Ally wandered to the kitchen and gripped the marble island. The keys bunched in Shariff’s hand slammed against each other and the door while he secured the padlock to Farah and Amirah’s room. A bit longer than the rest and brass in color, the key was in the middle of the ring. She shifted her focus to the kitchen counters before he caught her staring.
Ivory granite circled the space around her, bare of everything: dishes, glasses, even a coffee maker. To her left sat a small gas stove, and beside it a white fridge, pristine, unused. Dark wood drawers and cabinets covered the walls of the small room. If she looked inside them, she was sure she’d find them empty as well.
Keys jingled to her left by the sink. He opened a drawer, dropped them in, and slammed it shut. He cocked his head and raised his brows when he caught her staring. Ally looked away and scanned the living room for the masked man, but it was empty. Shariff’s shoes tapped against the tiled floor. She gazed ahead, and her skin prickled with each step he took. When his breath hit her bare neck, a shiver of fear ripped through her. Unable to breathe, she steadied herself and waited.
He leaned his back against the island beside her and crossed his arms. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him assessing her. “Well, that was enlightening.”
Ally’s grip on the counter tightened. “Why didn’t you tell her you killed her husband?”
“Because I didn’t kill him.” His pale brown eyes burned into her.
“You pay people to kill. That makes you a killer.”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s all a matter of how you define a word then, isn’t it?”
“And the fact you didn’t tell her that her husband was dead makes you a bastard.”
His smile broadened. “Now the bastard label I do accept without question.” A lock of her curly hair had fallen out from her ponytail. Shariff played with it and wrapped it around his finger. “And, according to your definition, wouldn’t you be one too? I don’t recall hearing you break the news of her heroic husband’s demise.”
She met his gaze. “Do you always lock up innocent women and listen to their conversations?”
“It appears that way, doesn’t it?” Shariff rested the base of his elbows on the counter behind him and leaned back farther, his fingers brushing against hers in the process. Ally stepped away from his reach, facing him.
The two stared at each other, one smirking while the other glared. “Well, my fellow bastard? Why didn’t you tell her that both the heroes she mentioned were dead?”
She kept her face emotionless despite the erratic thudding of her heart. “We all need a seed of hope to cling to. A reason to keep fighting. I couldn’t take hers away. And I wasn’t lying. She will go home.”
The sound of his laughter burned her ears. She narrowed her eyes. “Am I amusing?”
Shariff inched closer and pressed his fingertips against her temple. “Brains…” His touch burned against her skin as the digit slid down her cheek onto her jaw. Ally held her breath when he moved from her face to her shoulder. “And determination.” Goosebumps pebbled her skin while his hand brushed up and down the length of her arm. “I can see why my brother was drawn to you.”
Ally scooted away and out of the kitchen, rubbing the feel of him off of her. She wandered around the apartment, sensing him close behind. Sayeed and his brother shared a similar taste—her. What wasn’t clear was what the younger sibling intended to do about it. “Someone who looks like you can have any woman he wants.”
“Why, dear Bhaabi, are you calling me handsome?”
She shrugged and continued past the dining table, resting her hand on the door by the window. “Am I wrong?”
The deadbolt was secured and the knob wouldn’t budge.
“Not at all.” His legs brushed against her rear and his vanilla and sandalwood cologne filled her lungs. “I get my share of female attention,” he whispered against her ear.
She slid past him and moved toward the hall by the front entry, peeking into the bathroom along the way. When she arrived at the closed room at the end, she paused. Would this be where they planned to keep her?
The heat of his body smothered her when he neared. She pressed a hand against the smooth surface of the door and stayed still while Shariff pulled the hair tie from her hair. The strands fell free against her shoulders. Her pulse beat erratically as he ran his fingers through her curls. She couldn’t go through the torture Sayeed put her through a second time. It would kill her.
Amirah’s distant cries echoed through the quiet home, reminding her of the baby’s presence. Ally squeezed the knob and stared at the door. Running would mean leaving behind Farah and the baby. She turned and met his gaze. “So why such a hunger for Sayeed’s leftovers?”
Sharif’s gaze raked over her face, pausing to linger at the neckline of her shirt. “Sometimes leftovers are the most appealing.”
“I’m yours to do with as you please for as long as you want. No argument. No fight.” She kept her voice steady, showing no hint of the terror consuming her.
The corner of his mouth lifted. He ran a digit over her skin, tracing the seam of her shirt collar and stopping at the V point of her neckline. “Yes, I am hungry. Very hungry.” Her skin prickled when Shariff’s finger moved up her neck to the base of her chin, lifting her face. “But.” He inched his mouth closer until it brushed against hers when he spoke. “As enticing as the proposition is, I will have to regretfully decline.” He looked into her eyes. “Two men have already had you and both are dead. I’ve no desire to join their list.”
Ally leaned against the wooden surface for fear her legs would buckle. “What do you want then?”
Before he could answer, the front door opened. From over Shariff’s shoulder, she watched the masked man enter the room. He stopped mid-stride and glared at them, slamming the door to the house so loud the walls shook.
“That.” Shariff cupped her chin and made her return her attention to him. “Is a much better question. Why don’t we have a seat on the couch so we can discuss it further?”
Ally remained in the hall and watched Shariff disappear into the living room. The leather sofa creaked when he sat on it. He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Brains, determination, and stubbornness. I’m not sure if I should consider those your strengths or your flaws.”
Amirah’s incessant cries continued from their locked prison. Ally pushed off the door and walked toward Farah’s room, only stopping when the masked man took his spot in front of it. They stared at each other, neither one willing to move aside. “They need to go home,” she whispered. “What do I need to do to earn their freedom?” Pain flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away.
“The magic question,” Shariff answered from behind her. “What can you do to set them free? If you do as expected, they will walk out of here safely in two days.”
Ally continued to watch the man in front of her. He sealed his lids, refusing her access to his emotions. “I’m listening.”
“Three things. First, where are the boys my brother adopted?”
The stranger’s eyes opened, and he fixed his gaze on her. The intensity in them made her take a step back.
Her stomach twisted. “I don’t know.”
“Unacceptable answer. Let’s try another one. My father will arrive in two days to meet you, and when he does, you will confess to killing my brother.”
Ally blinked a couple of times and looked over her shoulder in his direction. “Why?”
He tipped his head toward the room with the crying baby. “So those two can live.”
Farah’s soft voice mingled with the baby’s cries as a shudder of fear shot through Ally’s spine. “I can do that.”
“Excellent.” Shariff waved the head covering and blindfold. “It’s time to go, so let’s get you dressed.”
But she didn’t move. “And third?”
He climbed to his feet, handed her the items and flashed her a confused look.
“You said three things. What’s the third?”
Amusement soon replaced his confused expression. “I will share the information with you when it’s time.”