SHORTLY BEFORE MIDNIGHT, Kord met with Monica in the foyer for the drive to Coffee Gone Dark. Prince Omar and Ali knew of their plans, and two FBI agents stood at the front door to handle the prince’s protection duty. No way was she making the trip by herself, and he had two reasons.
- She’d been working on nailing the Nigerians involved in a weapons case before this assignment. If she’d arranged to meet a contact at the café, she needed Kord to watch her back. Whether the man who’d alarmed Monica’s friend Lori was Middle Eastern or Nigerian or just an admirer, the jaunt was too dangerous for her to take alone.
- Yesterday, she’d acquired a cough. Her face was flushed, indicating a possible fever. She could be off her game and need his assistance.
“I’m capable of doing this myself,” she said to Kord.
“Discussion closed, and I’m driving.”
“Text me with whatever you find,” Ali said. “Better yet, call. If this concerns the prince’s assassination attempt, I want to be informed.”
“Will do,” Kord said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
“Ali,” Monica said, “I want to see the face of whoever asked for me at the coffee shop. No matter if he’s related to this case or a previous one, the idea of someone frightening my friend doesn’t sit well.”
“If you feel this is too dangerous for the two of you, I can come along.”
“Thank you, but that leaves us a bodyguard short here,” she said.
Kord had a problem with the way Ali looked at her. The tenderness thing made him . . . uneasy. She’d claimed disinterest, and Kord believed her, but Ali could be persuasive.
Kord pulled his keys from his pant pocket. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
They left the house in his Charger and headed downtown. The familiar restlessness nipped at his mind. The sooner they saw the Coffee Gone Dark footage, the better.
Kord flipped on his windshield wipers to clear the rain. The streets glistened with a light mist, and more rain was predicted within the hour. He’d been caught in rising waters a few days ago and didn’t want to be there again. Ali’s attitude toward Monica had gotten to him.
Focus, Davidson. End this case and then see whom she prefers.
“Are you okay?” she said. “Did I miss something at the press conference?”
“Just thinking about flooding streets.”
“I can swim.” Monica grinned at him, then pulled out her phone. “This is a good time to call Lori. She’ll be in bed, but I was concerned she’d insist on meeting us there.” She pressed in a number. “Hi, Lori, it’s Monica. Sorry about the hour. Wanted to let you know I’ll be at the café in a few minutes.” She paused. “I’m good, and I’m not alone. I’ll disarm the system and arm it when we’re finished. I didn’t want you to find out about it without forewarning.” Ending the call, she leaned her head back.
“I’m not an idiot, Monica. You could have hacked into the coffeehouse’s security system. We’re going fishing, but for whom or what? Or should I ask which case?”
She frowned. “This is a no-brainer. The man who asked for me left his number on a napkin, and Lori placed it in the café’s safe. I want to retrieve it before she chooses to give it to the police.”
“And?”
“Figure out if the man is someone I need to talk to.”
“I? Not we? This case or your previous one? Are you going all Jason Bourne on me?”
“I wish. Tired of playing housemaid.”
“So you’ve said.” Kord understood her frustration. “I get it. We’re used to being in the thick of things. For the record, if anyone tailed us from the mansion, I haven’t detected anything.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t one. By the way, have you mentioned again about sending Fatima and Yasmine home?”
He nodded. “Prince Omar is considering it.”
“Why would he want them to be in danger?”
“Because of a personal issue there. He feels he can better protect them here.”
“Okay. Can we talk about Parvin Shah?”
“Go for it.”
“She was prepared to use a suicide vest or at least had it in her possession. If she’d been successful, we’d never know who inside Saudi or Iran is responsible. Never mind the factions who are claiming responsibility. It’s glory day for those who want Saudi Arabia and the US to break ally relations.” She stopped. “I ramble on when I’m tired.”
He laughed. “I like hearing your thought process. Pushes the pieces closer together. Once we’ve figured out who’s behind this, Saudi will take extreme measures against them. Hard to say how the US will respond. The ludicrous risks Iran is taking could kill thousands.”
“Who is stupid enough to risk getting blown off the map unless they have a strategic plan? Who else is backing them?” She straightened.
“What is it?”
“Techs are working on linking Shah with father and son Dagher or Malik. We’re hoping to find who worked with her, and tonight we’ll learn who came looking for me at the café. If this is regarding our case, why look me up at Coffee Gone Dark and not you?”
“Who knew you worked there before the prince’s arrival to the US?” Kord said.
“My point. I’m not the biggest threat —you are because of your close alliance with Prince Omar. It doesn’t make sense.”
Kord recalled what SAC Thomas had said about his friendship with Prince Omar. “Not necessarily. You came into the task force with a superior skill set.”
She turned to him. “As though you’d overlook what might be happening?”
“Blind was the word used.”
“What’s SAC Thomas’s position?”
“Prince Omar insisted on having me as part of the security detail. We’re the team, and we’ve both inflicted damage in the Middle East. We’re in the top ten of that region’s kill list. But you’re the one who has the spotlight. That has me baffled too.”
“If someone was watching when I chased Shah, she hit the pavement and fell between two cars. I spent a few seconds checking vitals. Could our bad guy be worried she gave me info? But if so, he’d be under arrest.”
“If the enemy believes you have an ID, you’re not in a good spot. The other factor is your ability to read lips. Two reasons to see you out of the picture.”
“I think Malik is working with the enemy,” she said with concrete firmness. “Use your influence to keep him alive until this is over.”
“Why?”
“Call it intuition while I find the evidence.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I’d be a fool to admit that to an operative.”
“Oh yes, keep my fearsome reputation in check.”
He turned toward the area of the court buildings and down the street where Coffee Gone Dark thrived during the day. He parked a block away. They exited and walked in silence to the café. The few people on the street appeared harmless.
Monica and Kord stood in front of the store. She unlocked the door and trotted back to silence the alarm. “It will lock behind you,” she called over her shoulder.
Kord yanked on the door to be sure and followed her to the rear. An overhead light showed a neat and upscale business, glistening stainless steel equipment, and a coffee mug selection featuring Houston sports. A wall held signed photos of featured players.
In a small, messy, and very coffee-smelling office, Monica sat behind an industrial-style desk and brought the computer monitor to life. He peered over her shoulder as she pulled up camera footage. Stopping at a frame and time stamp, she studied the man talking to a young woman.
“Do you know him?” Kord said.
“Yep.” She scooted back the chair and bent beside the desk to a small safe. After tapping in several numbers, it opened, and she eased out a napkin.
“He wrote his number on a napkin?”
“It’s not his phone number.”
“Must be CIA code stuff.”
She didn’t acknowledge him but typed something into her phone. The whisk sound told him it was a text message. She glanced up and smiled. How could one woman look so beautiful in the middle of a no-sleep, dangerous assignment?
“This has nothing to do with Prince Omar. I’m finished here unless you want coffee,” she said.
“When this is over, I’ll drink my weight. Be here every morning at six. Drive you crazy.”
He observed the red rising in her face, the emotional color of blondes. “Monica, how long are you going to deny us?”
“It’s not that easy. You know about Liam. I’m a mess. Then there’s the faith —”
He bent and brushed a kiss against her lips, soft and warm. “I’m calling in a favor.” He touched her lips again.
She broke away. “What favor?”
“I’m sure you owe me for something. In case you haven’t figured it out, Ali has competition,” he whispered.
“Can we table this until the mission is over?”
“I keep trying, but you’re irresistible.”
She stared at the computer screen. “You and Ali are full of yourselves.”
He grinned. “We’ll see. Want another kiss?”
“Put it in my bank.” Rain beat against the roof, and she groaned. “The ground is saturated. We’ll need to trade in our cars for boats.”
“You’re an expert on changing the subject. Shall we get back to the mansion?”
She coughed into the crook of her arm and rose from the chair.
“That sounded like it came from your toes.”
“And by kissing me, you’ll get it too.”
“I have a great immune system.”
She bit into her lip, but he saw another smile.
After she texted Lori about leaving the café, Monica reset the alarm, and they made their way to the front door. Rain fell in a splashing deluge. Kord noted movement to the right side of the storefront window.
“Unlock the door. I saw someone out there,” he said, grasping his weapon.
She quickly obliged. “I’m going with you.”
Outside, he couldn’t hear a thing but water beating against the pavement. A bullet whizzed over his head and shattered the café’s glass window, sending the alarm into a screech. Gunfire erupted around them.