The footsteps grew louder, nearing the top step. The shadow of a man darkened the wall of the landing. Heart pounding, she faced the door and stepped deeper into the room. Her finger tensed against the trigger. Should she shoot on sight? Or first see if he was willing to negotiate?
A booted foot stuck out from behind the staircase wall and settled onto the landing. She knew that foot.
“Abdullah?” Leila gasped, as he stepped into view. She lowered the weapon.
His features were solemn. “That’s mine.” His voice hoarse.
It was no use being timid with him, so she squared her shoulders and held out the gun.
“The shooter is still alive,” she said, determined to keep the subject off herself.
Abdullah scowled and snatched his gun from her hands. “Good. Then he’ll be back. After he kills you, I get to kill him. Then we’re all happy.”
Leila bit down on her tongue. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.
Without another word, he turned and stomped down the stairs. She waited half a minute, allowing for enough space between them. She couldn’t get to Saint Catherine fast enough.
CHAPTER 34
“I know.” Emma snapped her fingers. “A rap battle.”
Xander cringed. What was she going on about now? Still hunched by the jeep’s rear left wheel, he looked over his shoulder. Emma perched on a large boulder, swinging her feet over the rocky soil while she dug her hand into a bag of chips. They were deep in the mountains, the peaks rising up on either side of the narrow, red gravel road.
“What?” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm, still clutching the four-pronged lug wrench in his black-streaked hand.
“You know, a rap battle?” Emma’s eyes widened. She waved a yellow chip in the air as she explained. “Where you and Leila rap at each other?”
“Oh…kay.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering patience. “Why in the world would we do that?”
“It would be your proposal.” She laughed and popped the chip into her mouth. “I can see it.”
“What the—Emma. No.” He stood and clapped the dust off his palms. “Just no.”
“Oh, come on. It would be amazing. It’ll go viral. You can let me coordinate—”
“Absolutely not. No. Never.”
“What? You’re never going to propose?” She stuck out her bottom lip. “You can’t be serious.”
He let out a sigh and leaned against the jeep. Why was she doing this to him? “That’s not what I meant. Where’s your stash of crisps?”
“So you are going to propose,” Emma squealed, covering her mouth with her fingertips.
That did it. He was done. First chance he got, he was going to ditch her.
“Will you just tell me where they are?”
“Under the backseat.”
He found a collection of grocery bags and dug through them, wondering how he could get Emma to be quiet for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of peace was all he wanted.
“I’ve already got the lyrics in my head,” Emma went on, his back still to her as he looked through her assortment of junk food. “It could go through your history together. When and where you first met, the rocky beginning, stuff like that. You’d start.”
“I’d rather not.” He grabbed a chip bag.
“Hear me out.” To his horror, she started to rap. “Yeah, yeah. Leila, it’s time.” Emma used her fist for a microphone, her voice weirdly deep. “I’m in a Saqqara state of mind.”
He straightened and gaped at her. She slid down from the rock and threw her arms in the air, her hips swaying to some imaginary beat. The bag of chips crinkled over her head.
“Diggin’ in the dirt, golden like a treasure. Girl, I tell you, I thought you were a pleasure—” She stopped suddenly and pointed at him. “Oh. Then Leila comes in.”
She resumed her strange attempt at interpretive-flamenco-club dancing. “When I was young, my father had an epiphany. Don’t go near that boy, he’ll just cause you anxiety.”
“That’s enough,” Xander groaned.
“Yeah, yeah, in a Saqqara state of mind.”
He jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Emma’s weird rapping dulled.
“What did I do to deserve this?” he muttered as he ripped the chip bag open.
Moments later, Emma climbed into the passenger seat. “Oh, please. You’re no fun. Don’t tell me, you’d prefer a dozen red roses, ring hidden in a champagne glass, down on one knee—” She made a gagging sound in the back of her throat.
“Will you cut it out?”
“Loosen up, buddy.” She gave his shoulder a friendly whack with the back of her hand.
“Loosen up? How? You wrecked the jeep. Popped a tire. Then you had to go and rap. And dance. I’ll never get that image out of my mind.”
