His sharp glare made her smirk. She was gearing up to fight with him some more when he braked suddenly and mouthed a curse. He had almost hit a car that pulled out in front of him.
After that, Midnight decided she would save her ire for Junayd. Over the course of the trip, Issa glanced at her warily a few times, but they rode in silence.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of the Yangs' store. He touched her arm as she was getting out of the SUV, and she paused with a raised eyebrow.
“You think because you broke Oliver Quest’s arm, you are the biggest badass here?” he asked, his calculating eyes watching her reaction closely.
She tilted her head. “It isn't Quest's arm that you should be asking me about,” she said.
He frowned. “What should I be asking you?”
“How many strikes of the blade it took me to kill Zulfirquar Kaffir’s guards,” she said.
She didn’t wait for his reaction. She slammed the door of the SUV, crossed the sidewalk, and entered into the Yangs' small family store.
This place wasn’t the closest one to her and Junebug’s home, and that was part of why she liked it. The Yangs were familiar, carried the items she and Junebug liked, and were far enough from home she didn’t have to worry about being tailed.
“Hey, Mrs. Yang. Do you have the chocolate stuffed marshmallows?” she asked.
“Good evening, Midnight. Yes, I have some. Third shelf on the left, back row,” Mrs. Yang said.
“Thanks.”
Midnight retrieved three bags of the marshmallows and paid for them. A glance through the window showed that Issa was on the phone, probably checking out her story. By the time she was back in the passenger seat, she could feel the burn of his steely stare. She smiled behind her mask.
“So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to take me to see him or are you going to tell him it is time to go home?” she asked, studying his composed expression.
“I’m to take you to him,” he said between clenched teeth.
She breathed slowly in anticipation and sent a quick text to her sister, letting her know that she had the marshmallows, but would be running late getting home. It looked like she was going to have to convince Junayd once and for all that their 'chemistry' was a figment of his imagination.
A shiver ran through her and she clenched her fists. It had to be imaginary. Yes, she had been attracted to him, but on both occasions, there had been a reason for her heightened emotions. The first time she had the adrenaline going from beating up a potential VP candidate outside a mansion filled with tons of security and rich people, not to mention Jawahir's secret service! The second time, she had been shot.
This time will be different. I’ve had time to recover from any painkillers and I’m not running on adrenaline. I’ll be cool, calm, and collected. I’ll tell him I’m not interested and leave.
She was pleased that she had a plan and the situation was under control. She could do this. Get in, do what she had to do, and get out.
Piece of cake,she assured herself.
By the time they reached the parking garage under Junayd’s apartment building, her heart was pounding. Before she could open the car door, another one of Junayd’s bodyguards stepped up and opened it. She slid out, clutching her tote firmly in one hand.
Issa came around the back of the SUV. He spoke in Arabic to the other man who glanced at her with a frown.
“No, you are not going to search me. If you try, I’ll slit both of your throats,” she said in English.
Issa raised an eyebrow.
“You are fluent in Arabic?” the second man asked.
Midnight didn’t reply. She wasn’t fluent, but she knew enough to speak it casually and understand when she might be in danger. Thanks to Harlem, she and Junebug had grown up multilingual—not that Harlem knew much about Junebug.
Even their mother had enough awareness to keep Junebug’s special talent secret from Harlem. Fortunately, two minutes in the same room with Junebug had driven Harlem crazy and the man had steered clear of her little sister.
After another call to Junayd to tattle about her stubbornness and hear again that Junayd did not care, the guards gestured to the elevator. She stepped in and turned to face the doors.
The two guards followed, one of them pressed the button for the penthouse, and the doors of the metal coffin closed with soft finality.
The elevator rose smoothly and slowly. Pulling the tote over her head, she touched the two knives Junebug had sewn into her black cargo pants and rolled her shoulders to ease her tension.