Page 25 of A Moment Never Forgotten
“Let’s go see the rest of this place and then get the hell out of here.” He grabbed her hand and they headed up the stairs.
It took less than five minutes to see the entire place. The bedrooms had also been staged with a queen-size bed in the master. There was no way in hell Micah’s king-sized bed would ever fit into that room nor would he give it up for a queen.
Three steps from the main floor, Sandi was waiting for them, once again smiling. “Well, Micah, are you ready to sign the purchase agreement?” She held up a contract.
Grabbing Berit’s hand, he headed for the stairs toward the front door. “I don’t think this is the right place for me.” He slowed as they passed her. “And I’m positive you’re not the right real estate agent for me. I don’t give a shit what you tell your broker, but if anyone calls me from your office asking me why I didn’t buy from you, I won’t lie.”
They stood next to their cars still holding hands. The winter sun warmed her face, or maybe it was the heat that radiated up her arm and through her body. Sandi was still inside, probably checking every room making sure they hadn’t broken anything.
“I can’t thank you enough for being here today. I’d like to take you out to supper, but I can’t tonight because I’m helping Elizabeth and Matthew. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have to get back to work. I want to see you again, not just to thank you for pretending to be my girlfriend today, but to get to know you even better.”
Closing the distance between them, he cupped her face in his hands then gently kissed her.
This wasn't an act anymore. This was Micah kissing her. It was intense, like him.
The punch that went through her almost brought her to her knees when he nipped her bottom lip.
All too soon, he stepped back.
“I’ll call you,” he promised and opened her car door.
“You’d better.” She went up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before she slid into her car.
Why the hell had she kissed him?
Because it felt good, and she deserved to feel good. As she pulled through the gate and onto the neighborhood street, she hoped that Micah would call her. Soon.
Chapter Ten
The man stood with his hands in his pockets staring out the large windows of his office toward the Potomac River that wandered past the CIA building. Water. The United States had an overabundance of the resource, yet most citizens squandered nearly twenty-five gallons a day. In the desert of his homeland, he would have been beaten for wasting even a single tablespoon.
Abd al Rashid was going to miss long hot showers, swimming laps in his pool, and having access to all the water he wanted with a simple twist of a faucet. Perhaps when the revolution was completed, he could return to the United States. He grinned at the thought of moving into the White House.
Somebody had to live there, and he was the logical head of the New Islamic States in America. He could fill every bedroom in the building with a wife. His house would overflow with the patter of little feet running everywhere.
The satellite phone deep inside his pocket buzzed. He’d turned off the obnoxious ringer, expecting the call. Pressing a sequence of numbers, he jammed all audio and visual equipment in his office.
“Is it good news, Uncle?” He had waited a lifetime to hear the anticipated words.
The robust laugh from Nassar al-Jamil traveled halfway around the world. “My son, you sound anxious to begin the war.”
“No, my caliphate, I am anxious to end all wars.” The goal of peace was taught in every religion around the world. His uncle, the true representative of Allah, would bring a thousand years of peace. “Tell me, how did the meeting go with the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Revolution?”
“He is still furious with the United States of America for their sanctions against importing Iranian crude oil. Production has been cut to nearly half of what it was a year ago.” Al-Jamil chuckled. “He bellowed for nearly an hour about the U.S. political system. He’s disgusted by how the country elects a president every four years but doesn’t require the new man to continue the promises made by his predecessor.”
The man in Washington D.C. didn’t bother to point out that the Iranian government didn’t even attempt to uphold their end of the bargain made four years ago. Iran was to cease all production of nuclear weapons and the U.S. would continue to purchase oil from that country. When caught red-handed making nukes, Iranian government officials simply shrugged. No previous U.S. president had ever carried through with their threats. The new man in the Oval Office surprised everyone in the world when he signed sanctions against any U.S. company importing oil from Iran, then enforced it.
That had been the first sign from Allah that they had been waiting on for years. Their target had been identified…oil.
Initially, they had planned to damage or destroy parts of the seventy-two thousand miles of crude oil lines that bisected the United States. He and his lieutenants had spent hundreds of hours developing operational plans before Allah showed them the best way.
When Yemen attacked Saudi Arabia’s refineries, which produced crude oil for almost every country in the world, people everywhere took notice. It was months before they were able to rebuild and nearly a year before they were back to previous production levels.
The NIS grand plan had been refocused. The largest oil refineries in the United States had become the targets.
Their idea had always been simple; hurt the United States where it is most vulnerable. While working his way up in the CIA, he had established the training camps. Moving graduates into local neighborhoods all over the United States had been so easy. Americans were so welcoming of strangers in the suburbs. He currently had thousands of men, prepared for war, from coast to coast. Everything was set. He was just waiting for the official word.
“So, did the Supreme Leader order us to proceed?” He had never pushed his uncle like this before, but timing was everything, and time was the one uncontrollable element.
