lena
turned and marched back into the store. He would visit her tonight at Artie’s—she was certain of it. She had to ensure he didn’t tell the others who she was, especially not Davis. If he threatened to do that, she would let him know she still had pictures of him and she wasn’t afraid to publish them, unless he kept her secret
.
 

The others would likely visit her tonight, as well. She sure hoped so. But then she heard the muezzin wailing out the call to prayers just as it had on Friday night, and she heaved a frustrated sigh. Her next move would have to wait
.

**

What now?
Jackson
asked himself as he shifted from one knee to the other while facing the
mihrab
. Not only was Lena Alexandra still in the area, but thoughts of her were making it difficult to follow Ibrahim’s sermon. The defiant way she had blown him that kiss made it obvious she knew he was to blame for the destruction of her rental and, therefore, the death threat, neither of which sat well upon his conscience
.

He couldn’t blame her for her fury. Hell, he and Toby had stolen the very tools of her trade. But the fact that she’d ignored his intimidation suggested she was both fearless and foolish, not to mention the most determined woman he had ever met. His and Toby’s scare tactic should have made her flee in terror. Only, she hadn’t. If anything, that kiss she’d blown him had been a smart-ass declaration of war
.

Oh, fuck,
Toby had exclaimed earlier when they’d both caught sight of Schlesser’s Jeep in front of Artie’s. With
Jackson
in the back seat, Toby had punched a button on his radio and used a hands-free connection to call their lead for immediate advice
.

The memory of Ike’s reply made
Jackson
grit his teeth even now.
Stay away from her, Maddox. We’re covering our asses as much as we can. For whatever reason, our analysts can’t immediately connect her name and
Davis
’s. Once we know why she’s got her eye on him, we’ll reassess the situation
.

Stay away from her.
Right.
Just the sight of her drenched in the amber rays of sunset, her hands propped on her curvy hips, and her lips quirked into
a
sassy smirk had driven his testosterone levels straight through the roof.

He’d heard the men murmuring amongst themselves at the start of the service how they intended to visit her the minute it was over, and it’d taken all his willpower to block out their voices and tell himself he didn’t give a shit.

He had a job to do, and staying focused on that job clearly required more attention than he’d mustered so far because Ibrahim was winding up his sermon and
Jackson
hadn’t heard a damn thing
.

“Then you,” the imam was saying, gesturing at them from the height of the tower-shaped podium, “will become his army of courageous, sacrificing, and reform-seeking people.”

The imam was quoting straight out of the pamphlet he’d issued on Friday.

Startled,
Jackson
glanced around at the men to see if they’d noticed. Given their vacant stares, it was obvious they hadn’t even read the pamphlet, much less connected Ibrahim’s words to the text in it. If Ibrahim wanted to rally an army to perpetrate some act of terror, he was going to have to do more than just preach scripture
.

As the service drew to a close, Ibrahim descended the
minbar
and opened the wooden worship hall doors to bid the men goodnight.
Jackson
rose agonizingly to his feet. He did not join the others in following Zakariya to the outer doors in the foyer. Instead, he lingered in the emptying prayer hall. Here was his chance to question Ibrahim alone.

As the cleric pulled the doors shut, he drew up short to see him. “You are still here, Abdul?”     

Jackson
turned from pretending to admire the fancy inlay in the
mihrab
. “Yes, Imam.” He approached the leader deferentially. “I was wondering, do you know when the
Mahdi
is coming?”

“I see you read the pamphlet. Good for you. In answer to your question...perhaps he is already here,” Ibrahim stated mysteriously.

The savior of the world was already here? “How many years before Judgment Day will he be with us?”
Jackson
pressed. Ike had said there were three different translations: seven, nine, or nineteen year.

“Seven years,” the imam answered confidently
.

“Then, if the
Madhi
is already here, Judgment Day is very near,”
Jackson
reasoned.

“Yes, very near.” The cleric gave a nod
.

Searching the man’s bright eyes,
Jackson
wondered what it was that he envisioned
.

“Do not be afraid,” Ibrahim soothed, laying a hand on
Jackson
’s right shoulder. “Allah has chosen you to fulfill his Will.”

“Me?”
Jackson
’s heart gave an irregular beat. “How will I help?” 

“You will know when the time comes.”

He was dying to ask about the Nation of Gods and Earths, but that would make him seem too inquisitive.
Jackson
gave an awkward bow. “Thank you, Imam.”

“Sleep well, my son.”

With Ibrahim’s thoughtful gaze on his back,
Jackson
retreated to the foyer where he found Zakariya arming the alarm system. “Ah. I wondered if I had miscounted.” With a tolerant smile and a warm good night, the junior imam unlocked the door from the inside and let
Jackson
out
.

Out in the parking lot,
Jackson
was struck by how quiet the campus sounded. As he rounded the dormitory, he realized why. In the dark of night, the large glass windows that spanned Artie’s facade framed a scene that made his innards cramp with envy and concern.

Several parolees were lined up along the check-out counter.
Lena
stood facing them, elevated by the raised platform that made her dark curls visible from a distance. Whatever she was telling the men kept them spellbound
.

He knew the feeling
.
      

Hovering on the edge of the highway,
Jackson
grappled with his yearning to join them. Was it the competition that made him burn with envy or was he merely concerned for her safety? Suddenly, the Marine in him who had never questioned orders before was seriously considering defying them.

He knew why he should stay away: to keep
Lena
’s curiosity about him to a minimum, which was clearly a priority.

But he could also think of several reasons why joining the men wasn’t such a bad idea. What if she were telling them that Abdul had terrorized her? He could deny it on the spot, offer up a credible alibi, safeguard his reputation, not to mention her own. Didn’t she realize her outrageous flirtation might incite a riot?

If he were over there and not standing on the edge of the road like an indecisive stag, he might even discover her agenda and what it had to do with
Davis
.

Oh, hell, who was he kidding? The real reason he wanted to be over there was because Lena Alexandra had raised his libido from the grave. Too bad that had no bearing whatsoever on his purpose at Gateway, which was to keep tabs on terrorism, not to get laid.

Turning his back on
Artie’s
, he marched resolutely toward his dorm. It wasn’t the first time duty put a damper on his sex drive
.
  

**

“So, who wants to be in my book besides Muhammed and Jamal?”
Lena
projected her voice so that the others could hear it. Tonight the men were more subdued, less intent on trying to impress her.

“We should all be in the book,” stated Hasan, one of the two parolees she’d just met
.

“I’m in.” Corey’s eyes shone like new pennies behind his lenses. Only
Davis
still looked uncommitted, his expression as secretive and shifty as ever.

Nadim glanced uncertainly at the surveillance cameras. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ in this place,” he asserted in his Spanish accent. “Might get my ass sent back to jail.” 

Lena
had anticipated his objection. “Oh, no. We’d go into the storeroom to talk,” she assured him. “I hardly have any customers after eight, anyway. That way we’d have plenty of privacy and no cameras.” She would definitely keep her pistol handy, though, in case any of the men got over-zealous
.

The parolees eyed the rear room with interest. Several edged toward it to give it a closer look, even
Davis
.
Lena
’s excitement rose.
The minnows are nibbling
.
 

“What would the title be?” Corey spoke up
.

A bubble of guilt rose from
Lena
’s belly as she noted his excitement. “Oh, I don’t know.
Out of the Shadows,
or something like that? What about you, Sulayman?” she asked, eager to gain his compliance. “I bet you’ve got a story for me,” she said in her sexiest voice
.

“Oh, I got somethin’ for you, a’ight.” He licked his lips, giving his words a crude connotation
.
     

Muhammed took immediate offense. “Man, don’t be talkin’ to Miz Maggie like that.”  

“Shut up,”
Davis
told him. “I don’t want my name in no damn book.”

“What name? I only know you as Sulayman, and I have no intention of using your last name. There have to be thousands of converts named Sulayman. You’d be completely anonymous.”

“Whatever,” he said with a shrug
.

That was enough of a commitment for
Lena
. She hunted for a scrap of paper and a pen. “Who wants me to interview them first?” 

“I get to go first,” Muhammed insisted. “I called it the first day.”

“Muhammed’s first,” she agreed, jotting down his name. “Why don’t you come in tomorrow, then, and we’ll get started.”