Page 7 of Burdens
“Did you get what we needed?”
I let out a sigh when he plopped in the seat on the other side of the round tiled table. He grabbed a handful ofqrishlat?3 and popped them in his mouth.
“It wasn’t him, so we’re back to square one,” I lied, dumping the tea back into the teapot and pouring myself another glass.
Hamza grunted his discontentment. “Fuck. I was so sure he was the one.”
I sipped on the hot tea and tore a piece ofmsemen?4. “Yeah,” was my only reply before dipping the flatbread into melted butter then honey and bringing it to my mouth.
“Well,” he said, standing from his seat and making his way toward my seat. “I’ll relay the information toRa’is?5 and with all of them dead, hopefully the Alaouis stop stealing from us.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “And take a shower before our meeting. You smell like death.”
“Noted,” I replied and returned to eating.
1 I swear.
2 God I’m begging you Ms. Ines.
3 Miniature Moroccan shortbread cookies.
4 Moroccan flatbread.
5 Means “leader” or “chief” in Arabic and is the title Barrera’s men call him.
CHAPTER 2
NOAH (PRESENT)
ONE MONTH LATER
What the fuckwas I thinking?
As I sat in the passenger seat of the beat-up 1982 Mercedes they gave us for cover, flying down the deserted highway, I kept coming back to the only answer to my question.
I hadn’t been thinking.
When I was training at the Academy, my only goal had been to keep my head down, graduate, and do my job. Going after my father hadn’t been anywhere near what I aimed to achieve.
Until my mother died, and all the repressed anger I felt toward him resurfaced.
When she passed, my grief grew a life of its own and I could barely control it. So when I was tasked to join Jamal’s father’s task force to do the one thing I’d told myself I wouldn’t, I hadn’t hesitated.
I’d spent countless days and sleepless nights finding anything that could rid me of my father once and for all. We were so close to doing just that until my dear father killed my partner and the only remote father figure I’d had in my life.
The hours spent at Jamal’s side seeing him agonize through his recovery from the burns he’d suffered and the loss of the only family he had fueled the resentment I harbored toward my father even further.
I’d tried everything. And each failure in bringing him and his rotten empire down twisted deeper into the wound he’d created the moment I became the heir to his throne.
Guilt had gnawed at me day and night. I’d barely ate or slept and had focused all of my energy wrapping my head around my new and unexpected guardian role and seeking justice for what my own blood did to his.
After three months of dead ends, the bureau had forced me off the case because I’d neglected every other aspect of my job and they’d deemed me too close to the case to be objective over my partner’s killer.
Not because of my lineage since they didn’t know that the man I’d been after was my father.
I had objected and fought to be kept on the case until I’d gotten a call from Jamal’s doctors announcing that he was finally ready to be discharged.
When I’d heard the news, it had been like a switch had been turned off. The urge to bring down Barrera had evaporated and protecting Jamal had become the only thing I focused my mind on.
