Murphy's Law by Kat Attalla Page A

Santana had orchestrated the explosion to get Lilly out of the way. He’d been under a microscope for the last six months, and his clients were getting nervous. Without concrete proof, the   investigation had stagnated, and the Customs Service had decided to concentrate their efforts elsewhere. At least until Jack returned Lilly.
    Taking a route so out of the way that no one could have followed him without being spotted, he headed back to Mustafa’s house. His native costume and fluency in the language allowed him to walk through the streets unnoticed. When he reached the building, he pulled off the caftan.
    He greeted Hanan and her new arrival, apologizing for the inconvenience of his timing. “You should have said something. I shouldn’t be making all this trouble for you with a new baby.”
    Hanan handed him a cup of tea and sat down. “Old friends are never trouble, Jack.”
    “Where is Mustafa?”
    She sent him a look like he should know better. “Where do you think? Down at the coffee shops bragging about his new son. He’ll be back in an hour.”
    He tapped his palm against his forehead and laughed. “Of course. And my wife?”
    Hanan laughed too. She waved a finger under his nose and took him to task. “Next time you want to fool me, buy her a wedding ring. She’s very scared, Jack, and if she were really your wife, she would know that there was no reason to be.”
    He wished he shared her conviction. Too many things had gone wrong for coincidence. “Does Mustafa know?”
    “Know what?” Hanan returned innocently.
    “I thought not. Where is she?”
    “Lying down. I was going to call her for tea, but I think she was crying and I didn’t want to intrude. Is she in a lot of trouble?”
    “She didn’t do anything, if that’s what you mean. But her life’s in danger.”
    Hanan glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “Maybe you should go see if you can cheer her up. You do know how to do that, don’t you?”
    “She doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor.”
    “There’s an English dictionary on the shelf over there. Look up the word c ompassion and try to grasp the meaning first.” He scowled at her, but she only giggled. “I told my friend next door that I would bring Mohammed by for a visit. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
    “It won’t take her an hour to hit me over the head,” he joked, rubbing a tentative hand across the scab on his cheek.
    He’d never taken the time, nor felt the inclination, to understand the crazy, hormonal whims of women, but Lilly was different from any other women. She never hid her emotions. When he upset her, she cried. If he cornered her, she fought. “You didn’t happen to leave any knives in that room with her, did you?”
    She grinned and stood up. “I don’t think she has much fight in her right now.”
    “You’d be amazed at what Lilly is capable of.”
    “More than you are?” she asked.
    “When did you get so smart, Hanan?”
    “Maybe now you’ll stop laughing at that mystery of life known as women’s intuition.”
    Jack waited for Hanan to leave before seeking out Lilly. He paused outside the bedroom to listen. He heard her sniffing and soft hiccups through the closed door. Her cries struck a nerve in the center of the heart he swore he didn’t possess. He tapped once, then turned the handle and entered.
    She pretended to be asleep, and she might have even thought she had pulled it off until she hiccupped again. Knowing the game was up, she grunted and buried her head under the pillow. “Go away.”
    “I missed you too, baby,” he teased and pulled the pillow off her head. She flipped onto her stomach and covered her face with her hands. “Come on. Look at me.”
    “No. I look horrible.”
    “I’ve seen you looking worse.”
    “Thank you,” she mumbled.
    That didn’t come out how he’d intended. Perhaps he should have taken a look in the dictionary before trying to cheer her up. Pay her a compliment. Women eat that kind of