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“Exactly.”
“It’s boldly sneaky. I like it.”
“And we might even be able to keep an eye on this place to see if anyone shows up here looking for us.”
They headed outside. A light, drizzly rain was falling. They lowered their heads and jogged to the intersection, then dashed across the highway when the light turned green. When they reached the strip mall, it was evident that the commercial center was older and more rundown than its competitor on the other side of the road.
Good. Their money should go further.
Leilah was making a beeline for the hotel, but Ryan hooked his arm under her elbow and pointed her toward the line of storefronts to the left. “Let’s check out a few shops.”
She scanned the signs in the windows. A pawn shop, a jewelry store advertising that it both bought and sold gold, a thrift shop, and a newsstand.
“I never say no to shopping, but … here?”
“I’ll bet the newsstand sells prepaid phones. We can pick up a couple burners,” he explained.
“Oh, that’s true.” She shrugged. “We probably could also get a change of clothes.”
It was his turn to be confused. “Where?”
“The resale shop.”
“TheLeilah Khan shops at used clothing stores?” he teased.
“Actually, yes. I mean, usually at consignment stores that sell vintage couture, but hey, maybe I’ll find a hidden gem at The Clothes Hanger.” She cast a doubtful gaze at the mannequins in the shop’s window.Or not.
Twenty minutes later, they left The Clothes Hanger with a bag full of perfectly serviceable clothes. Leilah even scored a pair of silk pajamas and fuzzy pink slippers. They stopped at the newsstand to buy a pair of flip phones, some snacks, and drinks. As they were passing the pawn shop, Ryan slowed his pace.
“Do you want to go in?”
He hesitated. “They could sell guns.”
“Ryan.” She stopped so quickly that he bumped into her.
He reached out to steady her. “Sorry.”
“It was my fault.” She searched his face. “I know you don’t want to buy a gun from a pawnshop. Will they even run a background check?”
“I’m sure they will.” He answered instantly, but his expression said he was anything but sure.
“You don’t need a gun,” she insisted, her voice shaking.
He cocked his head. “What’s this really about?”
She stammered, trying to find the right words. “You’re not a gun guy, Ryan. Your mind is your weapon.”
He barked out a bleak laugh. “Ahmadi’s men—if that’s who’s after us—aren’t looking for a battle of the wits, and my brain doesn’t stop bullets. I told Omar I’d protect you. I need to arm myself.”
Her temper flared, and, to her chagrin, she stomped her foot. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
A slow smile played across his lips.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“You’ll be mad if I tell you.”
“I’m already mad.”
