Wicked Games: The Extended Edition (Steele Security #1) Page 11

  The clinking and clanking of internal locks and chains being turned and removed filled the air. The door opened a couple of inches as an eyeball filled the dark space. Noah had his back against the wall, his hand on his gun, and was ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble.

  “Who are you?” the thickly accented female asked.

  “I’m Brianna Tate. I’m here to talk to Ammar Wasem. He called me at the Miami Herald.”

  “Shatha, let her in,” a male voice from inside the apartment commanded.

  The young lady stepped back and opened the door wider to allow them to enter. When Noah stepped around to follow Brianna, Shatha’s eyes grew wide as her bottom jaw dropped open. She started to protest when Brianna spoke.

  “This is my bodyguard. He goes where I go. He won’t interfere.”

  “He can wait in the kitchen,” Ammar replied. “We will talk in the living room.”

  Shatha showed Noah to the kitchen and offered him food and drinks. He politely declined as he took a seat with a perfect line of sight to Brianna. He couldn’t hear the hushed conversation from where he sat, but anyone after Brianna would have to get past him first.

  When Brianna took her seat across from Ammar, she pulled her notebook and pen out of her bag to prepare for her interview. The voice-activated recorder rested on the coffee table and waited for the cue that it was time to begin.

  “To recap our previous conversation, you said your brother still lives in your home village of Balikh. You believe that someone in the US military, possibly with business connections, is selling weapons to hostile rebels in the area. Is that correct?” she asked.

  “That is correct. The man behind it is an American and he is working with some very bad men in Balikh. They are setting up an elaborate front to hide their sins,” Ammar replied. “The blood on their hands will be great if they’re not stopped in time.”

  “Do you have any proof of this accusation? Any names of those involved?”

  “I only have the word of my brother. That is proof enough for me. He read your article on the soldiers you joined in the desert, Miss Tate. He was very impressed with how you covered it. That’s why I called your paper.

  “We hoped you would take this story, find out who this American is that’s behind it, and stop him. It would be easier, and faster, to stop this one man than to stop many in my country. Many who are abandoning their true faith and resorting to becoming terrorists.”

  “I can tell you’re very passionate about this subject,” Brianna acknowledged. “The rebels’ actions seem to be speaking for an entire ethnic group of people, don’t they?”

  “Yes, that’s part of their plan. If a group this large is divided and fighting against each other, it makes it harder for anyone on the outside to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys. By the time you figure it out, it’s too late and the damage has already been done,” he explained sadly.

  “How does your brother have this information?”

  “It’s part of his job. He knows the inherent danger in coming forward and giving this information out. But saying nothing could result in the death of tens of thousands of people. Neither of us can live with that on our conscience.”

  “What is the information he has?”

  “He works in Customs for our country. He received a request for fast-track approval of an incoming shipment. When he looked further into it, he discovered more and more information.

  “Each individual piece of the puzzle looks benign, but you’ll see the full picture of the cancer that’s taking over Syria when you put all their pieces together. I will tell you what I can tonight, but my brother is the one who wants to speak with you,” Ammar finished.

  The more Ammar told Brianna about his homeland, the American, and the black market arms dealers, the more spectacular the story sounded. Even in the most unbelievable parts of the story became plausible as she felt his anguish through his words.

  At the end of the interview, she thanked him for his time and hospitality. “Ammar, what you and your brother are doing is very brave. Even though you’re worried about the safety of your brother and your own family, I guarantee your names won’t be used or given out by me.”

  “Miss Tate, if you can help stop this travesty, all the worry and danger will be worth it. There’s so much at stake, it’s hard to pick just one or two things to focus on,” Ammar replied sadly.

  “I’ll be back in touch soon. Please give your brother my number,” she said, handing him her card. “I’m very interested in talking to him and helping to stop this from happening.”

  As soon as Noah and Brianna were seated back in the vehicle, Noah’s phone began ringing. He transferred the call to the Bluetooth connection and Bull’s voice came across the speakers.

  “Drop this story now, Brianna. Please,” he pleaded.

  The sincerity and concern in his voice shook Brianna. “What? Why would you say that?”

  “I heard the whole conversation. If it’s true, it’s too dangerous for you to get mixed up in it. This should be a joint task force between the CIA, NSA, and the FBI–at least. You are not trained for this, Bri. You’ll end up getting killed. Please don’t,” Bull implored her.

  “Bull, you’re overreacting. I’m just investigating this and getting the facts. I’m not going to apprehend them myself. I’ll dig and find out who’s behind it, then turn the evidence over to the authorities. I’ll have the complete story out of it then,” Brianna consoled.

  “Reaper, call me when you can,” Bull stated flatly before disconnecting.

  Brianna felt her heart drop to her feet at Bull’s abrupt disconnection. She’d seen him go from burning hot to freezing cold in zero-point-two seconds with others before, but never with her. Their sibling bond had emerged in the desert and had become much stronger in the time she’d been reconnected with Noah. To be shut out so heartlessly stung her to the core.

  “What did he say, Brianna?” Noah cut his eyes at her.

  Brianna knew deep down that it wasn’t in Bull’s nature to overreact to anything. She swallowed the pain rising from her chest and recounted the conversation to Noah. He wordlessly drove and listened intently to every word all the way back to his house.

  As he pulled into his garage, Noah turned off the ignition but didn’t move to exit the car. His eyes swung up to meet Brianna’s. His approach with Brianna was softer than Bull’s, but packed no less punch.

  “I can’t lose you, Brianna. What we have, I’ve never had with anyone before. Without you, I’m only a shell of a man–completely hollow inside. Not really living, not really dying. The love I have for you could never be given to anyone else.”

  “You’ll never lose me, Noah.” She crawled over the center console to sit in his lap. She stroked his face as she spoke. “I waited for you, and I would’ve kept waiting if you hadn’t come home when you did.

  “After meeting you, spending time with you, and falling so deeply in love with you, I knew there’d never be another man in my life. We both knew that our jobs would have some danger factor to them when we started this. Don’t ask me to change.”

  “Don’t make me to live through losing you,” he said grimly.

  Before she could answer, he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him. “I love you in ways I’ve never loved anyone. I depend on you in ways I’ve never depended on another. You’re as much as part of me as I am, Bri.”

  He lifted her in his arms, slid out of the vehicle, and carried Brianna the entire way to their bedroom. He poured all the words he couldn’t verbalize into their lovemaking as he wordlessly spoke to her.

  You own my heart.

  All of my love is yours.

  Stay with me forever.

  10

  Chapter Ten

  The courier dropped off a large envelope at Noah’s house that had originally been delivered to the Miami Herald office. Brianna held it in her hands, felt the weight of the documents inside as they magnified and multiplied in her heart.
Her source from the remote desert village found a way to get the copied documents to her so she could begin researching before meeting him in person.

  She placed the unopened envelope on her desk and stared at it as if she could bore a hole in it from her gaze alone. She remembered their conversation from several weeks before and she still felt the urgency and fear in the man’s voice.

  “Miss Tate,” he began tentatively, his accent thick and difficult to understand over the phone. “You are a reporter, yes?”

  “Yes, I’m the journalist, Brianna Tate. Who is this?” she asked, her journalistic senses tingling with a premonition that this could be exactly what she needed for a breakthrough story.

  “You spoke with my brother a few weeks ago. I found your name on a story you wrote about the American military presence in the Middle East. I’ve stumbled upon proof that rebels are planning to buy American guns. These rebels will raid my village and kill my people. I’m asking for your help to stop this travesty.”

  “How did you stumble upon this proof? Who do you believe is supplying the rebels with guns? Where are you from? I’m going to need more information to go on than this,” she pushed. She knew she had to verify what this man said matched the information Ammar had given her.

  “I have several documents that I found and copied. They’re the shipping manifests and I can get the separate corresponding receipt log that matches shipment for shipment. A military transport plane has been scheduled to deliver them. Someone high up must be involved, approving the shipments.

  “You’ll have to come here to get the receipt log in person, though. I can’t risk copying and mailing it, in case the mail is intercepted,” he whispered. “I would be found out instantly as I’m the only one who catalogues the shipments.”

  Brianna convinced him to share all of his pertinent personal information with her. Before she hung up, she had his name, exact location, and a time and place to meet. He promised to mail the copied shipping manifest documents to her. If she agreed that there was a story worth pursuing after reviewing the documents, she would then travel halfway around the world to meet with him in person.

  She ripped open the cardboard envelope and quickly removed the paperwork inside to begin scouring the information. She immediately recognized the logo at the top of every manifesto and she suddenly wrapped her arms around her midsection, doubled over, and fought the intense nausea that washed over her. Her hands shook, her heart raced, and her thoughts whipped through her mind in a blur. Two words stood out like neon signs in the pitch-black night.

  Steele Security.

  “No, I refuse to believe Noah plays any part in this. He wouldn’t do this.” Brianna talked to herself as she paced back and forth.

  Over the following several weeks, she spent every waking hour researching the dates and information shown on the invoices. As she poured through the documents, she found several suspicious transactions and traced offshore bank account numbers. Each new revelation brought her back to the same conclusion.

  There was definitely a ringleader arranging the illegal weapon shipments. But the identity of that one person wasn’t obvious. The documentation to support the armed escorts by Steele Security were all in place, all official, and all pointed to Noah Steele as the man behind the front.

  The strain of all the evidence she’d found weighed heavily on Brianna’s heart and mind. On one hand, if she believed what she’d found was true then she had to believe the worst about the man she loved more than anything in the world. She would have to face the fact that she really didn’t know the man she practically lived with, gave her love to, and shared her bed with, at all. She’d have to admit to herself that she’d made an egregious mistake in trusting him with her life.

  On the other hand, if she chose to ignore it, and the data were actually true, she’d be just as guilty as he was. If she let blind faith take over instead of the cold, hard facts she’d grown accustomed to, she would go against everything she ever believed in. When this story broke wide open, and it definitely would, her own reputation would be scrutinized every bit as harshly as Noah’s would.

  Either way, she couldn’t find a solution to this situation that didn’t result in losing something she didn’t think she could live without. From her viewpoint, she would lose Noah, her career, or both at the same time. Her career choice provided her with access to people and documents that she wouldn’t have been able to reach otherwise. She realized that what she was actually searching for was the proof that Noah was innocent.

  Over those same weeks of research, she approached Noah with various questions about his line of work. After having spent so much time around a nosy, inquisitive reporter, Noah stopped questioning why she sometimes needed very specific information.

  “Noah,” Brianna approached him. “I have a few questions about your government contracts for security transports.”

  “Shoot,” he replied, leaning back from his desk and giving her his full attention.

  “Do you provide armed escorts for materials or weapons shipments?”

  “No, we only provide armed escorts for people. Mainly officials who are traveling to highly volatile areas,” he replied.

  “So, your guys wouldn’t be on the plane unless a person needed protection?”

  “That’s right,” Noah confirmed.

  “Why wouldn’t the military just send an armed squad with them?”

  “They don’t always have the extra manpower to spare. Troops are stationed everywhere and each person has a specific job to do. They can’t just drop that job because one of the suits decides he needs to be in the Middle East or Africa,” Noah elaborated.

  “Who has the authority to set up a transport contract?” Brianna asked, trying to keep her voice calm and her breathing even as she waited.

  “Well, the senior director of the Department of Defense has to sign the contract with us,” Noah explained. Brianna held her breath. “But Richard is my liaison with the DOD. He has the contracts drawn up, signed, and executed.”

  Brianna audibly gasped, her eyes grew wide, and her mouth gaped open. Noah’s eyes narrowed at her uncharacteristic response, his head tilted to the left, and his arms slowly crossed over his body.

  Richard Hollingsworth.

  The man who was also known as Judge.

  Richard had been coming much more frequently over the past few months. Having a house in Miami was the perfect excuse for him to show up with a contract for Noah to sign rather than sending it over the secure email system the DOD used. The missing pieces of the maddening puzzle began to become clearer to Brianna. She had no proof of it, but her gut instinct told her she was on the right path.

  “I just realized I forgot about a meeting. I’d better go,” Brianna stammered.

  Noah’s face became unreadable. She knew he was onto her lie. Not only was her response openly obvious, Noah had been trained in all manners of reading people’s expressions, so he could see straight through her ruse. She’d worked hard to keep her features schooled when she planned surprises for him in the past. She wanted to kick herself now because she knew she’d failed miserably during a time when she desperately needed her emotions to remain neutral.

  All of her digging, researching, and questioning others had revealed more lies, more disturbing revelations, and a story that was bigger than she could handle. She couldn’t break this story and expect no repercussions. Bull’s dire warning when she first took this story replayed in her mind, telling her she wasn’t trained for this and she’d end up hurt.

  What scared her most was what would happen to Noah and his business. She knew she had been acting different toward him since her investigation trail implicated Noah. Intense levels of worry and stress over what she should do and what she should believe had changed her, made her doubt everything she thought she knew, and kept her awake at night.

  A week later, she tried to approach the subject again by asking Noah different questions. This time, she focused more on Richard specifica
lly, rather than the business aspect of it.

  “How long have you known Richard?” she asked.

  “Not sure exactly, since before high school. Why do you ask?” Noah eyed her suspiciously.

  “What was he like in school?” she asked.

  “A lot like he is now. Hard for most people to get along with. He had a few close friends but kept his circle small. His family had money and he liked to flaunt it a little too much. He also had a reputation for using girls and dumping them,” Noah said as he tilted his head and cut his eyes at Brianna.

  “Why did he decide to join the military?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest as it expanded with his extra deep breath. “For the same reason I did. To piss his father off. Why are you asking so many questions about Richard all of a sudden?”

  “I never interviewed him when we were in the Middle East. Just tying up some loose ends,” she lied.

  “I don’t think so, Brianna,” Noah slowly shook his head. “That was too long ago and your article over that has long since been out of circulation. Want to try again?”

  Sighing, Brianna had to admit she didn’t have a reason to ask questions about Noah’s friend that she could give him. Their relationship became more strained from Brianna’s suspicions about Noah’s involvement, and from Noah’s suspicions about Brianna and Richard. She had always tried to remain unbiased in her reporting, always giving both sides of the story and not slanting the facts to weigh heavier to one side. But with this story, she reluctantly conceded she was desperately searching for any proof that Noah was completely innocent.

  “It’s complicated, Noah,” she dodged.

  “Complicated?” his voice rose as his brows furrowed. “What exactly is complicated between you and Richard?”

  “You know how some of your work is classified and you can’t tell me about it? How all of the missions you were on are still classified and you won’t trust me with any information about them? But I don’t push you for it because I know you have good reasons for not telling me. I need that same respect from you right now,” Brianna insisted.