“We don’t know that. It could be some glitch.”
“A glitch that invites you to dinner?”
Leila surveyed the restaurant, almost expecting to find someone watching her. But the other patrons minded their own business, spinning pasta with their forks.
“I don’t know, Emma, this is—”
“This is serious. You’ve got enemies. Enemies who can do things.”
“Faris is in prison.”
“Exactly my point. He’s in prison thanks to you. He’s got all the time in the world to think about how you ruined his life, killed his son, and—”
“Emma, stop.” Leila raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t argue with Emma. Maybe Faris really was trying to lure her out. He might be locked up, but he still had money and connections.
An invisible weight pressed down on her chest.
“We’ll go to the police,” Emma continued.
“Yeah, right.” Leila swallowed back the shakiness. “You can walk in there and tell them you think someone hacked your phone. What are they going to do about it?”
“You know what? Come stay at my place. At least until Xander gets here.”
The tension in Leila’s chest lifted. Better than sitting around home alone.
“All right. Be there soon,” she promised and hung up. She paid for her drink, then stood on wobbly legs and headed for the door. Through the window, she caught sight of a taxi parked across the street. She hurried outside and crossed the road, peering over her shoulder.
A part of her expected Faris to be standing there, waiting for her with an ornate, curved janbiya dagger. At the sight of an empty sidewalk, she released a sigh of relief and slid into the backseat, slamming the door.
“El Maadi, please.”
The driver nodded and pulled the vehicle into traffic.
“Did you have a nice dinner?” she asked, her voice deep. “Their zabaione is the best.”
Leila glanced up, recognizing the same driver as before. She chewed her bottom lip. No need to be suspicious. The woman must have taken a break. “I didn’t eat, actually.”
Beneath black bangs, the driver watched from the rear-view mirror with unsmiling eyes. “That’s too bad.”
Leila leaned back into her seat, her heart still racing. First a broken window, then a fake text. There had to be some other explanation. Her friend was being paranoid and doing a good job of making her paranoid too. To reassure herself, she glanced back down at her phone and reread the text, and double-checked the time and phone number, but she had nothing that could prove Emma didn’t really send it.
She must have written it, fallen asleep, and forgotten. She’d been late before for similar reasons. Except, she’d always admitted it, not make up an elaborate excuse. Unable to make any sense of it, Leila shook her head and watched the city flash by. Flat-roofed buildings and palm trees swept past as they sped down the road. Street lamps casting a yellow glow on the pavement illuminated the inside of the taxi in flashes. She studied the blue and white road signs and knitted her brows together.
“You missed the turn to Maadi.”
The woman said nothing.
Leila swallowed, her throat dry, as they continued down the street. “Is the road closed?”
The woman ignored her. Maybe she was taking her a longer route to get a larger fare.
“I’m kind of in a hurry, could we take a short cut?”
The woman met her gaze in the rear view mirror, her dark eyes stoic and unreadable. They slowed for a red light and Leila grabbed the door handle. Locked. She pressed the window button, only to hear a useless click. Her body froze, blood turning ice-cold. She threw a frantic glance at the driver, who still watched her in the mirror.
Leila sat up, swallowed again, and leaned forward. When she spoke, she tried to hide the waver in her voice.
“Unlock the door, please. I want out.”
The trace of a smile crinkled the edges of the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid not, Leila.”
Leila blinked. She knew her name?
“Who… who are you?”
The light turned green and the woman drove on in agonizing silence.
Trying her best to keep her breathing steady, Leila peered over the back of the seat. A laptop sat on the passenger’s side and a twisted mess of cables spread in all directions. On the floor, a black tote gaped open, enough to reveal a box of ammo inside.
She pressed her back against her seat, her heart thundering in her ears. Emma was right. It was a trap. She had to escape before they left the city. Or before she got knocked out—or shot. Hand shaking, she picked up her phone.
“Don’t bother,” the driver said before Leila could call the police. “The signal jammer is on.”
A quick glance at her screen proved the woman’s claim. A new, more desperate plan formed in her mind. It scared her, but the driver scared her more. All Leila needed was an opportune moment to make her escape.
“What do you want from me?” Leila said, allowing a frail touch to her voice.
The woman kept her eyes on the road, slowing for another red light.
