Chapter Twenty-eight
Sloan smelled Alia’s perfume wafting through the room, the subdued sexy smell snagging his attention in the same way it had the other times he’d stood close to her, wanting to touch.
While she settled her kid in the strange bedroom, he sat on the brown leather couch in the living room, waiting with two mugs of coffee in front of him. Paying little attention to the big-screen monster most men only dreamed of owning, he turned the sound low.
Since his two token daddies had hauled it in last Christmas as their joint gift, he’d had no choice but to set it up. Working the hours he did, he seldom watched the bastard, never made time until baseball season started. Then drawn into his favorite sport, he’d have continuous company. Between two old brats fighting over the remote, and Don hogging the popcorn, things could get out of hand…. in a fun way.
Last year, Sam had started joining them. Sloan’s mind wandered back to earlier, when his neighbor had come to thank him after the barbecue.
He liked Sam, who was a gentle soul with a strong core. A man who loved his kids and was constantly thankful they’d chosen to become US citizens. Both the Amans spoke reverently about their new opportunities, which had been stifled in Pakistan after Sam’s press editorial exposing his government’s treachery.
Dawn, one of Karachi’s leading newspapers where Sam had worked as its well-respected reporter, had released his editorials, but stepped back when his words had inflamed those in power.
He’d been active in providing important evidence showing that – after the arrest of terrorists – some in the security establishment acted behind the scenes to set the suspects free. After his exposé, Inter-services Intelligence was no longer to consider ISIS terrorists groups off-limits for civilian action. This underhand support, which Pakistan had been giving to these extremists, and now revealed by Sam, had put his life in danger.
It wasn’t unheard of for hand grenades to be tossed through windows, or for people to be shot because of their actions in exposing links to radicals. He’d taken the advice of his co-workers who knew of others who’d previously emigrated and pulled every string imaginable to get visas for himself and his family and make the move before it was too late.
Now, living in freedom, he worked happily for the HonoluluStar-Adviser, Hawaii’s chief source for breaking news. He often reflected about how a man could write the truth here and not be persecuted.
Although, earlier, he’d seemed worried. Fidgety. Not himself. Sloan wondered if it had anything to do with the imminent arrival of his so-called relatives.
Using Alia as an example, he’d broached the subject of unexpected visitors, hoping Sam would open up and tell him about these people. Though Sam had looked anxious and even at one point on the verge of sharing, the moment had been interrupted and had passed.
Alia returned and began scurrying around the room, picking up the messy shit he’d been trying to ignore. “What are you doing?”
“Tidying up.”
“Well, don’t. I can do it later.” Others messing with his shit made him uncomfortable. She’d already shoved dishes into cupboards that were clearly for other things. And… she’d used his towel to wipe a counter when everyone knew there was a dishcloth to do that. And then, she’d used the same towel to clean the floor when she’d dropped a dish full of food.
Feeling his obsessive impulses kicking in – Les called him an OCD prick, which he wasn’t, just liked things done properly and everything in its right place – he patted the seat next to him. “Your coffee’s getting cold. Come and sit.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
Christ! “Then get a beer or whatever the hell you want. We need to talk and make some plans.” He tried to stifle his sigh when she came back with one of his fancy glasses.Of course the princess would drink wine!
“Did Don show you the arrangements we set up for the stakeout?”Why would any woman wear a formal dress to a barbecue?
“Yes. We snuck away at one point and he waved me into the sunroom. It’s perfect. The camera is adequate and so are the binoculars. My only suggestion is for us to cut back the plant in front of the window that obscures the view to the left.”
“Roy meant to get to that this morning, but he wanted to clean up the back yard for the barbecue first. He’ll be here tomorrow and finish the rest.”She’s redone her make-up. Her lips were brilliant red again.
He liked natural…
“Good. We can’t afford to disrupt the operation due to something preventable.”
“Speaking of preventable, if Central knows who these people are, why don’t they just detain them at the airport and refuse them entry into the country?”Why didn’t she let her hair down? The mound of curls on top of her head did nothing to soften her face. She reminded him of a marble statue…
“Because, we don’t know exactly which of her relatives are being impersonated. We’ve been able to ascertain that there’ll likely be two people and their destination is staying with the Amans, but we don’t have any official grounds to refuse them entry.”
“Can’t the Custom’s people question all travellers from Pakistan to single them out?”
“Sure, but these individuals have ties to some very important people in Pakistan and our government can’t appear to be unfriendly for no justifiable reason.”
“So… associating with known terrorists or signs of dangerous activities is what we’re on the look-out for.”Why are you sitting so far away?
“And, if necessary, stopped. That’s our core mandate.” She bit her lip, looking over his shoulder rather than meeting his stare. Her hands continuously rubbed the top of her legs as if smoothing her skirt would add length.
Mesmerized by her edginess, he kept the conversation going. “Got it! Protect the island at all costs and try to get along while doing so.”Did you know when you sit like that; I can see up your skirt… Of course you do. It’s why you keep tugging at it.