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The next morning, they woke next to each other in Aidan’s bed. Liam yawned and said, “Let me teach you a little Arabic. “Good morning is ‘Sabah il-kher,’ which means ‘morning of goodness,’ and the response is ‘sabah il-noor,’ which means morning of light.”
Aidan tried it back to him. “Sabah il-kher.”
Liam leaned over and kissed him. “Sabah il-noor. You are a good student.”
“I’m accustomed to being the teacher, you know.”
Liam pushed the sheets aside and rolled over on top of Aidan. “Oh, yes? And what do your students do when they want to get in your good graces?” He leaned down and teased Aidan’s nipple with his teeth.
“Not that,” Aidan said, his body stiffening.
Liam began to lick his way down Aidan’s chest. His tongue was rough, and the moisture he left behind evaporated quickly in the dry heat. As his tongue tickled Aidan’s belly button, Aidan arched his back and moaned.
Then Liam’s phone rang.
Aidan began to laugh. “Didn’t you shut that off last night?”
Liam rolled off Aidan and reached for the phone. “Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
Aidan looked at the clock. It was almost eight, time for them to get started if they were going to head out into the desert. He hoped that Liam might join him in the shower, but no luck. He soaped down his body, feeling the tenderness in his thighs and ass, those muscles that hadn’t been used in a long time. He was as contented as a cat.
He relished the water streaming over him. Would they be camping in the desert? Were there bathrooms and showers? He might as well enjoy these creature comforts while he could, even if he did have to enjoy them alone.
When he walked into the kitchen, hair dripping, white towel wrapped around his waist, Liam was sitting at the table. He’d pulled on his shorts, but his magnificent chest was exposed, every light brown hair glowing in the morning light. “You moved,” he said.
“Somebody’s got to be responsible here. You want to take a shower?”
“In a minute. My contact thinks he knows who mugged us in the souk.”
Aidan leaned against the wall. “Who?”
“There’s a Libyan secret service agent in town, a man named Wahid Zubran. He’s been asking for favors from a man in the Tunisian police named Desrosiers.”
“Is he the one who killed Carlucci?”
“Don’t know. But from his description he sounds like one of the guys we ran up against. This Zubran always wears military-style shirts with epaulets.”
“Libyan?” Aidan asked. “Didn’t Carlucci have a Libyan stamp in his passport?”
Liam pulled it out of his pocket. “Yup. But I don’t know if there’s a connection.”
“The Libyans have to be after the money,” Aidan said. “They knew that Carlucci was carrying that account number and password and they killed him for it.”
Liam nodded. “Quite possible. That makes it even more important that we hook up with this tribe ASAP.”
“Then get your ass in the shower so we can get moving,” Aidan said.
Liam looked at his watch. “The next train isn’t for an hour. It’ll only take us a few minutes to get to the station.”
He reached a big hand over and tugged on the towel around Aidan’s waist, which fell to the kitchen floor, leaving Aidan naked in the bright early-morning light streaming into the kitchen. Aidan’s dick was already semi-hard, and Liam took it in his mouth. Aidan’s ass clenched at feeling of Liam’s lips, and he tossed his head back and groaned. “Like that, do you?” Liam asked, pulling off for a moment.
Aidan didn’t answer, because Liam swallowed him again, working his mouth up and down, suctioning, teasing the mushroom cap with his teeth. His skin was still damp from his shower, and it tingled as the breeze blew in from the open window. Liam grabbed Aidan’s ass and ran an index finger between his cheeks as he bobbed up and down on Aidan’s dick.
Aidan lost himself in sensation, focusing on the warm wetness of Liam’s mouth, the roughness of Liam’s index finger probing his ass. Aidan felt himself pure sensation, no thought or logic. When his orgasm came, it ratcheted up from his groin, swelled through his heart, set every electrode in his brain humming.
He slumped back against the wall as Liam pulled off him. “Guess I’ll take that shower now,” Liam said, standing.
“Don’t you want...”
“Consider it an IOU,” Liam said, shucking his shorts and tossing them on the sofa as he walked to the bathroom. “I’ll collect later.”
While Liam showered, Aidan dressed and cleared up the apartment, placing the last few things he needed in his backpack. As Liam reassembled his duffle, Aidan took a last look around. It already looked like a place he was leaving—the forlorn sofa, rickety kitchen table, faded paint on the walls.
Things hadn’t worked out the way he’d expected when he’d first walked in the apartment a week before. Then, he’d been thinking he’d be in Tunis for at least a semester, teaching ESL and hiding out from the possibility of any new relationship. He’d relished the challenge of making a life in this new place, and as a consequence, everything had looked new and fresh.
Instead, his life had taken an unexpected turn. He’d always been a planner, the kind of guy who knew what movie he’d see that weekend, where he’d be living and working, what the future held. Now, he was forced to live in the moment, not knowing what might happen an hour ahead, and though he didn’t like it, he knew it was good for him.
They decided it would be best for Aidan to hold Carlucci’s passport, since they looked so much alike. Aidan slipped the small book into his backpack and shouldered it as Liam hoisted his duffle. He locked the apartment door and left the key with the downstairs neighbor. He said goodbye to the dog, and wished her well. He hoped the next tenant would take her in.
As the cab approached the modern, three-story train station, Liam leaned forward and said something to the driver in Arabic. “Police,” he said to Aidan under his breath. There were two police officers stationed by the front door, scanning everyone who passed.
“Are they looking for us?”
“Don’t know. Don’t want to risk it, though.”
The cab driver took them past the station, and around the side. Liam opened his duffle and rummaged through it, pulling out a small leather case. The driver turned and spoke to Liam, pointing at a small door set deep into the wall, behind a waist-high concrete planter.
“Shukran,” Liam said. He motioned to Aidan to get out. “Stay here,” he said, positioning Liam in the shelter of an empty city bus. “Keep an eye out for the cops.”
He slung his duffle over his shoulder and walked around the planter, to the door. He tried the handle, and when it wouldn’t release he opened the small leather case and pulled something out of it.
Liam was picking the lock, Aidan realized. He scanned the area, worried that a policeman, even an employee, would approach and challenge Liam. The side street was busy, taxis and private cars jockeying for space with pedestrians and tourists, horns blowing and lots of shouting in Arabic.
Liam waved to Aidan as he popped the door handle. Aidan hurried over, hoisting his backpack on his back, and they slipped inside, to what looked like a service corridor. A door at the far end popped open, and Liam spun Aidan toward the wall and leaned down to kiss him.
Aidan was stunned. Not that he minded being kissed, but surely this wasn’t the right time or place? He looked beyond Liam and saw an old man pushing a mop and bucket coming toward them. The man waved his hands and shouted in Arabic.
Liam looked at the man and scowled, then grabbed Aidan’s hand and dragged him down toward the door the man had come through. The man shook his hand at them as they passed, but then turned and continued down the hall.
“What was that about?” Aidan whispered, as Liam paused at the doorway, looking left and then right.
“Didn’t want him to wonder what we were doing in that back hallway,” Liam said. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want my kisses anymore?” He grinned. “The way looks clear. Let’s get our tickets.”
The station was busy, crowds of backpackers at the kiosks, whole families clustered on benches. Vendors sold tea, coffee and sweets. At the ticket counter, they had the choice between first class, which had air conditioning, and “comfort class,” also air-conditioned, but with larger, more comfortable seats. Liam bought the tickets there. “We’re tourists, remember?” he said. “Americans go for comfort.”
They walked out to where metal piers the same bright blue Aidan had seen on grillwork throughout the city spanned the tracks. The train had not come in yet, so they stood back against the wall, sheltered by a news kiosk.
A single policeman patrolled the tracks, though he was more interested in a pretty young Tunisian woman in a short sundress than in who was waiting for the train. Liam’s phone rang, and he turned away to take the call. Aidan heard only Liam’s side of the conversation, which consisted mostly of things like “Wow” and “Are you sure?”
When Liam hung up, he turned to Aidan. “My buddy checked the balance of that account. It took him a while to figure out which bank it was in, but once he did, the password got him right in.”
“And?”
“There’s a million dollars there.”
“That’s a nice little relocation boost for this tribe,” Aidan said.
“You bet. It’s also a nice little motive for murder.”
