Chapter Two

Outside the office window, sheets of gray clouds obscuring the distant mountain peaks promised more snow as The Jackal finished up a call on his personal, encrypted cell phone.

In mid-conversation, he waved a signed document at his assistant, who was flipping through a stack of folders in the doorway. The younger man took it and hurried from the room as The Jackal grunted a terse reply to the person on the other end of the phone and ended the call.

He set the phone down on the desk to get more work done. Just as he picked up the pen, his phone rang again, showing the number of one of his most trusted sources.

As trusted as a source could be, that is.

“Speak,” he said.

“Is your end secure?”

“Of course.” He personally swept for electronic devices each morning whenever he came here, and he changed personal phones every few days to keep anyone from tracking him.

Only a handful of people knew his true identity. The ones who did would keep his secret until their dying breath. That ultimate sort of loyalty was easy enough to buy in this country, where so much of the population lived in abject poverty. Having money made so many things easier.

“What have you got?” he asked his source.

“I’ve just been told that the DEA has offered a bribe to someone from one of our villages.”

He stilled. “Have they,” he murmured. He was well versed in the dealings of the DEA. Very little went on pertaining to the opium trade in this country that he didn’t know about before it happened. He made it his business to know.

“Yes.” His man named a village they had used to smuggle shipments in and out of a few weeks ago.

“Who is it?”

“I haven’t found out yet.”

He scratched his beard. “They want him as an informant?”

“Yes. He went to Bagram to meet with the Americans about it.”

Ah. Interesting. He must be extremely motivated to risk such a thing. Either poverty or revenge. “And did he agree to work for them?” The Americans must consider him important if they’d asked him to meet at Bagram.

“No one knows.”

The news didn’t alarm him. This sort of thing wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, although it was rare that his network wasn’t able to find out the informant’s identity. “Keep a close eye on it. Find out who he is, and inform me right away.” Either The Jackal had a possible ally or an enemy, and both could prove useful under the right circumstances.

“Yes, sir. But…”

“But what? Find out who the informant is, and then we will know how to best deal with him.” He hung up before the man could answer. He didn’t kill people if he could use them first.

His gaze caught on the framed pictures on his desk. He paused, staring at one in particular of his family. This was the reason he was willing to risk so much. Hope. Life. Things that were nearly impossible to have in this war torn country.

All his life, and for generations before him, the only things his family had known were war and suffering. The only way to secure a stable future for the ones he loved was with money. Lots of it—more than he could ever hope to make in ten lifetimes at his public job. Influence was gained through power, and he’d learned that power came through fear.

He’d become an expert at administering fear over the past few months.

Staring at the beloved faces in the frame on his desk, a fresh surge of resolve swept through him. No matter who he had to kill or betray, no matter how high the cost, he would do whatever it took to make things right.

****

She still had a ton of work to do, but since Jaliya was so hungry she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d decided to run over to the mess hall for a bite to eat. Holding her full dinner tray in both hands, she glanced around the crowded space, searching for a familiar face.

The large building was packed full of tables lined with benches and chairs, a constant buzz of conversation and the clinking of silverware filling the air. Since it was only a few days before Christmas, someone on base had made the effort to make things look a little festive in here with some garland wrapped around the posts and Santa pictures hung here and there. A few people were even sporting fuzzy Santa hats with their uniforms.

The mood was light considering that everyone was far away from their families at this time of year, and surprising since the security on base had been heightened over the past week. On high alert in case any attackers wanted to make a statement during one of the most important dates in the Christian calendar.

Over in the far left corner, one of her team members spotted her and waved her over. Smiling, she started toward the group of DEA agents seated at the table, but her steps faltered when she realized who else was there with them.

The members of FAST Bravo.

They weren’t at Bagram for long stretches of time, usually staying at one FOB or another to be closer to their mission targets out in the countryside. Unless it was a briefing or important meeting of some sort, she didn’t see them. And when they were here, the FAST guys tended to keep to themselves in the SOF area of the base, so her path rarely crossed with theirs.

Almost against her will, her gaze was drawn to the broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned man sitting in the middle of his teammates with his back to her. She was still a bit embarrassed that he’d had to be brought in to translate this morning, and annoyed that it had been necessary.

As if on cue, Agent Zaid Khan turned his head to look behind him and his hazel gaze zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. The instant it did, a funny fluttery sensation tickled low in her belly and her heart did a weird little skip.

He shot her a friendly smile and turned back to his teammates, and somehow that unfroze her. Refusing to acknowledge the way her endocrine system seemed to swoon at the sight of him, she strode for the table and took the only empty spot, next to one of the FAST guys and across from Khan.

She set her tray down and picked up her fork without looking at him. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to and curious about him. From what she’d seen and heard over the past several weeks, he was easy-going, with a good sense of humor.

Though he wasn’t the leader or senior member of the team, he seemed to be the hub of it. She’d seen him hanging out with various members, not just one or two in particular, and from her observations she got the sense that Khan was sort of like the team big brother, who everyone went to for advice.

He was attractive, likeable, smart, and knowing he could handle himself in the face of danger was definitely sexy. The trouble was, she was suspicious that he might be the same guy she’d met via an online dating site a few months ago. How many Zaids around his age could there be, living in D.C. and working for the U.S. government? The odds of that being a coincidence were slim to none.

They’d clicked immediately. She’d been really into him, and after chatting online every day for a few weeks she’d felt close enough to him, safe enough that she had even agreed to set up a date when she was scheduled to come into D.C. next.

But then something he’d said had changed her mind. Little comments here and there, pretty benign on the surface of things, but they sounded too much like something one of the “good Muslim men” her father used to shove at her would say—the ones who disapproved of her views and wanted her to conform to a more subservient and obedient role in the relationship.

They’d been trying to agree on where to meet for the date. He’d named a place, and when she’d asked why he thought he got to call the shots for their first meeting, he typed the kiss of death: I’m a take charge kind of guy. And I believe the man should wear the pants in a relationship.

Yeah, no thanks.

She’d received the response while waiting to pick up her luggage at Dulles. The comment had smacked of that same kind of male domineering attitude that made her all ragey. Also, if he talked like that early on when he was supposed to be winning her over, what would he be like later on? She’d backed out of the date the night before it was supposed to happen and cut contact with him, because life was too short to waste time on someone who looked like they might be an asshole.

Jaliya didn’t do subservient, and she sure as hell didn’t do obedient. Not unless it pertained to following orders from one of her superiors. And even then, not every time. Unlike her two sisters who were happy to be with men their father had picked for them, Jaliya wanted to go her own way, make her own choices without her father interfering. Especially when it came to her career and love life.

“So, big night tonight, huh?” one of her male colleagues said next to her, shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Yes, sure is.” She forked up a bite of salad—she liked to get that part out of the way so she could enjoy the real food on her tray, which included a slice of chocolate cheesecake she richly deserved—her mind already on the coming op that would happen in a few hours. She’d worked all of her contacts for this one after the meeting with Barakat this morning. If the intel was good, tonight they might finally hit The Jackal and his network where it hurt.

“Love to know what you’re thinking about right now.”

At the sound of that deep voice shaded by a New Jersey accent, she looked up to find Agent Khan looking at her over the rim of a coffee mug, his hazel gaze so intent it brought back that fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. He’d buzzed his almost black hair short, and he had the start of a thick, dark beard now. He was rugged. Sexy. And he radiated an alert kind of confidence she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

Was he the same guy she’d met online? He wouldn’t know it was her, because they’d never posted photos of each other and she’d used only her middle name for her profile.

She swallowed her mouthful of chicken before answering. “Mentally getting everything organized for tonight.”

“Ah. So, overkill then.”

“Sorry?”

“Well, you’ve always seemed to have things well in hand before, so I doubt you need to review anything.”

A compliment? She hadn’t expected that, or for him to be this friendly after she’d kept their interactions limited to strictly professional dealings. “It’s my job.”

“And you do it well.”

Jaliya wasn’t sure how to respond. It wouldn’t do to get too friendly with any of them, for professional reasons. To do her job well, she needed to maintain a certain distance and not let personal feelings muddy the waters when she helped plan an op they participated in, but she could make small talk for a little while, and she appreciated his support. “Thank you,” she murmured, and turned her attention back to her dinner.

“We were just talking about the holidays,” he added, gesturing to his eight teammates seated around the table, all engaged in animated discussion except for the big man next to him. Agent Maka seemed far more interested in what she and Khan were talking about. “Kai here was telling me how he used to celebrate Christmas back home in Hawaii when he was a kid.”

“That’s right,” Agent Maka said, shifting to lean toward her more, his thick forearms braced on the table, black tribal tattoos snaking up beneath the left sleeve of the T-shirt stretched over his massive chest and shoulders.

He was a giant of a man, at least six-foot-five, and ripped. She wasn’t sure what size shirt he wore, but it had to be at least XXL. She couldn’t imagine what it took to feed a man his size, but his tray was piled high with a mountain of food she would have thought impossible for one man to eat all by himself.

“You ever been to Hawaii?” he asked her, scooping up a giant forkful of food.

It was way easier to make conversation with him than Khan. “Sadly, no. I’ve always wanted to, though. Were you born there?”

“Born and raised.”

“Which island?”

“Maui.” He stuffed a huge mouthful of food into his mouth, chewed fast and swallowed, eyeing her the whole time. “I guess you don’t…” He frowned slightly. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

She smiled and picked up her bottle of water. “No, but I still love the season and its message.” Peace on Earth and goodwill to mankind? Yes please. The world could use a whole hell of a lot more of it.

He nodded. “Ah. Well anyway, the guys were interested to know how we celebrated back home. I told them how my extended family would have a big dinner together after church. The day before, the men would all get together to roast a Kalua pig. Do you know what that is?”

“No.” The passionate way he talked about it was infectious, and charming.

“It’s a whole pig that we roast in a pit in the ground called an imu. It’s all about having the right temperature and enough moisture. We build a fire and wait for it to burn down to coals, then add rocks and let them heat up before we put in the prepared pig on top of a bed of banana leaves. You cover the pig in soaked burlap, add water, then bury it and cook it for about twelve to fourteen hours.”

“That sounds like an awful lot of work.”

“Yeah, but it’s the traditional way, and nothing else tastes like it.” He rolled his eyes heavenward before looking at her again. “Best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth. You should—” He stopped dead and shut his mouth, the tops of his cheeks turning a dusky red above the line of his dark beard as he cleared his throat and looked down at his plate. “Course, you and Zaid don’t eat pork though,” he muttered in a low voice.

She couldn’t help a smile. She wasn’t all that strict about the way she practiced her religion—at least not as strict as her parents would have liked—but some things were just taboo. “No. But that was really interesting. Do you hang stockings and all that too?”

“Yeah, but from the palm tree out front of my grandma’s house, because we don’t have a fireplace.”

Not much need for one in Hawaii. “That’s so neat.”

Maka nodded as he gobbled down another bite of his dinner, still looking slightly embarrassed.

Agent Khan seemed to be fighting a laugh as he drained the last of his coffee. She shot him a warning look and he lowered his mug to reach out and grasp Maka’s massive shoulder with his left hand. “Don’t worry about it, man. She doesn’t seem offended.”

“Not at all,” she assured him with another smile. “I really do love this time of year. When I was growing up in Britain I used to love seeing all the Christmas trees and decorations everywhere, and we had good friends who used to have us over for Christmas dinner. They roasted their turkey in the oven instead of a pit in the ground, but it was still amazing.”

Agent Khan’s green-and-gold-flecked eyes warmed and the corners of his mouth tilted upward in the midst of his beard in a sexy smile, and damned if her heart didn’t speed up. “Where did you grow up over there?”

“Manchester, then London.”

“And when did you come to the States?”

“After high school. My dad got hired at a private hospital in Michigan.”

“He a doctor?”

“Neurosurgeon.”

“Ah. So brains run in the family, then.”

Her lips quirked. He was charming, she’d give him that. “Yeah, I guess they do.” She loved and admired her father, but they sure didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things—like her career.

“Bet that Christmas turkey would have been juicier and tastier if they’d used an imu,” Maka said with a grin.

“Sadly, I guess I’ll never know.”

“Kai’s a master of resourcing stuff. I bet he could scrounge up a turkey and dig us an imu right here on base so you could test it out,” Khan said to her.

“Oh, no, that’s not nece—”

“Yeah, I bet I could,” Maka said, a far-off look in his eyes as though he was already planning it out. Then his gaze flicked to her. “Let me see what I can do. I’ll get back to you on it.”

Okay, he sounded serious about this. “I…all right.”

Khan winked at her and continued eating his dinner.

To avoid looking at him or encouraging further conversation, she went back to eating her meal while the team talked around her. It was impossible not to like Khan, even if he was the same guy she’d met online. Another reason not to let him get too close.

Under different circumstances, she might have been tempted to indulge in a little flirtation and see where it went. But not here, and not with him.

A relief, really. In a few hours his team would go into harm’s way to carry out an operation based on her team’s intelligence reports and recommendations.

It would be dangerous out there far away from base. They could be hurt. Even killed.

The sobering reality made the food congeal into a hard lump in her stomach.

It wasn’t the first time the weight of responsibility had sat heavy on her shoulders. But even with the little time she’d spent with the team tonight, instead of a list of names and faces they were now all individuals with different personalities, and all of them had people who loved them waiting back home.

Jaliya mentally shook her head at herself. She should never have opened that door in the first place. Fraternizing with men who would go into dangerous situations on her recommendation was never a good idea.

Forcing down the bite of suddenly dry chicken stuck in her throat, she washed it down with a few sips of water, then gathered her tray and stood. “I’ve got some more things to prepare,” she said to them both as they looked up at her questioningly. “See you at the debriefing.” She left the table and didn’t look back, hoping her anxiety about the coming op didn’t show.