Page 32 of Zero Hour

The barista, Tony, was already smiling when she walked in. He was a psych student, taking online classes, and they’d struck up an easy rapport on her first day here. He’d seen her library books and asked if she was a practicing therapist.

He hadn’t minded keeping her secret notebook and burner phone behind the counter. Hadn’t even asked her why. He even kept the phone charged for her.

“Morning, Jasmine. The usual?”

“Yes, please, Tony.”

She scanned the café as he made her drink. The first few days, Amir had her followed, but the men he’d sent were amateurs. She’d spotted them instantly.

Trust was something you had to build. Even though Amir had Ryan as leverage, she needed to convince him she wasn’t a threat. That she could be trusted.

It was the only way to survive.

Tony brought over her coffee and handed her the small paper bag containing her notebook and phone. “Working today?”

A friendly smile. “Always.”

She opened the notebook, flipping to the most recent entry. It contained pages of detailed notes on Amir—his behavior, his reactions, his night terrors. The moments of lucidity. The flickers of doubt. Clinically, he was a fascinating case study.

Personally, it was a means of control.

A way to detach. To pretend, even for a moment, that he was just another patient, and she was just his therapist. But he could never find out. If Amir knew she was documenting him, if he even suspected, she didn’t want to think about what he might do.

She took a sip of coffee and started writing. She was halfway through her notes when the door to the coffee shop opened, and a shadow fell across her table.

She glanced up—and her heart skipped a beat.

Him.

“Hello, Jasmine,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite. “Mind if I join you?”

CHAPTER 13

Before 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?”

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