Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4) (13 page)

“I believe you two have met,” Silas chuckled.

“It can’t be Joe Brown. The very same Joe Brown I met in Miami and who then disappeared into thin air in the middle of a national security case,” Noah retorted.

“Just what I need. Two Steeles in my life. This should be fun,” Joe deadpanned.

“Why’d you desert us, Joe?” Noah demanded.

“I found out Bill was dirty. I’d suspected for a while, but I couldn’t get anything concrete on him. Then he started getting sloppy, blatantly prideful. I knew he’d end up getting us all killed with his arrogance. I had to get my sister away from everything. Rashad will do worse than kill her, and she’s the only family I have left.”

“Has he threatened her?” Noah asked.

“Yeah.” Joe nodded, his eyes downcast. “He threatened to take her back to his homeland and sell her to the highest bidder. The thing is, that isn’t just an idle threat. It’s not his main focus, but he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. Especially if it’s a way of getting revenge on someone who has defied him.”

Both of the back doors of the car opened simultaneously, and Rebel and Bull slid in, forcing Joe to move to the middle as they flanked him. All four men stared Joe down with their eyes lethal but their faces expressionless. Joe shook his head, resigned to being the outsider until he’d proven his allegiance to them after abandoning them before. “Let’s take this bastard down,” Joe finally stated resolutely.

“Let’s do it. Did you girls say goodbye to your ladies?” Silas joked.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re ready to go to the command center,” Bull replied. “Let’s get this motherfucker so I can get back to Chaise. He’s being a serious cockblocker.”

“Bull. Seriously.” Noah cut his deadly gaze toward his friend. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to hear that shit?”

Bull’s only reply was to flash his best friend a shit-eating grin.

“I kind of feel bad for all of you pansies since I’ll still get to sleep with my wife every night. Not bad enough to give that up, though,” Rebel chimed in. With a round of threats to Rebel’s manhood, Silas set out for the shadier side of town to start gathering more information on Rashad’s plans.

“Our informants will no doubt be thrilled to see all of us coming for them,” Silas laughed.

T
he view
of sprawling greenery of the ninth fairway was one of the most coveted in the uber-exclusive gated community, but it had nothing on the expansive Mediterranean mansion Rashad presently called home. Through his uncle’s lucrative connections, he’d been able to procure one of the most luxurious houses in Houston to conduct his illegal business. The owner and his family were out of the country for business and personal travel for the next six months, ensuring Rashad’s total seclusion for the duration of his mission.

Though the subdivision had plenty of houses, that specific house was situated on one of the largest lots, putting the nearest neighbor over a half acre away on either side. Inside the eight-thousand-square-foot, three-story estate, outsiders would be hard-pressed to see what he was up to regardless. The formal dining room located to the right of the expansive kitchen served as his creative space. The spacious dining table with enough seats for twelve people gave him plenty of room to spread out all his materials in a makeshift production line.

His resolve and conviction increased with each one he completed. When he had put the finishing touches on the completed product, he’d carefully move it to the sideboard buffet with the others. Alone, each ingredient was relatively harmless as long as it was handled as instructed. But mixed together, the combination became an instantly volatile and highly combustible powder.

He’d carefully planned the design himself to keep the crystallized powder secure until he was ready for it to detonate. Because it could self-detonate from the slightest friction, he insulated the outer containers with packing foam to reduce the movement of the glass cylinders. On his remote command, small devices inside each case would vibrate, creating one of the most brilliant explosions through a massive shock wave of energy.

The doorbell rang just as he placed the last one on the table. The sounds pealed throughout the house, echoing off the cathedral ceilings and carrying through the air like the most pleasant of wind chimes. Rashad glanced at his watch, and one side of his mouth quirked upward. “Right on time.”

The delivery driver held the large box as Rashad signed his fake name on the delivery confirmation device. “Here you go,” he said as he handed Rashad the cardboard box. “Guess I’ll see you again in a day or two, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. I’ve ordered several things for my daughter’s upcoming birthday party. It’s a surprise, and we’re going all out for it.”

“Sounds like she’ll love it. Have a good one.”

“You, too,” Rashad replied before closing the door. He kept up pretenses as a friendly, everyday guy next door to help to avoid blowing his cover. Not overly chatty, he gave just enough information about his fake family to keep anyone from suspecting him should anything happen to draw attention before he was ready.

He placed the box on the kitchen table and began removing the contents. One by one, he unwrapped the empty glass tubes from their protective coverings and ensured the black rubber plungers completely sealed each one before moving them to the dining room table. Once everything was in place, he began the process of filling each glass tube, carefully placing the plunger in the end, and securing it onto the custom-made trigger all over again.

His team would need an abundance of these devices to carry out their plans. Each one was small enough to carry at least ten in a standard backpack. Some would be carried in lunch coolers, others in briefcases. Obscurity was the name of the game, so the old-school suitcase-sized bombs with conspicuous wires sticking out would never work. Blending in, creating no ripples, and leaving no lasting impressions were the only surefire means of mission success.

“I wonder, Rebel, if you’ve considered this in all the plans you’ve made to find me. Has your friend Noah any idea what I’m capable of doing? I do hope you’re both there to witness everything. But should you both get caught inside the grand celebration, I can live with the disappointment. However, you can’t.”

Rashad laughed maniacally to himself, picturing their faces as Rebel and Noah realized they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. When they realized the genius contraptions he’d built would lead to their demise and his plan would be carried out despite their pathetic attempts to stop him. It would be poetic, really, if Rashad were the type of man who believed in that kind of justice. In this case, he believed the result would be driven by divine intervention, so he would gladly accept whatever outcome lay in wait for them.

His vibrating cell phone pulled him from his inner thoughts and from the task of filling the glass vials with his concoction. He glanced at the screen before answering, instantly recognizing the name of one of the members of his team.

“Faruq, what news do you have for me, brother?” Rashad answered.

“We have teams going out tonight to locate the girl. She hasn’t shown back up at the hospital, and time is running out. We need her to help complete our mission as planned.”

“How do you plan to execute this idea?”

“Three teams of two men will go house to house in the neighborhood where you tracked her. We’ll wait for the cover of night and look through as many windows as we can. At least we’ll be able to start narrowing it down through the process of elimination so we can focus on the most likely houses.”

“That’s a good idea, Faruq. Tell the men to be especially careful of dogs. Any excessive barking will draw too much attention and endanger our overall mission.”

“I will be sure to tell them. How are the other supplies coming along? Do you need any help with them?”

“No, they’re coming along very nicely. All will be ready on schedule. I’ve ordered supplies in small quantities to avoid any flags of suspicious activity. I receive only enough to keep me busy for a couple of days, and then a new shipment arrives. I’ve timed it perfectly, though, and accounted for any delays with delivery schedules.”

“It’s an honor to be part of this mission with you, brother. I’ll be back in touch once the men have scoured the neighborhood for the nurse.”

“When they find her, have them take pictures of her and send them to me. I’ll need them soon for the next step.”

He disconnected and continued assembling the explosive devices. Rashad spent the rest of the day carefully measuring, cautiously constructing, and delicately moving the completed products. With each one, he pictured exactly where it would be placed and how the aftermath of the explosion would appear. That made him happy and gave him purpose, pushing him to complete what would otherwise be mundane, repetitive tasks. Each completed device was more beautiful and brilliant than the last. Each one represented a piece of the jigsaw puzzle and brought him closer to seeing the full picture in all its fiery magnificence.

* * *

“
W
hy are you in disguise
, Silas?” Joe finally asked. “You don’t need a disguise to look creepy.”

When the laughter died down, Silas explained. “I have to stay in disguise in case we run into anyone from Rashad’s cell. I was undercover with them, but I never got close to him. His lower level thugs would recognize me, though. This persona is Charlie Murphy, if you need to use my name.”

Once parked, the five burly men exited the vehicle and sauntered into yet another run-down, roach-infested building that should’ve long since been condemned. The halls were littered with garbage, dirty syringes, and empty baggies with faint white streaks as the only remnants of what was once inside. The men moved past the strung out inhabitants with red circles around their eyes so thick they almost glowed in the dimly lit space. The whites of their eyes were so bloodshot, it appeared they hadn’t slept in weeks.

Silas stopped walking halfway down the hall and banged on the door with his hefty fist. He shook his head when the people inside began shuffling and whispering. He cut his eyes to Joe and said, “Paper-thin walls here too.” Joe rolled his eyes in response, completely understanding his meaning.

The door creaked open, and a young teenage boy stood in the doorway. “Whatchu want?” The boy jerked his chin up defiantly as he asked, but his eyes betrayed the confidence his act projected.

“What do I want?” Silas replied casually, injecting a thick Southern accent to add to his disguise. “I want the man of the house to step out from behind that door, put his pansy-ass .22 down, and quit putting his kid in danger. He has about two seconds before I jam this door into his head and knock him the fuck out. That’s what I want.”

A resigned sigh fell from behind the door, and Reuben stepped out into the open. “Charlie, shit, dude. You been gone a long time, man. I thought you was dead.”

Silas walked into the apartment, forcing the boy to move out of the way with his commanding presence alone. The other four men followed behind him, easily taking up all the space in the small room, especially once the door was closed. Reuben looked warily at each man, apprehension quickly overcoming his features.

“What’s the word, Reuben?” Silas asked pointedly.

“Word ’bout what, man?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know how much that pisses me off.” Silas slid his Bowie knife out of the sheath and casually flipped it around in his hand.

“You talking about the dudes from the Middle East?”

Silas sheathed his knife, crossed his arms over his thick chest, and nodded.

“Yo, look here, man. I don’t want none of that action. I sent their asses on down the road.”

“What’d they want, Reuben?”

“They wanted military-grade shit, Charlie. Like breaking into an army base and stealing weapons and shit. You know I’m not into that, man. Yo, man, my cousin is in the military. That’s like betraying my family and shit. That ain’t me.”

“And you know there’s no way in hell you could pull that off.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t no superhero, dude. I can’t fly over the fences and dodge bullets and shit.”

“Do you realize you end every sentence with ‘and shit’ or ‘man’?”

“It’s just the way I talk, man,” Reuben replied nervously. “What else you need?”

“Have you seen them again since then?”

“I haven’t. But look here, they found my boy Gustavo and wanted him to get some over-the-counter shit for them.”

“Like what?”

“Paint thinner and shit, man. Those extra-large buckets of bleach like they got at the big-ass wholesale stores. Rectangular plastic or glass containers. Stuff you can walk into any store and buy right off the shelves, man. Freaked Gustavo out so bad he told them to get the fuck out of our neighborhood and don’t come back.”

“It freaked him out to buy legal items instead of selling them illegal ones?” Rebel clarified.

“Hell yeah, man. If some dude won’t go into the store to buy his own legal shit, something is really wrong with that shit. He’s up to something really bad, and he’ll pin that shit on someone else while he skips town. No way is that gonna be me or my boy Gus.”

“Anything else we should know?”

“Yeah, man. Me and Gus, we got ourselves real jobs now. Next month, I’m moving my family out of this shitty place. I’m making good money now, and we’re moving to those better apartments off of Challenger.”

“That’s good to hear, Reuben. Gus, too?”

“Yeah, man. We ride to work together. Save money on gas and shit.”

“I’m happy for you, Reuben. I may be back in touch soon. Don’t hide behind the door with an unloaded .22 again. That’s a good way to get shot.”

Reuben stared at him in disbelief. “How’d you know it was unloaded?”

Silas gave Reuben a lopsided grin and moved to the door. “It’s what I do, Reuben.”

Back inside the car, Silas mulled over the information Reuben had shared with them. “We need to make one more stop before we go to HQ.”

“Gustavo’s?” Joe asked.

“No. There’s an undercover agent in town working on another case, but he may have heard something that’ll help us.”

After a thirty-minute drive, doubling back and circling block after block, Silas finally pulled into a community park. Everyone got out of the car and instinctively scouted the area.

“Wait here. I’ll be back.” Silas walked off toward a small patch of trees that gave a semblance of cover.

The other men casually walked off in different directions to keep an eye out for anything suspicious while Silas conducted his clandestine spy business. Noah approached Rebel on one of his trips around the perimeter.

“Heather will be moved back to your house when we’re on the way to HQ. We’re coordinating the time so she’ll arrive when you do.”

“Shadow’s back?”

“Yeah. He’s at the hotel now, and he’s begging us to leave ASAP because Liz has created a love nest for the two of them.”

Rebel couldn’t contain his laughter, especially with his imagination running wild with what ideas Liz had for Shadow. “I’m really torn, Reap. Part of me says we need to take as much time as possible to get there so Liz has plenty of time to spend with her man. But a bigger part of me really wants to spend time with my wife.”

“Decisions, decisions,” Noah chuckled.

“There’s nothing that could make me actually want to delay seeing Heather, but I want to make Shadow squirm so badly.”