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“I’m all tea-ed out, thanks.”
Ayala sidled up next to Hailey at the counter and nudged her with a sharp elbow. “If he’s not taken, do you mind if I try my luck? He’s hot.”
“Oh.” Speaking of hot, Hailey’s cheeks flamed. “Y-you—Sure, if you want.”
Ayala raised one dark brow. “So that’s how it is. You’re not fooling me, Hailey Duvall. You might be calling him a friend today, but you want more tomorrow. Am I right?”
“Well, you said it.” Hailey winked. “He is hot.”
“Where and how did you meet him? Is he military?”
“How’d you guess that?” Hailey shoved the teakettle beneath the faucet and filled it half-full.
“The way he carries himself, his clipped manner of speaking. Don’t forget, I’ve been around plenty of American servicemen.”
“He’s Delta Force.”
Ayala’s eyes flickered.
Did she remember that Major Denver was Delta Force?
“Is he someone you met in Syria?”
“No.” Hailey cranked on the burner and then turned to face Ayala, taking her arm. “We’ll explain everything to you—together. It’s been a crazy few days, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you here.”
Joe straddled a stool at the center island in the kitchen. “Maybe Ayala wants to freshen up a little.”
“Great idea.” Ayala drummed her fingers on the counter as she swept out of the kitchen.
Hailey hissed. “That was rude. What was that about?”
“Do you really think we should tell her everything that’s been going on?”
“Why not? She’s involved in it as much as I am—more, as she’s still working at the refugee camp.”
“Giving her knowledge could put her in danger.”
Hailey jumped as the kettle whistled. She grabbed the handle and poured the boiling water over the tea bags in the two cups. “The way I see it, she’s already in danger, Joe. Telling her everything just might give her a chance to stay safe. If anything happened to her and I had neglected to give her the 411 about Marten and Andrew, I’d never forgive myself.”
Ayala suddenly appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. “Oh, no. Hailey has a hard time forgiving herself for a lot of imagined infractions. I wouldn’t want to pile on.” She perched on the stool next to Joe’s, crossing one leg over the other and swinging it back and forth. “You’d better tell me everything.”
Hailey placed a cup in front of Ayala. “It all started with a call from Marten de Becker.”
Hailey told Ayala about everything that had gone on the past few days—except that she’d become dependent on Joe McVie as her savior and bodyguard. Ayala had already figured that out anyway.
As Hailey came to the end of her story, she fished Marten’s key from the front pocket of her jeans and slid it across the counter. “Here’s the key Marten’s friend gave me, but I have no idea what it unlocks. Any ideas?”
Ayala picked up the key and turned it over, running her thumb over the cardboard key chain. “Mis? Could it be someone’s name?”
Joe spoke up. “That’s what I thought.”
“It looks old.” Ayala bounced the key in the palm of her hand. “What could Marten have been into? This could all just be about his shady lifestyle, his gambling, his women.”
“Maybe, but what about the video of Andrew?”
Ayala shivered and tipped her hand over, dropping the key on the counter. “That’s horrible. The only thing I have going for me is that I never ID’d Major Rex Denver as one of the men who held us, and I’m not writing an article about the incident.”
“Is that what Andrew is doing?” Hailey wrapped her hands around the cup, warming them. “That’s probably why these guys got to him. They probably don’t want any further attention focused on the bombing in case Andrew brings more information to light about Denver.”
“Then why you?” Ayala touched Hailey’s hand. “All you did was bring up the fact that one of our kidnappers spoke French with an American accent and someone called him Denver, which I completely missed. You aren’t changing that story...are you?”
