Kat Attalla Special Edition (39 page)

“Even among the Arabs, Moroccan cooking is considered to be the finest in the world.” He dipped a small chuck of crusty bread in a plate of tahini spread and offered it to her. “Try it.”

The tangy taste of the sesame butter lingered after she swallowed. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to another plate.

“Couscous. It’s like farina, but not sweet. I realize it’s not corn and beef steak, but this isn’t Iowa, either.”

“I’ve noticed.” She dipped her fork into the mound of couscous and took a bite. Her soft sigh of appreciation caught Jack’s full attention. “What did you want to tell me?”

He dropped the airline tickets on the table in front of her. She lifted them and read the date. “Tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“A commercial airline?”

“I called my boss to arrange back up at the airport when we arrive. I booked us a hotel room for the night just down the street.”

“In another twenty-four, hours we’ll be on our way home.” The idea filled her with excitement and terror at the same time.

“In another twenty-four hours we’ll be home.”

“Huh? The time difference is only six hours.”

“We’re leaving tonight.”

Confused, she glanced at the tickets again. “Tomorrow night, you mean.”

“No. Right after dinner we’ll go to the airport and wait on stand-by for the first flight we can get to New York.”

“Then why did you buy these tickets?”

“The same reason I called in and arranged for back up. So that whoever is looking for us will be waiting in the airport tomorrow night, either here or in New York.”

At that moment, she appreciated his devious mind. She attacked her dinner with new enthusiasm, eating until she thought she would bust.

“Should we go now?” she asked, as she placed the napkin on the table.

“I have one more thing to do before we leave for the airport.”

“What?”

“Today is Sunday.” He said the day as if it held some kind of significance that she failed to catch.

“So?”

He checked his watch and broke out in a wide grin. “I have to call your father in another ten minutes. Do you have any messages for him?”

“Can I talk to him?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t know. We’ll see how persuasive you can be on the walk to a public phone booth.”

“Mr. Murphy. I could charm the pants off of you if I put my mind to it.”

He leaned across the table and whispered, “You could do that without putting your mind to it.”

Jack paid the check, and they walked the three blocks to the nearest public phone. She waited impatiently for him to place the trans-Atlantic call with his calling card.

“Hello, John. It’s Jack Murphy … yes sir, she’s fine … what’s that … no, she seems to be eating well … you were right, sir, she is stubborn and mule-headed.” The tip of Lilly’s sneaker connected with his ankle, and he grunted into the receiver. “However, you forgot to mention that she was vicious and very strong for a half-pint.”

“Give me the phone, Jack,” Lilly demanded.

“Just a minute, John. There’s some interference with the line.” He held the receiver well out of her grasp and reveled in her frustration.

He should have known better than to tease her when she wanted something. She looked around first to make sure there were no witnesses, then slipped in the booth with him and stroked him in the last place he expected the inhibited Ms. McGrath would aim for. His hand came down, and she snatched the phone from him. His eyes, expanding double-width, stared as much from surprise as from the jolt to his system.

“Hi, Dad … How’s Mom … Billy, Joe, T.J., Nadine? What? Yes, Daddy … Yes … uh huh … Mr. Murphy? He seems to be having a breathing problem at the moment. It could be asthma … no, I’m not giving him any trouble.”

Not much. He thought to call her on her lie, but she sounded so happy, giggling in that childish voice women adopt when speaking to their fathers. No matter how independent she believed herself to be, her father would always think of her as a child. And she obliged him by acting that way.

“About a week ago … coming home?” She looked at Jack who shook his head. “I don’t know. Soon … no, I didn’t … I didn’t do anything wrong … Dad, please don’t start this now. We haven’t talked in so long.”

Jack could tell by her changing expression that he had better get her off the phone. Having grown up with a mother who held a doctorate in the art of inflicting guilt, he knew all the signs. If disappointing parents were a federal offense, he’d be doing twenty years to life.

He tapped his finger against his watch.

“I have to go now, Dad. Mr. Murphy is getting impatient … I am nice to him … it was lovely talking to you too. Give everyone a kiss from me … bye … I love you too.” By the time she hung the phone up she looked relieved to have the call over with.

“How could you lie to your father like that?” he asked as he led her out the door.

She squinted her eyes against the bright sun and then focused on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t suffer from asthma, and you aren’t nice to me.”

“Well, if you don’t suffer from asthma then I’d say your heavy breathing was caused by something nice I did to you.” Her teasing lacked feeling, as if she hoped to cheer herself but couldn’t. He rewarded her with his most seductive smile, but it didn’t lift her spirits. “Besides, he didn’t believe me anyway. Since you’re a man, it naturally follows that you must be perfect. I, on the other hand, am a dim-wit who only knows how to get myself in trouble.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“He didn’t have to. The only reason he believes I’m innocent is because he doesn’t think I’d have the brains to mastermind the operation.”

He might have to dethrone his mother as the reigning Queen of Guilt and crown Lilly’s father King. “It might not have come out that way, but he loves you, Lilly.”

“I know,” she whispered sadly. “That’s why it hurts that I can’t make him proud of me. I am the only member of my family who graduated from college, and do you know what he said when I left?” She paused, and he shrugged for her to continue. “He said I’d never get a husband like that. Men don’t like women who are too smart or too skinny. Like being a blonde bimbo in a tight sweater is something I should aspire to.”

Jack laughed. He didn’t mean to. Catching himself, he noted her empty expression. “I’m sorry, but you’re not being fair to yourself. You can’t expect another person to be responsible for your self-worth. You can’t make somebody proud of you. That’s something you feel inside.”

She made a fist and held it to her heart. “I don’t feel it.”

“Yes you do. You just don’t recognize it. How did you feel when you had me ambushed in Lisbon and slipped away?”

“That’s different.”

He grinned. “Yeah. I felt like an idiot. But I’d bet the farm that you were pretty damn proud of your ingenuity.”

“I guess,” she mumbled.

“You guess? You laughed yourself silly all the way to Madrid.” “Not all the way.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Most of the way?”

She sighed. “All the way.”

“I thought so.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?” He hooked his arm through hers and started walking slowly. He could still remember his mother’s face the day he told her that he’d enlisted in the Army at seventeen years old. She tried to use every connection she had to get him out. When he joined the Customs Department after finishing his tour, she considered having him declared mentally unbalanced. “My mother tells people I work for the government.”

“You do.”

“I know. But not as a special envoy negotiating the return of hostages from foreign countries. She believes that what I do for a living is one step down from piracy. And the worst part is, sometimes I agree with her.”

“Going after people like Santana is necessary. He’s a cancer that needs to be stopped.”

“Perhaps. But  kidnapping  innocent  people  and  frightening  them  into submission is a side effect of the treatment. If the cure becomes as bad as the ailment, it’s hard to swallow.”

She hadn’t given much thought to his feelings about his work. He was in a dangerous profession under the best of circumstances, but without the support of his family, the job became more difficult. And she hadn’t made his job any easier.

“So, how come your mother didn’t elevate you to a post as ambassador?”

He tightened his arm in a playful chokehold and poked his finger in her side. “I’m not that old.”

“How old are you?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she didn’t know much about him. He knew her entire family history, and she didn’t even know if he had a family, other than his deluded mother.

“Thirty-two.”

“That old?”

He let out an indignant grunt and gently pushed her away. “I hope you get air sick.”

“I’ll aim for your lap if I do.”

He laughed and took her arm again. “You probably would. After seeing your reaction on the boat, I think we better make a quick stop for some medicine for motion sickness before we leave for the airport.” He checked his watch. “And we better leave soon. The last flight to New York leaves in a few hours.”

Chapter
Eleven

Jack failed to tell Lilly that the last flight had to make two stops before continuing to New York. She hated takeoff and landing. With her nerves on edge, he ruled out conversation. When the stewardess finished serving dinner, Lilly leaned her chair back and tried to get some sleep. She turned several times to find a comfortable position.

He lifted the armrest between them and slipped his arm around her shoulder.

She rested her head on his chest and let his tender stroking across her forehead lull her into a relaxed state. He brushed his lips against her temple, and she smiled before falling asleep.

A rare feeling of contentment settled over Jack. He enjoyed holding Lilly in his arms, more than he should. She warmed him like a roaring fire on a cold, December night. His life had been filled with too many cold nights alone. He’d never wanted someone permanent in his life until now.

Getting involved with Lilly would be the cruelest thing he could do to her. What kind of life did he have to offer? He never stayed anywhere long enough to rent an apartment. Roaming the world and getting paid for it seemed like a dream when he began ten years ago. No commitments. No promises. No strings attached. With no strings, he was tied to nothing, but he also had nothing.

“What’s on your mind, Jack?”

He’d gotten so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t notice Lilly awaken. The flight attendants shuffled around, preparing for landing, and most people began to mumble in anticipation.

“I was deciding what I wanted to be when I grow up.”

She cuddled closer and closed her eyes again. “You’d make a pretty good teddy bear.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. I’ll sit you on my bed and tell you all my deep, dark secrets.”

“I don’t think I’d remain very soft if you did that.” “Jack!”

Her pouting lips were too much of a temptation, and he leaned over and kissed her. “No. I definitely wouldn’t remain soft,” he whispered in her ear.

He loved to watch her blush. She tried so hard to be sophisticated and worldly, but she would always be a country girl in her heart, and he wouldn’t want her to change. He could picture her at eighty years old, sitting in her rocking chair and reprimanding him for some off-color comment he made. But that was nothing more than a fantasy.

Her crimson patches faded to white as the plane made its final decent into New York. He sensed her fear. He was half afraid something might go wrong too.

They disembarked from the plane, and he tugged her past the passengers heading for the baggage claim area. He flashed his identification and led her straight to the front of the line. Their passports were stamped, and they headed out the door.

Jack decided against renting a car yet. The banks opened at nine o’clock, and he wanted to pick up the file before leaving the city. He didn’t want a rental car to show up in his name until they could move to a safer destination.

“Are you going to get a cab?” she asked as they stood outside in an early morning drizzle.

“What bank are we going to?”

“First City Bank on Canal Street.”

“What would you like to do for two hours?”

She yawned. “Sleep?”

“Later. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

The traffic into Manhattan kept them tied up for over an hour and they barely had time to grab a buttered roll and coffee before battling the rush hour commuters on the busy Monday morning. Jack waited in the lobby, checking the customers who entered after Lilly. In less than five minutes she finished her business and returned to his side.

“Where to now?” she wondered aloud when they were back on the street.

He took the large manila envelope from her hand and tucked it tightly under his arm. “How do you like the mountains? I know a safe house about two hours north of here.”