Fourth of July (22 page)

“You’ve got to be able to come up with something better than that.”

She snapped her fingers. “I know. Last week my older sister called me and we gossiped for over an hour about a girl we grew up with who still isn’t nice to us.”

Chris laughed out loud. “I can’t imagine anyone not being nice to you. I think they deserved to be gossiped about.”

“Well, it wasn’t a very Christian thing to do.”

He raised his eyebrows. Her verbiage was always interesting. For some reason, the words that came naturally to her weren’t offensive to him.

“I despise my brother-in-law.” Alexis warmed to the subject. “I beg Brittany to leave him.”

“What? I thought you religious people frowned on breaking up families.”

“Marriage shouldn’t be treated lightly. But, if someone is being mistreated, they shouldn’t stay.”

“Is she being abused?” Chris asked in concern.

Alexis tossed a pebble into the water. She watched the ripples. Chris watched her.

“Not physically. He degrades her emotionally and spiritually, yet appears like a charming husband and father to everyone else.”

“Men like that don’t deserve a family.”

“I agree, but the issues with Brittany and Steven are not what we were discussing. Don’t try and change the subject,” she warned. “I’m not through with you. You need to release your emotions naturally—crying, exercising, talking with friends, writing in a journal, whatever you feel comfortable with. If you don’t learn how to properly express your emotions, you’ll end up blowing your top.”

“Blowing my top?” Chris repeated the expression.

“You know what I mean. Your intensity on the job makes more sense to me now. You aren’t releasing your emotions in the proper way so you yell and scream at those you are interrogating.”

The temperature dropped. “Whoa. It’s not like these are innocent people.”

Alexis held his gaze. “I didn’t say they were, but does freaking out on them really work?”

Chris studied her, absorbing what she was saying. “So you think I’m out of control? Too intense?”

“You could tone things down several notches.”

Chris just nodded at her, not ready to concede on this issue.

AHMED LEANED INTO PLUSH Italian leather, reveling in the exquisite comfort of the huge plantation manor. The two-story great room was ringed with French doors, which were trimmed in cherry, a nice contrast to the taupe walls. Tasteful chandeliers descended from the beamed ceiling. Leather couches and chairs, walnut sofa and coffee tables, and red clay vases dotted the plush carpets.

“I believe I did the right thing in purchasing this estate,” he said.

“Yes,” Yusuf agreed.

“The perfect place to oversee our operations and yet remain close to mainland America. Especially when we’re traveling in that race boat—what did you call that thing, a ‘cigar’ boat?”

“Yes, yes.” Yusuf leaned forward, eyes alight with excitement. “That’s what the Americans call them. It is an amazing machine. It will go over one hundred miles per hour.”

Ahmed drew on his cigar, exhaling slowly. “Obviously I don’t share your enthusiasm for the contraption, but I do appreciate how the speed of the boat makes our plans possible.”

Yusuf nodded in agreement, rubbing his bare feet on the thick carpet. “Everything is going better than we expected. Your brilliance has made it possible. Joseph’s memory will be honored, and Allah will be pleased.”

Ahmed smiled. “I am concerned about one thing. Marcus. Did he expose anything to the FBI?”

“I am meeting with Danielle tomorrow night. I will see what she has learned.”

Ahmed ground his cigar into a pewter ashtray. “Is Danielle proving herself useful?”

“I’m not sure.” Yusuf shrugged. “She appears confident with her information, but why doesn’t she give us more?”

“Keep an eye on her. If it appears she has been compromised we will bring her in immediately,” Ahmed instructed.

“Why not just terminate her?” Yusuf picked at the dirt underneath his fingernails.

“Because,” Ahmed hissed, “her father was one of our greatest allies and my friend. We will protect her in his memory.”

Yusuf dared to look Ahmed in the eye. “But even he had to realize how insignificant a woman is.”

“You never had children,” Ahmed’s voice was cold. “When Allah blesses you with a family, you will realize children are your most important possessions.”

Yusuf bowed, not replying. His eye caught a silver-framed picture of Ahmed’s wife and two sons. He shouldn’t have mocked, but it was ironic that Ahmed and his sons couldn’t be in the same room without a battle ensuing, yet now they were immortalized. Yusuf knew better than to tarnish the trumped-up memory, it was the most potent fuel for Ahmed’s vengeance on Americans.

“Just watch her.” Ahmed stood and paced in front of the couch. “It is your duty to protect her if she is in danger, but make sure she obtains every bit of information she can. Remind her that unless our plan succeeds, the Americans will never pay for what they did to her father.”

Yusuf nodded.

“Nothing can go wrong.” Ahmed rubbed his hands together, his lips tilting up. “We are too close. I can almost taste their terror.”

DYLAN COULDN’T KEEP HIS EYES off Rachel in her new swimming suit. The one-piece highlighted all her greatest features and the little bump on her abdomen was a secret he loved being privy to. She tossed Tyler in the air then caught him in a splash of water. The little boy giggled.

“Daddy. Daddy.”

“What?” Dylan snapped out of his reverie.

“You’re not watching me. You need to see the new moves I learned at swim lessons.”

“Your new moves?” Dylan stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, Daddy, I got moves.”

“You’ve got moves?” Where did Madison come up with dialogue like that? “Okay, show me.”

Dylan swished cool water between his fingers. He tried to pay attention to his daughter and keep his gaze from straying toward his beautiful wife. She wore a streamlined pale pink suit, her dark hair glistening in the sun. He had never noticed the red highlights in her hair. Were those natural or had she colored her hair and he’d been too big of an oaf to notice?

Dylan turned his gaze to Madison. He watched her swim, in a manner of speaking, from the side of the pool to his arms and back again.

“That was really good, sweetie. What is that stroke called?” Dylan awaited her answer, knowing it would be unique.

“Oh, Daddy, don’t you know? It’s called the best stroke with a froggy kick. Didn’t I do it good?”

“Yes, you did great.” Chuckling, he tried to refrain from correcting the child. “Try it again.”

After several more attempts Madison demonstrated the “dead girl’s float” and “back relaxer,” as she called them.

Dylan laughed as she pushed off from the wall and reclined into the water. Her face fought to stay above the surface, her arms flailed to keep her afloat.

She resurfaced. “Daddy. I believe I’m ready to go off the diving board.”

“You believe it, huh?”

“I’ve learned lots at swim lessons this year.”

“Well,” Dylan hedged, “to jump off the diving board you have to be able to swim to the side without any help. Why don’t I take you down the water slide instead?”

“We’ve already been on the slide three times. I can do the diving board, Daddy. I can, I can.” Madison begged him with large green eyes that were too much like her mom’s.

“Okay.” Dylan sighed, knowing how determined she was and the futility of trying to distract her. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you can swim across the pool
and
back, without my help, I’ll let you go off the diving board.”

Dylan felt unjust giving her such an impossible task, but he didn’t think she was ready to jump off a diving board, resurface, and then swim ten yards.

“Okay.” Madison beamed.

She took off for the other side of the swimming pool. Dylan followed, swimming a slow breaststroke. After five long minutes, that he thought would never end, Madison had made it to the opposite side. Dylan stayed close by her side as she traversed the distance a second time. Several times, certain she was drowning, he tried to reach out a hand. She refused him every time. Reaching their original position, she screamed in triumph.

“I did it. I did it. I get to jump off the diving board.”

“Um, okay.” Dylan couldn’t go back on his word. “Let’s go try it.”

They climbed from the cool water, waving to Rachel and Tyler on their way to the three boards situated at the far end of the pool. The boards were arranged in graduating heights. Dylan walked to the lowest diving board and climbed the two steps to show Madison the proper technique for jumping off. As he walked the length of the board, he heard a whistle blow.

“Sir, you’ll have to wait until the little girl jumps and exits the diving area,” the lifeguard called.

“The little girl.” He followed the lifeguard’s finger, up, way up to the top of the highest dive.
His
little girl was perched precariously on the tip of the board.

“Maddie, no,” was all Dylan got out as she launched herself off the board, screamed through the air, and made a terrific splash into the water. Dylan was two seconds behind her. Sprinting off the end of the board, he paid no attention to the screech of the lifeguard’s whistle as he dove after his daughter.

Dylan’s eyes stung from the chlorine. He searched the deep water for Maddie. He glimpsed her legs working furiously above him. She had already reached the top. Dylan kicked off the bottom of the pool, pushing himself through the water. Penetrating the surface, he saw her swimming toward the edge of the pool.

“I’ve got you sweetheart.” He reached out.

The precocious child pushed him away. Her head dipped underwater, then resurfaced. “Daddy, don’t help me!” She shimmied and kicked, slowly progressing toward the concrete edge.

She was all right. Dylan let himself breathe again. He followed Madison to the edge of the pool, where he received a tongue-lashing from the lifeguard. He fought to keep a straight face. After a brief apology from Dylan, the girl left in a huff to return to her station.

“Maddie, you did great. I can’t believe you went off the high dive.”

She nodded. Her head bobbed in the water. “You gotta try it, Daddy. The high dive’s the bestest one.”

He ruffled her dripping hair. “I believe you.”

Maddie glanced up at him. “You know you’re kind of a wuss, Daddy, to go off the low one.”

“A wuss? Where do you learn these words? Never mind, I’ll show you how tough your dad is.” Dylan vaulted himself from the pool and ran for the high dive. He was stopped by another whistle from the lifeguard.

“No running,” she barked at him.

Dylan slowed to a walk.

“Daddy, you got to stop making the lifeguard mad,” Madison scolded him, a stern expression on her face.

Dylan chuckled. He spotted Rachel, winking at her as Madison took his hand and led him to the high dive.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon. Alexis studied Chris’ dark profile against the darkening sky. She decided to change the subject, afraid she might scare Chris away on their second real date.