Fourth of July by Cami Checketts Page B

with her husband.
    Dylan came toward her with Madison in tow. A forced smile played on his lips. He handed her the keys. “I’ll be home in a few hours, sweetie.”
    “What?” Her fake smile matched his own. She knew gossipy Lydia Mathers was within range.
    “Lydia has a leaky faucet and also needs some furniture moved. Isaac and I are going to help her out.” He leaned in to kiss her.
    Rachel’s voice dropped to a whisper against his lips. “What about our quiet time?”
    “Uh-huh. We’ll have to do that later.”
    Her eyebrows dipped together. “When later?”
    Lydia approached and Dylan backed away. Rachel clutched Tyler a bit closer.
    “Thanks for sharing your honey with me.” The voluptuous young woman linked her arm through Dylan’s. “I can’t tell you what it means to have a man around the house.”
    Rachel didn’t smile. Lydia Mathers was not a woman she wanted touching her husband, ever. “Glad to help.”
    Dylan winked at Rachel as Lydia turned him away. The wink did nothing to satiate her. She should be glad he was serving someone, but once in a while he needed to serve his own wife.
    “Mom.” Madison tugged on her sleeve.
    “What?” Rachel asked distractedly, watching Dylan’s tall, strong form and Lydia’s backside swing as they walked a couple steps.
    Madison’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Why does Sister Mathers always wear her dresses so tight?”
    Rachel gasped, knowing they weren’t far enough away to have missed the comment. Lydia whipped around. Dylan’s eyes widened as he looked at Rachel. “Say something,” he mouthed.
    “Madison,” Rachel said. “Please tell Sister Mathers that you are sorry.”
    Madison looked confused. She glanced from her mom to Lydia. Finally, she nodded. “I’m sorry, Sister Mathers.”
    Lydia nodded, her gaze cool. “It’s all right, dear.”
    But Madison wasn’t done. “I’m not sure why I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything bad. My mom taught me that you shouldn’t wear your dresses so tight. It makes things poke out that shouldn’t poke out, if you know what I mean.”
    Lydia’s mouth gaped open, but she made no reply. Rachel was already heading for the exit. “Sorry, Lydia. You know how kids are.”
    Rachel hefted Tyler higher on her hip and ushered her daughter out the door. Later she’d explain to Maddie why her comment was inappropriate, but for right now she was going to relish the look on Lydia’s face.

YUSUF ABADJAR BOWED TO HIS MASTER, squinting against the brilliant light shining through a bank of windows in the penthouse dining room. Ahmed sat at the mahogany table. A variety of foods covered the wood surface.
    “Salaam, Allah is great,” he murmured in Arabic. The respect he wouldn’t grant to others he showered on his brilliant leader.
    “What does the woman know? Do the infidels have any idea who planted the bombs?” Ahmed sliced off a hunk of thick, warm bread.
    The scent of yeast and flour made Yusuf salivate but he would not be offered anything. “The Americans are clueless. The woman is proving valuable.” It bothered Yusuf to speak those words. Although they were true, he could never put much faith in a woman.
    Ahmed speared a grape with his fork and popped it into his mouth. He pointed the utensil at Yusuf. “Watch her closely. Women are not to be trusted. Joseph should have known better than to place his daughter in a key position, but the French unit has a different set of beliefs.”
    “Yes, you are correct,” Yusuf said.
    “Do you have word on the shipments?” Ahmed questioned. “Is everything working according to schedule?”
    Yusuf shifted his weight to the ball of his right foot. “Yes. We are on the countdown, less than a week now.”
    He prayed to Allah that everything would work smoothly. He pictured himself as Ahmed’s second in the new world leadership.
    “Good.” Ahmed shoved his plate aside and rubbed his hands together. His eyes gleamed as if he could picture the