Free Targeted (FBI Heat) by Marissa Garner Page A

he drew on his military training to curtail his natural impulse to rush into the house and drag Baheera to safety. She didn’t want to be rescued, but he didn’t believe she knew how dangerous these guys really were. Correction. Two of the assholes had tried to behead her, so she definitely knew what they were capable of. But that didn’t make it any easier for him.
    He exhaled frustration as the nervously chattering men pushed open the front door and disappeared inside. Seconds later, a scream made him rip his gun from his waistband and take two quick strides toward the door. Once the scream registered in his brain as a man’s, he grinned. Probably the AK-47. He’d witnessed Baheera’s familiarity with the guns. Another interesting connection between them.
    He hurried around to the back, but he’d pushed the damaged door shut in his haste. He leaned his ear near the cracked frame and listened, but all he could hear was a soft drone of voices.
    Shit, I hate feeling helpless . He needed to know what was being said inside. Were the terrorists buying whatever story Baheera had concocted? At least she was armed, and they weren’t. But this still wasn’t right. He should be the one kickin’ ass and takin’ names.
    Several minutes passed. His mind kept flashing on Samir’s knife above Baheera’s neck, and he had to tamp down the fear for her that swelled inside him. He tried, but failed, to convince himself that his main concern should be what evil the cell was plotting, not the welfare of one dazzling woman.
    When he heard another vehicle approaching, he moved to the corner and watched the two men with scarves park behind Samir’s truck. They seemed wary about going into the hideout, perhaps because of the presence of the cell’s car, but they eventually got out of their vehicle and retrieved a large cardboard box from the trunk. Ameen studied them as they shut the trunk and carried the box toward the front door. Although he’d watched the men on multiple occasions, this time something seemed oddly familiar about the tall one.
    As he hurried around to the back door, Ameen wished he could tell Khaleel about the boxes of electronic parts stolen from his company. Perhaps his friend could even be of assistance by explaining what the cell might be planning to do with them since they obviously didn’t seem to be selling the parts.
    He grimaced. He’d promised Baheera that he wouldn’t speak to anyone about any of this. Was there a way he could keep his promise and also get the information he needed?

Chapter 8
    T he phone yanked Ben’s mind back from far away. “Alfren,” he answered, praying it was Marissa but knowing it wasn’t.
    “Hey, stud. Are you surviving without me?” Special Agent Staci Hall teased.
    “Barely,” Ben said, grinning for the first time since the nightmare. “How much trouble are you causing in DC?”
    “I’m not causing trouble. I’m getting this place in shape. Seriously, though, it’s not nearly as much fun as when we were here.”
    Ben remembered those years well. She’d been part of the same class with him and Marissa at the FBI Academy in Quantico, and they’d become friends. Unfortunately, Staci hadn’t liked Marissa, which caused way too much drama for him. When Marissa had broken his heart by refusing to transfer to San Diego with them two years ago, Staci’s dislike had skyrocketed. Something the no-nonsense, straight-talking woman didn’t try to hide. Even now that he and Marissa had put the past behind them, Staci had trouble forgiving her for the pain she’d caused him.
    “How’s that money-laundering class coming along?” he asked.
    “It’s okay. Way too much paperwork though. I miss being out in the field.”
    “When are you coming back?”
    “I’ll probably be wrapping up in a couple weeks. What’s happening out there on the West Coast?” she asked.
    He hesitated as the nightmare, Ian’s call, and the meeting with ASAIC Alan Carter flashed by.
    “Ben,