Kat Attalla Special Edition (33 page)

BOOK: Kat Attalla Special Edition
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“What you mean, is that he hired me because I’m so stupid.”

“I meant naïve, Lilly. Too trusting. You said it yourself. You saved the originals because you wanted to show him he was being overcharged for freight, not because you thought he was doing anything illegal. I’ll bet you even told him about the file when you questioned him.”

She lowered her eyes slowly. “I am stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” he said softly. “You knew something was wrong and you quit your job.”

She slumped her shoulders. “And got my landlady killed in the process.”

“Santana is to blame for that, and you can make him pay.” She couldn’t know how cunning and deadly Santana could be. Or that he would be so clever as to frame her in the process. Only his plan would backfire if he couldn’t get the file back. “Where are the originals, Lilly?”

“In a safe deposit box in
New York
.”

“We have to get to
New York
. No easy feat.”

“Why can’t we take a commercial airline?”

“Why don’t I just send up a flare and tell them where to find us?”

She let out a puff of air. “Well, excuse me for breathing.”

“Sorry. But the reason I am smuggling you into the States is so no one knows you’re there.”

He left out his suspicions about his own department so as not to worry her more. A call in for backup could be more dangerous that going it alone.

“Do you do this kind of work often, Jack?”

“That’s what I do. Although, I’ll admit, you are the first woman I’ve ever had to bring back. And you’ve given me a harder time than any man ever did. I was supposed to take you in
Lisbon
, when you had me ambushed by that crazy fisherman.”

She broke out in a smile, pleased that she’d caused him such trouble. “You only got a knock on the head. I had to get pawed for three hours by a man who smelled like codfish. I suppose I have you to thank for canceling all my credit cards too?”

He didn’t bother to fake remorse. “Time was running out. They’re ready to make a move on Santana. I need to get you back in the next three or four days.”

“If he has a man inside the customs department, wouldn’t he postpone shipments? They must know you have me by now.”

“If we’re lucky, they think we’re dead. I never called in after the explosion in Nice. That’s why I don’t want your passport showing up anywhere.”

“Oh,” she mumbled sorrowfully. She turned and folded her arms across the top of the rail to gaze out over the sea.

Jack put his hand on her shoulder. “Lilly. Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll be docking sometime in the late morning, and you need to rest.”

“Yeah. I need my beauty sleep,” she joked and pushed away from the rail.

He ran a slow gaze along the length of her body and sighed appreciatively. “No. You don’t need sleep for that. You’re put together quite nicely.”

She started to walk towards the stairs and turned back. “Perhaps you should put your glasses on and take another look.”

“Maybe you should take off your blinders have a look yourself.”

She shook her head and continued walking. “What do you know, anyway?”

Evidently more than her. Half the men on the boat couldn’t take their eyes off her when they thought Jack couldn’t see them. They might be steeped in a culture that taught men not to notice another man’s wife, but they were still human.

She was an attractive woman and she had an incredibly sensuous body. Her well-rounded curves might not be considered chic in fashion magazines, but they’d caused him a few sleepless nights in the last few weeks, something no other woman had ever done to him before.

She was everything he avoided. His affairs had been limited to the operatives he worked with. Women who knew the score. He had lived his life by one simple creed: no emotions involved. So, how had that little, blonde pip-squeak, with
commitment
stamped across her forehead, broken through the granite wall he’d built around his heart?

 

 

Chapter
Six

 

 

Lilly glanced at the bed again. When Jack slept he looked kind of sweet. Awake, he revealed his obnoxious personality whenever he opened his mouth. She’d never met anyone like him. He had the instincts of a shark and was just as lethal.

Although, he had his moments. The night before, out on the deck, he’d made her feel special. Pretty. She’d never deluded herself about her looks. Her mother used to call her unique, but she soon figured out that unique was only another word for strange.

She glanced in the small mirror above the dressing table. Why couldn’t she have a flat chest? She stood on her toes and knotted the tee shirt at her waist, exposing the line of her hips. She slapped her palms against them in a vain hope that they would become smaller. It didn’t help, but it never had before.

So what did he see? She moved closer to the mirror to examine her face. Her skin looked clear today, but every month like clockwork, her complexion reverted to adolescence. And her hair, she thought, holding a piece in her fingers. Five minutes after she took the hot rollers out it fell straight again. She had tried a perm once but, after spending a hundred dollars, she ended up with something that smelled like a skunk and resembled steel wool.

“The man must be blind as a bat,” she mumbled absently. “I have 20/20 vision, Lilly.”

Lilly gasped and spun around, stumbling into the table behind her. Jack was lying on his stomach with one hand propping up his head. He watched her struggle with the tangled tee shirt, grinning at her embarrassment.

She finally straightened the shirt and held it over her knees. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough. Is this little ritual something all women indulge in, or is it something you personally start your morning with?”

“I’m sure you’ve woken up with more women than I have.” She tried to be glib, but she came out sounding like a jealous wife.

“I don’t make a habit of waking up with women.”

“Sure. And next you’ll tell me you’re saving yourself for marriage.”

Jack rolled out of the bed and reached for his pants. She tried not to watch, but he stood right in front of her. With her eyes downcast, she had a great view of his powerful legs and narrow hips, and all points in between.

“Going to bed with a woman and waking up with one are two different things. One is sex and the other a relationship. In my line of work, the latter is very dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because when you care, you have a weak spot.”

She couldn’t accuse him of leading her on. She was a job to him and nothing more. He wouldn’t allow himself to care for her. In his own way, he’d warned her to do the same. Unfortunately, his warning came a few days too late.

“I have to go start breakfast.” She tried to pass him. He put his hand on her waist and refused to budge. “Please, Jack. Let me go. I have work to do.”

“Okay. But don’t you think you should get dressed first? I like this outfit on you, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for the rest of the crew.”

Her face burned hotter than the rising sun. If he hadn’t stopped her, she would have walked right out the door in nothing more than his tee shirt. What powers did he possess that rendered her reasonably intelligent mind non- functional? “Don’t you have some work to do?”

“In a second. I want to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.” He slid his hands along her hips and around to the small of her back. “Nothing wrong there. Let’s see….” He continued his playful exploration, kneading the taut muscles below her shoulder blades.

Every nerve ending in her body stood at attention. He didn’t play fair. He went out of the way to make the point that she meant nothing to him. Why did he need to prove that she didn’t share his indifference?

As if trying to gauge how far she would let him carry out his amusing and exciting experiment, he walked his fingers up her stomach, aiming higher with each tender stroke. She caught his hand before he reached his destination. “Why are you doing this, Jack? I don’t mean anything to you.”

“I never said that.”

“When you care, you have a weak spot,” she sarcastically mimicked back.

He placed his thumb under her chin and slowly tilted her head back. “You misunderstood. I was speaking hypothetically.”

“What’s the difference?”

He uttered a heartfelt groan and turned her loose. “In a hypothetical situation, I never need a cold shower before breakfast.”

“Oh,” was all she could get out of her mouth as he exited the small cabin.

 

* * * *

 

Lilly finished the last of the breakfast dishes and put everything back in the cabinets. The boat would be docking in under an hour. With a cup of tea clutched firmly in her hand, she climbed up to the deck and settled herself on a chair at the bow of the ship. Through the parting blanket of mist, she caught her first glimpse of
Africa
. The
Dark Continent
—exotic, mysterious, and completely overwhelming to a farm girl from the American Midwest.

As they moved closer, the eerie silhouette gave way to defined outlines. Stucco buildings with orange shingled roofs dotted the landscape. The ancient mosques, with their onion shaped domes, rose high above the houses in a glorious testament to the Islamic religion so fundamentally a part of their lives.

Loud speakers pierced the quiet with chanting from the Koran. All work forgotten, the men stopped to bow towards
Mecca
to say their prayers: a ritual they performed five times a day, faithfully.

“Lilly.”

The spell was broken, and the reality of her situation returned. “Yes?”

Jack came up next to her and gave her a hand up from the chair. “You have to get changed.”

“I know.”

He handed her an envelope. “Put it in your pocket.”

She glanced at the peculiar writing on the outside and back to him. “What is it?”

“It’s a letter for Mustafa’s wife. He’s going to take you off the ship and put you in a cab. The driver will leave you in front of the building. You go to the apartment number on the outside of the envelope and give it to the woman who answers the door.”

“Number seventeen,” she read off the envelope.

“Yes.”

She shrugged and slipped it in the pocket of her jeans. “When will you get there?”

“I don’t know. I have to help unload the ship and take care of a few details. Mustafa’s wife was educated in
England
, so you won’t have a problem with language. Don’t look so scared.”

She exhaled deeply and attempted a smile that she didn’t quite pull off. “Easy for you to say.”

“Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

“Trust me,” she mimicked and smacked him in the chest. “I’d love to know how many women ended up in trouble after you said that to them.”

He laced his fingers through hers and smiled. “Would you like to end up in trouble with me?”

She refused to feed his ego by acknowledging his offer. “I thought I already had.”

“A little danger stimulates the senses.”

“If you want to draw parallels between this adventure and sex, just let me know when I can roll over and go to sleep. I’m tired.”

He turned her around and pointed her in the direction of the stairs. “Go get changed.”

She strolled away holding up a finger in the air. “One point for the pink team.” She knew exactly where he was staring and added a bit more swing just to taunt him.

He laughed. “It ain’t over yet. And from here on, the ball is in my court.”

“Try not to dribble.”

She disappeared down the stairs holding up two fingers.

 

* * * *

 

Lilly relaxed in the back seat of the taxi and let out a deep sigh of relief. Her black caftan draped her like a tent, and the veil clung to her face. Jack gave her the option of wearing her own clothes, but hinted strongly that she would draw less attention dressed like a local. The cab weaved through the streets, passing areas that had remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Bad shocks and  cobblestone  streets  made  for  one  of  the  bumpiest  rides  she’d  ever experienced.

In twenty minutes, she arrived at her destination. Mustafa had already paid the driver, so she wasn’t expected to do it again. She felt guilty that she couldn’t thank the man, but Jack instructed her to speak to no one until she was inside the apartment.

With five apartments to each floor, she had to walk up four flights of stairs to find number seventeen. She gasped for air, wondering if these people had ever heard of elevators. The veil stuck to her face, and the caftan tangled around her feet, making her feel like the biggest klutz in the world.

Half way up the deserted stairwell, she raised her long dress and extracted the letter from her jeans pocket. After catching her breath, she climbed the rest of the way and stopped in front of the door. She knocked and leaned against the wall.

BOOK: Kat Attalla Special Edition
8.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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