by S F Benson
Without any hesitation, she unbuckles my belt and slides the zipper down. Her lips quirk up. I haven’t been a fan of underwear in a long time.
Joining her on the floor, my hunger can wait a little longer. Tonight is about showing her how much I love and cherish this woman. Rihana’s blouse slides down her arms and falls to the floor. In the glow of the fire, he golden skin drives me crazy. I want to feel all of her—no barriers.
My fingers slip beneath her jeans waistband. “These too.”
Rihana gives me an innocent smile, but those damned dark eyes of hers smolder, drawing me in. Her gaze—the first thing I noticed about her years ago—has always captivated me.
She pushes the tight fabric over her curves, hips gently swaying to a tune only she hears.
Damn. Matching underwear.
Dying with the need, I pull her beneath me, letting my tongue explore her hills and valleys.
Rihana purrs and opens her legs. “Yes, Aza,” her voice, full of want and desire, beckons me.
She doesn’t have to ask. I leave a trail of kisses inside her thighs, savoring her silky skin. Rihana’s hips rise to meet my mouth. This is real ambrosia. The woman tastes like heat and honey, something I’ll never grow tired of.
“Aza.” A satisfying hum slips past her lips as she twists her fingers in my hair.
Replacing my mouth, I slide two fingers inside her. Rihana claws at the blanket, my stroke sending her to the edge.
“Oh, no, baby. We’re just getting started.” I rise up and kiss her already swollen lips.
Unable to wait any longer, I bury myself deep. Rihana is so fucking tight around me. Cries of ecstasy, hers followed by mine, fill the room.
—
Someone pounding on the door jolts me awake. Once again, I’m disoriented. I look down and see Rihana next to me in front of the fireplace. She rolls toward me and rubs the sleep from her eyes. When the pounding starts up again, she jumps up.
“It’s my parents,” she says, nervous like we’re a couple of teens in her parents’ basement.
“Toss me my shirt,” I tell her as I shrug on my jeans.
Rihana looks at her tight jeans and shakes her head. “I can’t put these back on.”
“Like put your shirt on. We are married,” I remind her.
Always modest in public, Rihana reaches for the blanket and wraps it around her lower half before opening the door.
Rihana’s earlier words refresh in my mind, and I hang back in the darkness not wishing for a confrontation with my in-laws.
“Dê û bavê, Aza li vir e,” Rihana greets her parents, telling them that I’m here.
Kamila says, “Em naxwazin ji bo gihaştina. Em wê demek nêzik te bibînim.”
Great. Now Kamila thinks she’s intruding. Time to put a stop to this crap. At one point, these people treated me like I was one of their own, and now Bashur’s lies threaten our relationship. I’m not going out like this.
I walk up behind Rihana. Viyan reaches for me, and I take her in my arms. “Kamila and Asif, it’s good to see you again.”
Kamila makes a face as her gaze darts between Rihana’s disheveled appearance and my own. I just realized that my shirt’s inside out. “Aza, I am sure Rihana appreciates your return.”
Asif remains silent.
“We are all happy my husband is back where he belongs,” Rihana adds and squeezes my free hand.
“Not all of us,” my father-in-law scoffs.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Asif,” I say, making eye contact with the aging man. “You’ll never know how much I’ve missed Rihana. If it were up to me, we would have never been apart. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been too long, and I just want to spend the evening with my wife and daughter. Maybe we can catch up another day?”
The man is speechless as I leave the room with Viyan on my hip.
“And that,” I whisper in my daughter’s ear, “is how you tell someone off politely.”
—
Rihana finds me in the bathroom with our daughter. I’m running a bath for her while Viyan is throwing in every toy she can find.
“That’s more than enough water and toys,” Rihana admonishes me with a laugh. She shuts off the water and lets out half of it while evicting most of Viyan’s playmates. “Not a lot of experience with little ones, Aza?”
I think back to my brother, Shiloh. I had a year with his kids before the Virus claimed them. “Not really. Maybe you should, like, take over.”
Viyan stops adding toys to the tub and crawls into my lap. When I try to pass her to Rihana, the little girl clasps her arms around my neck.
“Viyan, stop,” I start. “I promise I’ll be here when your bath is done.”
She whines and won’t let go. Instead, she buries her face in my shoulder and holds on tighter.
“Okay, I’ll stay right here the whole time.”
My daughter gives me a look that reminds me of my mother, Rebecca. She had a way of freezing me with her eyes. This little girl has the same expression on her face.
It makes my heart stop, and I can’t move. I’m catapulting through time with memories I thought were buried.
“Aza?” Rihana asks, uncertainty ringing in her voice. “What is wrong?”
I snap out of my remembrance. “Nothing. Viyan, go to your mother.”
My daughter jumps into Rihana’s arms. I stand up and turn my back. “She looked at me, and I swore I was looking into my mother’s eyes. They aren’t even the same color. It’s just the way she…”
The water splashes as Viyan gets into the tub. A moment later, there’s a gentle touch on my back. “This is why you should talk with someone. My love, how many years has it been?”
“S-seven.” Seven years since the insidiousness of the Street Wars claimed my brother and my parents.
“We have been down this road before, Aza.”
Time to change the subject. Last thing I want is to talk about the past. I face Rihana. “Does Viyan see your family often?”
“Almost daily. Either my parents or my brothers come to get her or I take her to them.”
“How do you know Bashur’s men aren’t, like, following them? You can’t assume you’re safe with them.” My heart thuds in my chest in agreement.
Rihana wraps her arms around my waist and presses her forehead against my chest. “Let me finish Viyan’s bath. Then we talk about the notebook and make some plans.”
“Ree—” She can’t be a part of this. What if I don’t survive the mission?
“I am serious, Aza. We figure this out tonight. Contact Steve and have him come over.” Her eyes narrow for a moment. “We could use Fletcher and your friend Zared too.”
Patting her hand, I leave the bathroom. There’s no fighting a determined woman.
CHAPTER TEN
“We must fight for our lives. If we don’t fight, we die.”
—from the Honorable M. Raman Bashur,
Kurdish political & religious thinker
Of course, my step-grandfather couldn’t come without Mama Sibley trailing along. As stubborn as Rihana, my grandmother will use whatever excuse possible to see Viyan. Tonight she helped put my daughter to bed and then proceeded to make dinner—reheated chili with buttery cornbread—and coffee for some of us. Honestly, I wanted an ice-cold beer with mine instead of another cup of tea. Although Rihana said for me to be myself, it was a slippery slope for me. My demons sit on a fence waiting for me to overindulge and further lose myself.
“You’re sure about the location of the Helix?” Steve asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Only as sure as these notes are.”
Zared, finally settling into his job role with the company and showing me a less animosity, speaks up. “I can take a look at the codes you mentioned. Maybe they contain more detail about the location.”
“Asher, I want copies made of all the pages. One person shouldn’t be allowed to keep that much intel,” Steve points out.
Rihana nods
in agreement, placing a spoon in the center of her empty bowl. “My concern is what should Aza tell Raman about finding the Helix?”
“I suggest giving him false info. Once Aoki breaks the codes and gives us an idea of the location, we lead him to another one. Send out two teams of men. One goes to the wrong spot, and the other team leaves undercover of darkness. We make sure Bashur heads out with the first group.”
“Interesting thought,” I say, pushing to my feet. “You are aware that Bashur is, like, watching. I guarantee he knows we’re meeting.”
Fletcher shrugs. “So what? We simply tell him we met to discuss this plan. He’s not officially part of the company or the team. We don’t owe him any explanation.”
So true. If it weren’t for my wife, Bashur wouldn’t be any where near the compound.
“Who goes with Raman?”
“Send Niang along with Red,” Fletcher suggests. “We have a few new recruits that could go with him. If he asks why we’re not going, tell him there’s another lead to follow up on. Bashur is welcome to take any of his men with him.”
Sending green troops with Bashur guarantees he’ll take his men. Hopefully, that action will keep my family safe while I’m away.
“Allow me to go with Raman. He won’t hurt me,” my wife insists.
“No,” I object loudly.
My voice sends Mama Sibley rushing into the room with a tray. She picks up the discarded dishes and cups—her excuse for eavesdropping. She casts a loving eye toward Rihana. “Honey, I agree with Asher. That sweet baby requires both her parents, but you the most. If you’re in the field, Asher won’t be able to do his job because he’s worried about you. And we all know what happens to distracted soldiers.”
Nothing pretty that’s for sure.
Rihana scowls, but she doesn’t argue.
I’m thankful for small miracles. My grandmother seems to always know the right words to smooth over any situation. Almost. Her words have been known to incite a few acts of violence, too.
Not wanting to gloat on being right, I continue talking about the teams. “Fletcher, you’re, like, on my team. Find Mark Carter. I want him in on this.”
Steve clears his throat. “Maybe we can keep him off the mission this time.”
“Why?” I stop pacing the floor. “He is still on payroll, isn’t he?”
“He is. I just thought he could use a break. It had to be a lot to digest with his family involved.”
No. My step-grandfather isn’t that slick. He’s hiding something, but now is not the time to discuss it. “Mark is on my team. Once he arrives at the compound, then we’ll move out.”
Fletcher stands and goes to the door. “I’m on it.” Before stepping into the night air, he turns and asks, “What about Kapernecki? You know she’s capable.”
Dr. Leslie Kapernecki, an attractive and statuesque blonde, is probably more suited to this assignment than any of us. She’s a take-charge type of woman who can easily handle most men who are dumb enough to challenge her authority. Leslie was part of the team who escorted Tru and Zared to the territory from Michigan.
“I know, but I want her keeping watch on the property. I can trust her to, like, look after my family.”
“If we’re done…” Zared says, rising to his feet.
“Go on. Have a good night,” Steve replies.
After it’s just the four of us, Mama Sibley perches on the sofa arm and massages Steve’s shoulders. “Sounds like you have a plan in place.”
“Yes, we do,” Steve acknowledges. “Maybe we should head home, babe. Give Asher time with Rihana.”
My grandmother jumps up. “Let me kiss the baby good night.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rihana says.
As soon as the women are gone, I ask, “Like what’s the real reason for not wanting Mark on this mission?”
“I have a better question for you. Why do you continue associating yourself with a man who helped you destroy your life? You’re damned lucky you didn’t end up in prison or dead.”
True, but Mark also helped me straighten out my life. I joined Riza because of him.
“I really don’t owe you an explanation, but I’m damned lucky because of Mark. Yes, we got into a hell of a lot of trouble together. Back then, he was the only one who understood what I needed. That man is my best friend. He’s like my brother. I’d be lost without him.”
“All I meant—”
“You brought it up so let me finish!” I fight to keep a grip on my anger. “Mark Carter is my fucking right arm. I trust him with my life. Understood?”
Steve nods.
“Good.” Stretching my arms wide and yawning, I hope to hell I never have to explain that again.
“Maybe after a good night’s sleep you’ll reconsider that decision.”
Dropping to the sofa, I let my head hit the back of it. “I’m not counting on it.”
“Changing your mind or getting some sleep?”
“Both.”
The cushion dips beside me. “Having trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Possibly, like, a few months.”
Steve’s voice rises. “How the hell have you been doing your job, Asher? Fatigue compromises a person.”
Tell me about it. Exhaustion and guilt make for a terrible soldier and even a worse leader. But what choice did I have—I had a job to do. Still do. “For a while sleeping pills helped. After we rescued Tru, I, like, forgot about sleeping. No nightmares when you’re awake.”
“I’m not your father so I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do,” Steve says evenly. “But I strongly suggest you get some medical help. You can’t keep going like this.”
How many times will my family state the obvious? I’m well aware that I need some sort of help, but I can’t dwell on it right now. “After I finish this mission.”
Steve’s mouth slackens, and his eyes widen. “You can’t be serious. You’re the last person who should go on a mission.”
Totally agreed, but this assignment isn’t an option.
“I’ll be fine. It’s going to take Fletch some time to locate Mark. Tomorrow I’ll see Leslie, get something to help me sleep, and I’ll take it easy for a few days. Catch up on my rest.”
My step-grandfather scratches his jaw and is about to say more, but the ladies return to the room. Mama Sibley’s gaze drifts from me to Steve and back again. “Something going on?”
I glare at Steve challenging him to squeal on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rises to his feet, kisses Rihana’s cheek, and then puts his arm around Mama Sibley’s shoulders. “Nothing that won’t keep.”
Her mouth opens and closes, but Steve drags her out the door without any further discussion.
“You are going to bed. Now.” Rihana touches my arm. “Just so that you know… We heard your talk with Steve. He is right. You should not be involved with this operation.”
“And if I’m not, I can’t get out of the organization. It’s, like, one more job. I promise you, baby, it’s the last one.”
She starts to say something, but I drop a quick kiss on her lips. “We’re, like, going to bed. No more discussion. The only sounds allowed are those of me pleasuring my wife.”
Rihana smiles. “Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Our leaders have talked about making Riza mandatory for all citizens of age as well as for anyone who wishes to become a citizen. No one should be forced to lay down their beliefs, their lives, or their freedom to serve a country that doesn’t care for them.”
—from “Reflections on Riza” by Lt. Asher Nicholas Jones
The day starts with Fletcher pounding the hell out of my front door. When I stumble out to the living room carrying my dusty boots in my hand, it’s obvious that I’m the only one in my household that sleeps late. Viyan’s toys are scattered around the small space, and my wife is on the sofa brushing our daugh
ter’s hair.
I lift my chin toward Fletcher before sitting down beside Rihana. “What time is it?”
“Seven,” says Fletcher. “Count yourself lucky. Bashur wanted to meet an hour ago.”
Viyan slides off her mother’s lap and crawls into mine. When she starts to call me dad in Kurmanji, Rihana corrects her. “No. Say daddy.”
My daughter pouts, holding her head to the side. Finally, she gives in and says, “Da.”
I’ll take it. “Good morning, Viyan.”
“When will you return?”
“Before lunch, maybe. I promised Steve that I’d check in with Dr. Kapernecki.”
Rihana’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I’ll do more than check in with her.”
That statement puts a smile on my wife’s pretty face. “Good. Today, Viyan will stay home. We will spend the time with Sibley.”
Tying my shoelaces, I glance up at Fletcher. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
—
Fletcher and I walk along the path toward a huge building. I’d been told that Bashur commandeered the space for himself and his men, complaining that the general housing was ill-suited for followers of Allah. Steve probably let the leader get away with it to keep from inciting trouble with the Alliance—an action that was unfair to my grandmother. Mama Sibley could have used it for an art studio or for one of her various interests.
“Have you located Mark Carter?” I ask before we get to the entrance.
“I only know that he’s in Michigan. There’s a team looking for him.” Fletcher side-glances at me. “Is he really necessary to this assignment?”
“Not you too.”
“Hear me out.” Fletcher stops walking and faces me, cutting off my steps. “I don’t give a shit about Carter’s preferences in life.”
I grimace. Although most team members who’ve ever worked alongside Mark knows about his inclinations, it’s not common knowledge. My step-grandfather is old school. He’d kick Mark off the team if he knew.
Fletcher continues, “Hell, as long as Carter doesn’t try anything with me, I won’t fuck him up. What I do care about is his attitude. He’s a temperamental asshat prone to violence. We don’t need that shit on a mission.”