Pussycat in Peril (Pussycat Death Squad Book 3) Read online

  Sarai led them to the third floor of their modest home, which hosted sleeping quarters. There was, of course, only one bed in the room, but then that would be appropriate for a married couple. Like all the rooms in the house, the walls were whitewashed white, with a dark wood ceiling and ceiling fan. There was a white iron bed and the only other furniture was a straight back chair and an oak chest of drawers. Like the rest of the house, the floor was covered in local tiles, but in this room they were soft blue and white.

  She and Kaeden had shared an apartment back in the States for more than two years now, but it was a two-bedroom apartment and they’d never shared a bed. She glanced at him over Sarai’s head, but he seemed perfectly comfortable with the sleeping arrangements. Astaria was horrified, especially after the kiss they’d shared. Then again, maybe he’d only kissed her because he was relieved she was safe, and it meant nothing more than that. Try as she might she couldn’t quite convince herself that the kiss meant nothing and that was more than a bit troubling. At this moment though she was so exhausted she couldn’t think of any way to get out of the current arrangement. Sarai bustled over to a chest of drawers on the wall opposite the bed. “Kadiyya had so many clothes and she bought new things for Paris. This gown isn’t that old and these undergarments are new.”

  Astaria sighed in relief. After four days in the same clothes, she felt positively gross, with body odor compounded by the smoke from the fire.

  “Thank you Amati,” she said giving Sarai another brief hug. Sarai’s diminutive stature was much like Astaria’s own mother’s, with a similar rounded figure, a fact that gave Astaria tremendous comfort.

  “Take anything you like. You and Kadiyya are of a size, she’s tall and skinny like her father, so everything should fit.”

  “Ya Allah,” Astaria said as soon as Sarai left them. I didn’t think we’d be sharing a bed. Maybe we could…”

  Kaeden had dropped his bag on the chair that sat next to the bed, now he gave her an impatient glance. “Could what? Tell your aunt and uncle we’re not really married? You know full well if we’re not married we have no business being alone together when you’re not covered. That makes a difficult situation almost impossible. Besides, you heard what she said. They don’t have another bedroom anyway. They’d have to give one of us their bed and sleep on the floor. It’s probably better if we’re together as much as possible, just in case they come for us we stand a better chance fighting if we’re together.”

  She sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. And to be honest…” she broke off lowering her head, totally embarrassed by what she’d almost revealed.

  He walked slowly over to her and raised her face with his index finger. “To be honest what?” he said staring down at her. His eyes were almost totally golden now as the bright flecks obscured the green and brown ones.

  “To be honest, I’m afraid to be away from you. I know it sounds crazy. I’ve been trained in combat since I was a child,” she said, slipping into his open arms.

  “Why would it sound crazy? I’m your husband. Having your back is my job.”

  “But not really though. You only married me as a favor,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, but I did marry you. I guess I’m old school, but I take that seriously. And yeah, I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and me too for that matter, but it still makes me feel good that you trust me to have your six.”

  She sighed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his chest. He always smelled so delicious, so clean and fresh. Even after the hectic day they’d had when stress left her smelling like the backside of a goat, his scent reminded her of the fresh early morning breeze off the ocean. She took another breath of Kaeden-scented air. “The whole time I was in prison I thought I would die like my father. When I realized someone was coming to help I assumed Lelia had sent someone, I don’t know why, but I hoped it would be you.”

  He brought both arms up to pull her closer into his embrace. The close proximity wasn’t unusual for them, more than once they’d relaxed on the sofa watching television together, but this was different, and the difference sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

  She could feel the rumble of a soft chuckle in his chest. “High praise indeed considering who you work with. But if you hoped I would come, why didn’t you tell me?”

  She winced at the hurt in his tone, and she raised her head from his chest to meet his gaze, now more green than gold, compelled to do what she could to assuage it. “I thought you would be upset. That you might even come up with a way to keep me from coming. Lelia wouldn’t do that. She would argue with me. Call me a reckless idiot and a stubborn nanny goat, but there’s a strong possibility that you would have locked me in the basement.”

  He opened his mouth then closed it again, and she knew he wanted to deny her assessment, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

  “Yeah, well you have to admit it was a crazy thing to do,” he finally said with a sheepish smile.

  “Crazy yes, but what choice did I have? Could I just leave them here? Mama was sick. I was hoping I could get them back to the States so they could at least have some peace.”

  He sighed then stepped back to stretch. He was obviously as exhausted as she was and wanted to end this discussion. “Do you want the bathroom first?”

  She nodded and without another word, left the bedroom to go to the small washroom down the hall. Like the bedroom, the bath was fairly plain with the same white walls and blue tiles, but the tiles here were more vivid. Most of all she squealed with delight when she saw the shower. She quickly stripped down and turned on the tap. More than anything she wanted to indulge herself with a long hot shower like she’d come to love in their apartment back in the States, but water was at a premium in this desert country and she made do with a brief, but thorough shower.

  After washing up she changed into the gown. It was so full it literally covered her from neck to ankle with yards of soft cotton. With a sigh she padded barefoot back down the hall to their assigned bedroom. Kaeden left as she came in, presumably to use the facilities as well, and she slipped into the bed. The room was small, so the bed was placed against the wall and she scooted over to give Kaeden as much space as possible. The kiss they’d shared earlier left her more than a bit anxious. Would he want to take up where they’d left off? Did she want to take up where they’d left off? Okay, she wasn’t going to think about that. How was she supposed to stop thinking about that? Her entire body was still all but vibrating in response. Exhaustion and anxiety battled one another until finally exhaustion won and she drifted off almost immediately.

  Kaeden lay down on the impossibly small bed. It was probably a standard full-size mattress but when sharing it with Astaria it suddenly became downright Lilliputian. Through the years they’d been married though they’d shared an apartment and they even kept their clothes and toiletries in a shared bedroom and bathroom, they’d never actually shared a bed. He kept his room as bare as possible just in case an immigration agent cared to take it to that extreme, fortunately, none had. As long as both names were on the lease and they shared a bank account, the government didn’t seem to require any greater validation of their marital status.

  He had thought she’d have trouble falling asleep, but apparently that wasn’t so, as she was lying on the far side of the bed, softly snoring into the pillow. He’d hoped they’d have a chance to talk, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. Losing both her parents and then being imprisoned herself had been far more traumatic than she was letting on. As he settled beneath the light covering, her scent arose to tantalize his senses. There was an indescribable sweetness to her scent, which permeated every centimeter of their apartment to the point that he would find himself smelling it throughout the day. He even joked that she must mark their home like a cat, but smelling her was always like coming home.

  He looked down at her as she slept. She lay on her side facing him and one of her braids, as thi
ck as his thumb, spread out its inky black coils across the stark white pillowcase. He picked it up, raising it to his nose to inhale the subtle aroma of the shea butter moisturizer she smeared all over her body, including her hair. She kept her soft curls in braids almost all the time, and they were usually covered by her hijab. He’d seen it down only once, when he walked in while she was braiding it. It had spread with wild abandon around her head, making a halo at least a foot wide. Capturing it into the braids she usually wore was an engineering marvel. For a brief moment he relived the terror of discovering that she was missing and the relief of finding her. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but the relief of finding her had gone to his head. Then when she returned the kiss…it was all he could do not to press her against the wall and have her right there.

  He’d been waiting for two years, until she was a citizen and could come to him of her own free will, but it had been so hard. Fortunately, with their respective jobs, they weren’t home often at the same time, but now there was no way to keep it from her. He loved Astaria Ibrahim. Had almost from the first day he met her. Now he had to do something about it. They weren’t safe by any stretch of the imagination, but he had her, and he knew he was more than capable of protecting her from whatever was to come. The past few days had been trying for him and he forced himself to relax by matching his breathing to the rhythmic flow of hers until he fell asleep, still holding her braid in his gentle grasp.

  Chapter Five

  The early morning light streaming through the gauzy curtains over the single window of the bedroom window awakened Astaria with a wave of nostalgia. Her room in her parent’s home had also faced east and she had often awakened in the morning the same way. The time before the bustle of getting ready for morning prayers had always been her favorite time of the day. She wondered if the room’s previous occupant had felt the same way.

  Kadiyya was a much neater girl than she had been, though. The room was almost austere with whitewashed walls now bathed in the honey gold glow of early morning light. The dark blue embroidery on the thin white curtains provided the only other color in the room. It had been a while since she’d indulged herself with such a leisurely awakening. After years of training she was accustomed to coming instantly awake. And once she’d started fighting with the LOV and especially once she’d been captured she’d counted her sleep time in minutes, but not this morning. Full relaxation for the first time in months made her languid and reluctant to come fully awake.

  As she grew more alert it gradually sank in that she was spooned against Kaeden’s back. He was wearing pajama trousers and a pale green t-shirt. During the night the shirt had ridden up, leaving his stomach exposed. And now her hand was planted against his well-cut abs. She’d often admired his musculature when they worked out together. Unlike some men, he was careful not to bare too much of his body to her, but sometimes when he stretched she could see the muscles of his lean stomach, heavily dusted with fine coal-black hair. She’d wondered about the texture of that hair, whether it was coarse, or silky -- now she knew: it was fine and silky. Now she knew because she was petting him as though he were a furry pet. She pulled her hand away with a gasp as he chuckled and turned over onto his back.

  “Don’t stop now, it’s not every day I wake up to being stroked like a kitten,” he said.

  Hardly a kitten. More like a lion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  He stretched then yawned. “I know. It’s okay. We’re married. Remember? Feel free to pet me anytime. I might even return the favor.”

  She sucked in a breath at that sensuous visual. Why did he keep reminding her they were married? There wasn’t even a remote possibility she would ever forget. “Yes, but not really.”

  “You know what, Stari?” All humorous indulgence in his voice was gone.

  He was the only person who’d ever given her a nickname. In her profession, and as Lelia’s second in command, few people saw her as anything other than the lethal weapon she was. Except Kaeden. Though it pained her to admit it, she rather liked it. “What?”

  “I’m thinking that for the duration of this thing we’d be better off forgetting that little phrase, “not really”. Do your aunt and uncle know?”

  “No. No. They know I’m in America, but they don’t why we got married or that you’re a Marine.”

  “Right. That’s what I thought. I think the less we tell, the better it will be for everyone.”

  She paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right, but you didn’t tell the guard we’re married.”

  “He was your guard in the palace?” he asked, making himself more comfortable on the pillow. Once he was situated, he drew her over to rest against him with her head on his chest.

  She nodded. “One of them. How did you meet him?”

  “Amazing what shakes loose in these times when you throw enough money around. I thought he might be one of your guards. Maybe he just wanted to make some extra cash. I don’t know, but I think there might be more to his story.”

  “Yeah. I thought the same thing. He just didn’t seem like the type. I mean fifty thousand Euros is a lot of money, but he just didn’t seem like the corrupt type, at least not for money. More for power or status.”

  He spread his hands in a “who knows” gesture. “Do you think we should make a break for it?”

  “No. Not yet. Ami said things are pretty calm right now. IJIWO has been beaten back, but this quarantine.” She sighed heavily. “I think Ami is right; it can’t last for long. Laria is a major port. The country will go bankrupt.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I think we’ll play the roles he assigned. Relatives. Refugees. You can work in his shop. And I will…”

  “You will what? Astaria, what the hell have you been doing?”

  She jumped when he raised his voice. “What do you mean?” she asked, raising her head so sharply she almost hit him in the chin.

  “Why the hell didn’t you get out when your father was killed?”

  Astaria exhaled heavily then lay her head on his chest again. Looking back it was probably a bad decision, but she didn’t regret it. There was a strong possibility she wouldn’t have been able to escape anyway. Though in the days before the quarantine Lelia might have been able to arrange an extraction. She couldn’t deny she hadn’t wanted to be rescued. She wanted revenge. To avenge the deaths of her parents and the destruction of her country.

  “I was angry and upset. This is my country. Amaru is not just my home, it’s my ancestral home. Going back generations. You’re an American, you can’t understand.”

  He practically growled his annoyance. “Ya Allah, not this again. Do you think I was just hatched out of an egg? I understand attachment to your homeland. I just don’t understand staying in a situation where you know everybody and his brother is literally trying to kill you. And that doesn’t answer my question. What have you been doing? You didn’t…”

  “Join the Resistance?” she interrupted. “Of course I did.”

  He threw his arm over his eyes, and groaned out loud. After a long moment, he moved his arm and stared up at the ceiling as though seeking divine intervention. Finally he asked. “Which one? Last I heard, there were dozens.”

  “That’s a slight exaggeration. I joined the Legion of Valor. Halil’s been fighting with them for a while now.”

  “Is that where your brother is? He brought you into this crazy shit? Is he out of his whole mind?”

  Astaria took a deep breath before answering the rapid-fire questions. “He didn’t have to bring me into anything. I am a Laritrean. I am a soldier. A warrior. Does anyone have to make you fight for your country?” she asked with as much derision as she could muster considering that she couldn’t bring herself to move away from the deliciousness that was his body.

  He sighed heavily. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that when I got here all I heard about was your father… I’m so sorry. I never
met him, but I know he was a good man.”

  Astaria damned the easy tears that came to her eyes. “The best. He and Mama were the best parents anyone could have.”

  “Yes. Well I had heard about him and your mother, but no one knew about you. I was terrified you were in a mass grave somewhere.”

  “They wouldn’t dare. My father was too well known. That’s why he had to be executed publicly. I fear al Hakam has overreached himself. We would have made powerful bargaining chips for IJIWO. Father counted on that to stay alive. Killing father over a petty private matter will probably be Al Hakam’s undoing.”

  “Somehow knowing you’d be executed publicly gives me no comfort, but I see your point. You’d think he would’ve thought of that.”

  “I know. I suppose the man has become unhinged and power has gone to his head. Babba always said he didn’t sell the artifacts for money, though there was plenty of that, but out of ego. To lord it over others.”

  They lay on the bed quietly for a few moments, each contemplating their situation. “I can hear Ami and Amati below getting ready for the day. It’s almost time for fajr salat. I suppose we should do the same. And remember, no more “not really,” Kaeden said.

  “Do you want to wash first?” Astaria asked.

  “Yes, I have an extra prayer rug.”

  “Good, I had to leave mine behind when I was arrested back in Amaru.”

  Kaeden returned from the washroom and Astaria followed. She had found a change of clothing in the chest of drawers. A long skirt and tunic and while size wasn’t particularly crucial, it did fit quite well. She took them with her to the bathroom. After ablutions she returned to the bedroom. He had already dressed and she did so too. The muezzin’s voice rang out with the call to prayer as they hurried down the narrow stairs to the Hamadi’s living room.