She nodded. “You told me that already.”
“Well, I specialize in anti-terrorism. The night we met was the night before I deployed into Pakistan.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“No. I couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to. But in Pakistan, we went after a terrorist group called The Network. They’re one of the largest and deadliest organizations in the world, and they absolutely hate us.”
“Okay,” she said. “So what?”
“I don’t know how, but The Network figured out my identity. Worse than that, they had spies in the resort we were staying at.”
I saw the wheels turning in her mind. “In India, they were watching you?”
“Yes,” I said. “That was how they found out about you.”
She stared at me, and I could see comprehension dawning on her face. “They know about me?”
“Tara, about two days ago I got a photograph in the mail. It was a picture of you, a recent picture of you. I believe The Network sent it to me as a message.”
She leaned back into the couch, shaking her head. “No way. This is crazy.”
“Stay with me, Tara,” I said. “This is all real.”
“No,” she said. “No. I’m not the target of some terrorist group. You’re crazy.”
“I believe you are. In the past few days, has anyone approached you? Possibly a man that looked Indian, about my height and weight? He likely spoke perfect English.”
She shook her head. “No. Nobody like that.”
“Think harder, Tara. Have you seen anyone following you lately?”
Slowly she nodded. “Oh my god. Yesterday.”
“What happened?”
“Just before you showed up, I was in the park with Mason and I dropped my wallet. A man followed me back to my house to return it.” She looked at me, stunned. “He looked Indian, just like you described. Seemed nice.”
“I believe that man was Omar Hooth, one of the most dangerous Pakistani terrorists in the world.”
She looked dazed. “Is that why we left the café?”
“Yes,” I said. “I spotted him sitting nearby, watching us. I decided we should lose him and talk.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I can’t. You have to be lying to me. A terrorist wants to hurt me?”
“He wants to hurt me,” I said, “and he’ll do anything to do that.”
She stared at me, and I could see the fear beginning to bubble for real underneath her gaze. She was taking it pretty well, all considered, but I knew she was just a second from losing it completely.
“We need to call the police,” she said.
“No. We can’t call them.”
“Why? Emory, they can help us.”
“I’m under orders from my commanding officer. We can’t alert the local police.”
“But they can help,” she said again, clearly desperate.
“If we call the cops, the media will hear about this. Maybe not right away, but sooner or later, they will. And if word gets out that Omar Hooth is in America, there will be a panic, and we will lose him.”
“So you’re using me and my baby as bait?”
“Not at all,” I said. “But if we want to stop him, we can’t let him get away.”
“Emory, this is insane. Please, let’s just call the police or the FBI or someone.”
I shook my head. “No, Tara. You don’t fucking need them. You have SEAL Team Eight.”
“I just have you,” she said softly.
“For now.”
“There are more of you?”
“Of course there are,” I said, grinning. “If we need help, they’re a phone call away.”
“Call them,” she said.
“Not yet. Omar hasn’t made a move yet, but he definitely knows I’m here. We can’t risk spooking him.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide, and stood up. “I want you to leave.”
“Tara—”
“No. I want you to get out. First you get me pregnant and disappear, and now you’re saying some terrorist is going to try to kill me?”
I stood, shaking my head. “I didn’t want any of this.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your fault. Your fault.”
“I know that.”
“Get out. I want you to get out.”
“Okay.” I took a few steps into the kitchen and then looked back at her. “But I’m not going far. Hate me or don’t, but Omar is dangerous and he’s nearby. I won’t leave you alone.”
“Just get out.”
I turned and left, closing the front door behind me.
I stood on her porch for a second, taking deep breaths. I understood why she reacted that way, but it still didn’t feel nice to be reminded that this was all my fault.