Page 44 of Hidden Attraction

Julian paused, every instinct going still. “Is that unusual?”

She blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“When the clinic is open to receive civilians,” he said slowly, “aren’t interpreters standard?”

“Yes,” she said, after a beat too long, like she too had questions now, “they usually are.”

Out of the woman’s sight, Alyssa’s fingers met his. It wasn’t for affection—it was a signal. They were on to something.

“Do you know where we might find him?” He forced himself to keep the edge out of his voice.

“He sometimes assists at the hospital in Sector Nine,” Leïla said. “But his schedule isn’t regular. I can try to contact him.”

“Please do,” Alyssa said before Julian could press harder.

Leïla nodded and slipped out to make the private call.

As soon as the door shut, Julian exhaled sharply. “That’s too convenient.”

Alyssa gave him a look. “Let’s not be hasty.”

“He was the only interpreter and didn’t show the one day someone bombs the clinic? Come on.”

“Maybe he was sick.”

Maybe Mahmoud was “busy” planting bombs. Because Mahmoud might go by the name of Cypher.

He kept the thought to himself.

“Maybe someone told him not to come.” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “And now nobody from that day works here? There are no records? No one remembers anything?”

She reached for his hand again, squeezing. “You’re not wrong, but let’s not push her too fast.”

The door opened. Leïla stepped back inside, her expression unreadable. “He’s not answering. I’ve left a message.”

“We’d appreciate it if you follow up with us.” Chase’s tone was tight, his temper rising. But he wouldn’t take it out on Leïla. “It’s important.”

“I’ll try again this evening. Sometimes the signal is bad.” She walked back to the desk and sat. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

He stood, movements stiff and jerky, his jaw hard. “Thank you for your time.”

Alyssa rose and gave Leïla a more measured smile. “You’ve been very kind. If you do reach Mahmoud, would you let him know we’d like to get in touch with him?” She reached for a slip of paper and a pen. “May I?”

“Of course.”

She wrote down her number. They took their leave and were halfway to the exit when Leïla caught up to them. They turned to see her holding out a phone. “Mahmoud is on the line if you’d like to take the call.”

* * * * *

Alyssa had seen Julian’s frustration and anger mounting by the second back there. She couldn’t risk him detonating like a not-much-tamer explosive in the ICE facility.

Turning to him, she rested a hand on his forearm. Tension buzzed through the muscle, and that dark warning in his eyes solidified that she was making the right move here.

She leaned in, voice pitched low. “Let me do this my way.”

He gave her a slight tilt of his head, the closest she’d get to his agreement on the matter.

Stepping forward, she extended a hand to take the phone from Leïla. With a smile of thanks to the woman, she said, “Hello, my name is Alyssa Vargas. My partner and I had a few questions for you concerning an event that took place at the Red Cross station a few years ago. If you’re willing to speak to us…”

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