I dial the office and am grateful when Miranda tells me Devon’s at lunch. I ask her to take a message for me and let him know something’s come up, a family emergency, and I’ll be gone for a few days. When I hang up, I’m already turning onto my street. I park the car and head inside to look up flights to Beirut and pack my bag. By the time Zach gets to the office at five o’clock, I’ll be long gone.
The first thing I do when I get inside is start my laptop to check availability on flights. I should be able to get on one that leaves at quarter to midnight tonight. I get a suitcase out of the closet and begin to empty my drawers, filling it with as much as I can, not sure how long I’ll be staying. Not sure if I’ll be returning at all.
The whole time I’m packing, I’m trying really hard not to think about what happened with Zach. Trying not to remember what it felt like to have him kiss me. To touch him. Taste him.
To have him touch me.
I almost feel guilty about what I’m doing, but then I make myself remember what happened afterward. How he humiliated me. Dismissed me.
I need to remember that to him, I’m a pawn. A means to an end.
He doesn’t care about me.
Christ, where did that come from? I don’t expect him to care about me. That’s ridiculous.
He needs me. That’s all this is.
Or at least he did. I’m of no use to him anymore. I gave him information. Named a man. He has the next link in this chain that will ultimately hang him.
I shake off those thoughts and even consider a shower before leaving the house, but I should get out of here. I can’t trust that he’ll go to the office at five, like he said. What’s to stop him from coming straight here? I decide to head to the airport and get a hotel room there while waiting for the flight.
Once I’ve stuffed the suitcase and changed into an outfit more suitable for traveling, I glance around the small house like it’s the last time I’ll see it. And it might be. I can’t think about that now though. It’ll zap any courage I have if I let it. So I turn and walk out the door, dragging my suitcase behind me and holding on to my purse, which contains my laptop and passport. I place the case in the trunk and get into the driver’s seat, taking an extra moment to look around me. Wondering if Zach’s right. That I am a trap. That I’m being watched.
That I’m expendable because Zach is what they wanted.
With a shudder, I start the car and head to the airport.
10
Zach
I should have known she wouldn’t do as she was told.
I’m standing in the real estate office while the receptionist—whose voice grates on my nerves—won’t stop talking. I stopped listening once she told me Eve had called to let them know that she wouldn’t be back in the office for a few days due to a family emergency.
Family emergency.
Of course. I should have known she’d stop thinking about anything else the moment she thought that maybe, just maybe, her brother had survived that night.
What she can’t see is that he’s the one who betrayed her in the first place.
“She got a package too,” the girl says. “Never picked it up. Brought by a special courier and everything.”
“Give it to me. I’ll swing by her house. She has some paperwork I forgot to sign.”
“Oh, she’s not there. I got a call to approve a company credit card charge a little while ago. She’s at the Marriott at the airport. Room 402. Devon asked me to drive it out to her, but the airport’s a pain in the ass to get to.”
I’ll take one guess as to where Eve thinks she’s going.
“I’ll meet her out there then. Easier for me, since I’m heading out of town too.”
The girl looks at me like that’s quite the coincidence.
“It may be time sensitive if it was special couriered. I can take it with me.”
She looks down at the envelope. It’s not big, but it only has Eve’s information on it. No sender info. That worries me.
I lean into the desk and give her my best smile. “I really don’t mind taking it, and I won’t mention it to your boss.”
“Okay,” she says. “I guess if you’re going to see her anyway.”
“Thanks.” I take it and turn on my heel. I don’t bother with a goodbye before heading out to the truck. Once inside, I carefully tear the package open. I don’t know what I’m expecting, maybe some sort of bomb to go off. But white powder can kill as easily as an explosive, and I know the people I’m dealing with.
No powder in this envelope though. Only two things. A Lebanese passport and an airline ticket.
I open the front page of the passport. Eve El-Amin’s pretty face is smiling back at me. I check the issue and expiration dates. She’s had this since before I met her. It expires in three months. The airline ticket is for tonight, and it’s a one-way ticket to Beirut.
I pocket both things. I’ll give her the passport, but no way in hell she’ll be on that flight tonight.
That receptionist is right about one thing: the drive to Denver International Airport is a pain in the ass. When I get to the Marriott, I spot her car easily and park beside it. I climb out and head inside, straight to the elevator and to her room. I knock on the door and step to the side, out of view of the peephole.
When the door opens, I’m looking into Eve’s shocked face. It takes her a moment to react. To try and slam the door shut. But before she can, I have the toe of my shoe inside so it bounces off and knocks her backward.
“I told you I’d pick you up.”
She scurries around the bed. “I’ll scream!”
I close the door. “Go ahead. Make my fucking day.” I don’t wait for her to make a move. Instead, I lunge for her, catching her as she picks up the phone, and toss her onto the bed. She bounces once, then scrambles onto all fours, but before she can get away, I capture her ankle and drag her back so she’s flat on her stomach. I flip her over and climb on top of her. “I’m getting the feeling you like this.”
“Let me go!”
“No.”
She’s struggling beneath me and this is so not the time, but my dick’s getting hard. I draw her arms over her head. “You listen like shit.” Looking at her like this, flushed, trapped beneath me, feeling the contours of her soft body against mine, it makes me hungry. Then there’s her mouth… lips parted, swollen…
I kiss her. I can’t help it. She’s surprised, there’s a momentary halt of all activity, a sound she makes, but then she starts again, like she knows she should fight it. Fight me.
“I like your mouth.” I transfer both wrists into one hand and with my face an inch from hers, slide the other down along the curve of her body and between us to grip the waistband of her jeans.
“What are you doing?”
I grin and undo one button, my hand slips inside, my fingers are beneath her panties. “Touching you.”
“Zach—”
But my fingers close over her sex and her expression changes, her pupils dilate and she bites her lip, thrusting her pelvis upward—at least for a moment.
“Stop.” It’s a squeak.
“You’re wet.”
She can’t deny it. The evidence is on my fingers.
“Stop,” she tries again.
“No.”
I release her wrists and slide down over her body, keeping eye contact as I do. She makes some sad attempt to free herself, but I know what she wants.
Dropping off the bed, I drag her down so her legs are dangling.
“Stop!”
I undo her jeans and drag them down. She sits up, trying to shove me away, but it’s halfhearted at best. I hold her off with one hand. Her panties are askew and I pull them down, then shove them and her jeans off so she’s only wearing a tank top. I take my time looking at her, then with my hands on either thigh, I spread her legs wider.
“You’re fucking soaking, Eve.”
“I’m not.” She tries to shove my hands away, to close her legs.
I dip my head down and inhale deeply before taking a long, slow lick of her sex, her glistening, wet pussy, then take her clit into my mouth and suck.
“You taste fucking amazing.”
Her hands are in my hair, fingers entwined there, but she’s also moaning, pressing herself into my face.
“God. Stop.” She’s practically grinding against me.
“You don’t want me to stop,” I say, then resume sucking.
She’s pulling my hair now, holding me tight. She’s up on one elbow, watching me, her breathing coming in short gasps. And when I slide one finger into her tight virgin pussy, she lets go, squeezing her thighs around my neck, her fingernails digging into my head as she moans, her eyes squeezed shut, coming gloriously on my tongue.
After an eternity of panting, her legs loosen and she falls backward, swallowing hard, blinking, her face burning as she refuses to look at me.
I stand up and wipe the back of my hand across my lips, watching her. She keeps her face averted.
“Look at me, Eve.”
She shakes her head.
“Look at me.”
She does, although reluctantly.
“I like watching you come.”
I know it’s taking all she has to keep her gaze on mine while her face burns red.
“And there’s nothing I’d like more than to slide my cock into that tight little cunt of yours.”
Shock registers on her face. I’m going to guess it’s my word choice. It makes me smile.
I adjust myself. No time for release now, this has already delayed us and we need to get out of here.
“But sadly, we don’t have time. We need to go.”
I toss her jeans and underwear in her direction and go to the window, draw the curtains back to look outside. I can see my truck and her car but not much else going on in the parking lot.
“Go?”
When I turn around, she’s zipping her jeans.
“Yes, go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t go back to Beirut. No fucking way.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” she says.
“Where are your things?”
She almost steps right up to me, but stops herself. Red is flushing her cheeks again and if there’s anything I’ve ever wanted, it’s time. Right now. Time to make her blush some more. Make her come some more.
“You can’t just walk in here and…and—”
“Eat your pussy?”
That gets me the desired result: shocked silence.
“Get your purse, let’s go.”
“No.”
“You’re wearing on my nerves, Eve.” I take her arm to move her along. “Let’s fucking go.”
She tries to free herself. “You didn’t have to come here. I’m not your problem.”
“Well, you are, actually. Like I said earlier, I’m not planning on getting your name tattooed on my back.”
“I’m not planning on dying!”
“You’re sure as hell giving it a good effort!”
A knock comes on the door then. I pull her into my chest and close one hand over her mouth.
“Room service,” a man’s voice calls.
I look down at her. Her eyes have gone wide.
“Let me guess, you haven’t ordered room service,” I whisper.
She shakes her head.
I release her and get up, putting a finger to my lips. “Get on the floor. Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”
She slides down to crouch behind the bed. I make my way to the door as “room service” knocks again. I don’t have a weapon, but I’ll have the element of surprise.
I look through the little peephole to see a man dressed in a uniform looking up and down the hallway. The tray he’s holding is covered by a napkin and one hand is underneath it. I open the door, using it as a shield between us. He’s obviously expecting her to be right there, and it takes him a moment to step into the room. As soon as he does, I slam the tray out of his hand and shove him into the wall by the back of his neck. A shot goes off and even though the gun has a silencer, it makes enough sound that Eve lets out a scream. I grab the hand with the gun and slam it hard against the wall once, twice, three times, until he drops it. After kicking it away, I spin him around and punch him across his jaw.
He’s a big guy, but I’m bigger. And he’s surprised by my presence here. We were obviously being watched at the house, and she was being followed.
“Who sent you?” I ask, punching him again.
Nothing. He’s struggling to focus on me.
“Who the fuck sent you?”
He gives me a grin. One of his teeth has come loose and I decide to knock out a few more. I don’t realize I’m still hitting him until I hear her.
“Stop. Zach, stop. It’s enough. Zach.”
She’s pulling at my arm, her weight on my back. The guy’s on the floor beneath me and he’s not moving. His head is resting at a funny angle.
“Zach?”
I look at her, then at him. Then at my bloodied fist. My bloodied shirt.
“You okay?” I ask. She stares at the dead man. She’s just watching him. This can’t be the first time she’s seen a dead body.
“You—” her face crumples and she begins to cry quietly—giant teardrops sliding down her face.
Fuck.
I stand up. I don’t know how much noise there was. Don’t know how long I was beating the shit out of him. All I can think is that we have to get out of here. “Where’s your stuff, Eve?”
She looks up at me like I’m speaking Chinese.
“Your things. Where are they?”
She just keeps staring at me. I look around the room and guess they’re in her car.
“Stay there.” I go into the bathroom to wash my hands and face, glad the black of my T-shirt hides the blood. I dry my hands and return to drag the dead man into the bathroom. I close the door. Her purse and computer are on the desk so I take them, and shove the dead man’s Glock into the waistband of my pants.
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
She’s still exactly where I left her. Her face is white, her eyes wide. Her hair’s a mess.
“We need to go. Now. And you need to keep your shit together until we’re in the truck, understand?”
She’s staring straight ahead.
I squat down to make her look at me. “Eve?”
Nothing.
I pat my hand to her face. “Eve, look at me.”
Nothing. She’s in shock.
I don’t want to do this, but I slap her once. Twice.
She blinks rapidly, pushing me away, finally meeting my gaze.
“We have to go now.”
She nods, touches a hand to her cheek. I didn’t hit her hard, but it’s already turning red.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say as I open the door and make sure the hallway’s empty. It is. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I lead us toward the stairs. They’re empty too. I guess he’d come alone, expecting only to find one unarmed, unsuspecting target. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t come when I had.
Somehow, she manages to keep her shit together as we walk through the lobby. Outside, I get her into my truck before finding her keys and moving her things from her car to mine. I then get into the truck and start it.
“No. No, what are you doing?” All of a sudden she’s animated, trying to grab the steering wheel.
“We have to get out of here.”
“I can’t. I have to—”
“I know, catch a flight home.”
She stops, looks up at me, then nods.
“It’s not safe, not for you.”
“What do you mean, not for me?”
“You can’t go back.”
“My brother may be alive!”
“You can’t go back, Eve.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re fucking
expecting you!”
“What?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out her passport. The real one.
She takes it. Opens it. “Where did you get this?”
“You received a package at the office.”
“I forgot about that. From who?”
“No return address.”
“I don’t understand.”
I’m reluctant, but decide to tell her. “That’s not all. There was a ticket included.”
“Ticket?”
“One way. To Beirut.”
“It’s my brother.”
“It’s Malik.”
“I have to go, Zach.”
I’m thinking. This isn’t adding up. She may be right. Why send her a ticket home then send someone to kill her?
“Zach.” My name is a whisper on her tongue. Her hand falls to my arm and it makes me turn to look at her. “I can’t hide, not if there’s a chance my brothers are alive. I owe it to them.”
11
Eve
I’m watching the black sky of nighttime as we fly toward Beirut. I wonder if it should feel familiar. I guess I’m too far out for it to. I don’t remember the last time I flew in the opposite direction. That day was a blur. That year was a blur.
“Here. It’ll help you sleep.”
I look up. Zach’s settling back into his seat. He’s in the aisle and I’m sardined in the window seat. He hands over a plastic cup and a little bottle of whiskey. I take both.
He doesn’t pour his out, but drinks it from the tiny bottle and every time I look at him, I feel my face burn as heat rushes through my veins always ending up in the same spot. It’s like my body is separate of my mind.
He gets that wicked grin on his face and leans in close. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
I turn away, bring all my attention to twisting the cap off the bottle. “No.”
He’s closer now, he’s lifted the armrest between us so his body is pressed against mine. “You’re a bad liar.”
“Stop.”
“Last time you said that, you were squeezing your thighs around my neck so hard I thought you’d snap it.”
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