Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Please, Johnny,” I begged as I rushed after him, reaching for his elbow. “Just go into town with me for the afternoon. Or take a drive with me.”
I was an idiot. As soon as I’d told Rocky who was here, she’d likely started pulling satellite surveillance to pinpoint a location for the elite visitors.
Locke shrugged me off. “I’m not leaving my guests.”
As we neared the front door of the villa, one of the hired guards was letting Liyana back into the house, and both of us stopped short.
Just as Locke had expected, she’d been shopping. She had armloads of packages and bags.
“Ah, Jett,” she said in surprise, handing a big paper-wrapped bunch off to an attendant. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. You were right about the market stall with the flowers. I brought those as a thank-you for the housekeeping staff.”
I frowned, noticing that the flowers were wrapped differently than the way the flower seller had wrapped them for Zuri and me that first day. Not that it mattered.
“Oh. Well… good,” I said.
Locke seemed surprised when Liyana started to hand some of her shopping off to him like he was one of her servants, but he accepted the bags and played it off with a wry smile. “Jett was worried. Said you might not have been feeling well earlier.”
“Thank you for being concerned. I hope to someday repay your kindness.” Liyana gave me a warm look and patted my hand. “I was feeling a bit off. But all I needed was… retail therapy, I think they call it?” She looked around at the multitude of bags and beamed.
I managed a smile in return, but inside, all kinds of alarms were blaring. There was no way Liyana had had enough time in town to buy all of this. My sister Becca was an Olympic medalist shopper, and even she couldn’t have gotten a haul like this so quickly. Something was off.
I reached for Locke’s arm and pulled him back. “Can I talk to you? I just remembered something about—”
While I scrambled for a cover story, al-Qadiri strode into the entry hall. “Ah, there you are, my beloved. Back so soon?”
Liyana transferred her smile to him and kissed his cheek in greeting. As her lips brushed his skin, she closed her eyes for the briefest moment, as if memorizing the feel of him. Then she pulled away. “Saleem! I want to show you a picture one of the girls sent me.” She patted her head and glanced around as if looking for something. “Oh! Would you be a dear and check to see if I left my glasses in the car?” She laughed. “I’m becoming as forgetful as you, aren’t I?”
“I’ll go look.” Locke stepped forward
I tightened my hand on his elbow to hold him in place. Something was wrong. I’d been in the spy world too many years not to feel it. My gut was screaming.
Liyana shot him a smile. “No, dear. Your hands are full. Saleem will get them. Jett, dear, could you possibly arrange for my purchases to be sent to—”
As Liyana chattered about logistics and wandered further into the house, I watched from the corner of my eye while her husband moved out the open double doors toward the sleek black town car on the far side of the gravel drive. He waved to their driver, who stood close to the house, talking to one of the gardeners.
It struck me as odd that instead of standing to help his boss, he sat and watched—
And that’s when I knew.
“Locke!” I hissed. I yanked him back with as much force as I could, just as al-Qadiri reached for the door handle of the vehicle.
The explosion was instantaneous—a single, concussive bloom of fire and metal that punched the air out of my lungs. The town car lifted off the ground, the blast folding it in on itself like paper. Heat slammed into us a half second later, a rolling wave that tore through the entryway and shattered the windows nearby. Shards of glass and blackened trim arced through the air, the driveway gravel peppering the house like hail.
Locke turned and covered me just as I tried to do the same to him. It resulted in a mini-wrestling match before he succeeded in shoving me under him, wrapping his arms around my head and tucking his face next to mine.
My arms banded around his back to keep him from popping back up and going to investigate.
The only sounds I could hear were muffled shouts and high-pitched ringing. Within seconds, Locke’s face had pulled back enough to look at me, to scan every inch of me for injuries. I could see his mouth moving, his eyes wide and panicked.
Baby, are you okay?
I reached for his face and pulled him down to me to press a firm kiss to his mouth. It was the only way I could think to reassure him. And me.