THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) by Marliss Melton Read Free Book Online Page B

kneeling for two hours straight, facing the mihrab , an elaborately tiled niche that dominated the wall of the mosque facing the direction of Mecca .
    At the start of the service, the visitors had been introduced as former parolees, graduates of Gateway. Jackson ’s peers regarded them in awe. Dressed in suits, many appeared affluent; all of them struck Jackson as amazingly well integrated, considering they were former felons. If Gateway was responsible for transforming them into such productive, upstanding individuals, then the Taskforce was barking up the wrong tree.
    Ibrahim’s sermon about restraint and self-respect had been a fitting one, as this weekend would be the parolees’ first taste of freedom since getting out of jail. As with previous sermons, it was filmed by a cameraman who would post the sermon on Ibrahim’s website. Jackson kept his face averted whenever the camera swung in his direction .   
    While Ibrahim’s words might be influential in preventing some ex-cons from reverting to previous behaviors, Jackson figured the example set by the graduates was more likely to motivate them. Inviting successful graduates to attend Friday night worship was a stroke of genius on the part of the leadership .
    “Go straight to your beds, my brothers,” Zakariya cautioned, threading his way through the crowd. “Remember that you will be tempted in your freedom,” he added, laying a knobby hand on Jackson ’s shoulder. “You must resist temptation.”
    A vision of Lena Alexandra sprang to Jackson ’s mind. Now there was temptation incarnate, he mused, joining the others in heading for the door . He noted that Ibrahim greeted each man by name, forgetting no one’s. “For you, Abu,” he said, doling out a pamphlet to each and every attendee. Accepting his, Jackson glanced at the title, Judgment Day, and slipped it into his rear pocket to review later.
    He followed the crowd outside. There, the parolees watched with envious eyes as the graduates departed, driving away in Toyotas, Cadillacs, and Lexuses. Then all twelve men trudged in thoughtful silence to their dormitory. As they neared the entrance to the campus, Artie’s One Stop Shop came into view, lit up like a whorehouse in a port of call.
    “It’s too early to go to bed,” Muhammed commented.
    “I ain’t tired,” Jamal agreed.
    With that consensus, half the men started wordlessly across the highway. Jackson followed the handful that remained on course to the dormitory, but only to fetch a billed cap so he could hide his features from Artie’s security cameras.
    So much for Zakariya’s caution to resist temptation.
     
    **
     
    As parolees swarmed into the store, dressed in identical gray slacks and white button-up shirts, Lena barricaded herself behind the register, where the raised floor gave her a better vantage from which to keep an eye on everyone .
    Muhammed made the introductions. The men joked and jockeyed for standing room next to the counter, each man vying for her attention. She’d decided not to push the book issue until the men felt more comfortable in her presence .
    The last person introduced was Corey, Abdul’s roommate.
    “Where is Abdul?” she asked, pretending to look for him, though she’d realized right away that he wasn’t present. She told herself she was relieved. It might prove awkward if he brought up the business about her taking pictures, though her book story provided an excuse for that, too .
    Corey shrugged. “I guess he ain’t comin’.”
    “Why not?”
    Corey shrugged again. “I hear you write books,” he said, eyeing her earnestly through his lenses. “I like readin’ nonfiction.” His brown cheeks turned a dusky pink .
    “Do you?” They discussed the biography he was currently enjoying, before Lena brought up Abdul again. “You know, your roommate looks familiar. Do you know his full name?” It was driving her crazy that she hadn’t yet identified him .
    “Abdul Ibn Wasi,” Corey replied.