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Chapter Thirteen
Alia saw Sloan’s arrival in the main area at work and watched the others crowd around to welcome the good-looker. She knew the crew at the agency liked him. Many times, they’d indulged in their hero-worshipping tales until she’d felt nauseated and left.
In the coffee room, they told funny stories about his exploits, women troubles and, with awe in their voices, talked about the times he’d put his life on the line to save others. Their favorite was when he’d taken a bullet while dragging a fallen co-worker to safety during a shootout at a drug bust.
From their respectful summary, she’d discovered that his comrades admired him. But in her mind, he was nothing but a womanizing prick with no fear for his safety, and he epitomized a man who always got his way. Well, she was one woman he wouldn’t be getting his way with.
Don’t talk so fast, chickie!
Riiight!She’d been assigned to live with him for an unspecified amount of time. Him and his friggin’ dimples and sexy buns and his melting, brown-eyed stare. That ‘him’. The drool-trigger who could be a game-changer.
Shaken, she remembered her promise to Kean about how she’d spend more time with, because the one person in his life he’d always depended on for every meal and bedtime story was leaving.
Her stomach knotted and the world began to close in. She made a silent plea to the big guy upstairs. As if in answer, a spark suddenly lit up some dazed brain cells that, due to all the stress, hadn’t been wholly functional. An incredible idea surfaced.
It could work.
And be the perfect solution.
She’d take Kean along as her son. He’d stay with her and out of Paul’s reach. And, be a part of her cover as Sloan’s stepsister.After all, there’s nothing saying you have to be a single sister, right?
Her clenched muscles began to unwind as did the tightness in her chest. Kean would also be a safety net in case Sloan attempted any of his womanizing tricks on her. Not that she couldn’t handle the prick if he tried any hanky-panky, but in her state of sexual deprivation, would she even want to stop him?
Her brain went into overdrive and began creating a story to tell Kean about her and Sloan being separated as youngsters. About how she’d found her stepbrother and now she wanted to get to know him better.Good. That’s good. And, with them having to leave their house because of the termites, maybe he’d invite them to stay with him for a while.
It was plausible.
Okay, it was thin, but with Ruby leaving, it might fly. Especially if she hired the contractors to do the work needed in her house and presented the whole package well. Her eight-year-old was smart as a whip, but he usually accepted whatever she said as gospel.
Besides, he wouldn’t have any reason to be suspicious. Thankfully, she hadn’t talked about her childhood a lot, other than to say she had been adopted and her parents had died. If she brought in a fictional stepbrother, he’d have no reason to doubt the truth.
So far, all the dialogue surrounding the case had been about the Aman family, discussing options and strategies. No doubt, bringing her son into the picture at this late date might be like throwing a lit match on a propane barbecue but what could she do?
As far as Kean’s safety went, it wasn’t expected there would be any danger during this undercover investigation. It was strictly surveillance: record Samir Aman’s visitors, get close to his wife, Janna, and see if she could discover information about their earlier life, mainly zeroing in on Janna’s family.
Homeland Security wanted her and Sloan together before for the Amans’ anticipated visitors from Pakistan arrived. They were expected in the coming week. The agencies had their sights on those people especially, and wanted to know the reasons for the trip, where they spent their time while in the city and with whom.
Previously, Ruby would have been there to look after Kean and they would have managed. Alia’s lifestyle of long hours and undercover cases had taken her away from him many times and they’d always dealt with those situations fairly well. How ironic that she’d been pissed at Paul for having let his work rule his life, and she’d become his female equivalent with the same sin.
In fact, lately, she’d worried that Kean’s attachment to Ruby overrode his love for his mother. But then she’d always stifled her affections, kept them to herself, unable to openly show him her devotion.
As an only child raised by stoic Brits who didn’t believe in coddling or displays of affection other than a pat on the head, it was hard to overcome that kind of early training.
After her parents died within a year of one another, both from different cancers, her aunt, who’d married a man of the Islam faith had taken her from her home in Chicago to live with their large family halfway across the world.
Everyone had treated her kindly and they were always willing to listen, but again, they weren’t an affectionate family either. Her uncle had been the Imam in the mosque close to where they’d lived, a very gentle, knowledgeable man. He’d prayed for a daughter and believed Mohammad had sent Alia as the answer to his prayers. He was probably the only person in her life who’d made her feel truly cherished.
She’d returned to the US to attend university and attain her Bachelor of Science in Criminology, and then signed up for her FBI training at Quantico. Her first assignment had taken place back home in Chicago, where she’d met Paul.
For a short time, she’d been madly infatuated with him. He’d been a voracious lover, demanding but equally giving. Every minute they’d shared, he’d lavished her with affection that she’d sucked up like a person who’d been on a starvation diet for years.
Which she had.
In turn, she’d adored the man, and in those first few glorious months of marriage, she’d floated through each day with blinkers on her eyes and a song in her heart, that had soon turned into a wail of disappointment.
Like everything that was too good to be true, her romanticized realitywastoo good to be true. She’d found her hero was actually a dud, a phony. Having been with the agency for a few years, she’d seen the signs that his business buddies weren’t of the highest calibre, and that corruption tended to be their way of making a living, but she’d turned a blind eye.
After she’d gotten pregnant with Kean, Paul was never present. A night or two a week he’d show up late and basically ignore her. By then, she’d accepted that not only did he care more about the scads of money he made, but his mistresses had superseded her place in his life. Problem was, she hadn’t given a damn.
