Edge of Danger (Edge Security Series Book 3) (11 page)

“
A
lyssa
!” Zach yelled into the phone. “Alyssa!”

He stood watching the feed from the subway’s security cameras. He saw Alyssa turn and run for the stairs.

The homeless man jerked at the vest. Once. Twice.

The screen went black just as the phone died.

“Fuck,” Zach said. “Someone get eyes on that subway station. Get all emergency personnel there. Someone update the captain. Drew, Riley, come with me.”

He let Riley drive since he knew the city better, then wished he hadn’t. Driving would have let him focus on something besides images of Alyssa’s broken body. Zach had been in plenty of tight spots where ten minutes felt like forever, but the ten-minute siren-blaring drive to the subway station took the top spot.

He jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, running to the station entrance. Police blocked his way. He flashed his ID and shouldered past them. A few firemen and Drew followed him down the dust-shrouded steps into the terminal. The lights were out and the smell of cement dust, sulfur, and ammonia filled the air and coated his throat.

In the ten minutes since the explosion, the emergency responders had gotten all of the civilians out of the station.

He stopped. “Which train?”

Drew pointed to a set of platform stairs ahead of them leading down into darkness. Zach pulled a pen light from his pocket and ran ahead. He swore when he saw the condition of the stairs. The bottom steps were cracked and debris covered them.

A fireman shouted at them. “Hey, don’t go down there. We don’t know if it’s stable yet.”

Screw stability. Alyssa could still be down there. He ran down the steps.

The scene was surreal and looked like something from a war zone. Dust coated everything and floated in the air, reflecting in the beam of his penlight. A shallow blackened crater carved out the center of the platform.

Drew swore beside him. Zach looked where Drew shone his flashlight. A severed hand lay feet from them, the congealed blood around it looking almost black.

“Alyssa!” Zach called. He crouched by the hand, forcing himself to look. The fingers were thick and blunt, the nails dirty and ragged. “It’s a man’s hand,” he said to Drew. “It’s probably from the bomber.

“It’s not her,” he said, more to himself.

“She must have gotten out,” Drew said.

Zach’s grip tightened on the penlight. “Then where the hell is she?” He ran back up the stairs and grabbed the first fireman he saw. “Where are the survivors?”

Something in Zach’s expression made the man’s eyes widen. “Outside. Triage area near the alley.”

Zach and Drew raced back outside.

He found Alyssa huddled by the brick wall of a building, a paramedic crouched near her.

Something in his chest loosened. “Alyssa,” he called.

The paramedic, a young Asian man, stood up and blocked him. “Hold up, man,” he said. “She’s in shock and not responding. I wouldn’t advise touching her yet.”

Zach frowned. Alyssa’s eyes were open, staring at nothing. She had dried blood down one side of her face from a cut by her eyebrow, and she was covered in dust. She knelt on the ground close to the brick wall of the building. Her fingers dug into the pavement. She rocked slightly and murmured to herself.

Zach crouched slowly in front of her. He’d seen this before with one of his buddies. She was deep in a flashback.

T
he blast throws her backwards
. She crashes into something and cracks her head. Pain roars through her arm and shoulder.

What happened?

Dust shrouds everything. Her headscarf is missing and something wet drips down her face. A high-pitched buzzing muffles everything, except for the harsh sound of her breathing.

She puts her hand down to push herself up and her forearm screams at her. An odd bulge has formed on it. She traces it gently with her other hand. Compound fracture, she thinks.

She blinks. She should be screaming in pain.

Shock. She must be in shock.

Her sidearm lies on the ground near her. She grabs it and manages to get to her feet. It takes her three tries to holster her weapon.

The market is gone. Stalls literally blown away, leaving only scraps of cloth and chunks of wood behind. Her ears ring. She can’t focus. Images kaleidoscope around her.

A man lies face down covered in debris. His dark hair turned gray with dust. His arm is missing from the elbow down. Blood pools around him.

She stumbles forward. Looking for someone. She blinks.

Scott. Brian.

She moves faster, past other bodies and debris.

“Scott! Brian!” Her voice echoes inside her head. Her throat feels raw as she screams the names again.

Someone lies on the ground, face turned away from her. He wears the distinctive camouflage pattern of the Army’s Combat Uniform, recognizable even covered in dust. He isn’t moving.

She staggers to him and drops to her knees. She turns his head toward her. It’s Brian. His helmet is gone and so is part of his head. The dirt beneath them soaks up his blood.

No.

Her breath comes too fast. The fingers of her good hand clench his shirt and she stares at his dust-covered face.

“Brian? No, please.” She wipes some of the dirt away, streaking blood across his cheek instead. She can’t get enough air.

Don’t think. Don’t think.

She needs to find Scott. He will help.

She stands and scans the area. Sounds penetrate the ringing in her ears, as if they come from somewhere far away.

Someone is screaming. She frowns, searching the area.

There. A young girl clutches a woman’s hand. The woman lies sprawled in the dirt and doesn’t move. Another woman—a white woman, her hair covered in a hijab—stands on the edge of the scene. Not moving, just staring.

Alyssa looks back down at Brian, her friend since Basic. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have come.”

Z
ach watched
Alyssa dig her fingers harder into the pavement, her gaze haunted by things only she saw.

“I’m so sorry, Brian,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come.”

“Alyssa,” Zach said in a calm voice. “You’re safe. It’s over now.”

She kept murmuring and rocking, though he thought he saw a flicker in her eyes. He repeated his words, using her name often.

“Alyssa, you’re safe. You’re in New York. Alyssa.”

Gradually she stopped rocking. Her gaze inched up from the ground, over his body to his face. Her eyes held horror and sorrow in equal measure. His heart ached to see it. He reached out a hand toward her. “May I?”

She gave a single nod. He slid his hand over one of her cold ones. She shuddered at the simple contact. He noticed her palms were scraped and bleeding. He squeezed her fingers gently. “Alyssa, you’re safe.”

She looked at their entwined hands and then back up at him, wordlessly pleading for something. He shifted closer and she leaned toward him. He did what his instincts demanded and gathered her in his arms. She burrowed her face into his neck, her breath hitching, and he knew she fought her demons for control. He’d never felt so powerless. All he could do was keep saying her name and reassuring her that she was safe.

They knelt there in the dirty alley while the chaos of the scene continued around them. Drew had disappeared, probably to liaise with the emergency personnel on scene. The paramedic had said he’d check back in with them, but he had others he needed to triage.

Which brought Zach’s mind back to a point. He needed to know if Alyssa was hurt. His gut twisted to see this strong woman hiding in his arms. He wanted to carry her away somewhere quiet and safe, and protect her from the world.

“Alyssa,” he said gently. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need a doctor?”

“No.” Her voice was hoarse and low, as if it hurt her to talk. “But I could use a drink.”

He smiled. She would be okay. Nothing could break his Alyssa.

His Alyssa.

She pulled herself from his arms. He wanted to tighten them around her, not ready to let her go. But she wasn’t his. He had to remember that. She was his friend’s sister and he had to keep her safe or Jake would never forgive him. He clenched his jaw. He would protect her, whether she wanted him to or not.

Someone shouted his name. Drew waved to him from beside a patrol car, holding a radio up.

“You’re being paged,” Alyssa said, nodding her head at Drew.

“We’ll see about getting you that drink later,” Zach told her. “Can you stand?”

After a brief hesitation, she stood up. He saw the tightness around her eyes and knew she still struggled for control. He wanted to pull her right back into his arms, but he couldn’t.

She avoided his gaze. “Thanks.”

He put a finger under her chin and lifted so he could look into her eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She swallowed and stepped back. “I’m not.”

But her hunched shoulders and fisted hands betrayed her lie.

“Zach,” Drew called again.

“Go,” Alyssa said. I’m okay.”

Zach sighed in frustration. “Go get checked out by the paramedics.”

She nodded, but he noticed she didn’t actually say yes. “Alyssa,” he warned. “Get checked out. That’s an order.”

He jogged off toward Drew, but not before he heard her mutter, “You’re not my boss.”

It cheered him to see her rebellion even as he blocked off his emotions concerning her. He had to make some hard decisions—decisions she wouldn’t like. She’d been targeted today because of him. Zach was going to fix that. He would protect her, whether she wanted him to or not.

A
fter Alyssa had been okayed
for duty by a paramedic, she’d stopped at home for a quick shower and change of clothes. She hadn’t been near the blast when the bomb had gone off, but in the choking dust and darkness, she’d tripped and fallen as she’d run from the station. She’d escaped with only scrapes and bruises.

Unlike Craig Douglas. Another name to add to the list of reasons why she needed to get Al Shabah.

Now, she sat at a monitor in the Global Intelligence room. Besides the shower, food and caffeine had gone a long way to making her feel human again. She sipped her second vanilla latte while she worked.

She was going over video footage of the subway platform. Riley sat near her, back-tracing the signal from Al Shabah’s last message. Drew was still on scene coordinating the bomb technician’s results. Masters was trying to track down who Qatil Atfaal was and what he had to do with Al Shabah. The rest of his crew were interviewing everyone who’d been on that platform.

Everyone was busy and focused, but Zach had disappeared.

She frowned. It had been over an hour since she’d seen him. He’d been very solicitous on the car ride to her apartment and to the office, but he’d disappeared into the captain’s office as soon as they’d stepped foot in the CTB.

Her focus sharpened on her monitor. The security film was in black and white. Two people staggered onto the platform. One was Craig. Her gut clenched as she saw him. He’d been another vet, like Rob. The person with him wore a dark hoodie with the hood pulled low to shadow his face.

She estimated the guy’s height at about 5’8”, just a bit taller than her. He helped Craig sit down and then handed him a bottle of Jack Daniels. The screen showed a glimpse of a pale hand.

“Caucasian?” She tapped her pen against her desk, thinking.

Agent Masters strode into the room and surveyed everyone. One of his men walked up to him with a file in hand. “Sir?”

He showed Masters something in the file.

“Finally. Progress,” Masters said, before turning to the rest of the staff in the room. “Listen up, people. We have a potential suspect.” He held up a picture of Frank Costa. “This man runs a shelter which both our bombers frequented. He lied to the police.” Alyssa narrowed her eyes. Costa had lied?

“His real name is Fadi Hajjar, an Iraqi citizen. I want to know everything about him and I want a twenty-four-hour detail on him ASAP.”

Fadi Hajjar? Could he actually be Al Shabah? She rubbed her temples. Would he have used suicide bombers from his own shelter? And who was the person who’d helped Craig lie down on the platform? Another of Al Shabah’s stooges? That meant they were looking for a cell.

She needed to show the video to Zach. She’d show Masters after she’d talked out some theories with her partner.

She almost snorted. She’d have to be careful not to call Zach that again. It’d give him too much satisfaction.

“Alyssa?” Zach stood at the door, his game face on.

“Hey,” she said. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Would you follow me?” His serious manner and formal words set her on edge.

Riley and the rest of the team watched as she left the room. They must have all gotten the same vibe she had. Something was wrong. “Did something happen?” she asked.

“No,” Zach said, not looking at her. “We just need to speak with you.”

“We?” Something in his tone made her stomach sink.

It started to roil when she saw where he led her: the captain’s office. Dr. Martinez sat on the other side of the large glass window speaking with Captain Marin. She stopped. “What’s going on, Zach?”

He turned at the door and faced her. “I’m sorry, Alyssa. But it had to be done.”

She clenched her jaw to keep from shouting questions at him. What did he think
had
to be done? But in her head she knew.

“Sit down, Detective Harrison,” Captain Marin said. He waved a hand at the chair beside Dr. Martinez. Zach stood by the door. Did he think she would bolt?

“I’d rather stand, sir.”

Dr. Martinez crossed his legs and gave a soft sigh. She grit her teeth and tried to keep her face and thoughts calm.

“What’s this about, sir?” She directed her question to the captain, but it was Dr. Martinez who answered.

“It’s come to our attention that you’ve been having…episodes,” he said.

She put her hands behind her back and gripped them together as if she stood at parade rest. “Episodes?”

Dr. Martinez’s lips pursed. “Flashbacks. While on the job. Specifically, flashbacks that prevent you from doing your job.”

“Today was an unusual circumstance,” she said. “It’s not every day a person almost gets blown up.”

He cocked his head. “I’ve been given the impression that it wasn’t only today. You’ve been misleading me, Alyssa.”

His words were like a punch to the stomach, making her lose her breath. How did he know?

She whirled to find Zach watching her, his face stony but his eyes sad. “You told them?” she asked softly.

“You need help.”

“I was getting help.”

“Not enough,” he said, shaking his head.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“No,” Dr. Martinez said, drawing her gaze. “It’s for me to decide.”

She could hate this man. “So what have you all decided, then? How am I to be punished for doing my job?”

“Detective,” her captain said. “This is for your own good.”

“Really? And what exactly is for my own good?”

Her captain stood. “You’re on medical leave for a week, with daily assessments from Dr. Martinez. After that, if he gives you the go-ahead you’ll return to light duty until further notice.”

She gasped. Light duty meant stuck behind a desk. Indefinitely. “But what about Al Shabah?”

“You will hand your case files over to Agent Grayson and Agent Masters. When you’re back on duty, you may handle the research end of things if Agent Masters gives you the go-ahead.”

Alyssa couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d worked so hard to track and study Al Shabah. She was close to finding him and getting justice for her friends. She shook her head.

“Are you okay, Detective?” Dr. Martinez asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said.

“And that, my dear, is why you’re in this predicament. You won’t admit when you’re not fine. When you need help.”

She looked first at the captain and then at Zach. “You’re making a mistake.” She stormed out of the office, ignoring Zach when he called after her.

A
lyssa took a taxi home
. She’d refused a ride from Zach and couldn’t make herself use the subway. A headache pounded behind her eyes as she got out of the cab in front of her building.

Part of Rob’s cardboard lean-to still resided in the alley, lying flat now that he wasn’t there to keep it propped up. The sight called to her and sadness welled up. Was she as broken as Rob had been?

She wandered over to the lean-to and crouched down. She lifted the dirty cardboard and peered under it. A sleeping bag leaked feathers, and old newspapers littered the area. The newspapers were weeks old. Rob probably used them as insulation against the cold ground.

She pulled the sleeping bag aside and found books—about twenty paperbacks with curling edges and ripped covers stacked into three piles. She looked over the titles. “So you liked mysteries,” she murmured, recognizing a few of the authors. “What else do you have in here?”

Shifting the cardboard further out of the way, she moved into the core of Rob’s space. A coffee cup with change in it sat next to the books. She couldn’t find much else. She turned back to the books and went through them, not sure what she was looking for beyond a distraction from what had just happened.

Her chest tightened at the thoughts trying to intrude, and she refocused on Rob’s belongings. She found a couple of JD Robb’s suspense books in the pile and highly approved as she moved the books one by one, shaking them to see if any papers came out. She inched forward, kneeling on the newspaper covering the alley floor, and felt an edge against her leg. She pulled newspaper aside and discovered a hardcover journal.

A cursory flip through it showed legible handwriting in the beginning and entries dating from more than three years ago. Cramped handwriting covered every inch of the pages at the back of the journal, along with heavily scratched-out sections.

A scrape of a shoe on the pavement behind her made her stand. It was Mr. Almadi.

“Dear lord, Alyssa. What happened to you?” He waved a hand toward her face.

She touched the cut above her eye that the paramedic had taped closed with butterfly adhesive. There was a definite lump there now. It was probably coloring up nicely, too.

“A situation at work,” she said. “I’m okay.”

“You young women these days are tougher than I was in my prime.” He smiled, but it disappeared as he looked behind her to Rob’s destroyed home. “I haven’t seen young Rob around lately. Do you think he’s gotten off the street finally?”

From the look on his face, Alyssa could tell that he didn’t believe it. She debated what to tell him and decided on the truth. “Rob was killed a few days ago.”

Mr. Almadi stepped back. “That poor boy. He had a good soul.”

Alyssa walked closer to him. “It was four days ago, in the evening. Did you see anyone strange around the alley then?”

He shook his head. “I’m always inside by dinner. But my wife might have come out with Prince Charming, her poodle.” He waved a hand. “Damn dog looks more like a rat with curly hair.”

“Will you check with her, sir?”

“Of course,” he said.

Her head began to pound in earnest. She waved goodbye and headed up to her apartment with Rob’s journal. After locking the door, she swallowed some Advil and flopped onto her couch.

Her phone buzzed with a text message from her brother.

Call me or I’m on the next flight to NYC.

Crap. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before dialing his number.

He answered immediately. “Are you okay?”

He knew. How could he? She pressed her lips together as the answer came to her. Zach. Interfering bastard.

“Hi, Jake,” she answered, forcing a light tone. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You were almost blown up.”

She gritted her teeth. “Don’t make a big deal about this, Jake.”

“Are you serious? You were almost killed.”

“Jake, listen to me. I’m fine. I’m working on a case,” she lied. “I can’t talk right now.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “We will talk, Lyssa, when your case is over. No more putting me off.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Jake.”

“I’ll see you soon. Stay safe.” He hung up.

She’d been avoiding Jake since she’d come home. He’d been recuperating from his injuries in the first year and then he’d been busy at his new job at E.D.G.E. It had been easy to steer clear of him. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be so easy anymore.

She sighed before picking up Rob’s journal. She flipped through his entries from the beginning. Most were of a young soldier adjusting to Army life. It detailed friends, hated sergeants, and girls he liked. She got a sense of who Rob had been before: a fun-loving guy without too much thought for the future, but a large sense of responsibility.

Then he’d been shipped to Iraq. She frowned. He’d been stationed in Iraq the same time she had.

She bolted upright on the couch after reading one entry.

I
can’t believe it
. They’re dead. I would be too if I hadn’t had to take a piss. We’d gone to the fucking market on a whim. The new guy wanted to see it. Fuck! Why did we go?

S
he checked the date
. The day after the bombing at the souq that had changed her life.

T
he first explosion
knocked me unconscious. And the second almost took my arm. It did take all my friends. Who the fuck would do that?

Why did we go?

H
oly shit
. Rob had been at the bombing in the souq. That day had ruined so many lives. Sorrow overwhelmed her for the boy he’d been before the war had changed him.

“I will bring Al Shabah to justice, Rob. I promise.”

A
lyssa woke
to pounding and buzzing. She blinked, trying to sort out the sounds. She lay on her bed fully dressed. She’d come in to lay down when her head had started to ache too much.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table and someone pounded on the front door, while her pulse hammered behind her eyes.

“Can’t a girl get some peace,” she said, pulling herself out of bed. Judging by the light filtering in her bedroom window, it was early evening. She checked the caller on her phone.

Zach. She stomped to her door and flung it open. There he stood, phone in one hand, the other a raised fist ready to continue battering her door.

“What?” she said.

“You’ve got a possible concussion—”

“I’m fine.” She turned and marched to her kitchen. More Advil.

He followed her. “You can’t just go to sleep with no one around to check on you.”

Damn. She should have closed her door. “You’ve seen me. No brain bleeds here. Now go away.”

“I’m not letting you hide away without help.”

She gave him a humorless smile. “You’re going to help me hide?”

He scowled. “Why are you so infuriating?”

“Why do you care?”

“You’re my friend’s sister,” he said. “I told Jake I’d look after you.”

“Is that why you called him? Thanks for that, by the way,” she said sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed. “I had to tell him. He’s your brother, and my friend.”

She crossed her arms. “And what about sneaking behind my back and telling the captain that I have
episodes
? Is that looking after me?” Her skin radiated heat from the anger building inside her. She pulled a glass and her scotch down from the cupboard.

“You’re going to drink with a concussion?”

“I like to live dangerously.” She swallowed some of the fiery liquid, relishing the burn down her throat. “You should try it sometime.”