Pussycat in Peril (Pussycat Death Squad Book 3) by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb Read Free Book Online Page B

Being able to cook would just be too much, I’d feel insecure. Besides, I enjoy cooking. Don’t get to do it much though,” he said.
    She lowered her gaze, heat rising in her face at his compliment. “Thank you. I miss home cooking so much.”
    “There are a lot of restaurants that have Arab cuisine, but yeah, there’s nothing like home cooking,” he said.
    “I know. I haven’t had a chance to explore the city much.”
    “Right you’ve only been here a couple of months. I’ve been here a while. Ask me anything.”
    She plucked a blossom from the grass. “What is this flower?”
    “That, my dear, is a dandelion. Do you not have them in your country?”
    “I don’t think so. It’s rather pretty, don’t you think?” She blew on it and watched the seedpods drift away on the light breeze.
    “Don’t let my dad hear you say that. They’re a weed and he launches chemical warfare against them each spring.” He choked off a laugh, then reached out to touch her hand. “Come on now, it’s not that bad,” he said with a concerned frown.
    Astaria dabbed at the tears that had suddenly begun leaking from her eyes. “No. No. I was looking at the way it drifts away. Sort of like me. Cast adrift from my family. My roots back in North Africa.”
    “Tell you what, you have my family. Especially my younger brother. My mama will adore you. She’ll be thrilled for a break from all us loud and smelly boys,” he said.
    She smiled, though it was a struggle. He really was a sweetheart and she appreciated the huge sacrifice he was making on her behalf. Which is why, on that warm spring afternoon with the dappled sunlight spreading its magic over them, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.
    *****
    Astaria forced herself out of the torpor of memories and came back into the present. Their driver was driving so quickly that the journey to Laria, which typically took two hours, took only a little over one. When the driver stopped at a building she was surprised to recognize a hotel she had stayed at before. Staying here was not a good idea. The management was rife with government spies, and there was always the possibility that she might be recognized. She gave Kaeden a sharp look and he nodded, then exited the vehicle. After he helped her do the same, she realized he’d left an envelope on the seat. The other man reached over the back of his seat and picked it up. He raised it to his head in an ersatz salute, and then the truck sped off at an even faster clip.
    The hotel was a large glass-fronted structure with uniformed doormen helping guests exit vehicles in a formal manner. Most of the guests were in expensive business attire and she and Kaeden stood out. He at least was wearing what could be called business casual in khakis and a black polo shirt. She, on the other hand, looked a wrinkled mess in her repeatedly slept-in clothes. Fortunately her hijab covered the messy braids she’d been wearing for weeks now which were in desperate need of a re-do. Everything else though, was disreputable in the extreme. She eyed the doormen warily. One of them was bound to call law enforcement or run them off himself.
    “We can’t stay here,” she said to Kaeden.
    “I assumed as much from your look. I wasn’t lying about the lack of contacts,” he said. “Where else can we go?”
    “Come on,” she said, hurrying toward the line of taxis queued up outside the hotel. After entering the taxi she gave the driver an address in French. When a blank stare was his only response she switched to Arabic then resumed speaking to Kaeden in French.
    “He might be faking, but I don’t think our driver speaks French. I didn’t dare try English as my English is irretrievably Americanized,” she said.
    He nodded in agreement with her observation. “Where are you taking us?”
    “A friend of my father’s.”
    “Do you think that’s a good idea? From what I understand everyone at the university has either been arrested, killed