Windward knight

Chapter Six

Two months later,

Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

Ignoring the cotton shirt sticking to her damp back beneath her backpack, Evie stepped towards the curb and raised a hand. A beige taxi changed lanes and headed her way.

"I'm just saying, the kid is a spoilt brat." Fiona folded her arms, and Evie shot her colleague a glare.

"He's new and scared."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "He's been there for three weeks, and if he bites one more kid..."

Feeling tired, Evie ignored the conversation about her student and stepped into the street as the taxi pulled up.

"Can I catch a lift with you?"

Evie turned and eyed Fiona. Over the weekend, she'd shaved her spiky hair even shorter, and it sharpened her angular features. "Don't you live on Sheikh Zayed Road?"

"We can hang out over a glass of wine. Besides, Liam is flying in later, and I'll run over to meet him."

Evie lived near the airport in an area called Al Garhoud. She loved her tiny flat in an older complex. It wasn't a modern Dubai monstrosity—not that she could afford that on her modest salary.

Giving up on her introverted evening, Evie shrugged. "Sure. Jump in."

She'd wanted to be alone—with her books and an oversized throw. It had been a long week, and she missed Hyde. He was off on some mission, saving the world. They were supposed to be casually dating, but since returning to duty, he'd been gone most of the time. Four dates were all they'd had, and all they'd done was kiss on the sofa.

Evie was ready for more and that scared the hell out of her. She couldn't keep her hands off the brawny soldier. Those broad shoulders and his wide chest. And those thighs. She imagined him poised above her... muscles straining as he slowly pressed his—

"Crack open a window, will ya? This taxi stinks," Fiona whispered.

Evie complied and hoped the driver didn't hear Fiona's complaint. After giving directions to her apartment, Evie sat back and stared out of the window. Fiona was everything that Evie wasn't—tall and elegant with a take-charge attitude. By comparison, Evie kept to herself and usually chose the easiest path to peace.

Maybe she should try harder. She'd barely made any friends in Dubai—except for Jamila. A local woman who'd come to speak at the school when Evie had first started.

"Speak of the devil," Evie muttered as her phone lit up. "Salam, friend."

"Marhaba. Where are you?" Jamila asked.

"Just heading home."

"I'll wait for you. I've just pulled up at your place, and I have mangoes. Let's do a smoothie night."

Maybe her evening wouldn't be so bad after all. "How was your day?"

"Busy. Lots of studying."

Jamila Bashir had just graduated from the Khawla Bint Azwar Military school—an Emirati woman who would fight for her country on the frontlines. She wanted to be a fighter pilot and aimed to make that dream come true. Evie had met Jamila when she'd visited the school to speak to the six-year-old students about a career in the military. They'd been fast friends ever since.

"I'll see you in ten." Evie hung up and smiled.

"Is that your local friend?" Fiona asked.

"Yeah. Once a week, we have a movie night."