by Kishan Paul
Ally glanced over her shoulder and stilled at the scene playing out. Eddie stood with his back to her, washing the dishes. She’d seen him in one light. One that involved guns, death, and danger. Domestic activities like cleaning dishes didn’t mesh with her image, yet he appeared so natural performing the chore. “How did you and Razaa connect?”
Porcelain clinked against the metal drying rack when he placed clean wet dishes on it to dry. “He works with me in my agency.”
An employment her son appeared to have forgotten to mention. “Agency?”
“I started my own business. I wasn’t sure what I would do with myself after being let go, but it’s worked out well.”
The pride in his tone made her smile. “You’re liking your new business?”
“Loving it.”
“Good to hear.” She grabbed cardamom pods from the container and tossed them in a steel mortar, maintaining a lightness to her tone. “Tell me more about your business while I make us more chai.”
“About two years ago, I wound up in France following a lead on Wassim. While there, I got a call from a French politician I’d met a while back on another assignment. Turns out, his niece ran off with some freak of nature she’d friended online. The family searched and had zero luck finding her. By the time he contacted me, the man was desperate. He offered me a lump sum to bring her home and promised to double it if I found her within two days.”
The water shut off and she heard him behind her. “And you found her in—”
“Less than twenty-four hours. He tripled the payment. Here, let me.” He took the pestle and mortar with unground seeds from her hands, leaving her to monitor the milk warming on the stove.
“The girl survived?”
“Barely.” His face darkened while he ground the contents into dust. “But in better shape than the asshole who took her. I made sure of that before I dropped him off at the local police station. Turns out, two countries wanted him for embezzlement.”
Eddie poured the powder in the saucepan and searched the cabinets until he found her stash of loose tea, cinnamon, and sugar. “They had rewards out for his capture. All of which went to my bank account. A few months later, the same French politician calls me up telling me about his friend, a German diplomat, whose kid disappeared. Same story, different country. That case led to another one, from a Saudi prince. The Saudi payment was a game changer.”
The more he detailed his experience, the heavier the dread on her shoulders weighed.
He tossed the additions in the now-warm liquid in the pan, waved away her disapproval of cinnamon with a quick, “Trust me on this,” and continued his story. “Instead of your run-of-the-mill runaways, like the first few, the cases evolved into straight-up abductions with ransom notices…”
Ally remained by his side, let him take over the tea-making, asked probing questions, and listened to story after dangerous story about the kind of work he performed, wondering about her son’s role in the cases.
When the tea boiled and the mixture rose to the rim of the pan, he cut off the flames and strained the brew into cups, situating one beside her at the kitchen island. “After a while, it got too complicated for just one person, so I recruited help and created a team. And that’s how ALPS, Asset Location and Procurement Services, was born.”
She smiled at the proud grin he flashed. “You seem happy.”
“I am.” He grabbed his share of chai and sat beside her. “How about you?”
His question startled her. She stared at the frothy bubbles of her steamy brew. “I have good and bad days.”
The awkward silence, the way his gaze drilled into her made her shift in her seat. When it became too much, she took a sip of the drink, appreciating the mix of spices. “You were right about the cinnamon.”
He nodded but didn’t respond. They quietly savored their tea until Ally finally put her cup down. “Do you think you’ll ever give up working on dangerous cases?”
He laughed and took a swallow of his drink. “Not even an option until Wassim’s taken care of, and you and Farah can live your lives in peace.”
She tensed at the mention of his sister’s name. Once upon a time, both women had been Sayeed’s prisoners. Back then, Ally considered the young girl her responsibility, part of her family to protect. It took the abductions of Farah and her newborn daughter, and the murder of the young mother’s husband, for Ally to accept that the best way to keep all the people she loved safe was to walk away. “How’s she doing?”
Eddie’s features relaxed at the question. “Great. She finished nursing school and works in the hospital ER.”
The idea of Farah as a nurse warmed her more than the tea. “She was always good at taking care of people. And the baby?”
“Not a baby anymore. Amira’s almost four and demands that all the men in her life treat her like a princess. Gown, crown, and all.”
“And from that proud look you have on your face, you love it.”
His grin widened. “Every minute.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said all the men in her life. Farah met someone?”
Eddie’s smile vanished as soon as she posed the question. “He’s a schoolteacher. No prior histories.”
“Do you like him?”
He scrunched his face as if he’d been slapped. “Like is a strong word. Tolerate might be better. He’s no Amir.”
She laughed at the comparison. “You threatened to kill Amir if he didn’t stay away from your sister.”
He stared at his cup. “She reminds me of this fact as often as she reminds me she’s an adult and knows what she wants.”
The description of a strong-willed independent Farah eased Ally’s worries about the young woman. Life hadn’t been kind to her, yet she’d managed to move on and heal from her losses.
“And I figure any guy who can put up with bowing and calling another man’s child My Princess can’t be half bad.”
“I miss them,” she whispered. By them, she meant not just Farah and the baby but also the boys, her family… So many people she’d lost. Each one of those wounds accounted for the constant ache that had taken residence in her chest years ago. Time had transformed the once unbearable agony of loss into a quiet pang of acceptance. She surveyed the fruit bowl in front of her, fighting the hot moisture pooling her eyes, and did what she always did when they crept up—slammed her lids shut and inhaled her pain. By the time she opened them and released the breath she held, she’d regained control of herself.
Mercifully, Eddie stared at his cup of tea, oblivious to the moment she’d just had.
“Tell me about Wassim?”
He met her gaze. “He’s done a really good job of staying off the grid, but I have a lead on him. My goals haven’t changed…”
Although the words were meant to reassure, she tensed instead.
“And I’m closer now than I have ever been.”
“Because of your agency.” Her skin prickled. She’d skirted the topic long enough, and a nagging feeling he skirted it as well pulled at her. When it pertained to the man seated beside her, she knew to follow her instinct. Instead of expressing her thoughts, she listened to his words, trying to figure out what he omitted.
“ALPS has been instrumental in getting us to this point.”
Her grip on her mug tightened.
“So far, there’s seven of us, but if I need more support, I have access to it.”
“Eddie.” She traced the lip of the cup with her finger and kept her voice even. “These members of your team. What kind of jobs do they do?”
“One runs the cyber division and others help with surveillance and groundwork. They are the best of the best.” He grabbed their now-empty cups and walked to the kitchen sink.
“Good to know.” She stared at his back while he washed the dishes. “How does my son fit in this ALPS team?”
His shoulders stiffened for a brief second before he returned to scrubbing and rinsing. “Considering all our resou
rces are being invested in acquiring his father’s bone marrow, I’d say he’s a major part of ALPS.”
She rose from her seat and positioned herself beside him at the sink. “I appreciate that. But we both know I’m talking about my oldest not my youngest. How does Razaa fit in your agency?”
He worked on scrubbing the saucepan. “You need to present those questions to him.”
“I will.” She leaned across him, shut off the water, and yanked the scrub brush out of his hand. “But right now, I’m asking you.”
They both stood still. Him staring at the soapy pan, and she at him.
He placed the pot in the sink and grabbed the hand towel on the rack beside him. “Your son has made it clear he wants to talk to you alone about some things, and I am going to respect his decision. Let’s talk about topics I am allowed to discuss, like all the work we have to do to secure this house.”
“My son’s barely twenty years old. At least give him time to mature and decide for himself before you hand him a gun and shove him into dangerous situations.”
“Last time I checked, most barely twenty-year-olds haven’t gone through extensive weapon and combat training like your son has either. Oh, and according to his birth record, Zayne Lane is twenty-one.” Eddie tossed the towel on the counter and walked out of the kitchen, intensifying her irritation. “I can’t talk about it, and to be honest, it’s not your decision.” He headed straight to one of her windows and pointed at it. “Speaking of things we can talk about, let’s discuss keeping all your windows covered.” He yanked at the thick drapes until the glass panes were covered.
Why did it always have to be so complicated with him? Why couldn’t he just answer her questions?
Ally’s hands fisted. “Those windows stay open.”
He dismissed her words, shut the blinds, and pulled the drapes with her at his heels. When he got to the second set of curtains, she grabbed his wrist and yanked it away before he drew on the rope to close them.
“Stop!”
His muscles flexed under her grip while his brows elevated in surprise. He lifted the arm she gripped and gazed at her fingers wrapped around it.
“You are not allowed to come in here and take over like you do everything else. The curtains stay open.”
Those same set of dark brows lowered when his attention shifted from her hand to her eyes. He tilted his head, making the twitch of the muscle along his jaw more pronounced. “Or what?”
“Leave.”
His eyes narrowed. Eddie leaned forward. “I’m trying to keep you alive,” he hissed.
“I know.” She wasn’t sure if it was the way her voice cracked or if he saw the terror bubbling inside her, but his features softened. Their gazes remained locked, his probing hers, trying to dig deeper inside her head. For a moment, she allowed him access, willed him to understand her desperation. “It is the one thing I still have some level of control over.”
Razaa’s new job could get him hurt or killed, and Jayden’s condition worsened by the day. Sadly, the man whose wrist she currently restrained could change both of those outcomes. The reality of her powerlessness slammed into her chest, forming the heavy lump of terror catching in her throat. She swallowed it down and tightened her hold on him. “I can’t lose them both.”
The pity flashing across his features didn’t ease her fears. She saw the look far too often from far too many people. He stepped closer, so close his breath hit her cheek when he exhaled. Her fingers brushed against the soft cotton of his shirt when he raised the arm she gripped and pressed it and her hand against his heart. “You won’t. You have my word.”
Keys jingled outside the lock of the front door. Zeus let out an excited yelp and ran down the stairs straight for the entrance.
“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Eddie.” She released her hold only for him to grab her wrist and return it to his chest.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. You will not lose either of your boys.”
CHAPTER SIX
GOATS
Eddie remained cemented to his spot while she walked toward the open door. She rarely let people in her head, but a moment ago, she had. It was intentional. She was too careful and way too aware of the people around her for it not to be. The last time she’d let him in, her husband had died. Back then, the emotion he witnessed speared him. He rubbed the part of his chest her hand pressed against earlier. This time, his body responded no differently.
When Raz entered the house, she immersed the kid in another hug. Eddie didn’t doubt how much her boys meant to her, but this side of her seemed different. She’d changed since he’d last seen her. Become more affectionate, making her love for her boys clear for everyone to read. It made sense. She’d lost her husband and her family. This existence was all she had left, and she clung to it for dear life. Somehow, someway he’d fix this, all of this, for her.
When she kissed Raz’s cheek, he imagined her lips pressed against his own.
She’s not an option. The sage in his brain screamed. He knew the voice well; over the years, it had become his conscience. It saved his ass more times than he could count. And every time his mind wandered to thoughts about her—which was more than he cared to admit—it echoed those same words.
Eddie dropped the hand from his chest. There were other truths he reminded himself of as well. Like the fact that in his line of work, he couldn’t afford to have emotional ties, a wife, a family. It wasn’t fair to anyone for him to have fantasies like those. They were the realities of the life he’d chosen to live. The loudest of his truths, however, was that he would never be the kind of man deserving of a woman like her.
She deserved so much. She deserved to leave the windows open, to bask in the sun and not be sucked in to the darkness of his world. Which led to another one of his certainties. There would always be evil lurking in the shadows, and letting your guard down, leaving your curtains drawn left you vulnerable. Somehow, he needed to make sure she remained protected from those evils. His chest tightened again. He forced his gaze from her public display of affection to the world outside the window.
Movement on the lawn caught his attention. Although odd, the dozen or so goats grazing along the green hills and valleys of her yard weren’t the reason he leaned toward the glass. One in particular, judging from her swollen udders, a she-goat, caught his attention. She stood closest to the house, her antlers painted in stripes of red and blue. Another, this one without udders, had bright-red painted horns. Even the babies with barely nubs on their heads had not escaped the artist’s brush.
Leanna walked up beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “What are we looking at?”
“I didn’t realize goat antlers came in patriotic colors.”
“Only when they live on this orchard, and they come in whatever colors I find on sale.” She grinned. “You should see them in the winter when their matching leg warmers and coats come out.”
Before he could ask if they had coordinating scarves and shoes as well, Little Bear’s squeal of joy resonated through the house. “Bhai! I knew it was you.”
She tilted her head toward the front door. “I’ll give you a tour of the orchards while this little family has their reunion, on the condition that you don’t say a negative word until the tour’s done.”
He sat in the narrow passenger seat of the utility truck, a golf cart with a flatbed for a back. Leanna acted as resident driver and tour guide during the trip through the lush green hills and valleys. While she pointed out the sections of trees that produced apples and the ones bearing pears, he scanned for threats, voids needing to be filled. Overall, they were doing a decent job of running the orchard. But the parts they weren’t being careful about made his tongue hurt from biting down so hard.
When they passed the second barn, she described its interior and how they created and stored their own apple cider and wines inside. For the most part, it impressed him until he realized workers moved about the property on a regular basis.
All it took was one ill-intentioned individual to enter the grounds to destroy everything.
“The house over there’s mine.” She pointed to a two-story building situated on an open valley with the distant snow-covered mountains as its backdrop. A visually appealing scene, it offered a powerful view of Mount Rainier. “One day I plan to convert it to a bed-and-breakfast and rent this area out for weddings and other functions—”
“Not an option.” His agitation getting the better of him, he cut her off. “It makes them too vulnerable to threats.”
“It does.” She continued driving. “Which is why I said one day. When all of this is over. In the meantime, I’ve been dabbling in other things, like making cider and perry and goat cheese. A couple of the local restaurant owners drop by weekly and buy direct from us. You’d be surprised how much they’re willing to pay for organic farm-to-table products.”
While she enlightened him on the process of making and selling food, Eddie focused on the bigger issue. “You’re forgetting one important component. There’s a man out there offering money to find her.” He waved his hands around for emphasis as he spoke. “This game of pretend you’re playing is going to get her killed. Having unvetted people drop in so they can buy your drinks and your cheese. The open curtains. As former CIA, you know those aren’t risks you can afford to take. So why are you taking them?”
She stopped the cart in front of the gray barn, parking it beside his SUV. “For Jayden.”
Leanna climbed out and moved to the back of the vehicle, pulling out several metal pails and other supplies. “I told you, no opinions until the end. Come on. It’s time to milk the goats.” She headed toward the far side of the building. “If you’re a good boy, I might even let you play with their teats.”
Of all the individuals involved, he expected better diligence from her. Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and tracked her moves to the side of the building in confusion. The agent he’d worked with in the past was a kickass, by-the-books kind of professional who loved her job almost as much as she loved her designer clothes, fancy shoes, and having her hair and nails done. This one resembled someone born and raised in the country. One who appeared more comfortable in denim and cotton than lace and silk. Not only did her shift in appearance make him pause, the rules she once swore to uphold didn’t seem to matter to her anymore.