Page 41 of Fast Kill

Strange, to think of that struggling country more as home than the States now, but after living over there so much over the past few years—far more time than she’d spent back home in Michigan in the same period—it made sense. There was a lot about the country of her father’s birth that she disliked, hated even, but it was also familiar and dear to her. That was another reason why she was doing this job, to stem the tide of opium flowing through the porous, mountainous borders. She was convinced that drugs were the scourge of humanity.

Every shipment of opium in Afghanistan meant money in the hands of terrorist organizations. Money to buy weapons and power so they could wage war and subjugate the helpless. Now their poisonous reach was having real consequences here in the U.S. and Mexico, and she was going to help put an end to it.

The cab pulled into the parking lot of FAST headquarters and stopped in front of the main building. She paid the driver, grabbed her suitcase and backpack, and headed up the concrete walkway to the front door.

The lobby lights were on, but no one was at reception because it was so late. She let herself in using the key code she’d been given, and looked around for directions to the briefing room. Lights down the hallway to her right seemed to indicate someone must be down there, so she went that way, rolling her suitcase behind her. Within moments, it was clear she’d taken a wrong turn. Nothing but empty offices met her eyes, and she didn’t hear any voices or other signs of life.

After trailing back to her starting point, she tried another hallway, this one not as well lit. A few steps in, she stopped again, unconvinced she was in the right area.

Frustrated and beyond tired, she started to pull out her phone but a man stepped out of a doorway in front of her about halfway up the hall. A well-built man with short, dark hair and a pair of shoulders that stretched the fabric of the dark T-shirt he wore above dark jeans that hugged a tight, shapely backside.

“Excuse me,” she said.

No response. He had his phone out, his head bent as he stared intently at the screen and kept walking away from her.

“Excuse me,” she called out, a little louder.

Still nothing.

What the hell, was he deaf?

To hell with this bullshit.She was a special agent with critical intel to deliver. Taggart and his team were waiting for her somewhere in this damn building, and she needed to get to the briefing room ASAP, not continue wandering aimlessly along the corridors like a rat caught in a maze.

Jaliya released the handle of her suitcase and planted her hands on her hips, fresh out of patience as she stared after the stranger with the wide shoulders and fine ass she shouldn’t be noticing. “Excuseme. Little help over here?”

****

Since it was past midnight, Special Agent Zaid Khan hadn’t expected to receive the text message. As he read it, he was more annoyed than anything else. He’d been chatting with this girl he’d met online for a month now, had finally worked up the nerve to ask her out last week because they seemed to click, and she’d just bailed on him.

Fine. He wouldn’t let it bother him. Maybe she wasn’t even real. Since he’d never met her in person, for all he knew she could actually be a sixty-year-old grandmother in real life. He shook his head at himself. The whole online dating thing was like navigating a frickin’ minefield.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he headed down the hallway at FAST headquarters and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. Probably better this way. He was tired. After the team’s constant activity of the past ten days he was beat, and now he was free to go home and sleep in, instead of having to get up and go on a breakfast date in the morning. First dates were always so damn awkward anyway.

An extra few hours’ sleep seemed like a better and better alternative all the time. The team had the next two days off, unless something else came up, and he intended to make the most of them. Mountain biking, or vegging on the couch? He had two speeds, stop and go, so it could go either way.

“Excuseme. Little help over here?”

Huh? He stopped mid-stride and swung around at the lightly-accented, irritated feminine voice behind him.

A woman maybe in her late twenties or early thirties with long, dark hair stood at the end of the hallway, watching him with an exasperated look on her face. Had she been calling after him? There was something familiar about her, too.

He raised his eyebrows, confused. “Sorry?”

She let out an impatient sigh, her hands planted on her cargo-pant-clad hips. Her nicely curved hips. “I asked if you could point me to Commander Taggart.” Her voice held the hint of a British accent.

He’d been so deep in his head, he hadn’t heard her. “Sure. Sorry, didn’t hear you the first time. His office is at the end of the hall. Is he expecting you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, follow me.” He pointed in the direction he’d been headed. “I’ll show you.”

“Thank you.” Her strides were quick and confident as she approached him, the strap of a backpack hitched over one shoulder.

Zaid held out his hand when she got close. “Zaid.” Yep, he’d seen her before somewhere, but couldn’t place her. It was driving him nuts. Normally he was awesome at remembering faces and names.

She shook his hand, surprising him with the firmness of her grip. “Jaliya.” Those dark chocolate eyes did a quick assessment of him in his fatigues, her long, thick lashes casting shadows over the tops of her high cheekbones. “You one of his men?”

“Yes.”

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