Page 58 of Dalla's Royal Guards
She turned to study the kitchenette. Modern kitchens were unfamiliar to her, and she walked over to explore it while Nasser disappeared through a set of frosted double, sliding doors. She opened a large box with double doors stacked on top of each other and was surprised at how cold both sections were. Inside the lower half was several bottles of water and some brightly colored cans. At the top, there were small trays with ice in them.
She closed the doors and opened a smaller square box. Inside were two racks. She pulled them in and out before shrugging and closing it with a snap. There was a large, silver sink. Turning the knob, she trailed her fingers through the water before turning it off.
“Everything looks good. The bed is a king size,” Nasser grunted out with a pleased smile.
“That’s good? A bed made for a king?” she teased.
His eyes moved to her unbuttoned vest. “A bathroom made for one as well. It has a very large shower.”
“I guess it would be good to test this very large shower out. I may need some instructions on how to operate it,” she said, walking toward him.
“It can be very tricky,” he said, meeting her halfway.
“What can be tricky?” she murmured, her eyes locked with his as her hands tugged on his shirt.
“Turning it off,” he replied.
She tilted her head back when he slid his hand around the back of her neck and bent to kiss her throat. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before she gave up and pulled the material free with a jerk. Several buttons fell to the floor as she greedily slid her hand along his bare chest with a moan of need.
“Who wants to turn it off when it is so pleasurable to have it on?”
He answered her by capturing her lips. A moment later, her shirt and vest fell to the floor beside his. In the back of her mind, she thought it was a good thing Musad was buying them new clothes because there wasn’t going to be much left of the clothes they were wearing by the time they got to the bathroom.
Detri sat at the table, dressed in black. His shirt was fitted, sleeves rolled to the elbows. A combat knife rested beside his burner phone. Next to it sat a rusted hammer—heavy, balanced. Practical. He liked the weight of it in his hand. The apartment he was staying in was modest—deliberately so.
It sat on the fourth floor of a crumbling pre-war building overlooking a row of shuttered storefronts and a barely functioning streetlamp. The walls were cracked plaster; the floors were scuffed concrete. The furniture—if it could be called that—was minimalist: a folding table, a hardback chair, full-size bed with a sleeping bag on it, a countertop with a hotplate, a portable refrigerator that sat on the floor, and a tiny bathroom barely big enough for him to turn around.
There were no photos. No decoration. No history. Just anonymity.
He preferred it that way.
The lights were off, save for a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls.
He looked down at the burner phone when it vibrated. A message blinked onto the screen.
SIMDAN HOTEL. THEY’RE IN. – G
He read the message twice, the glow from the screen illuminating the edge of his jaw. Then he pressedconnect.
“They checked into the Simdan Hotel,” Gunther said on the other end. His voice was low, taut.
“Was Kyle able to get their room number?”
“Not yet. He’s leery about poking around too much after what happened earlier,” Gunther replied. “Do you want me to scope it out?”
Detri’s gaze flicked to the wall across from him. A faint crack ran from floor to ceiling. He tapped his thumb against the phone in thought.
“No,” he said at last. “Tell Kyle to pack a bag.”
There was a beat of silence. “Where is he going?” Gunther’s tone sharpened.
Detri smiled slowly, but there was no humor in it. “He’s going on vacation… to Dima.”
A muffled curse. “Kyle knows nothing about surveillance—let alone killing anyone. I want the woman’s head on a platter. She’s mine, Detri. Payback for my brother.”
“You’ll get your chance, Gunther,” Detri said, his voice even. Calculated. “Kyle’s not going alone. He’s got a girlfriend watching over him.”
Gunther’s breath hissed. “Who?”
