Page 19 of Deadly Betrayal
“Asshole.” Nic snatched the bowl from hishand, as Kaden had known he would.
Jake’s shoulders relaxed and he started toeat. Kaden didn’t blame him for his temporary jealousy. It hadtaken Kaden some time to appreciate that Nic truly had given up theplayboy persona that had helped fuel his fame. But Kaden hadwitnessed the transformation firsthand, while Jake had been busyguarding Lauren. By the end of this tour, Jake would see enoughdead-end fan moments to know better.
Gwen set down her bowl. “I assume you haveweapons?”
Kaden nodded. No way was he telling thiswoman, even though she was with friendly forces, that they wereunarmed.
“Then you’ll be happy to know that you bothhave carry permits now,” she said to Jake and Kaden. “Kaden, youhave two, one in your real name and one in your Afghan name.”
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out anenvelope and handed one document to Jake before giving Kaden therest. Inside the envelope were two ID cards, a marriagecertificate, and two weapons-carry permits. She’d photoshopped in ashort dark beard. The ID card listed his father and grandfather asRussian. He glanced up.
She reached into her purse again and handedhim a small package. “I thought the Russian background mightexplain your coloring. Although, you’d best use some of this hairdye and foundation makeup. The less notice you attract, thebetter.”
Kaden took her offerings, a little unsure howto respond. “This is really helpful. Thank you.”
She waved him off. “Who better than a spy togive you tips?”
Jake beamed. “I knew she’d come through.Gwen’s the best.”
When she turned her smile on him, Jakeblushed to the roots of his hair. “Now, tell me the rest of yourplan. I’ve been here so long, I know this place better thanLondon.”
Kaden pursed his lips slightly when Jaketurned to him for permission. “It’s better she doesn’t know.”
Gwen looked from Kaden to Jake and shrugged.“No worries. Just thought I could help.”
Maybe she could, but the fewer people whoknew the plan, the better, especially for Azita’s sake.
Because if their marriage ruse wasdiscovered, he’d have to do something to help her. He knew enoughabout the laws and culture of the country to know that being alonewith him for several days would brand her a whore. Something herguardian wouldn’t stand for. Khalid would come after them, and hewould do so with deadly intent.
Chapter 5
It’s happening tonight. Finally.
Khalid unlocked the door to their apartmentwhile Azita did her best to tamp her excitement. Seeing herAmerican sergeant yesterday had stirred up so many memories, somany feelings. It wouldn’t do to let Khalid catch wind of them.
The quiet that met them alarmed her and shegrabbed her brother-in-law’s forearm. Khalid’s four children fromhis first wife usually bombarded them with questions and commentsabout their day as soon as they stepped foot inside. “Thechildren?” she asked.
He smiled and patted her hand. “Gulnaz hastaken the children to visit her family.” He frowned. “Although, I’mnot sure where Samira is. She’s supposed to be here.” He slippedoff his shoes and jacket before stepping into his slippers. Azitadid the same once he’d left to go check on his second wife.
The growling of her stomach reminded Azitashe’d skipped lunch. Normally, Samira took care of the cookingsince she didn’t work outside the home and didn’t have any childrenyet, but as Azita entered the kitchen, she saw that nothing wasunderway and her unease grew. Although they were far from friends,she didn’t wish the younger woman any ill.
If they were to have some dinner, Azita wouldhave to be the one to cook it. She reached into the refrigeratorand assessed the contents. Gulnaz had prepared somebolani.It would take only a few minutes to fry the appetizers that wouldtide them over until she finished cooking some rice and chicken.Qorma-i-morgh, chicken simmered in a saffron plum sauce withsplit peas, and flavored with cardamom and ginger, was one ofKhalid’s favorites. He could consider this her farewell giftbecause after tonight, this would no longer be her home.
Her stomach flipped. Would she end up in awomen’s shelter, a hunted possession? Two years ago in Iran, she’dbeen a relatively free woman. Now, she was little more than chattelto be used and disposed of as her owner saw fit. Even Faroukh, asshe’d come to learn, had had a purpose for permitting her to finishmedical school—he’d wanted a personal physician. One who could helphim deal with the symptoms of his esophageal cancer.
Ever the dutiful wife, she’d nursed him,administered his medication, and warmed his bed when his healthallowed it. In return, he’d allowed her to work at the clinic a fewhours a day. He’d wanted her to bear him a child. She patted herflat stomach, her eyes stinging with tears. She’d wanted that too,but Allah had not blessed them with one. Faroukh’s first wife,Freba, had given him Laila and two sons, but both boys had died inthe war. Faroukh’s final days had been darkened by his anger atAzita’s failure to provide him an heir. She remembered the pain inhis eyes when he’d accused her of thwarting Allah’s will withcontraceptives. She hadn’t. There’d been no need.
Wiping away a tear that had escaped hertightly squeezed lids, she placed pieces of chicken in the sauceshe’d made and set it to simmer. In the meantime, she added rice tothe pot of boiling water.
Khalid returned, stopping at the entrance tothe kitchen. “Samira isn’t feeling well. She’s resting.”
Alerted to the concern in his voice, sheoffered her services. “Would you like me to examine her?”
He smiled slightly. “Let’s see how she isafter her nap. Gulnaz was the same way in the early days of herpregnancies.”
Azita’s gaze snapped up from the pan whereshe was heating upgheeto fry thebolani. “Samira iswith child?” She forced her mouth into a smile.“Congratulations.”
“She is two months along.”
