Page 24 of Deadly Betrayal

“Perfect choice.” They hurried across thefield. They’d almost made it when her foot snagged on a deadbranch.

Kaden caught her about the waist and kept herfrom falling to her knees. “Easy. I got you.”

Azita didn’t know if her breathlessness was aresult of her loss of gravity or the feeling of a man’shands—thisman’s hands—on her body. Whichever it was, shekept her face averted as they hurried to the vehicle. Kaden openedthe passenger door, and she slipped inside while he went around andgot into the driver’s seat. Butterflies were doing acrobatics inher belly. She was on the verge of ruining her life, so why was sheso excited?

His warmth, even the delicious scent of hisskin, overwhelmed her. This big, blond, dangerous American soldierwas the only person in the world who could help her save Laila. Theonly one who could make throwing away her future worthwhile.

“Shab ba khayr,Azitajan.”

Azita pivoted in her seat. She knew the voiceof the man wishing her a good evening. “Shahram! What are you doinghere?” Angry bees replaced the butterflies in her belly.

“My sister, I couldn’t let you go off alonewith this man. You know how that would look.”

“It wouldn’t look like anything. We will tellpeople we’re married, and that’s that.” Because really, what did itmatter if they were found out? Once she broke Khalid’s deal withTariq, she’d have much bigger problems to deal with. Khalid’slittle bombshell at dinner had made that quite clear. As hisbrother’s widow, she might have been able to convince him toforgive her, maybe to help her cover up her involvement, and tomarry her off quickly. But as his promised wife? He’d only see thisas yet another betrayal, another shaming perpetrated on him by herfamily.

Shahram sneered, clearly frustrated. “Haveyou not watched the news? The Taliban are gaining a foothold inBadakhshan province. Whether you are ‘married’ or not, they’dexpect him to do all the talking. And he sounds like an Americanimpersonating an Afghan.”

“Okay, you’ve got a point.” The Taliban werethe shoot-and-never-ask-questions type. She twisted her shouldersto glare at him. “You can come with us, but don’t interfere. Whenwe talked at your house, you said you wouldn’t help with Laila’srescue.”

“Not true. I said Icouldn’t. But Ican help get you there.”

With a huff, she shifted to face the front.Her brother had always been good with words. Unfortunately, he’dnever been bothered to defend her with them.

“Azita, this is your choice.” Kaden put hishand on her knee.

Big. Hot.

Her flesh beneath his palm tingled, makingher gasp. Before she could say a word, Shahram reached over theback of the seat and smacked Kaden’s hand off her leg. “What areyou doing?” he shouted.

Kaden’s head swung around, his jaw pulsing,his eyes seething. “None of your fucking business. Now sit back andshut up.” He inhaled deeply before addressing her. “Azita?”

“He can stay.”

Once again, Shahram leaned forward. “Thereare many checkpoints leading out of the city. Perhaps I shoulddrive?”

Azita bristled. She knew exactly where thiswas leading. “And I suppose you want me to sit in the back?”

“It would be best,” he agreed.

Without even glancing at Kaden, she swungopen the car door and sat in the back seat. She faced the window sothe men wouldn’t see her anger. She hated to admit it, but herbrother was right. Although in Kabul a few brave women did flauntconvention and drove cars, it was still generally believed that awoman’s place was in the back seat along with the children. Outsidethe capital, that belief was even more firmly held. Doing otherwisecould get them in trouble.

Shahram took the driver’s seat. She kept herface turned while Kaden sat in the passenger seat. Only he didn’t.The seat beside her dipped.

Shocked, she twisted to see him. He shruggedand latched his seat belt. “Didn’t want you to get lonely back hereby yourself.”

A flush spread across her chest. Were allAmericans so thoughtful?

Shahram put the car in gear and headed northout of Kabul. Azita sat stock still as the old Corolla ate up thekilometers, oddly perturbed by her reactions to the man sittingbeside her. As a doctor, she knew about pheromones, about arousal,about how the body exhibited it: racing pulse, sweaty palms, hotface, hard nipples, warmth between the legs, yet she’d neverexperienced the symptoms herself, not until now. Not until seeingKaden again. Despite the fact that he’d scared her twice bysneaking up on her, she’d never felt unsafe around him. And justnow, when his anger had been unleashed at Shahram, she hadn’t beenfrightened. Far from it.

His animalistic defense of her had been…exciting.

He’d wanted to touch her, and he’d done so ina very innocent way, almost gentlemanly by Western standards. Outof the corner of her eye, she observed him as they drove throughthe city streets. His posture had relaxed slightly and the musclein his jaw no longer jumped. As though sensing her gaze on him, heturned his head, ever so slightly, and winked. Her stomachtumbled.

Allah, please help me. I am in so muchtrouble with this one.

She continued to mull over her curioussituation until, about an hour after leaving, Shahram broke thesilence by clearing his throat. “So, we will reach Jabal-os-Sarajin about ten kilometers. If we want to stop before the mountains,this is our last chance.”

Kaden made a point of looking at her. “Whatdo you say, Azita? Should we stop there until morning or drivestraight through to Kunduz?”