Page 39 of Wild Card (The Trident Trilogy 3)

“Yes,” she says as she looks at Mason and Butch. “I see you’re traveling with protection. I don’t know that they’ll be needed in Rome.”

“They adapt well to every situation.” I motion toward the sitting area. “Shall we talk?”

“Right to business,” she says, smiling. “Your grandma was like that. She was never one for wasting time. Let’s speak in Bosnian so we can have a little more privacy?”

“Of course,” I say, switching to Bosnian. “You knew my family?”

“Very well. We lived in the same neighborhood. Your mother and I attended the same school. She was two years older than me.” She pauses for a second and then smiles. “My husband was in love with her.”

She’s trying to look amused, but I can see the anger deep in her eyes. That must be a sore spot. It seems like a good place to start. “Really? Amar didn’t tell me that.”

“Yes, because she rejected him.” Her tone is low and a little bitter. “It was always a sensitive subject for him.”

“Well, I’m sure he was delighted when you came along,” I say, smiling broadly, “so he could forget all about my mother.”

She laughs loudly. “My husband never forgot about your mother.”

“Well, I suppose when someone dies that young, they become immortalized, don’t they?” I reach out and touch her hand. I’m trying not to lay it on too thick, but I can tell she’s feeling a little uncomfortable. I need to give her some power back. “I’m sure my mom wouldn’t have made Amar nearly as good a wife as you’ve been to him over the years.”

“No, but not because she wasn’t a lovely person. She was,” she says, hesitating. “She just never felt the same way for Amar that he did for her.”

I smile and nod like a good therapist. She seems like she wants to say more. She looks at me for a few seconds and then continues, “I spent some time with your mom in our teenage years, but I’ll admit, I was using her to be closer to Sayid. I believe you met him—at the end.”

“I did,” I say, nodding slowly. “I’m sure he was a much different person when you knew him.”

“Much different!” Her entire face lights up. “He was quiet and kind, and very smart. Our parents matched us up early in our lives, but I’m afraid that never came to pass after your mother died. Sayid was barely hanging on when your grandparents died. Nejra’s death sent him over the edge.”

“Did you lose touch with him after he left for Pakistan?” I already know she didn’t. Everything about her face is telling me the truth.

“Yes, I’m afraid I never talked to him again after he left for Pakistan. And then I’m sure you know, he disappeared up into the mountains with Yusef Hadzic. I believe you met him, too.”

“I did,” I say, switching back to English. “Amina is a lovely name. Is it Arabic?”

“It is,” she says, switching back with me. “I was named after my great-grandmother. What origin is Millie?”

“My full name is Millicent. I believe it’s French. I’m not sure why my dad named me that. It means “brave strength.” Maybe he was trying to project its meaning onto my life.”

“It seems that he succeeded,” she says, smiling tightly. She’s done with the small talk.

“What does Amina mean in Arabic?”

“Is that not one of the many languages you speak?” Her tone is getting more bitter.

“Unfortunately I don’t speak a word of Arabic,” I say, smiling sweetly at her.

“Amina means peace in Arabic.”

“Yes, that’s what I was guessing,” I say, nodding. “Now shall we talk about your husband?”

I look briefly over to Mason who’s sitting about ten feet from us. He’s already on his phone texting Raine.

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