First Heist: An Omar Zagouri Thriller

By H.B. Moore

An Omar Zagouri Short Story: FIRST HEIST by USA Today Bestselling author H.B. Moore

Mia Golding, an undercover agent is about to make a handoff to co-agent, Omar Zagouri. But before she can complete her assignment, her cover is blown, and she finds herself escaping with Omar. The only problem is, her boss warned her about Omar and his sketchy history of landing himself in the middle of danger. After losing her mother in an attack planned for Mia, pulling off any heist with a man like Omar is the last thing she needs for her career . . . or her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror Press, LLC
• Release date: Sep 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533704696

H.B. Moore

H.B. Moore is the award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen historical novels set in ancient Arabia and Mesoamerica. She attended the Cairo American College in Egypt and the Anglican International School in Jerusalem and received her bachelor of science degree from Brigham Young University. She writes historical novels and thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore. She also writes inspirational nonfiction, women’s fiction, and romance, including Heart of the Ocean, A Timeless Romance Anthology series, and Love Is Come, under Heather B. Moore. Her kids just call her Mom. Join her newsletter list for updates at www.hbmoore.com/contact.

Book preview

Chapter One

Mia watched her contact from across the club, music pulsing through her body as her ears screamed for silence. But she had to be patient. She’d already been watching him for about an hour, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to approach him yet.

She didn’t care what her boss, Abram, had said. Even if Omar Zagouri was supposed to do the transfer, if she didn’t think he was capable, she’d do the recovery mission herself.

Omar leaned toward a woman he’d been flirting with for the past twenty minutes. The long-legged blonde looked like she was falling for whatever lines he was feeding her. A second shot of vodka probably helped as well. Yes, Mia counted. Just like she noticed everything else going on in the room.

She’d counted thirty-eight people, twenty-three men and fifteen women. Most looked Israeli, with a couple of Europeans. Ironically, the club offered free cover charge for ladies, which probably explained the number of men—outnumbered in hopes of taking home a date tonight.

Mia wasn’t interested anymore in hookups, which may be thrilling for a few hours, but once the sun came up and the alarm went off, the man in bed next to her became a nuisance.

The club had two exits—one by the restrooms and one in the miniscule kitchen behind the bar. Twelve tables surrounded the dance floor, and a long bar of gleaming wood graced one wall. All fairly standard for a night club in downtown Jerusalem.

Mia’s gaze floated back to Omar and the woman. What did the blonde see in him? She was probably a tourist from Sweden... If the lighting hadn’t been so bad, Mia would be able to tell if the blonde had a dye job. Mia looked at Omar again and dissected his appearance. He wasn’t that tall, maybe 5’9". As he took another swallow of beer, the muscles in his arms flexed. All right, so he was in great shape, but that likely came with his job requirements.

As an undercover agent, Omar would be trained in self-defense, counter-assault, and firearms. All well and good, but Mia wasn’t about to trust the transfer to someone who was only capable physically. She needed someone who wouldn’t back down from a challenge, no matter what. Her boss, Abram, had said that this contact was high risk. Abram never said that lightly.

Omar was okay looking, in a swarthy sort of way. Dark, curly hair... no surprise there, as his father was Moroccan. Omar had olive skin and the faint beginnings of a goatee. The picture Mia had been sent of him showed a full mustache—which he wore when working undercover in Arab towns.

The blonde threw her head back in laughter. Omar smiled, but his gaze flicked away. Interesting, Mia thought. He wasn’t truly engrossed in the woman. Was he after a cheap one-night stand, or was he bored? Or maybe courteous? The blonde had approached him first, so perhaps listening to her was a polite thing.

Then Mia noticed Omar was looking right at her. Their eyes locked for a brief second, and she glanced away, lifting her hand as if she were waving at someone across the room. She willed the heat to stay away from her cheeks. Omar knew she was watching him.

How had he known? She’d been careful. Omar must be more skilled than she’d first thought.

During the next few minutes, Mia plotted her escape. She could dance with someone, pretend to take a call and walk out of the club, or wait until he left first. Whatever she decided, she wouldn’t initiate the transfer. Not tonight, not when he was half drunk. She couldn’t afford to mess up her first assignment since her return to Jerusalem.

Mia blended in with the other clubbers, wearing her fitted black dress and heels, but she didn’t want anyone paying attention to her. At least, not real attention. She wanted to be seen then quickly forgotten. Problem was, Omar had noticed her.

Mia pulled out her phone and texted her boss.

He’s here and knows I’m watching him. He’s already drunk. Aborting plan.

A reply came back from Abram. Do the transfer.

Not transferring the key to a drunk.

Omar’s not drunk, Abram answered.

Mia exhaled, then typed. How do you know? Are you sitting in this damn club, wearing a mini skirt too?

Are you putting in your 2 weeks’ notice?

Mia cursed under her breath, and before