Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (e reader for manga .txt) 📗

the counter, took my coat from the closet and called out, “I’m going out. I’m meeting a friend from the army. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Drive safely,” my brother called out from his office, where he sat behind a stack of students’ papers waiting to be marked. His wife came out of the kitchen, looking dissatisfied.

“Why did you agree to meet up at such a late hour? You could have invited him here for dinner.”

I smiled at her and put my hand on my heart as I said, “I promise that the next time we make plans to meet, I’ll invite him over.” I’d been to the States in the three years since my wife’s death in a terrorist attack in Jerusalem, but it had always been for work purposes, under cover. As far as my brother and sister-in-law were concerned, this was my first visit here. They felt the need to protect me.

But I felt a more urgent need to protect their son. Every time Jonathan touched his computer, he had the potential to start another world war.

I sat in my rental and asked myself how a bunch of seventeen-year-old kids managed to talk their way into a casino. They were smart, no doubt, and curious, testing their boundaries. Such a combination was a formula for disaster. Jonathan Niava, my nephew, and the boy I was now heading to rescue, was such. Inside the car, the darkness and the November chill hit me. The sun had set hours ago and it was quite cold now. The car thermometer confirmed this, showing a mere seven degrees Celsius outside.

My phone beeped and a message from Jonathan gave me the address where he was hiding.

“Maybe you should call the cops,” I texted.

“I can’t. I broke the law.” A second text beeped through immediately after that. “Hurry up, Guy, I’m really scared.”

I typed the address into the GPS system and hit the gas, hoping not to be caught breaking the law as well. The car lights tore through the darkness of the road and I flew across the asphalt at a low speed. What have you got yourself into this time, Jonathan? I threw the question into the air, then I laughed at myself. I could hear my father’s voice in my own. This must be the reason for the special bond between Jonathan and myself. We were the troublemakers of the family.

***

I arrived at the destination that the GPS indicated and let the car idle. For what seemed like an eternity, I surveyed the street. There didn’t seem to be any suspicious movement. I kept driving past the address. I saw a free parking space, yet still drove on. Only when I was sure I was not being followed did I return to the original address and park my car. The thermometer showed five degrees now.

My timing seemed perfect, because just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened and two Asian men walked out of the apartment.

I poked my head carefully through the door and asked, “Is there anyone here?”

A woman approached, looking surprised. She was holding a diary in her hand. She asked, “Did we have a date that I don’t recall?” Behind the diary stood a sleek, blonde, blue-eyed girl, and by the sound of her southern drawl, she seemed to be very far from home.

I answered, “No,” then quickly added, “I have come to pick up your guest.”

She signaled me to enter, glanced both ways down the corridor to make sure it was empty, and closed the door quickly. It was a small studio apartment with a kitchenette that had obviously never been used, and another door that led towards what I assumed must be the bathroom. Jonathan emerged from the only closet in the studio, and quickly introduced us. “This is Ashley who saved me before and this is Guy who is going to save me now.”

I reached out and shook her tiny hand. “Very nice to meet you, Ashley.” I smiled at her. In this light, she looked too young to be out on her own after dark.

“Ashley Holding,” she emphasized. Maybe she felt that stating her surname would grant her a full personality. In a way, she was right.

I wanted to ask her what made her protect a complete stranger but I only said, “Ashley, thank you for doing this.”

“My father taught me to do the right thing…” She shrugged her shoulders as her voice trailed off, then tightened her short sheer robe around her body, as if this gesture would make her look more respectable. She looked towards the unmade bed and added an apology, “It may not look like the right thing to do, but it is only because of the circumstances.”

I didn’t have the right to judge her. I wanted to get Jonathan out of there, so that we could assess his situation quietly. If he was being chased, it was likely because it was worth the effort. There were questions to consider: What had he found? How much was it worth to whoever it was to keep up this chase? “Is there something we can do for you, Ashley?” I asked. I thought to myself that what we really could do for her was to take her out of her life as a prostitute but said aloud, “Maybe we could move you out to a hotel, so that you don’t get yourself in trouble for saving him.” I jerked my thumb at Jonathan.

“Actually, yes,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “There is no need for a hotel, thank you. It’s nothing to do with the danger.” She sat on the corner of the bed and crossed her shapely, tanned legs. I glanced over at Jonathan. His eyes were transfixed between her legs, as if there was a hidden treasure there. His hormones were working overtime. He caught my disapproving look and blushed.

Ashley said, “The last time I spoke with my father, we had an argument. I left in