Page 56 of Burdens
I accepted his outstretched hand and firmly shook it once. “Noah Brown.”
Amalia shook her head, a sigh of disbelief escaping her lips. “Now that we’re all acquainted, we have matters to discuss.”
With a nod of agreement, Nassim tucked his weapon in the back of his pants before motioning for us to follow him farther into the house. I gestured for Amalia to take the lead, trailing closely behind her.
The interior was a surprising contrast to what I’d expected for a safe house or its drab exterior, warm hues welcoming us inside. Traditional decor adorned the stone walls, and a vibrant rug lined the hallway that led to the main living area.
A half wall divided the space, revealing a small kitchen to the right with an iron back door that mirrored the one at the front, likely leading to some sort of courtyard.
On the other side of the divide, the living room was set up in a traditional Moroccan seating arrangement. Over the large matching rug to the one at the front were two low cushions that lined the walls in an L shape. At the center, a low wooden table was ladened with an array of bread, butter, honey, and a silver teapot, its fragrant mint tea wafting through the air.
Nassim wrinkled his nose in distaste as we settled around the table. “What the hell is this smell?”
“That would be me,” I replied flatly. “Didn’t really have much time to shower between being held captive for the last three weeks in a damp cell and then brought here against my will.”
Amalia, who was sitting next to Nassim on the cushion facing the entryway, rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome to go back.”
Nassim’s gaze bounced back and forth between Amalia and me as he reached behind him to place his gun on the wooden surface in front of us. He then grabbed the teapot and asked, “Tea, anyone?” with a smile playing on his lips.
Bewildered, I just stared at him because why was this stranger being this cordial by offering mint tea and smiling minutes after having a gun pointed at my head.
When no one answered his offer, he poured himself a glass and said to himself, “Guess that’ll leave more for me.” After taking a leisurely sip, Nassim reclined against the pillows, his hand hanging as he toyed with the teacup.
Amalia met his gesture with a glare, but he seemed completely unfazed by her demeanor.
“Relax, Amalia. You’re always so serious. You just got here, and it’s quite rude to refuse when someone offers you tea, you know.”
“Don’t tell me to relax, Nassim,” Amalia interjected, her tone sharp with impatience. “Just cut to the chase and tell me why you had me come here.”
His gaze shifted between us, his expression thoughtful as he seemed to contemplate his next words. Finally, he leaned forward, setting his glass aside with a sigh.
“All right,” he began, his tone now serious. “Barrera’s planning to move on Alaoui’s territory and expand Adil’sspecialoperations.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sinkin before continuing. “He sent out a hit on his head for fourteen millionrialthree days ago.”
Amalia’s brow furrowed, her gaze fixed intently on Nassim. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he contract someone else to kill Alaoui when he could’ve just asked me? Are you sure about the intel? Who even told you this?”
She fired each question without giving him time to answer, but he let her as if he was used to her way of processing information.
Which meant heknewher and I didn’t like that.
When she was done, he met her gaze squarely, his expression turning somber. “I wouldn’t tell you to leave and meet me here if I wasn’t sure. My contact sent me this the day I called you.” He reached into his pocket, retrieved a folded picture, and placed it on the table in front of her. “I haven’t confirmed yet if you’ve been made, but when one of my guys told me a hit had been posted for Alaoui’s head, I knew something was wrong.”
She peered at the picture and her features darkened at the sight of whatever was on the table.
Nassim spoke again as I grabbed the photograph from the table. It was a grainy print of Amalia and another man, talking at the docks in Bemes. She was handing him something, but it was too blurry to tell exactly what it was.
“We need to move quicker than we’d planned,” Nassim continued. “Your cover might not be blown, but if there are talks about you betraying the cartel, it’s just as bad. Barrera already has a monopoly in the country. If he overthrows Adil, we’re fucked. He’ll have too much control for us to do anything about it.”
The gears turned in my head as I processed everything he’d just said, but I still didn’t understand what was his connection to Amalia or his interest in my father. I could tell he wasn’t fromthe Bureau because I would have known about an operation aiming to come after my father’s empire.
I might have let go of my need to bring Omar down, but I still monitored his whereabouts and what he was involved in. That’s how I found out about what happened to Jamal and his wife.
Placing the picture back on the table. I turned my attention back to him. “Who are you?” I asked curtly. I knew I was being short, but I couldn’t care less right now. I was itching to know his connection to my father and most importantly to my Amalia.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered.
“I asked you first,” I insisted.
I expected him to push back or give me an elusive answer, but instead, he leaned back against the pillow behind him and met my gaze head-on. “My father used to be Barrera’s right-hand man back in the seventies and eighties. He had to flee the cartel years before I was even born and I’m back to finish what he’d started.”
