Targeted (FBI Heat) Read Free

to Samir, plucking the sat phone and wallet from his pants pockets. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and steeled herself before cautiously approaching Ameen.
    “Praise Allah for sending you to save my life. Thank you,” she said in Arabic as she accepted the veil from his outstretched hand.
    “Will you trust me?” he asked.
    Marissa studied his face. Solemn. Worried. Her instincts said he wasn’t a terrorist. But he also wasn’t part of her team. So, who was Ameen?
    She exhaled and nodded.
    “Good. Follow me.”
    “No. I should…” What should she do? Husaam had apparently broken her cover and ordered Samir to kill her. But Samir and Omar were dead. Before coming after her, had they warned the other members of the cell that Baheera was an imposter? Were the remaining six men already on their way from San Diego? What did the mysterious Ameen know about her and the cell? And how had he found her…in the nick of time?
    Intuitively, she knew Ameen would not let her just disappear into the night. No, this Good Samaritan would insist on staying with her to insure her safety. Therefore, finding her tail or calling her handler would be unwise since those actions would expose too much to him. If Ameen returned with her to the hideout, the terrorists might kill him when they came looking for the fake Baheera.
    Husaam’s discovery might have destroyed the whole covert op, but until she knew for sure, she didn’t want to compromise the operation. She needed to buy some time to accurately assess the situation. Yes, the best option was not to reveal her true identity, but to stay undercover and improvise.
    Decision made, she conceded. “All right. I’ll come with you.”
    Ameen studied her for several seconds. Then he wrapped his scarf around his arm and hand before using his gun to knock the remaining glass out of one of the broken windows. After stashing the pistol and scarf in his waistband, he formed a stirrup with his hands and boosted Marissa up so she could climb through the window. Once she was clear, he dove through the opening and somersaulted to his feet.
    They sprinted silently through the night, always on the lookout for violent drug goons who wouldn’t hesitate to kill them simply for the fun of it. Ameen kept his gun raised and ready. Only once did he have to slow his long strides when she tripped on her abaya . His arm encircled her shoulders and hugged her body up hard against his to prevent her from falling.
    Marissa noticed his curious expression when he peered down into her upturned face, their lips separated by mere inches. For several heartbeats, their chests rose and fell in tandem. Abruptly, he released her and turned away. They ran down multiple alleys until they dodged around one last corner and collapsed against a white Ford truck.
    After a moment’s rest, he unlocked it and they climbed inside. The engine roared, and the truck barreled down the road. Once the slum was behind them, Ameen slowed to a normal speed.
    Marissa kept one eye on the silent stranger driving her to an unknown destination as she tried, unsuccessfully, to memorize the circuitous route through Tijuana. One of her hands grasped the handle of Samir’s knife, the tip of the long, bloody blade resting on the floor by her feet.
    The sat phone rang, startling her and Ameen. She glared at it for a moment before switching it off and removing the battery. Someone, somewhere, could be tracking the phone’s GPS chip. And that someone could be Husaam Abbas.
    She forced a calm demeanor even though her mind raced through a myriad of questions. Who is this man? Should I trust him? I know I can defend myself, but where is he taking me? How could he shoot Samir and Omar so accurately in the dark? How did Husaam break my cover? The questions stopped when a stark realization hit her. Beheaded. I was almost beheaded. The shocking truth shattered her thought process. An icy shiver washed over her, and she swallowed the bile rising in her