Page 57 of Steel Vengeance
The casual black shirt he wore was open at the collar, showing off his tanned skin and just a hint of dark chest hair. And those jeans… She couldn’t stop staring at his butt when he walked ahead of her.
Neither could the other women. His dark good looks and muscular build meant he got plenty of attention. Trust him to be the hottest thing this side of the Khyber, while in her loose-fitting clothes, hijab, and face veil, she was practically invisible.
In a futile attempt to highlight her one visible feature, she’d bought eyeliner and rimmed her eyes with kohl. Not that he’d even noticed.
Eating with a face covering was an experience. How did local women manage it? She just kept dropping crumbs all over herself.
“This is gonna take some practice,” she muttered, brushing herself off.
“You could take it off while you eat,” Stitch suggested, glancing around the restaurant. “You’re safe here.”
“I’d rather not risk it.” Jeremy was out there somewhere. “The CIA has eyes everywhere. What if I’m caught on a security camera or something?”
“I think you’re being a little paranoid now,” he said with a smile. “Like you said, no one expects you to be in Islamabad.”
He was right. She was overreacting.
She took off the face veil but left her headscarf on.
The food was delicious, and after weeks of eating nothing but vegetables and fruit, she devoured a big bowl of creamy pasta.
Stitch did the same, twirling the spaghetti around his fork with surprising ease for such a big-handed guy.
“Mrs. B said you like to cook,” she said with a smile, feeling her spirits lift.
“Mrs. B talks too much.”
She laughed. “She’s really fond of you. She told me so.”
“Oh, did she now?”
“She said you used to bring her gifts from America.”
He shrugged. “When we flew straight from the airport, yeah. Most of the time, though, we were dodging gunfire and limping across the border bruised and battered. I’m convinced if it weren’t for Mrs. B, we’d have died in Peshawar more than once.”
Sloane shook her head, but she had a feeling he wasn’t exaggerating.
“Do you have family back in the U.S.?”
He shook his head. “Not really. My mother died when I was a teenager, and I never knew my father. I had an uncle, but we’ve lost touch.”
She nodded. “Same as me. My mom passed away when I was young, and my dad when I was seventeen.” That day was burned into her memory.
“Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I moved in with my grandparents after my dad… passed away.” She hated the word “suicide.”
“Losing your parents forces you to grow up fast,” he said.
“That’s for sure.”
Grief, guilt, remorse, trauma therapy, and long emotional talks with her grandmother. It had taken her a long time to deal with what her father had done.
“When do you think I’ll be able to go home?” she asked, changing the subject. She didn’t want to dwell on her painful past. The future was all that mattered now, even if it was looking a little uncertain.
He finished eating and set down his fork. “Not until Pat talks to his CIA contact and they’ve arrested Matthew, Jeremy, and whoever else is involved.”
“How long do you think that’ll take?” she asked quietly.