Eagle's Heart (7 page)

The finale of the fireworks show had started, and the loud bursting of the display nearly drowned out the cheers of the partygoers. The cacophony built and built, each boom resulting in larger bursts of colored light. The beauty of millions of shimmering specks raining down from the sky finally sank in, and Salomeh withdrew her hand from his to clap along with the crowd as they shouted their appreciation. As the raucous celebration quieted and the last embers of fireworks drifted down like tiny shooting stars over the city, she looked up at the stranger beside her.

“So, are you going to have fun, or am I going to have to call in reinforcements?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

“Secret agent man, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Six

As Julian and Salomeh made their way toward the bar where most of the guests were now clustered, he tried to calculate the probability of Salomeh Jones being the woman his neighbor had wanted him to meet. Math wasn’t his forte, but he knew the odds were approximately slim to none. That he had fucked up terribly by not immediately revealing his identity, however, was a much safer bet. Something about the woman wrecked his common sense. All he could think of was drawing out that wonderful laugh of hers again, and perhaps getting her to produce some other more sensual noises if he were stupid enough to continue this farce.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, turning to him with a shy smile.

Stupid was an understatement because he was ready to keep his lips sealed until Judgment Day if she just kept smiling at him like that.

He had thought her beautiful in his fantasy, and even more so standing apart from the crowd in the shadows. Now that they were in a more well-lit area, her loveliness hit him like a punch to the gut. He actually felt a surge of guilt for his five-finger salute to her earlier. The fantasy version of Salomeh didn’t hold a candle to the woman in the flesh.

“I don’t take drinks from strangers,” he said and then extended his hand. “I’m Julian.”

Tell her the rest, asshole. All you have to do is tell her now, and then you can get around to catching Bardhyn, he thought, but something prevented him from taking the obvious course of action. Maybe the fear that she would turn tail and run, or that she would start talking to him like he was an agency robot instead of a man.

“And I’m…Salomeh,” she replied, taking his hand with a grip that was delicate but firm. He’d heard the hesitation in her voice and was happy when she gave him her real name. Why? Maybe because it meant she really had nothing to hide. Julian held her hand a bit longer than appropriate, knowing the move took him further away from his purpose but again unable to help himself. Her eyes widened, and something shone in the dark-brown depths, an emotion that wasn’t fear or sadness or annoyance. Whatever it was, it sent a jolt of excitement through him.

“I’m surprised you revealed your name so easily,” he said with a smile, despite the fact he already knew her middle name, alma mater, and shoe size. “There can’t be too many beautiful terrorists named Salomeh running around Manhattan, can there?”

She wrinkled her nose at him as if considering the validity of his statement. “Do lines like that usually work on women?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, almost as shocked as when she had randomly made her Homeland Security crack. No one ever called him out, especially when he was turning on the charm full blast.

“Well, Salomeh is just one of my many aliases,” she countered, poking him in the ribs, “so you’d best keep your guard up.”

Julian wondered at the transformation in her behavior. She had gone from standoffish to flirtatious, but clearly wasn’t too swayed by his allure, judging by how she swatted away his compliment.

“You’re pretty bad at this whole sleeper-cell business,” he said. “Rule number one: never confirm you’re not who you say you are. Rule number two: if you do blow your cover, make sure to take out whoever knows your secret.”

“What makes you think I’m not going to take you out?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. “Enjoy this drink I’m getting you. It may be your last.”

“I’ll take a rum and Coke, then,” Julian said as she moved away from him.

“I know,” she said and merged into the crowd.

Julian didn’t know why he was turning the charm up to eleven instead of asking her more productive questions, but somewhere between his first sighting of her and their exchange under the water tower, the plan had changed from checking out a lead to figuring out how to please her. He told himself it was because she had information that might be helpful to him, but even the most deluded part of his brain wouldn’t allow that fallacy. As unusual as it was for him, it appeared he actually liked her.

But he still had to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

He whipped out his cell phone and texted Yates, hoping he sounded professional and detached.
I ran into the teacher Jones at rooftop party at my building. Currently trying to see if the lead is viable.

Are you serious? Stop messing with me on my day off
, was the initial reply, followed by
Wait, if this is true does that mean you’re going to harass her on the first night she’s worked up the nerve to go out in weeks, and probably ruin her entire night? Awesome.

Julian frowned, fingers flying over his phone’s small keyboard.
I’m not going to interrogate her, just see if I can gather any intel relevant to our case.

He thought that was vague enough to sound believable.

So you haven’t told her who you are
, came the rapid reply, instantly followed by another.
You do realize you’re not James Bond, don’t you?
And then another.
This should go well. Don’t do anything stupid, Tamali.

Julian searched the crowd and homed in on Salomeh’s white dress. He had spent some time in Saudi Arabia, where modesty police could chastise women for revealing the smallest amount of hair or skin. Salomeh’s dress would cause those guys to spontaneously combust. The way the halter top cupped her heavy breasts taunted him with how easy it would be to release those twin beauties. The dress draped over her curvy hips and stopped right below her ass, revealing long, long legs.

She held two drinks in her hands but been had stopped by his matchmaker neighbor. The woman seemed to be doing an interrogation of her own as a small group of guys began to advance on them. Given the smooth expanse of dusky skin that was exposed to the night air, he was surprised the guys weren’t moving faster.

I never do anything stupid. Why would I start tonight?
he texted Yates before slipping his phone back into his pocket and heading for Salomeh.

“I’m fine. I was just getting a drink for someone,” she was saying to her friend as he approached. Her voice was shy again, and Julian felt a stab of guilt as he saw Salomeh’s small, hopeful smile.

“Who is
someone?
Is this mystery friend the reason you pulled a Usain Bolt across the rooftop earlier?” Marta asked, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. The men milling about them leaned closer expectantly, as her shirt was already dangerously low-cut.

“She’s not allowed to make new friends?” Julian inquired easily as he stepped in front of their other admirers, a smirk lifting a corner of his mouth. “Is there something I should know about you two?”

Salomeh rolled her eyes as she handed him his drink. “This is Julian, an unsavory character I found skulking in the shadows. Julian, this is Marta, my very best friend.”

“Hello, neighbor,” Marta said, a grin on her face as her gaze flitted back and forth between them. “If this is why you ditched me, I fully endorse that decision. I knew it as soon as I saw him!”

Understanding lit in Salomeh’s eyes as she looked at him. “So this is him?” she asked, and he could feel her pulling away, hastily rebuilding the walls she had been hiding behind when he first approached. The less callous part of his mind thought he should let her, but the self-serving part of him wanted to spend time with her, whether it was disingenuous or not.

“No, not ‘him,’ still Julian from the water tower,” he said in a cajoling tone as he moved closer to her, looking down into her eyes.

She returned his gaze, her eyes moving back and forth as if she was attempting to read him and wasn’t sure the story was worth her time.

He smiled and looked over at Marta. “Can you help me out here?” he asked.

“Well, you look very nice, despite the fact that you’re fully clothed now, but the important question is: are you funny?” Marta asked, her eyes narrowing a bit as she assessed him. “Salomeh here needs someone to make her laugh. And I don’t mean when he pulls down his pants.” She guffawed at her own joke, jovially elbowing a bearded guy who had sidled up next to her.

Julian wasn’t sure that Marta’s joke would necessarily fall into the category of helpful, but her belief that Salomeh might give him the opportunity to remove his pants probably meant she approved of him.

Salomeh cringed and whispered to her friend, “Are you okay? Do we need to go?”

“I’m fine,” Marta whispered back. “I’m just having fun acting like a weirdo until Daisy gets back up here and saves me from these hipster dudes. And I enjoy messing with you, of course.”

“Marta, I’m going to—”

“Thank me for inviting you to this party so you could meet the fine specimen of male you’re talking to? You’re welcome!”

Marta spun away from them then, slipping back into the drunken-ditz role that was keeping her entertained.

“Are we having fun, or do I have to take you in?” Julian asked in a low voice.

Salomeh seemed to steel herself before shaking her head in mock complaint. “I’m going to hurt that woman,” she muttered as she took Julian’s arm and maneuvered him a few yards away. Her hand was warm and soft, and she didn’t recoil when her fingers grazed against the ridged scars on his forearms. Julian felt an odd sense of gratefulness that she had chosen to continue talking to him, tinged with distress that she had chosen incorrectly. Was this how she had gotten mixed up with Bardhyn, a lack of instinct? It didn’t match up with how she seemed to be reading him, despite his subterfuge.

“She’s very straightforward.” Julian laughed quietly, pushing his thoughts away. He would figure out her connection to Bardhyn, and soon, but conjecture was pointless.

“Yes, that’s one way of putting it,” Salomeh said. “She was right, though. About me needing some fun in my life. But you’ve already accomplished that tonight, so your work is done.”

“That’s all girls ever want from me.” Julian sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “A drink, a laugh, and then I’m kicked to the curb.”

Salomeh giggled and looked up at him. “You’re very good at this. I should be paying you,” she said, a goofy grin illuminating her face.

He fought the urge to kiss her. That couldn’t happen. He would enjoy his time with her, but he was talking to her for a reason, and despite what certain organs were telling him, it wasn’t to get laid.

“The only payment I accept is information,” he said instead. “Answers to questions such as: what brought you here tonight? Although I’m sure it was the little blonde pixie who questioned my manhood. And why were you standing forlorn in a corner waiting to be saved by your court jester in shining armor?”

Salomeh stared off into the distance for a moment as though she was contemplating her answer.

“Yes, Marta invited me. She lives in the building, obviously. And as for my damsel-in-distress routine, you made me promise to act like I was having fun, so let’s not discuss that.” Salomeh paused and then gave him a look of pure curiosity. “What’s up with this crazy accent? I can’t place it. It’s not French or Italian, but it sounds Indo-European. I think. It’s not one of those random Hellenic languages, is it?”

Julian hadn’t known his inner language nerd was capable of arousal, but hearing Salomeh discuss linguistic groupings was basically intellectual foreplay. In addition to getting him wound up, he realized this discussion could segue into discussing Bardhyn if he played it right. “My accent isn’t ‘crazy,’” he said disdainfully. “It’s Albanian, and it’s much sexier than either a French or Italian accent. American accents don’t even rate a mention, of course.”

He held his head up haughtily, extending his pinky as he took a sip of his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye to catch her reaction.

She smiled and shrugged unapologetically at him. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she said. “All the boys with the cute accents are already taken, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”

She stared into her drink, concentrating as if you could tell fortunes from soda bubbles. She was embarrassed by her admission. Julian almost allowed himself to be distracted by the implications of her words, but reined his ego in.

Get it together, man, he chided himself. It wasn’t as if he’d never charmed an attractive woman.

“Since the accent is unfamiliar, I take it you’ve never met an Albanian before?” he pressed.

“Surprisingly, I haven’t. You’re my first,” she said with a sly grin that made Julian’s cock stiffen, but then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, wait!”

“Yes?” Julian asked expectantly.

“The super in my last building was Albanian. I used to bring him books for his kids because he wanted them to learn about everything,” she said with a pleased smile that faded. “He sometimes told me stories about how everything fell apart in his country. Some of the stuff he told me was very hard to listen to. Families being killed, lives destroyed by war, and all for nothing.”

For a millisecond, anger pulsed in Julian’s veins. As hypocritical as it was, the thought that Salomeh was playing him, that she knew about his parents and sister and his lonely days fighting a war with the hope he would be granted the release of death, infuriated him.

Did Bardhyn put her up to this? he wondered.

But then something in her eyes softened, and her hand was warm against his arm again, understanding in her touch as she ran her palm over the old wounds.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought that up. It was tactless of me.”

“It’s okay, although you should know there’s a lot more to the country than death and pain,” he said, though it was the first time he had acknowledged that in years. “We also have very beautiful beaches.”