Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
B efore Jasmine could answer, Pat sat down. “Coffee. Black,” he told the barista.
The kid nodded.
“What are you doing here?” Jasmine asked. “Were you following me?”
She was sharp, he’d give her that.
There was no point in lying.
“We’ve been following Al-Jabiri for days now.” Weeks, actually. “He’s a known terrorist living in this country, and we think he’s planning another attack.”
A long pause.
“Are you with the feds?” she whispered, folding her hands in her lap.
“No. Another agency. Same goal. We want to find out what Al-Jabiri is up to and stop him.”
“And you want to know if I’ll help you.” Her voice was quiet, resigned, like she’d been expecting this.
Pat admired her composure. He’d been bracing for more resistance.
“Will you?”
She gave him a long look, emerald flecked eyes roaming over his face. “How do you know you can trust me? How do you know I won’t go straight to Amir and tell him everything?”
He met that cool gaze, his own steady and unflinching. “Because we won’t let you.”
She gave a slow nod. “I see. So if I don’t agree, you’re going to arrest me?”
“Aiding and abetting a known terrorist carries a hefty sentence,” he said. They didn’t have enough to hold her, but she didn’t know that. Hell, they didn’t even have enough to arrest Al-Jabiri.
She glanced toward the street, scanning the sidewalk, her body tensing.
“Don’t even think about it,” Pat said quietly. “We have every exit covered. You wouldn’t get fifty feet.”
She sighed and looked back at him. “If I agree to spy on Amir for you, will I have immunity?”
She was trying to negotiate.
He smiled. “It’ll definitely work in your favor. Right now, we don’t know how involved you are. If crimes have been committed, you’ll have to answer for them.”
“I haven’t done anything illegal,” she snapped. “I’m here against my will.”
Pat glanced around. “You don’t look like a hostage to me.”
Green lasers burned into him. “Not everything is as it seems. You, of all people, should know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a military man. You know there’s always more to a situation than meets the eye.”
She had him there.
“What’s he got on you?” Pat asked.
She hesitated. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“The word of a man who nearly committed cold-blooded murder in front of twenty witnesses?” She scoffed. “Yeah, that’s real comforting.”
He grimaced. “That was… unfortunate. I’ve already apologized for that.”
She studied him. “You would have killed him, wouldn’t you? If those two guys hadn’t pulled you off. You would have strangled him.”
In that moment? Yes.
“Of course not.”
She locked eyes with him, searching. “You’re lying.”
Damn shrinks.
“I lost control, but I wouldn’t have killed him. Not like that, anyway.”
She leaned back, still assessing him. “I don’t believe you.”
“No? Tough luck. You’re in way over your head, Jasmine. I don’t know what your deal is with Al-Jabiri, but I can’t help you unless you trust me.”
“What makes you think I want your help?” Her gaze flickered over his broad chest, his shoulders. “I thought it was the other way around.”
“Al-Jabiri is dangerous. You think he’s just going to let you walk away? You know too much.”
“I don’t know anything,” she snapped. “They don’t talk to me about their plans.”
“But you know they’re planning something.”
She spread her hands. “It’s obvious. That’s what they needed my husband for.”
“Your husband?” He phrased it as a question, hoping she’d elaborate.
Her eyes narrowed. “Before I say anything else, I want to see some ID. I don’t have a clue who you really are. You could be some lunatic off the street.”
“I assure you, I’m not.”
She arched a brow. “Excuse me if I’m not convinced.”
He smirked and dug out an ID card from his back pocket. It contained little more than his name and the company, and was not an official form of ID, but it was all he had. “My name is Patrick Burke. I run a private security firm contracted by the government.”
“Contracted to spy on Amir and Riad?”
“That’s right.”
Her eyes dropped to the card. “Blackthorn Security?”
“Yeah.”
A beat passed as if she were trying to come to a decision. Eventually, she glanced back up at him. “Except he recognized you?”
“He knows he’s being watched. We have men on him constantly. Right now, he’s meeting two suspected bomb makers at a park in Columbia Heights.”
She frowned. “Bomb makers?”
“Yes. Now tell me—what did Al-Jabiri want with your husband?”
“I thought they wanted him to build a bomb,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the barista who kept glancing over at them. Pat suspected he might have a little crush on Dr. McCarthy. “But he couldn’t go through with it, so he… he…”
“He killed himself?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip, dropping her head.
Pat studied her. “How do you know he couldn’t go through with it? Did he tell you that?”
She frowned. “He said he couldn’t do it anymore. I just assumed that meant he hadn’t finished the project. Why else would he kill himself?”
“Because he couldn’t live with the knowledge that he’d created a bomb that was going to be used to kill hundreds of people?” Pat suggested.
She paled. “No, I’m sure he would have told me.”
There was a short silence, then he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“How did you get into this situation?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “I thought that was it, that it was over. But two weeks ago, Amir showed up.”
“Go on…”
“He wanted to know how much I knew about Adam’s work. I told him I didn’t know anything, that I was a psychologist, not a scientist, but he didn’t believe me. He took me to his house and kept me locked up. He threatened me.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “He threatened my son.”
“Ryan?”
She gasped. “How did you know?” Then she exhaled, shaking her head. “You probably know everything about me, don’t you?”
“Not everything,” Pat murmured. “Did he threaten to hurt your son if you didn’t cooperate?”
She nodded.
“What does he want from you?”
“At first, nothing. I thought they were going to kill me. Then one afternoon, Amir had a massive panic attack. One minute, he was watching TV. The next, he couldn’t breathe, shaking like a leaf.”
She shook her head. “It was bad. He was ranting, drenched in sweat. I recognized the symptoms immediately.”
Pat tilted his head, watching her closely.
“I calmed him down, and we talked. Turns out these attacks have been happening for a while. The nightmares, too. When he wakes up, he can’t tell what’s real.”
Pat stayed silent, letting her talk.
“I diagnosed him with PTSD.”
His eyes widened. “You told him that?”
“Yes. He asked me to help him. I said I would—if he let me and my son go when this was over.”
“He agreed?” Pat raised a brow, surprised. She must be na?ve, or desperate, to believe that.
“In theory, yes. Obviously, I don’t trust him, but for now, he needs me. We’ve had a few sessions, and he seems calmer. He wants to work through it.”
Pat snorted. “A terrorist with PTSD. You can’t make this shit up.”
“It’s a terrible disorder,” she snapped. “It affects good and bad people alike.”
“Those with a conscience, sure. But Al-Jabiri? He’s a psychopath.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not. I’ve heard his story. It’s tragic.”
“Lots of people have shitty childhoods. They don’t all become mass murderers.”
She exhaled. “Some do.”
Pat sighed. “Okay, this is all very interesting, but it doesn’t tell us what he’s planning.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “If you know anything, you need to tell me.”
“I don’t know anything else.”
“But you can find out.” He let the words hang as he sipped his Americano.
She bit her lip, drawing his gaze. “What about my son? If Amir finds out I’m working with you, we’re both dead.”
He glanced away, back at her eyes, filled with worry. “We’ll protect Ryan.”
“How? I can’t take him out of school, Amir will know something’s up.”
“We’ll post someone at the school. Any sign of trouble, they’ll get him out.” He couldn’t really spare the manpower, but they’d figure something out. This was important. A boy’s life was at stake.
She hesitated, then sighed. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Pat said. “But we’ll know if you warn him.”
“No, you won’t,” she retorted. “Not unless you can see into his house.” Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God. You can see into his house, can’t you?”
Pat stiffened. “Of course not. He’s got a top-range alarm system, we couldn’t get near the place.” That was one thing he could not afford Al-Jabiri finding out.
She scoured him with her gaze, but he didn’t react.
“Okay,” she said, finally. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
He let out a quiet breath. “Good.”
“How will I contact you?”
“Do you have a mobile phone?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They took it away.”
“What about the one you keep behind the counter?”
She blinked. “You know about that?”
“My operator saw you use it yesterday.”
Her lip trembled. “I was calling my son. Amir doesn’t allow it, but I have to speak with him or else he’ll worry. He thinks I’m away on a work trip.”
Made sense. “Get it, I’ll give you a number. Message me when you have something.”
He watched as she entered the secure number. The faint tremor told him how much strain she was under. “This is a text-only number. If you call it, nobody will pick up. If you find out anything, send me a message.”
“Okay.” Her control slipped and he saw a flicker of fear in her jade irises.
“It’s going to be okay.” Pat flashed her a brief smile as he got to his feet. “You’re with the good guys now.”