He smiled. “As if.”
Ivan changed lanes and sped up, but their pursuer followed with no problem, weaving through the traffic like a heat-seeking missile.
“He’s bound to tell Langdon I left without his permission,” Samira said.
“Who cares? You’re a free person and you can do whatever you want.”
“Let’s just keep him on side until I get my passport back. If Langdon asks where I went today I’ll say I was feeling cooped up wanted a trip out. Hopefully he’ll buy that.”
“Sure. And if he doesn’t, he can deal with me. But I guess we’d better be careful and not act like we’re in love.” He threw her an affectionate glance and squeezed her thigh. “That’ll be hard.”
She smiled. “No public displays of affection – regardless of how possessive you’re feeling, okay?”
“Agreed. But, I’m definitely going to find out who the fuck our stalker is, and then I’m going to force him to leave you alone.”
Samira shook her head. She didn’t know why he couldn’t just ignore him until they were able to leave the ranch for good and start their lives together properly. But that was the Quinlans for you – they always finished what they started.
With the private investigator still in pursuit, Ivan pulled off the freeway, and drove them into a town that looked as if it hadn’t been renovated since the 1950s. It seemed to consist of one main road, with box-like red-brick stores and diners on either side. The storefronts were painted bright colors and had names like ‘Home Sweet Home’ and ‘Sew Simple’, suggesting that the folks around here liked to fend for themselves. Each store was proudly displaying the Stars and Stripes, as well as a few Texas Star flags too.
The only thing that gave this place a modern feel were the shiny pickup trucks parked in front of the buildings. It was eerily quiet, as if the townsfolk were expecting trouble…
Ivan parked the truck outside ‘Deena’s Diner’ and they both jumped out into the searing heat. Samira watched as the private detective’s car slowed and crawled past – pretending he was just casually searching for a parking space.
She refrained from holding Ivan’s hand as they walked toward the glass-fronted diner. “Shit,” Samira said. “I’ve just realized I literally haven’t been out of the ranch in six months, other than to do the suitcase exchanges. It’s so good to see shops and civilization.”
“Not much of that around here.” Ivan said with a chuckle. He fell serious. “But I guess by giving you your so-called freedom, Langdon actually made you a prisoner.”
“Yeah. Fingers crossed Clara’s friend can help me to stay in America without his help.”
Ivan held open the glass door for her. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure that happens, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, my love.”
It was a typical American diner – reminding Samira of the ones she’d seen on TV back in Iran. The checkerboard floor tiles were shiny, the tables were chrome, and the glass counter proudly displayed a huge array of cakes. The waitress drifted from table to table in her gingham dress and pumps, filling coffee cups to the brim and humming to the Country and Western tune on the radio.
There weren’t many other customers, but Samira could see Clara was a Quinlan, sitting there dressed in a sharp suit, typing on her laptop, talking on her phone, and drinking coffee all at the same time. She was slim, pretty, and hardnosed – Samira was certain that any man would need to work hard to penetrate that steely exterior. She wasn’t sure what a marine biologist did, but she’d expected someone a bit more laidback – maybe a hippy with a tie-dyed kaftan and pigtails. Clara was the antithesis of that image. Perhaps she was more relaxed when she donned her waders and got down to the practical work.
Ivan and Samira halted at Clara’s table, so she quickly finished her call, then she stood up and threw her arms around her big brother. He held her tight and they hugged hard. Ivan had told Samira earlier that he’d already been reunited with his parents and siblings, but Clara was obviously still pleased to know that her oldest brother was alive after all he’d put them through.
Clara stepped back. “Great to see you, Ivan. You look like a cowboy – I never thought I’d see you in anything but a designer suit.”
He chuckled. “I can’t wait to get back into it. Hey, this is Samira.”
Clara turned and inspected her, pinning her down with steely eyes. Samira refused to feel self-conscious, so she smiled sweetly. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Clara thrust out her hand for Samira to shake. Her grip was firm, but Samira refused to play ‘who can squeeze the hardest’.
“Shall we sit down?” Ivan said.
Ivan and Samira sat opposite Clara, and they ordered coffee.
Samira glanced out the window and saw that the private investigator had found a space outside, and he was leaning against his car, pretending to read a newspaper. As if anyone would actually do that in the one-hundred degree heat out there. Samira almost felt sorry for him, dressed in his long-sleeved shirt and suit trousers. But at least he had his Stetson on to prevent heatstroke.
Ivan followed her gaze. “Do you want to invite him in for coffee?”
She chuckled. “No, sorry.”
“Who is he?” Clara asked. “And can you hook us up?”