Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Check out book 1
Book 1 Sneak Peek: Chapter 1
Book 1 Sneak Peek: Chapter 2
Copyright © 2016 by Kimberly Loth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced in any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues, in the is book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is completely coincidental.
Cover design by Rebecca Frank
Ebook design and formatting by Write Dream Repeat Book Design LLC
Mom
You’re a survivor
The dry heat sucked all the moisture out of Jessica’s skin. She wasn’t sure which was worse, Russia’s bitter cold winter or this. She squared her shoulders. She wanted this. There wasn’t going to be any wallowing in self-pity. A man waited for her just outside the gate. He wore a nice suit and held a sign with her name on it. She waved him down, and he took her carry-on bag.
“Welcome to Egypt!” He beamed at her. She gave him a weak smile, and he continued. “Did you have a nice flight, Mrs. Erikson?” he asked in a thick Egyptian accent.
“I did. Thank you.”
She followed him into a chaotic mess of people. The line at passport control was as long as any Jessica had ever seen. When they finally reached the front, he took her passport from her. The man spoke in rapid Arabic to the agent on the other side of the glass, and within seconds they were on their way to the baggage carousel.
He was efficient, moving her through the crowd quickly. She wanted to stop and look out one of the windows. Everything she’d seen outside of her airplane window had been brown sand. One of Jessica’s biggest fears moving from Moscow to Cairo was the lack of color. Moscow had been so full of color. Even in the winter, the buildings were red and gold. Here, there was only desert. She hated brown. And sand.
“Do you have many bags?” he asked. He was two steps ahead of her and already watching bags roll down the carousel. Jessica pushed her way through throngs of passengers to join him.
“Three. They are fairly large.” She would be getting a shipment in a few weeks, but she knew from experience that living in a foreign country would be easier if she started out with as many comforts from home as possible.
People were everywhere. They shoved in all around her. Hands grabbed at bags. Not all were careful where they were grabbing either. Claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm her and send her into a panic attack. She never felt that way in Russia. Moscow hadn’t been quite this intense. The wide-open spaces of the countryside allowed her to feel at home even though she was a long way from South Dakota.
They weaved through the masses of humanity to the sliding doors leading out of the airport. The heat smacked her like an exhaust pipe blowing in her face. It wasn’t humid like summer in South Dakota, but it certainly was the hottest air she’d ever breathed. Her thick blonde hair clung to her neck. If only she had a hair tie. She imagined from now on she’d be wearing lots of ponytails.
Three women waved excitedly at her from the pickup lane. They stood next to a white SUV that was nicer than most of the vehicles that whizzed past. But it wasn’t the vehicle that caught her attention.
All three wore varying shades of the brightest flowered sundresses that Jessica had ever seen. It was the same simple dress, but one was blue, one was pink, and the final one was yellow. They were their very own bouquet. Jessica glanced nervously at her guide.
“There’s your ride,” he said with a hint of a smile. “The Embassy Welcoming Committee. You’ll be in good hands with them.”
“You’re leaving me?” Panic rose up the back of her throat. He was quick, long-legged, and for heaven’s sake, she didn’t even know his name, but she didn’t want him to abandon her. They had a community liaison office (or CLO as everyone called it) in Moscow, but that was pretty low-key. Diplomatic housewives who would help new families settle in and organize local sightseeing trips. But this was completely over the top.
“I work here at the airport, getting everyone through customs.” He dipped his head as the flowered ladies ran up. “They are a lot to take in, but they mean well.”
He melted back inside as Pink Flower grabbed her into a hug.
“Welcome to Egypt!” She squeezed Jessica tight. “I’m Melinda. And this is Marcy and Molly.”
She gestured to Blue and Yellow respectively. Melinda, Marcy, and Molly. Goodness. This was like something out of a Disney movie. All they needed were wands and wings, and they could be fairy godmothers.
“My husband, Jeff, can help you with your bags,” Melinda drawled out in a thick Texas accent. Jessica hadn’t even noticed the poor man following the women. He smiled and took Jessica’s luggage cart from her.
“We’ll get you settled into your apartment, and the gals here will show you around Maadi,” he said. He was a small khaki blob in comparison to his brightly-colored wife. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.
“It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for the welcome,” Jessica said.
Melinda linked her arm through Jessica’s and pulled her toward the SUV. “Your apartment is right around the corner from ours.”
“And only one floor down from both of us,” Marcy chimed in.
“It’s unusual for a transfer to happen in April. Did your paperwork get held up or something?” Molly had the cutest brown bob of curls that popped against her yellow dress.
“Molly.” Marcy elbowed her friend in the stomach. “We agreed we wouldn’t ask. Yet, anyway.” But she looked at Jessica with curiosity in her eyes.
“Something like that.” Jessica nodded. Her flight had been long, and she was tired. Not from flying, it wasn’t really that far, but for the first time in months, she felt like she could relax. Here in Cairo, she didn’t have to look over her shoulder. She’d answer all their questions, but in due time.
The sheer number of people and volume of the chatter was like nothing Jessica’d experienced before. Most moved out of the way of the brightly-colored Americans though. As a group, they were quite intimidating. Several men accosted Jeff, trying to take the cart or asking “taxi?” a thousand times. Jeff was doing a nice job with the luggage trolley and successfully dodged the masses.
Jessica sat in the backseat, sandwiched between Molly and Marcy. Mel
inda twisted around from the front.
“So you came from Moscow. That must be an interesting place. Our last assignment was in Venezuela.” Melinda smiled brightly.
“And the weather is so different. Did you decide you hated the cold?” Molly asked.
“Molly!” squeaked Marcy. “You’ll have to excuse her. Molly is the newbie of the group. This is her hubby’s first assignment. She’s still learning the ropes of how these transfers work.”
Jessica hung her head. While on the plane, she tried to come up with a good story. Fantastic opportunity. Lifelong dream to see Egypt. Or some such nonsense. Right now though, she couldn’t remember a single line of it. She was going to have to do better before she started work.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she said instead. “Do you know how long it takes for our cars to arrive?”
Melinda pursed her lips. “Around two months or so. But there is a lot of public transportation. Be sure you attend the meeting on what you can and can’t take. The metro is off-limits. Also, never get into a black cab.”
Jeff hopped in behind the wheel as Melinda finished.
“Most cabs are white. Make sure they have an orange license plate, or you’ll be getting in a car with someone who isn’t a taxi driver. That’s the only distinction between normal cars and taxis,” he said. “You’re welcome to catch a ride with me to the embassy until your car does come though.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind. What’s wrong with the black cabs?”
“Some people will tell you nothing, but they aren’t metered, and they are old, old cars. Most expats will risk them anyway, but the embassy tells us we can’t.”
Marcy leaned forward. “One of my friends got in a black cab, and there was cardboard on the floor. She thought it was just to protect the carpet, but her foot went right through and landed on the street.”
Jessica sighed. There were all these unspoken rules she’d have to learn all over again. She’d just gotten the hang of it in Moscow. Plus, there she knew the language. Here, she didn’t have a clue what was being said.
“You must be exhausted.” Molly’s mop of curls bounced as she patted Jessica’s hand. “Traveling always does a number on me.”
“Yeah, sorry. In spite of the fact that I should be good at this, I’m not,” said Jessica.
“Don’t be sorry,” Marcy said and patted Jessica’s other hand. “At least you’ve got a few days until you have to be to work.”
That was true. It was Wednesday, and she didn’t have to report to work until Monday.
“A few days rest and you’ll be right as rain,” Melinda added from the front seat.
The cars around them honked and swerved. Traffic laws didn’t seem to apply. It was like a school of fish all moving around each other. Terrifying. She laughed out loud when a small sedan passed them, and she saw no less than ten people crammed into the small space, with another three sitting on the trunk.
Melinda pointed. “You’ll see stuff like that all the time here. I hope you have a good camera.”
Jeff had achieved expert level at navigating the crazy streets. He turned just in time to avoid a collision with a small truck and a tiny car. Lots of honking and shouting, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest. Another turn, another near miss, with a group of pedestrians this time. Still Jeff was as cool as could be.
“How long have you guys been here?” Jessica asked on a particularly stomach-churning curve.
“Two years.” Melinda leaned into the curve and shouted over her shoulder as Jeff laid on the horn. “We were supposed to be moving on next year, but we asked for an extension because our oldest wants to graduate here.”
“How old are your kids?”
“Ten, fifteen, and seventeen. All girls.”
Poor Jeff. He had no male backup in his house. No wonder he looked exhausted.
“We’ve been here a year and have two boys,” said Marcy. “They’re eight and four.”
“And like they said, we’re the new kids. Only been here six months. Some things we’ll learn together.” Molly looked as green as Jessica felt as they rounded yet another curve on two wheels and screeched to a halt in front of a tired-looking building. Then again, all the buildings around her either looked tired or under construction.
Jessica and the Ms took the elevator. It was small, and there was no way Jeff and the bags would fit with them. He said he’d catch the next one up. Melinda unlocked the door and handed the key to Jessica with a smile.
“You do the honors.” She stepped back so that Jessica could open the door.
Dozens of Gerbera daisies littered every available surface.
Jessica sucked in a breath as all three of the Ms breathed out an excited sigh. Vases full of the daisies vibrantly colored and varied as the rainbow had been expertly arranged. Jessica wanted to back up and shut the door. To her, it was like coming home to a crime scene. Melinda, Marcy, and Molly stood right behind her, and she had no choice but to go inside.
“Someone is very glad that you’re here.” Melinda’s eyes sparkled with delight as she stooped to sniff a pretty pink daisy. Most people would love to receive a welcome like this. But to Jessica, it meant that her problem had followed her straight to Cairo. She knew Rick would find her. They both worked for the State Department. She had hoped it would take a little longer than her flight for him to track down her apartment.
“They are absolutely gorgeous,” said Marcy.
“Gerberas are my favorite.” Molly gently petted yellow petals that matched her dress.
How did Rick get all of this delivered? Jessica shook her head and dropped her bag. State Department. He could get just about anything. If she tried to get another apartment, he would just figure that out and do this again. This, all the flowers, was to remind Jess that he could find her.
She turned her back and wound her way through the rest of her apartment. Her bedroom was flower free, and her kitchen was American, thank goodness. In Russia, it hadn’t been, and cooking was a challenge.
“CLO made sure your fridge was stocked.” Melinda followed her. “They left some cereal and bread in the pantry. We’ll need to take you shopping tonight or tomorrow. We can drive you to the commissary.”
“That’ll be fun.” Marcy clapped.
“I need to pick up a couple things.” Molly nodded.
“We have a commissary?” Jessica asked, surprised. Most posts didn’t have one.
“Yes, it’s a huge perk. A lot of people still order some things from Amazon or Walmart. If you plan it right, you never have to shop at the local markets, but the produce is fresh here. If you buy it at the commissary, it’s shipped in from Europe.”
Jessica leaned against the counter. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion and disappointment. It had been silly of her to think a move like this would completely free her of Rick.
Melinda gave her an understanding smile. She was obviously the leader of this band of merry ladies. “We’re going to leave you alone. Get some rest and enjoy your beautiful flowers. Would you like to go shopping tonight or tomorrow?”
Jessica rubbed her eyes. “Tomorrow please. Is my internet hooked up?”
Molly nodded. “Yep. The password and things are on your desk.”
“Shall we pick you up at noon?” asked Melinda.
“That would be wonderful. Thanks for being understanding.”
“We’ve all been there, dear. See you tomorrow.”
As soon as they were gone, the flowers went in the trash. It took three bags to get them all. The vases she washed out and lined up on the kitchen counter.
She didn’t call her sister. Rick’s stunt had exhausted her. There had been a card in one of the bouquets. It went into the trash unread. Probably more drivel about how he missed her, and she needed to come home, back to Russia. He really didn’t understand what a divorce meant.
After checking the locks for the fourth time and deciding against pushing her couch in front of the door, she found her new bed, wh
ich had been beautifully made up, probably by the three Ms, and crashed.
Conner preferred his own pool, but the heater had busted, and he’d nearly frozen the last time he tried to do laps. There were several private clubs in Maadi, but this one was the only place where he wouldn’t run into Nour. Unfortunately, it was the most family friendly of the clubs, and so he had to put up with kids screaming and splashing in the pool. There was a woman already swimming in the one lane they roped off for laps. He frowned, grabbed a bottle of water, and settled in to wait as far from the splashing kids as he could.
The lifeguard called adult time, and she was still swimming. He began his laps during those fifteen minutes, with the hopes that she’d be done soon.
She hadn’t finished when the kids descended again. Was she training for a freaking triathlon? Conner tried to maintain his laps, but of course that was impossible. A few people bumped into him, most without an attempt at an apology. He didn’t think it’d be that busy on a Thursday night.
He waited at the edge of the pool. The lane hog finally stood up, her blonde hair hung wet down her back. She smiled at him as she climbed out, and his heart skipped a beat.
Nour.
Here.
The one woman he was hoping to avoid.
He touched her on the shoulder. “Nour.”
Conner hadn’t realized he spoke her name aloud until she blinked those amazing blue eyes at him.
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
His ability to breathe abandoned him. Her voice sounded so light and airy. Definitely not Nour. Her voice was husky, just made for a late night rendezvous. All he could do was shake his head at the woman. She smiled again and walked past him.
He turned to watch her. The resemblance was striking. He wondered if she could be related to Nour somehow. They had to be. A cousin, maybe. Nour was Egyptian, but her mother was American. Thus the blonde hair and blue eyes. He’d get Tommy to see if the family was having a reunion or out of town guests. As he watched, the woman grabbed a towel and disappeared into the crowd.
He began his laps again, trying to clear his head. That woman left him feeling rattled and agitated. She hadn’t been Nour, but he felt as shaken as if it had been her. He propelled himself through the water, pushing much harder than he should have. If it had been Nour, he’d have looked like a love-sick fool unable to think or speak.
Pyramids and Promises (Omega Mu Alpha Brothers Book 2) Page 1
