Page 148 of Deadly Betrayal
“It’s always going to be like this with us.We were meant to be together.” His eyes searched hers, serious andsincere. “Whatever it takes, Azita. I’m never losing you.”
She gripped his shoulders, and as her innerwalls contracted around Kaden’s erection, she was thrown headfirstinto a maelstrom of emotion and pleasure. Wave after wave crashedover her, more powerful, more intense, more meaningful than herearlier orgasms.
Kaden grunted, pumped twice more, then criedout as his body stiffened and emptied inside her. Falling onto themattress, he curled around her. His chest heaved as he tried tocatch his breath.
Breathless herself, she started to laugh. Shewas strong, invincible, and giddy with happiness. Because now shewas Kaden’s—heart, body, and soul.
Chapter 34
After leaving the graveyard with the twofresh mounds of earth, Tariq directed Ishaq to drive them to thecenter of Mazar-e Sharif. The bustling metropolis was in some waysmore progressive than Kabul itself. Tariq hated it. Even now, wellpast sundown, women roamed the tree-lined streets, some with nohead coverings at all. They laughed while looking in shop windowsand admiring the brightly lit Blue Mosque. The buildings and thepark surrounding them were beautiful, but the lighting was garish,a pitiful ploy to attract tourists.
Craning his neck, he took in the tallbuildings around Ghazanfar Square: hotels, apartments, andbusinesses. Was Laila here? If he could peer into each window,would he find her? Shifting in his seat, he scolded himself for hissilly musings. It wasn’t love, or even affection, that drove him.It was pride. Laila had been promised to him. He and Khalid hadlong before agreed on the terms of the Nikah. All that had remainedwas the ceremony, to which all the village had been invited. Hiswives had been preparing food for days. It was to have been acelebration never to be forgotten, one the villagers would talkabout for generations. A celebration that would have solidified hisposition as chief warlord of Badakhshan province and him as a trueforce to be reckoned with.
Instead, he’d been shamed. People laughed athim behind his back. Tariq was now the man who couldn’t hold ontohis fiancée, a tiny slip of a girl. Those infidels had taken herright from under his nose. From his own camp where she’d beensurrounded by his men. It was a shame on all of them. Tariq and hismen looked like fools.
Agha Khalid thought throwing some money athim would resolve the problem. Cash was always the solution forrich people, men who knew nothing of honor. But Tariq did. And whenhe returned to Fayzabad with his bride-to-be in tow, his honorwould be restored.
Beside him, Ishaq grabbed a pair ofbinoculars from the dashboard and brought them to his eyes. Hischest moved rapidly as he took shallow breaths and adjusted thefocus.
“What is it, brother?” Tariq asked. “Do yousee Laila?”
Ishaq lowered the binoculars and handed themto Tariq. “No, but this may be the next best thing.”
Tariq looked in the direction Ishaqindicated. At first, he could see nothing. Then a man came intoview. Although rumpled, his clothing was of good quality. Tariqlooked higher and focused on the man’s face. Khalid.
Tossing the binoculars onto Ishaq’s lap,Tariq fumbled to open the door. Anger rose so sharply inside hischest, he could hardly breathe. “I’ll make that bastard tell mewhere she is.”
Ishaq grabbed his arm. “Wait, brother. Healready told you his niece could not be a part of your newagreement. He will not hand her over now for free.”
Tariq paused. He could not engage Agha Khalidhalf-cocked. He needed a plan. Suddenly, it came to him. He snappedhis fingers. “Follow him. Eventually, he will lead us to her.”
“And then?”
“Then I will retrieve my fiancée andleave.”
“What if he is not alone?”
Tariq wanted to roll his eyes. Had they notbrought half a dozen men with them? “I am not alone either, and mymen are well-armed. Unless Agha Khalid has the entire Americanmilitary in his rooms, I will not leave empty-handed.”
Ishaq stared straight ahead, his gaze lockedon Agha Khalid, but Tariq did not miss the whitening of his fingersas they curled around the steering wheel. “This could end in abloodbath,” Ishaq said, his tone flat.
“Worse than what those American bastards didat the camp? They killed my son. I am within my rights to retrieveproperty that has been taken from me. Stolen from me.”
An image of him holding a knife to the throatof Agha Khalid’s woman came to Tariq’s mind. It would give himimmense satisfaction to slit her throat, to watch her whore’s bloodleave her body with every beat of her cold heart. The bitch hadstarted this battle with her interference, and she would end itwith her death.
A small noise, a whimpering that seemed outof place, woke Kaden. He reached out to pull Azita, warm andsatisfied, to his chest, but his hand came up empty. Jackknifing inthe bed, he surveyed the room. Moonlight still poured in throughthe curtain-less window. He consulted his watch. No wonder he feltso shitty; he’d slept only an hour.
After dragging on his boxers and a T-shirt,he went in search of his wife.
My wife.
The words filled him with warmth. It wasunreal how much he enjoyed thinking them. Had he ever been sohappy? They’d had a perfect wedding night. Someday though, they’dhave another wedding night, and he’d take Azita someplace nicer,someplace where they could be alone and free to express theirpassions as loudly as they wanted. No more muffling their crieswith a pillow. Could he make Azita scream his name? He’d certainlyhave fun trying.
Quietly, he cracked the door and paddedbarefoot into the living room. Jake sat on the couch, watching thenews. Images raced across the muted television screen, and an M16lay on the seat beside him. As Kaden approached, Jake launched tohis feet, a pistol in his hand.
“Jumpy much?” Kaden snickered.
Jake lowered the weapon, but didn’t put itdown. Something had him spooked.
