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32 |Damos Residence Athens, Greece
Damos took the final bite of his moussaka then put down his fork, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied groan as he swallowed. He smiled appreciatively at his wife.
“Another masterpiece, as usual.”
She batted a hand at him. “You say that every meal.”
“And I mean it every time.” He leaned in and tickled his daughter’s stomach, eliciting a squirm and a giggle. “Don’t I!”
“Mommy’s the best cook ever!”
“And Daddy agrees.”
A bang downstairs had his eyes narrowing and his wife staring toward the staircase that led to his shop below. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. “I’ll check it out.”
His heart hammered when he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Multiple sets.
He took two steps toward the buffet and pulled open one of the drawers, retrieving his gun. He pointed at the bedroom down the hall. “Take her, now. Go out the window if I don’t signal you in thirty seconds.”
His wife, pale and trembling, grabbed their daughter and rushed down the hall as three men rounded the corner, stepping into the small kitchen.
Damos kept the gun at his side, but it didn’t go unnoticed. “What do you want? What is the meaning of this, coming into my home?”
“We’re here to discuss what went wrong last night.”
His eyes narrowed, then he finally put two and two together when he noticed the thick beards. “You’re from the Suqut Brigade.”
They all nodded as one, the leader stepping toward the side, staring down the hallway Damos had sent his family. “My boss is not pleased with you. We lost six—”
“Seven,” interjected another.
“—men last night. My boss thinks it’s your fault.”
Damos paled slightly, shaking his head vigorously. “Absolutely not. How could I know they had that extra security? Nobody knew.”
“She knew.”
Damos’ shoulders sagged, realizing he shouldn’t have lied to them. “She must have. But I swear, she didn’t tell me.”
Why stop lying now?
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth. I swear.”
The man took several steps down the hallway. “Perhaps if I asked your wife and daughter. Perhaps they might tell me what I want to know.”
Damos’ lower lip trembled as he remembered the stories about what ISIS did to women in their so-called Caliphate, and how even the Koran endorsed the sexual enslavement of the women of their enemies. “Please don’t hurt them. They’re innocent in all of this. They don’t even know what I do.”
“I find it hard to believe that your lovely wife has no idea how this wonderful food is put on your table.” The man rubbed his thumb through the sauce left on Damos’ daughter’s plate. He sucked it clean, nodding appreciatively. “Your wife is a fine cook. I wonder how she is in the bedroom.”
Damos’ arm raised swiftly, the gun now mere inches from the man’s head. “You won’t touch her.”
“Perhaps, but you’ll never know.”
Something hit him hard on the back of the head and he collapsed, his world going black almost instantly.
Please don’t touch them!