Wade by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

You’re too bright to bury yourself here.”
    She drew herself up, standing tall before him though the top of her head only came to his chin. “Think what you like. I have given you my answer. You must accept it or I will tell you now that I can’t go.”
    He muttered something that might have been profane as he lifted a hand to waist level, abruptly closing it into a fist.
    Chloe flinched; she couldn’t help it.
    Wade lowered his hand, staring at her before he said in precise tones, “I’ve never hit a woman in my life.”
    â€œNo. I…It was just a reflex.” His gesture had been one of exasperation. She saw that now.
    â€œI know that, damn it all. What I don’t get is you being so afraid and still…” He closed his lips on the words and swung around, turning his back to her.
    He was angry and perhaps wounded in his pride that she could imagine he would use force. It was astonishing, and also disturbing. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œGod, don’t apologize. That just makes it worse.” He stared up at the mulberry leaves above him a second. “Never mind. Be at the market two mornings from now, you hear?”
    â€œAnd if I’m not?”
    â€œI came here to take you out of this hellish country. You’re going, one way or another.”
    That sounded like a threat. “What are you saying?”
    He didn’t answer, but only took a running step and leaped to catch a lower branch of the mulberry tree. A lithe swing and twist of his body, and he was balanced on top of the wall, a shadow among the rustling branches. Seconds later, he vanished.
    Chloe was alone in the garden once more, with only her fears and regrets.

3
    W ade Benedict stood on the far side of the stone wall until he heard a door open and close and knew Chloe Madison was safe inside once more. Or at least safe from any consequences of his visit, as far as he could tell. Only then did he move off into the night, heading for the dingy room he’d taken in a midtown hotel.
    He kept to the backstreets, every sense on high alert. Curfew was in effect in Ajzukabad as in all Hazaristan cities, and he wasn’t exempt because he was American. In fact, it might get him a cracked skull or trip to pokey even faster than normal. Anti-American sentiment was strong here since the U.S. attack on Afghanistan, and he could be targeted for that reason alone. A knife in the ribs while his wallet was lifted was also a definite possibility. All the public hangings and chopped-off hands in the world couldn’t stop that ancient response to terrible economic conditions.
    The last few minutes with Chloe Madison played in his head like a bad movie. He couldn’t believe she’d actually thought he meant to hit her. That reaction told him more than he wanted to know about what her life was like these days. Leaving John’s daughter in the house with that stepbrother of hers for thirty-six more hours really went against the grain.
    The file on Ahmad indicated that he’d been brought up by his grandfather on a steady diet of Islamic fundamentalism that had been compounded by his introduction to the Taliban. From the mullahs at the school in Kabul where he was sent for his education, he’d been indoctrinated with the idea that women were immoral beings who must always be controlled, and that the U.S. was to blame for every bad thing that had ever happened in a Muslim nation. The result was a full-blown hatred of both women and all things American. His father’s marriage to an American woman had been an insult in his view, a slur on the family honor. It was rumored that he’d rid himself of his stepmother by having her murdered in the street while his father was away. Evidence also suggested a connection to the al Qaeda terrorist network, one developed while he was in Afghanistan. It wasn’t simply that Chloe’s stepbrother had developed a fanatic streak with a