Second Best: A Niki Finley Novel (A Niki Finley Thriller Book 2) Read online

  “Tell them I’ll do it,” she said.

  “Niki, you don’t have to—”

  Niki threw up her hand to cut him off. “Just tell them I’m willing to get the information no matter the consequences.”

  Winter took a step toward her, wanting to console her. She could tell this news was difficult for him to deliver.

  “Don’t.” She stopped him. “Just go. Go and tell them I’ll take the job.”

  2

  Two days later

  THE SAME SEAT WAS AVAILABLE, in the very same row in which Niki sat on the first day of the new semester. She entered the row, enthusiastic about what this class would bring. She prepared a list of questions after Winter left, questions she would ask herself while studying Professor Lord from afar.

  As she moved in front of some individuals sitting near the aisle, she was met with the similar cheesy grin from two days before. She hesitated, thought about turning back, but something told her to continue, to push through the annoyed feeling in her gut when she looked into the freshman’s moronic eyes.

  She avoided eye contact and slumped into her desk. She ripped her notebook from her backpack and turned directly to the questions she had written down.

  Question one: How does he act toward his students?

  “What’s that?” The boy leaned over and tried to read her notes.

  She immediately flipped the cover shut. “Nothing. Just mind your own damn business.” Scorn filled her pretty face.

  “Easy. Easy. Just trying to make conversation.”

  “I don’t want to make conversation,” she said, realizing quickly she was being harsh.

  He fell back into his seat.

  “I . . . ,” Niki started to say, but she couldn’t get out the apology before Lord burst through the side entrance, the same one he entered from on the first day of class.

  Niki measured his movements. They were slow and his face appeared downtrodden, maybe from a hangover or perhaps insomnia, by the look of him.

  But it didn’t take long for him to turn on the charm.

  “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, how are we today? I trust you missed me and this class.” He grinned. “I know, I know, two days a week is just not enough to see your beautiful, smiling faces.”

  Please. Niki saw right through the fraud.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, would you please turn to page 275 in your textbooks?”

  Niki lifted the book from her bag. It was heavy, thick even, and the price, holy hell, nearly $300 for one college book. Highway robbery, she’d thought when she made the purchase in the school bookstore.

  On the page, a familiar destination stared back at her. It was the chapter on Africa.

  Of course, Niki thought.

  Lord began his lesson by asking pointed questions about the in-depth knowledge of the students, specifically their familiarity with certain regions such as West Africa.

  Only one had firsthand experience. A young man named Brett. At fifteen he went on a missions trip with his church to Uganda, but he couldn’t remember much. Another student brought up Somalia and the pirates they’d seen in the movie Captain Phillips.

  “Are those the terrorists you were talking about?” the young man sitting next to Niki asked.

  Again he received a snicker from the crowd, but Lord said, “Yes, they’re one group.”

  As the class discussion neared its end, the students were collecting their things when Lord said, “Oh, I forgot to mention last time, but your presentation on an African country will be with a partner.”

  Partner? Niki thought. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was a partner.

  “And your partner will be the neighbor to your left.”

  Niki looked to her left and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud.

  She saw the freshman’s Adam’s apple swallow a lump of spit as he dropped his head, defeated.

  Instantly Niki’s hand flew into the air. “Professor Lord?”

  “Yes, Ms. Finley?”

  “How are we supposed to decide on a country? Will we both be doing our own?”

  The rest of the class waited for his answer.

  “That’s up to you and your partner. You must decide together.”

  Once Lord answered the remainder of the students’ questions, Niki forced her book and notebook back into her backpack. This was unacceptable; if she could just speak alone to Lord, he’d surely give her a pass, a way to do the assignment on her own.

  Without saying a word to her new partner, she breezed by the people in her row and chased after her professor as he exited the room the same way he came in.

  Once she reached the solid mahogany door, she pushed it open without a care as to where it would lead. It led to an open area where one lone woman sat behind a desk. Behind her was a solid wall, and beyond that, uncertainty.

  “May I help you, young lady?” she said.

  Niki stalled, waiting in the doorway before taking a step toward the desk.

  “I was hoping to catch Professor Lord. I had a quick question about our classroom project.”

  The secretary behind the desk looked Niki up and down. She wore cotton shorts, flip-flops, and a V-neck shirt. The way the woman behind the desk scrutinized her, she thought maybe she was being judged. In fact, once the secretary gave her a unmistakable dirty look, she knew she was.

  Niki shifted her feet, but the moment of self-consciousness was brief. Niki quickly regained her confidence; she wasn’t going to be belittled by some cynical old hag.

  “Let me see if I can reach him in his office. Who should I say is asking?”

  “Niki Finley.”

  Niki crossed her hands in front of her legs, holding on to her backpack.

  It only took a moment before she heard the secretary say, “I have a Niki Finley here to see you?”

  “Okay,” the secretary said, “you can go back. Third door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” Niki said, trying to hold her tongue from saying something less gracious.

  As Niki walked by the first office, she peered inside. There was a beautiful view of the Atlantic. She glanced at the name placard: it belonged to the dean of the school of history.

  “Not bad,” she muttered.

  When she reached Lord’s office, she knocked on the open door.

  He was on his cell phone and held a finger up. Niki entered anyway.

  Take this chance, Niki. Use your skill set. Learn something about him.

  His office was big, bigger than the dean’s but without a view. On the walls hung remains of African culture. Rugs. Arrows. Elephants. Anything you’d expect to buy in an African market was either on the walls or the shelves of his office.

  “That’s right,” he said into the phone.

  She moved over to a shelf, a lone shelf, that housed only pictures. There must have been at least a dozen pictures, all of him and an African boy or girl, each throwing on a smile for the camera. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked well received, well loved.

  “So.” He clapped to get Niki’s attention. “What can I help you with, Ms. Finley?”

  Niki spun around to see him leaning against the end of his desk.

  Proud, he chuckled to himself and said, “Some of my philanthropic work with the children of Africa. I’ve taken numerous trips and visited many different countries along the way. I sponsor each child in each individual picture there.”

  “Sponsor?”

  “Yes. You know send money to their organization to be fed, clothed, and educated.”

  That’s a lot of sponsorships. She studied one picture. How does this guy have ties to any terrorist group in Africa? Guy’s a saint.

  “What is it you wanted to see me about?”

  When Niki turned back around, he was smiling. “This class project.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I’d actually like to do it on my own, if possible.”

  “Why? Don’t work well wi
th others?” His attempt at humor.

  A smile formed on Niki’s mouth, as the thoughts of her past pushed to the forefront of her mind. If he only knew. “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . my partner, he . . .” Niki didn’t want to say. Clearly the kid lacked educational depth.

  Lord held up his hand. “Let me stop you right there, Ms. Finley. Do you really think you’ve given him a chance? Sure, he does ask some nonsensical questions, but that doesn’t make him unpartnerable. Not a word, I know.” He smiled, revealing perfect teeth as well as a dimple in his chin she hadn’t yet noticed.

  Niki remained quiet. Truth was, she didn’t really need to respond. This was just an excuse to snoop around his office to gather intel. And she got what she came for.

  “Okay, sir, if you say so.” She acted the part of impressionable young college student to perfection.

  Just before Niki was about to leave, Lord spun around his desk and sat down. “Oh, before you go.” He pulled open a desk drawer. “If you run into some trouble during your research, you can call me day or night.” He handed her a business card. “My cell’s on there. I’m here for you. For whatever you need.” As Niki looked the card over, once again he smiled.

  She held the card in her fingertips and moved it toward him. “I think I just might,” she said, flashing a smile of her own.

  3

  SITTING IN THE QUAD, Niki dialed a phone number Agent Collar had given her, a number to be used when she needed immediate contact with the Zealots.

  “Operator,” a woman answered. “Destination, please?”

  Niki was given a special code to use when calling in. “Venice.”

  A garbled sound and a beep, then one ring brought on a familiar voice. “Hello, Niki,” Collar said.

  “Collar.”

  “Calling so soon? Maybe an update on that handsome professor of yours?”

  “How’d you guess?” Niki’s tone was mocking.

  Collar remained silent and waited for Niki to get to the point.

  “I . . . I don’t think he is who you think he is,” Niki said.

  “And who do you think he is?”

  This was not the type of response she expected to hear. Attempting to gather her wits, she said, “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly as I said, who do you think he is?”

  “Well, Mitch said he was connected to some terrorist group in West Africa.”

  “Obviously you don’t share in that sentiment?”

  “No.” Her answer was definitive.

  “How do you know that?”

  Don’t do it, Niki. Don’t say it.

  “He seems . . . too perfect.” She said it.

  Collar sighed. “Niki, have we not taught you well enough? You of all people know not to judge a man by his outward appearance.”

  “I know, I know, but he . . . he just doesn’t seem to fit the bill of extremist hate-mongering deviant.”

  “I see that English Lit class is coming in handy with your vocabulary.” Collar’s wit was sharp.

  “Funny,” Niki said, her frustration shining through.

  “Then what’s your point?” Collar needed to know why she was so sure.

  “He sponsors children from Africa. I mean, who does that?”

  “An extremist hate-mongering deviant apparently.”

  Niki was silent. Collar didn’t approve or believe her.

  Collar continued, “Look, kid, when you’ve got more, let me know, but your theory of the second-coming savior is flawed. I assure you, the man has demons. Demons you need to uncover for us. Understood?”

  Niki dropped her head and rubbed her hairline. “Understood.”

  “Good. Don’t call back until you have more. Much more.”

  Niki continued to stare at the concrete as she dropped her phone into the front pocket of her backpack. When she raised her head, she saw a young man standing before her. Once she recognized him, she let out a sigh.

  “You again.”

  “I’m sorry, but did I do something to offend you?” the young man from class said.

  Immediately, Niki realized she was being snarky. “Sorry. No. It’s . . . not you . . . it’s—” she started but wouldn’t dare finish. The kid wouldn’t understand. Not even in his wildest dreams. “My name’s Niki.”

  “Dwight.”

  They shook hands. She looked around at the circular table, and since it was empty, she offered him a seat. He accepted her invitation and sat at once.

  “So, I was thinking of maybe the Congo, or Nigeria, maybe even Sierra Leone.” He got right into it. “I mean, nobody’s ever gonna do that country. Who even knows where that is?”

  “West Africa. Just south and east of Cape Verde.” It was a place Niki had learned all about since enduring Hurricane Irma last September. She had no idea hurricanes originated off the African coastline. “Wait.” Niki grabbed his hand, which sent him bolt upright.

  She stared into the distance at first. West Africa. Perfect. Once she recaptured his gaze, she realized he was rigid at her touch.

  She lifted her hand away. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He blushed.

  She didn’t linger on his interest long. “Yes. Sierra Leone. Definitely.”

  “Great!” Dwight said. “When do you want to get started?”

  Niki pushed away from the seat and rose. “Now.”

  “Really?” He followed her lead with exuberance.

  “Damn right.” She started walking.

  He fumbled with his books, dropping them to the ground, but instantly corralled each one and eventually caught up with Niki. “Where are we going?” he asked once he caught up.

  “The library.”

  The library stood in the center of the campus. Niki and Dwight walked down the pathway lined with palms that led to the rising concrete staircase at the foot of the library. She looked up before taking her first step toward the antiquated building. It had been recently remodeled, but with its exquisite construction and craftsmanship, it still held the same Florida charm it always had.

  Niki walked up the staircase, passing multiple coeds who funneled down.

  “Do you know where to look?” Dwight said as they walked upward.

  “No. But that’s what librarians are for.” Niki smiled out of the corner of her mouth.

  They entered through the revolving doors. Niki and Dwight stood in awe. Niki raised her head to witness the open three-storied lobby. She admired the intricate beauty for only a moment before moving to the main desk. A librarian busied herself behind the desk, checking in books. Upon their approach, they caught her eye.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. We’re looking for information on Sierra Leone.”

  The librarian lowered her half-moon glasses and typed into her computer.

  “That’s in Africa,” Dwight added.

  Niki shook her head and rolled her eyes. The librarian simply cast his absurd addition away as she moved her finger across the computer screen and muttered to herself.

  “Aha. Here we go.” She grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil to write down the call number. “Would you like me to show you where this is?” She held the paper in her hand.

  “I think we got it.” Niki ripped it from her hand.

  “This place is huge,” Dwight said as they pushed away from the desk.

  “What, you’ve never seen the inside of this place?” Niki said.

  “No. I mean, I have, but it’s just huge, that’s all.”

  “Don’t let the size of something overwhelm you,” Niki said.

  Embarrassed, Dwight waited a moment, perhaps to gather up courage to say something, but then thought better of the juvenile comment in his head.

  The call signs were highlighted at the end of each row. “Here we are.”

  Niki paralleled the shelf. Her eye dove low, then high, as she did her best to find the number on the spine. Books on Africa lined the entire top row, but there was only one marked Sierra Leone. She grabbed it and
immediately opened to the table of contents.

  She looked at each chapter title.

  One: Trade

  Two: Industry

  Three: People & Culture

  And it went on, a dozen more chapters of nondescript titling, until she reached the final chapter.

  Fifteen: Diamonds.

  Diamonds? She identified the page number and flipped to it.

  “What?” Dwight looked over her shoulder, wondering what she was thinking.

  “Shh.” Niki could not be bothered in her focused state.

  When she reached the page, instantly her blood boiled at the sight of the picture. A lone man was in the foreground, his back turned slightly as he looked on as multiple children were hard at work in the middle of the dirt and mud. They were on their knees slopping through the filth, and that lone man had an automatic rifle slung across his chest.

  Niki looked upward, gathering her thoughts.

  “That’s it,” she muttered to herself.

  “What’s it?” Dwight wondered.

  Niki slammed the book shut, immediately leaving the aisle.

  Dwight gave chase as Niki breezed out the doorway and back into the overwhelming piercing rays of the beautiful day.

  “Niki, wait.” Dwight grabbed her arm to slow her down.

  Without hesitation, Niki grabbed for his hand and spun him around, bending his arm behind his back. He dropped to his knees and winced in pain.

  She leaned down to his ear, as she stood behind him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “I’m so . . . sorry, it was my mistake. Please. Please let go of my arm.”

  Niki opened her hand and let go.

  He stood to face her, and her eyes bulged, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he retreated, leaving Niki standing alone atop the staircase.

  She lifted her phone. Staring at it, she thought to redial the same number.

  She’ll want more information than just that book. Not yet, Niki thought, and then stuffed the phone back into her pocket. This is it, though. Diamonds must be Lord’s link to Africa.

  4

  In the jungle of West Africa

  Three days later