“And I am their reinforcements.” He smiled but still didn’t budge.
Samir—Sam—was different from other men she’d known, and she hadn’t led a nun’s life during her exile here. While she hadn’t slept with him, Samir pushed her for something far more intimate than any of those other men. Friendship.
“I will walk you home,” he insisted.
“It’s only three buildings away.” She pretended not to notice the curious stares. Everyone knew Sam had a thing for her, but they also knew she’d kept her distance. “Your help isn’t necessary.”
Still, she waved for him to walk beside her.
“I do understand it is not necessary. But I will walk with you anyway.” His smile fanned creases from his eyes behind his little round glasses. “My mother would be very angry with me if I forgot the manners she taught me.”
She pretended not to notice the curious stares of other teachers and students as she passed the dining hall. “You’re a pushy man.”
“Not really.”
And that was true. He had a reputation for being a mild-mannered academic, the epitome of nerdiness. Except when it came to pursuing her. He was always quietly there, waiting with those intense sexy eyes of his.
“So then, Sam…” She smiled at him, letting herself flirt a little as a relief against the horrible day. “If I told you to go on ahead, you would?”
He walked silently beside her, staying in step along the dirt path leading to the teachers’ dorm.
Laughing, she hooked her thumb on the leather strap of her bag. “Like I said. Pushy.”
“Ungrateful.”
“Excuse me?”
He glanced down at her, reminding her he had eight extra inches of height on her. “Since we are tossing around adjectives, I will volley one back your way. Ungrateful.”
Now that struck a nerve, reminding her of arguments with her husband. Her dead husband. “I’m supposed to be grateful for the gift of your presence? Well then how about this adjective? Egotistical.”
He tapped his chest. “Protective.”
That sat a little better on her prickly pride. “Oh, you’re worried about me? Now don’t I feel foolish? I thought you were hitting on me.”
His smile flattened to a deep scowl. “I would never hit a woman.”
“Sorry. That’s an idiom for making a move on a woman.” Still he looked confused so she continued, “A romantic move.”
“That too.”
She stopped. “You’re making a move on me? After a year of following me around.”
“Following you around? You make me sound like a puppy. I am merely a devoted man, a patient man. I have actually been making moves for quite some time, but apparently my moves were not obvious enough to capture your attention. It could be a difference in cultural courtship rituals. You may add intelligent and persistent to the adjective list. Good night.”
She watched him walk silently away, tall and broad shouldered. And persistent.
Her husband had been upset by her choices, angry with her. He’d even asked her to come back. But he’d never once been persistent.
Yes, Samir Al-Shennawi intrigued her. He made her want to learn more, made her want more.
Except how persistent would he stay if he knew she was a trained killer?
***
Jose planted himself in a chair outside the break room door so he wouldn’t miss Stella when she left. He was dead on his feet, running on fumes, but sitting was the only concession he would give himself. Sleep could come later, once he saw her and knew she was taken care of.
The CV-22 was parked behind him, the crew gathered around the back hatch. On the other side of the aircraft, the CIA command center was still in place with screens glowing. The hangar hummed with pockets of activity.