No Rules(34)

“Please be careful with those knits. Don’t unroll them.”

But Avery skimmed right past most of the clothes, apparently rejecting everything. “All the cosmetics are fine, and any jewelry you have as long as it’s not cheap. Real gold and silver, no costume stuff.”

“I didn’t bring much. I was going to a funeral.”

The word caused Avery to pause for a moment, a brief hesitation that caught Jess’s attention. As did the flash of pain across her face. It was another reminder that these people had been Wally’s family more than she had. She felt she should address it somehow, but didn’t know what to say, and then the moment was gone. Avery tossed her padded jewelry pouch on the bed. “We’ll set you up with the look you need.”

“What do I need? What exactly is my cover?”

“You’ll be the well-bred, well-educated American wife of an Egyptian businessman. That way we don’t have to worry about making you blend in as much. Tyler will be your bodyguard, which gives him a plausible reason to always be with you. Women don’t walk the streets unescorted, not anyone who knows the culture, anyway. I don’t suppose you speak Arabic?”

“No. Is that a problem?” Hope flickered that it might totally disqualify her.

Avery squashed it. “No. It would have been nice, but Tyler knows a little, and many Egyptians speak English.” She added handfuls of underwear to the cosmetics and toiletries she’d piled on the bed while Jess bit her tongue and tried not to criticize. One long-sleeved blouse made the cut. From the third bag she selected two pairs of shoes—sensible loafers and black heels. Avery turned, giving her a critical look up and down. “You’re almost my size. We should be able to find you some warm-weather clothes that will work. Come on.”

Jess trailed her to another room full of closets, rolling racks, and dressers that were packed with enough to stock a small store. This evidently served as their supply room. Avery began plucking clothes from a stuffed closet—an ankle-length skirt, two short-sleeved tops, and two pairs of rubber-soled shoes made more for comfort than style.

“Won’t long skirts be kind of hot?” she asked.

“You don’t have a choice. I’ll give you a couple short skirts and sleeveless tops, too, but as the respectable wife of a Muslim man, you can’t show your arms or legs in public. Abayas will take care of that. You’ll wear a hijab, too.”

Jess wasn’t sure which was which, but several large scarves and dark robes were added to the pile of clothes in her arms. She looked at the pile, thinking she might as well go into culture shock now and save herself some time. The scary plane trip was only going to be the beginning of her problems.

“Try this on,” Avery said.

She blinked, then focused on the rings Avery held out to her. “Holy shit, is that real?”

“Of course not. Well, not the diamonds. The gold probably is.”

Jess laid the pile of clothes on the bed and gingerly took the wedding-ring set. Sliding the rings on her finger, she stared at the large diamond flanked by two slightly smaller ones. They caught the light and sparkled just like real ones.

Avery frowned. “They look a little loose.”

“They’ll be okay.” She turned her hand, mesmerized by the gaudy display of wealth. “My husband must really love me.”

“You’re posing as a trophy wife in every sense of the word. A showpiece and a mark of his success. If you want to call that love, go ahead.”

It was too bitchy to ignore. Jess gave her a hard look. “Maybe if you just tell me what you have against me, we can work it out.”

Avery gave a short, bitter laugh. “If you don’t know, then you really are ignorant about love.”

“Fill me in.”

“Fine. Your dad was a good man. A great man. He deserved your love and respect and your lack of it pisses me off.”

She was getting tired of hearing it from people who didn’t know the other side of the story. “He may have been a great man, but for fifteen years he was a lousy father.” It may not have been his intent, but it was her reality.

“Or maybe you were a lousy daughter.”

“I was…” She couldn’t even finish it. Glaring at Avery, she said, “You don’t know a damn thing about my relationship with my father.”

“I know he repeatedly risked his life to save others, and all you can think about is what he didn’t do for you. In my book that’s selfish and small-minded.”

So he saved people; she was getting tired of having that thrown in her face, as if she should feel guilty for wanting his attention when other people’s lives were at risk. “Maybe while he was saving others, he should have tried a little harder to save me. There are all kinds of captivity, you know. I was a victim, too.”