Veiled by Choice (Radical Book 3)

by Anne Garboczi Evans

  He let her pull the AK-47 into her lap. “How long have you known that I was working with coalition forces?”

  She blushed scarlet, accenting the sweat clinging to the bridge of her nose. “Just today after you said you’d divorce me. There’s a grate in your bedroom. I saw you texting.” She ran the cloth over the weapon as readily as if she’d be born with a gun in her hands.

  He hadn’t cleaned a rifle since his infantry days ten years ago. “I’m glad you’re not actually an ISIS spy, because you’d be a good one.” He smiled at her. A lot of girls confronted with the cruelty of ISIS would have given up, not learned to clean an AK-47 like a pro.

  With a laugh, Jessica set down the gun. She grabbed two water bottles from the shelf behind them and tossed one through the air. He caught it.

  Gun across her knees, she began to disassemble it. Her hair tumbled around her, skimming her every curve that her shirt already accented. “Why did you think I was a spy?”

  “Sexy young woman gets thrown into the new recruit’s house. Classic spy tactic.” He flicked a lock of her hair off his lap.

  Pink flushed up her smooth cheeks. “I was so scared when Al-Khansaa forced me to marry you. They said you were a mujahideen.”

  Forced to marry, yeah that did sound terrifying.

  “Are you Muslim at all then?”

  He snorted. “Does Schlensky sound Muslim? We’re Jewish.” All of them, his sister too, despite what fanatical notions she’d gotten in her head.

  “Where do you actually live?” The gun slid through Jessica’s hands as she looked at him.

  “Denver, Colorado. I’m an ICU doc. What about you?”

  Her shoulders slumped, her low neckline sagging ever farther. “You know the real me. Al-Khansaa, ISIS bride. I joined at seventeen. I was pregnant.”

  “Wait. Is your name Jessica Walker?”

  She nodded and ran the cleaning cloth inside the upper receiver of the gun.

  “I read an article about you.”

  Head bent over the gun, Jessica didn’t raise her voice above a whisper. “I was such an idiot. ISIS is evil.” A tear dribbled down her cheek.

  He reached forward and wiped it away with his thumb. “#### happens. Right now we need to focus on getting out of here alive.” They needed to plot an escape plan. If they could escape. Was Joe right that there were no more smugglers? How did they get Ava out of Mosul?

  With a hiccup, Jessica smiled again. “Tell me about where you live in Denver. Is it all cowboys and gun violence like they say in England?”

  “Hey, just because we don’t eat crumpets with clotted cream doesn’t mean we’re not cultured.” He laughed. “I can walk to the finest nature and science museum in the Western United States from my apartment.”

  “That sounds lovely.” Shoving the AK-47’s magazine off her lap, she leaned up against him, her cheek rumpling the sleeve of his shirt.

  The movement revealed the contour of her chin. Her smooth skin outlined the delicate arch of her mouth, white against pink.

  As she squirmed closer to him, her every curve pressed into him. She was porn star hot, he knew that from seeing her naked the other day. She tilted her gaze up to his, arching her body against his.

  If he leaned down, he could kiss her. Touch her. With a groan, he stood and crossed to the floral couch. Sure Jessica was hot, but she was also super high on the crazy scale, probably from PTSD. Hopefully, whatever re-education camp Britain sent her to for joining ISIS would help her with that.

  How many more days until he got Ava out of here and returned to, assuming he wasn’t fired, a job in Denver to never leave the United States again?

  With a sigh, Jessica watched her husband take a seat on the paisley design of the couch. If they got out of this alive, they’d have a life together in Denver. She gazed up into Kaleb’s eyes.

  His eyes were a rich color, like turned-over brown earth in the English countryside. “Do you mind that I’m Muslim?” Husbands and wives really should be the same religion for raising children.

  “Not my favorite religion right now, but I try not to be prejudiced.” Kaleb flopped his head back on the couch and looked at the ceiling.

  “I wasn’t always, you know.” She reassembled the AK-47 with rapid hands. She’d been able to steal three magazines of ammo from Raja’s house, which would last them for a while.

  “You grew up Anglican. It was in the article.” Kaleb seemed to examine the popcorn texture in the ceiling.

  “Christianity is built on Judaism, you know.” She plopped on the couch, one paisley design over from her husband. “There’s lots of Torah reading in churches and we read the prophesies of Isaiah about the Messiah all the time.”

  “The Koran claims to be built on the Torah too. Why does everyone want to steal our religion?” Kaleb twisted toward her. He gestured through the air.

  “The entire New Testament is filled with quotes from the Torah and the Prophets. You’ll recognize it word for word.” She’d almost been baptized at fourteen. She’d taken all the classes, but in the end it just seemed so bland. She’d studied Eastern religions for a while after that, but found them contrived.

  “That’s if I ever studied the Torah, which I didn’t.” Kaleb grinned at her. His one eyebrow quirked up with the expression, so much life in his brown eyes.

  A text popped on Kaleb’s screen. The name Joe Csontos appeared above it. Stay off the streets. Heavy airstrikes going into tomorrow morning.

  A groan slid through Kaleb’s teeth. “Another day Ava’s alone with that terrorist.”

  Though the emir had chosen her husband, she couldn’t have done better if she had the choice herself. He was noble in his desire to rescue his sister and kind-hearted. Though he didn’t adore children, he had been kind to the Yazidi children and dedicated in their rescue. Kaleb would make a good father to their sons and daughters.

  Jessica brushed her fingers across his unshaven face.

  “Sorry it’s scratchy.”

  She laughed. “Going to shave when you get back to Denver?”

  His eyes glinted with mirth. “Don’t think I could get a girl to kiss me if I didn’t.”

  “I’ll always kiss you.” She was his wife. Leaning up to his mouth, she circled her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. The cracked skin of his lips brushed against her, radiating a soothing sensation through her.

  She nudged the collar of his scrubs. The sinking “V” showed his clavicle. He did not want this terror of ISIS. He helped people, healed them. Together he and she would rescue his sister and get out of this place.

  Together they’d have what she’d always wanted. A marriage, a family. Her children would have a father, not a series of groping stepdads like she’d grown up with.

  She slid her hand beneath the sleeve of his shirt. The crisp fabric crinkled beneath her fingers. Rather than giving away to a farmer’s tan, his skin remained the same sun-kissed color. His eyes had a hazel glint.

  She’d be the beloved wife and mother that ISIS had promised Allah would allow her to be, then delivered bloodshed and beatings. She was so over Allah, but what deity was out there? Kaleb was Jewish, but how many thousands of years are you really going to wait for a Messiah as prophesy after prophesy goes unfulfilled?

  The Christian God was too unmotivating though. She’d met hundreds of Christians and they all just did their thing, complacent and prosaic.

  The scent of cardamom bubbled up from the stove behind them. She should pour the coffee, but instead, she inched up Kaleb’s scrubs, revealing the six-pack on his stomach.

  With a grin, she ran her hands up underneath his scrubs and stretched for another kiss. The brush of her husband’s lips against hers felt so right as the heavenly feeling of marital love surrounded her in Kaleb’s embrace.

  One hand on Jessica’s waist, Kaleb leaned back against the couch as he watched the scene unfold.

  If he could forget he was in ISIS territory, all this would actually be quite the turn o
n. A stunningly attractive girl currently slid over his lap as she felt him up—in ISIS territory.

  Jessica leaned up to his lips. He’d never said no to a girl kissing him in his life, and now didn’t seem the time to start even if they were in ####ISIS territory.

  Sliding his hand beneath her hair, he tugged her next to him and kissed her.

  “How old are you?” Jessica’s voice has a musical quality.

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “And you’re already a doctor. You’re like brilliant, aren’t you?” She slid her hands farther beneath his shirt.

  He shrugged and let her pull his scrubs off. The hot air touched his chest. “Maybe.” He’d gotten through college in two years, med school in two and a half.

  “Why did you drop out of high school to join the army at seventeen then?”

  When had he told her that? Between the scorching heat and lack of food or water during daylight hours, time blurred together in this place. “Money I guess. My family didn’t really do college.” Welfare, yes. College, no. He’d changed that trend and he’d intended to make sure Ava went to college too, not follow in the family’s footsteps of getting knocked up as a teen—like Ava was now.

  Pushing aside his hand, Jessica slid onto his legs and tugged at the knotted tie on his scrub pants.

  She wanted this, and though she was kind of crazy and definitely had PTSD, she was over eighteen, so he had the legal age of consent box checked.

  Not more than ten minutes later, they were both naked on the floor, still breathing heavily from better sex than he’d ever imagined occurred in ISIS territory.

  “####.” He ran his hand over her bare abdomen. “That was incredible.”

  She smiled at him.

  “How’s a girl like you end up joining ISIS?” Okay, not the sexiest post hookup question, but lying here on an exotically colored carpet as the smell of weird spices filled the room, his phone beeped with new group texts from ISIS, and a naked girl lay in his arms, the whole situation felt even more surreal.

  Sitting up, Jessica drew her knees to her chest. Her waist-length hair fell around her body, flames of fire against her smooth skin. “I told my boyfriend I was pregnant and he left me. My mum kicked me out. I was sleeping on park benches at night, petrified.”

  Looking up at her, Kaleb watched her arched lips move with each word. Each breath she took swelled out her . . . well, he wasn’t trying to dictate a porn movie in his thoughts. If he had been trying to though, her body gave plenty of material. A weird déjà vu feeling came over him as he looked at her.

  “Then Taban joined ISIS and got real religious. His recruiter told him to marry me.” Jessica wiped at her nose. “I was so happy. My baby would have a daddy. ISIS said they’d give us a house. Young people join the British army all the time to provide for their family.”

  Kaleb sat straight up. “The British army, not a terrorist organization.” This girl was insane.

  “It sounded good.” Tears rolled down Jessica’s face, splashing onto her bare skin that no sunlight had touched since she’d joined these #### terrorists.

  Kaleb grabbed his pants. “You have to be a special kind of stupid to join ISIS.”

  “I know that now. How was I supposed to know that then?”

  “Read the news? Open one’s eyes? Have a brain between one’s ears?” His sister had joined ISIS. Kaleb groaned and shoved his arms through his shirt sleeves.

  “Sure, I heard ISIS had killed some people in war, but it’s not like the West is perfect. Western nations are full of racism, hate crimes, and rape.”

  Kaleb spluttered. He couldn’t even think of what swear word he wanted to say. His voice rose. “You cannot compare America or England to ISIS. It’s a terrorist organization. Murder is their mission statement.”

  “I wasn’t intending on doing any fighting.” Jessica crossed her arms in front of her chest, still naked in front of him.

  “You,” Kaleb stabbed his finger at her exquisite curves, “young, beautiful women like you, are what ISIS uses to recruit jihadists. You can play innocent all you like, but you contributed to people’s deaths.” She’d worked in Al-Khansaa too.

  “I didn’t mean to.” Jessica twisted her hand in the black cloth of her burka-thing that spread over the floor. She cast her gaze down as she pulled the cloth around her.

  “You did though.” This was the most unsexy post hookup conversation he’d ever had. One-night stands with lawyer women took so much less emotional energy.

  A wheezing noise came from the pot on the stove. The coffee probably had a charred taste by now. With a groan, Kaleb stood. “Look, we don’t have to talk about this. We just need to get Ava and get out of Mosul.”

  “No, you’re right.” Jessica stood, the black robes swinging around her ankles. Reaching out from the folds of black, she touched his hand and tucked her fingers inside his. “I really messed up. All the evil going on in this city, I made myself responsible for that by joining ISIS.”

  A sigh slid through his teeth as he squeezed Jessica’s hand back. The girl obviously had major PTSD, but she was a strong person with a caring heart despite that. She’d stayed in Mosul to help him rescue his sister, after all.

  Hopefully the British embassy would provide Jessica some kind of counseling rather than jail time when they extradited her to the U.K.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ding. Ding. As the light of a new dawn spread through the house, texts popped onto Kaleb’s screen. The ISIS translator’s name appeared above the texts. Where are you? More mujahideen have been wounded in the airstrikes. Get to the hospital now.

  Can’t get out of the house. Airstrikes. Sorry. He was not going into the hospital to patch up terrorists so they could kill again. He needed to get Ava today. Kaleb pushed aside the black dining room curtains. Smoke filled the sky in every direction. Rubble rolled across the street.

  Boom. Kaleb fell back. The house’s foundation shook. Glass shattered as shelves slid right and left. Bric-a-brac crashed against the floor. Kaleb grabbed the window frame as the floor indented in front of him.

  The walls shook. The roof buckled. The pounding noise increased.

  Jessica ran toward him. “The closets are best when the airstrikes get bad.” Grabbing his hand, she dragged him toward the bathroom’s closet.

  Thrusting aside towels, Jessica scooted under the lowest shelf and beckoned him to follow. Exactly how many airstrikes had the poor woman endured in the past three years?

  This place didn’t have a basement, so a bathroom closet probably was the safest place. Bending double, he squeezed in next to her. She yanked the towels up around them, cushioning them from projectiles.

  Even the faucet quavered as the noise outside kept up a constant rumble and the walls vibrated. Tiles fell from the ceiling, exposing a section of pipe. A leak sprang from the faucet.

  He wrapped his arms around Jessica, shielding her body from debris and making more room in the tiny closet. She scooted between his drawn-up knees.

  A slab of roofing fell from the ceiling. Kaleb grunted as he choked on plaster dust. The toilet jiggled against the wall. An entire section of plaster caved in, landing against the sink. “When I get home, I’m never complaining to the landlord about my apartment again.” To think, only six weeks ago, his biggest housing complaint had been the spiders in his apartment’s kitchen.

  A crashing noise came from the dining room. How much longer would the walls hold up? If it was this bad in here, were the streets even passable anymore? How would he get Ava?

  “I can’t wait to see your home.” Jessica tangled her fingers behind his neck and looked adoringly into his eyes.

  “Say what?” He jerked his gaze down to the girl. If they got out of here alive, she was getting extradited to Britain to serve time for joining ISIS.

  “When we go back to Colorado together, husband.” Jessica flickered her black eyelashes up as she smiled at him. Her flame-colored hair spread out about her, falling down around her shoulders
, across his hands. She laughed despite the exploding noises going on around them.

  The flames of her hair lit his hands on fire. He yanked away from her. The closet wall slammed into his back. He was trapped not two inches away from the girl who had just called him “husband.” Kaleb stared at her. “Only the perversion of ISIS thinks throwing a woman into a man’s house makes them married.”

  A cry came from Jessica’s lips, accented by the pounding of more tiles falling. She shoved back against the opposite closet wall, giving him now two and a half inches between himself and the girl who’d so casually mentioned marriage. “What do you mean we’re not married?” Jessica’s voice came out like a shriek.

  This woman thought they were married? #### married! He was never getting married. “We are definitely not married.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No, we’re not.” He said the words slowly as if talking to a simpleton. Surely, she didn’t think they were actually married?

  “I slept with you.” Her voice turned to a high-pitched wail that at least the entire block would hear. That is, if the entire block wasn’t currently falling down from the impact explosion of airstrikes. Yes, airstrikes, so why did she think this was a good time to talk about marriage?

  “Yeah. It was good.” He reached out and patted her hand. Hopefully she calmed down here in a second and stopped spouting crazy talk.

  “I only give that to my husband.”

  Oh. Not exactly how she’d felt getting pregnant at seventeen. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Jess.” He reached for the girl.

  “You deceived me.” Ripping away from him, she jumped out of the closet, into the space where tiles and plaster currently slammed down with lethal force.

  “No, I really didn’t. ISIS did.” He stared at her.

  “At least ISIS believes in marriage. Sex is commitment. Men disrespect women in the West.”