“I’m just tired,” she mumbled against his chest.
He slowly rubbed her back, holding her close. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
She pulled away from him, giving him a watery smile. “You are human, you know, so I do expect you to sleep sometimes.”
He smiled and moved a hand to her face. His thumb brushed her tears. “You’re human too, so quit fighting it.”
Mia brought her hands up and wiped her tears away. “Sometimes I forget.”
Omar pulled her to him again and kissed the top of her head. She let him hold her for a few minutes then she drew away. “I’m going to shower then pack. If the A’zam group was able to find me so quickly, what about Jamil’s?”
Omar’s mouth pulled into a frown. “Is this not a safe house?”
“No,” Mia said, her heart thumping. “I insisted on living like a normal person, but that was before I knew…” Her voice cracked.
“You can stay with me then, until Levy gets something set up.” Apprehension was plain in his voice. “I can help you pack… or shower.”
Mia patted his chest. “There are boxes in the front closet.”
He slid his arms around her waist and leaned in to kiss her.
“No you don’t,” she said. “Go pack.”
He groaned and let her slip away.
Mia locked the bathroom door, telling herself that she was letting herself fall too fast for this guy. She hardly knew him. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d learned almost everything about him when she was assigned to do the handoff. He wasn’t in any relationship with a woman, he had never been married, and he didn’t sleep around. So the way he was acting around her was surprising. Could he really like her that much?
It was clear he liked her, but was this just a game to him? Something told her it wasn’t. He’d risked a lot, even though he hadn’t admitted it, to get her the confidential files. He seemed to truly care about what happened to her mom, and when she told him she wasn’t in a safe house, she’d seen genuine concern in his eyes.
Could she trust him? Could she trust that he wasn’t playing games with her, trying to sleep with her for whatever reason, that he wasn’t the wildcard David Levy had painted him to be?
By the time she’d showered and changed, Omar had packed up the living room and was well into the kitchen. He looked up as she entered. Seeing him in her kitchen, doing something completely pedestrian, even though she knew he had a gun and probably a thousand plans in his head, made him look sweet and vulnerable.
Especially with the way he was looking at her. Maybe she shouldn’t stay at his place tonight after all.
“Feel better?” he asked, and she wanted to kiss him for it.
“Much,” she said. “I packed a few changes of clothing. Maybe Levy can arrange for the rest of my stuff to be moved when he finds me a place.”
Omar raised his brows. “I said you can stay with me.”
She folded her arms and smiled. “I know. I heard you. But—”
He raised a hand. “I got it. Let’s get you safe, and then we can plan out our strategy.”
“Our strategy?”
“You didn’t think I’d let you do this alone, did you?”
Mia flushed. She hadn’t known what to think, but his words sent a jolt of relief through her. “I don’t expect you to. I mean, you have your own assignments. You’ve had a bunch of texts come in today.”
“They can wait. You’re more important.”
Mia didn’t say anything, just held her breath for a couple of seconds. Then she finally let it out. “Look, Omar… I mean… you’re a great guy, but I’m not—”
He was at her side in three steps. “Look, I’m not asking for anything. I like you, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I cared about any woman— or anyone, for that matter. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.” But he was touching her now, his hands holding her arms, and his breath was soft on her face, making heat pulse through her body.
“You’ll be safe with me, I promise,” he said. “You can have my room, and if I sleep, I’ll stay on the couch.” His gaze bored into hers, and Mia’s breath caught. “I just want to help. So you set the rules.” He let go and stepped away.
“Okay,” she said, her breath shaky.
“Are we good then?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Something like relief filled his eyes. “Great. Let’s get out of here and find whoever is running A’zam.”
Chapter Eight
Mia wanted to cover her ears and drown out the sound of Omar’s shouting. For the past twenty minutes, he’d been in the back bedroom of his apartment arguing with David Levy. They went around in circles, coming back to the same point, only to start the argument all over again.
Mia’s head was pounding, so she searched for ibuprofen or aspirin in his cupboards, but came up empty. She walked down the hall, cringing when she heard the expletives Omar was calling their boss. She found the bathroom and opened the mirrored cupboard.
A small bottle of ibuprofen looked about five years old. Didn’t Omar ever have a headache or bruises? She blushed, remembering that he had one he couldn’t show her in public.
“This is more important,” Omar was saying, his voice loud through the bathroom wall. “Find someone else to clean up the Jamil case. I got the artifacts out, and that should make Greece happy.”
A pause then Omar’s voice again. “How are you going to explain your lousy employee retention? You can’t treat people like this… Mia can answer for herself… No, she’s not here.”
Mia came out of the bathroom and stood in the bedroom doorway, crossing her arms. She was nervous about talking to Levy after all of this but knew she couldn’t concentrate on any other assignments until the A’zam organization was exposed. Yet it sounded like Levy wouldn’t give them any resources. They were on their own, which meant they were extremely restricted in what they could do. Pretty much every strategy Omar had thrown out was illegal without clearance from the government.
Mia walked toward Omar, hand outstretched, and Omar reluctantly handed over the phone. She lifted the phone to her ear, but it was dead. “You hung up on him?”
“He’ll get over it.”
“What are we going to do without Levy’s backup?”
Omar took the phone from her hand and slid it in his pocket. His expression was strained, but it softened when he looked at her. “You can be my backup, or if you want, I’ll be yours.” He turned to leave the room.
“Wait,” she said, grasping his arm. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to do this— Levy made his position clear. And he’s right, it’s too risky. I can’t let something happen to another person because of another one of my mistakes. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
Omar didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds while he gazed down at her. “I can’t live with myself if I let you do this alone.”
“Omar—”
“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to me, or to you. I have a favor I can call in.”
Mia let out a breath. That’s what she was afraid of, some topsy-turvy plan barely held together by a thread. Despite her erratic pulse at what she was about to agree to, she said, “What are you planning?”
“Let’s get on the road, and I’ll fill you in.”
She nodded, and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, taking a step back. “I’ll be better.”
Mia let a smile escape. “I don’t mind the kissing.”
His smile matched hers, but before he could say or do anything else, his phone rang. Omar looked at the number then answered. “Matan here.”
He listened for a couple of seconds then hung up, a look of triumph on his face.
“Matan?” she said.
He placed a finger on her lips to shush her. “That name stays between us. Part of the favor.”
For a charged moment, she wanted to kiss him again, but she didn
’t. Instead she stepped back and let him lead the way out of the room. She didn’t know what to expect transportation-wise but was pleased when Omar unlocked the doors to a small truck parked outside, one that he had an actual key for.
“Yours?” she asked, climbing into the passenger seat.
“Government vehicle,” he said with a wink, setting a backpack between them. “But let’s keep that between us.”
He pulled onto the street then made a U-turn.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” Mia asked, her stomach forming into knots of anticipation.
“First stop is Bethlehem to meet our contact. Then we’ll have to get creative with the transportation situation.”
“Is there a situation?” she asked.
“Most definitely.”
Mia shook her head. “I don’t know if I should laugh or jump out of the truck.”
Omar moved his hand on top of hers, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t jump.”
She leaned back and smiled at him. As they drove, he told her about Isham, the man they were going to meet. “He works grounds at the Church of the Nativity. He’s my eyes and ears, and a few weeks ago when I was researching you, I asked if he knew anything.”
Mia was paying attention now. “How would he know anything about me?”
“He didn’t, but he was able to fill me in on A’zam, which didn’t connect to you until I got those files last night.”
“Okay, so we find A’zam. Then what?” Mia asked. “Without Levy, what are we going to do, haul the guy to a police station?”
“We won’t have to. That’s where Isham comes in.” Omar paused as he slowed the truck, entering a long line of cars waiting to be admitted across the Bethlehem border. Thirty-foot high barricades rose above them, dividing the town. This famous tourist attraction was marred by high security, keeping in the resident Arabs, allowing only ones with a work visa to go back and forth.
Omar flashed his ID when they reached security. Once inside the town, he drove along a series of narrow streets. He nudged the backpack toward her. “There’s a gun in there for you.”
She took out the 9 mm and tucked it into the inner pocket of her jacket. Minutes later, Omar parked beneath a drooping tree. Some of its leaves were falling off in the breeze and littering the ground. He and Mia climbed out of the truck, and he led her between two apartment buildings then down a flight of concrete stairs. He knocked on a heavy metal door, and when it screeched open, Mia was already second guessing herself.
This would be so much easier with authorities backing them up.
The man who greeted them was tiny, with a few missing teeth, but that didn’t stop his enthusiastic smile as he pumped Omar’s hand in greeting.
“Isham, this is my partner,” Omar said.
Isham’s gaze showed disapproval, but he motioned for them to come inside.
They entered the dim interior, which turned out to be a small living room complete with a battered couch and fuzzy television. Mia perched on the couch as Omar spoke rapid Arabic with Isham, gesturing wildly. Mia followed most of it, catching on that Isham wasn’t happy with Mia coming along.
When Omar turned to her, she braced herself. “We’re going out to the fields to a Bedu camp. You’ll have to wear a burka.”
Mia stood. “I don’t want to.”
“Just to protect your identity. It’ll be rather convenient, actually,” Omar said.
Next to him, Isham nodded briskly then left the room.
“We’re looking for a Bedouin?” Mia asked Omar.
“And apparently we’re in luck. The Bethlehem police want him for something else.”
“Are they our backup?”
Omar smiled. Isham rushed back into the room, carrying a burka and a U.N. ID. Mia grimaced as she pulled on the heavy fabric.
Isham smiled at her with approval then led them through the apartment to another door, which opened to a spiral stairwell. He pointed upward and said something about a Jeep.
Omar nodded and thanked him. Then Omar was on his way up the stairs, Mia following. When she spotted the rusted-out Jeep in the dirt courtyard, she had her doubts. But if anyone could start it, Omar probably could.
Even with the keys, Omar had to try several times to get the vehicle running. He steered through the narrow gate then back through the main Bethlehem entrance. This time, Mia produced her fake ID, and they were waved through. The sun was just setting as they pulled off the main road onto a dirt lane that wound through the hills. Omar kept only his parking lights on, relying on the rising moon for most of the light.
They drove for about an hour before Omar finally stopped and killed the engine. “We’re being followed,” he said in a quiet voice.
“By who?”
“I’m hoping it’s Isham’s people.”
A chill went through Mia at other possibilities.
“Come on, we’re getting out. It’s less than a kilometer anyway,” Omar said.
Mia struggled with the burka a bit before climbing out. The extra material provided warmth on the chilly night, so she didn’t mind it so much right now. Omar grasped her hand and led her up an incline, where they crouched behind some brush and waited. Omar kept hold of her hand, and for that Mia was grateful. It kept her nerves more steady.
Twenty minutes passed, and still no sign of anyone. “They must know we stopped,” Omar whispered. “Let’s start walking.”
Mia rose to her feet, stretching her cramped legs, then they walked over a couple of hills until they could see the Bedu camp. A fire blazed as a woman cooked over it, and a few little kids ran around. Men sat in the background, crouching on rugs and talking.
Mia’s grip tightened in Omar’s hand, and he squeezed back. “We’ll move around back then surprise them from the side.”
He let go, and then they made a wide circle about the camp. Mia stayed about six meters from Omar, walking slowly and listening for every little sound. When they reached the back of the main tent, they both paused. Omar motioned with his finger for her to follow, but before Mia could take a step, someone grabbed her from behind.
Mia tried to twist free of her captor, but he had twice her strength. He shoved her to the ground face first and wrenched her arms behind her. She cried out in pain.
Omar spun, gun in hand, but a second person dove against his legs, buckling them and sending Omar forward into the sand.
“Who are you?” the second man asked, the one who’d pinned Omar.
Omar twisted furiously and managed to deliver a punch at the guy holding him down. They wrestled for a few seconds, ending with Omar getting control of his gun again.
“Both of you, against the tent!” Omar shouted.
“We’ll shoot the woman first,” the man holding Mia said.
“You’re surrounded… this whole desert is crawling with police,” Omar said. “Give up now, and you can enter a plea deal. Maybe get out of prison before you lose all of your teeth.”
The man holding Mia tightened his grip; she grunted.
“Let go of her now and stand against the tent,” Omar commanded.
Mia tried to catch her breath. The burka was suffocating, along with the pressure of the man pinning her down. Her ears started humming, and she wondered if she was about to pass out. The buzzing grew louder, and then Mia recognized the sound— trucks were approaching.
The distraction was exactly what Mia needed. She got one arm free and threw her elbow back, making contact with her captor’s nose. As he cried out in pain, Mia twisted to her side and pulled out her gun.
“Get off me!” she said.
The man held his nose and shifted his weight.
“You can move the easy way or the hard way,” she said. “At least you have a choice. My mother never did.”
The man’s eyes widened, and Mia wondered how many deaths this man was responsible for. He moved off of her and stood next to the other man.
Mia sat up. Omar crouched beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you
all right?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Move behind me then.”
She scrambled to her feet and stood next to him, pointing her gun at the men. They were tall for Bedu men, with thick beards and flashing dark eyes. One was nearly two meters, the other about Omar’s size.
A child started crying, and a woman called out, telling her children to get inside the tent. The women must have seen the approaching vehicles.
“Which one of you operates A’zam?” Omar asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the taller man said, but his gaze slid to his companion’s.
“All right, then I’ll shoot you first, because I came here for information.” Omar’s finger moved to the trigger.
“Wait,” the shorter man said, looking from Omar to Mia. “We may know a little. Tell us why you’re here, and maybe we can help you.”
“They’re stalling,” Mia said.
“You’re right,” Omar answered. “Who should I shoot first?”
Mia’s gaze went to the shorter man, the one who’d pinned her. “Him.”
“No!” the man shouted as everything flashed around them.
Mia dove for the ground, and someone landed on top of her. A grenade had gone off, but she wasn’t sure where. Hot pain shot through her ears, and she gasped for breath. “Omar!”
“I’m here,” he said, his voice just above her.
He rolled off and tugged up her face covering.
“You’re alive,” she said, her own eyes burning, her body trembling.
Omar stood and helped her up. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.” She grasped his arm to steady herself. “Get this damn thing off of me.”
Omar helped her out of the burka then grabbed her around the waist with one hand, keeping his gun in the other. The tent had caved in, and the shorter man they’d been interrogating wasn’t moving. The taller man was crawling away from them, crying out for his family.
Mia almost felt sorry for him.
The place swarmed with officials shouting to each other and running in all directions. A couple of men ran toward the Bedu man, dragged him to his feet, and handcuffed him.
Autumn Anthology Page 14
