Page 16 of Her Sensual Protector

“Malek,” Daisy started the call with a smile in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied in Dari.

“I need your help. I think we’re going to need another driver as well.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need to get rid of the people who are following me.”

“That should be simple. They were already having trouble keeping up in our traffic.”

“I think they might have someone better trying to follow us tonight. I have a plan I want to discuss with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” This time she heard the excitement in his voice. All over the world, every man wanted to be James Bond.

* * *

Alistair had been right. Two cars were following them, and between them, Malek wasn’t able to lose them, no matter how fast he drove, or how he wove in and out of traffic.

I’m not going to die. It will be all right.

She held on tightly to the St. Christopher medal that a nun had given her a couple of years ago. He was the patron saint of travelers and was supposed to keep you safe. At this point, she’d take any and all help she could get.

Daisy looked at her watch. It was five-ten. “Malek, it’s time to go to plan B.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ten more minutes of Formula One driving and Malek screeched to a stop in front of the Golbahar Center Bank Mall.

“Will your nephew be ready for me?”

“Yes, he will.”

“I’ll look different,” she warned again.

“It’s okay, as long as you hold up your purse, he will come and get you.”

She looked down at her bright red purse. Yep, it stood out. She was going to have to do something about that.

“They’re here, ma’am.”

Dammit!

Daisy bolted out of Malek’s old car and strutted into the mall entrance. At this point, she wanted to be followed. She was immediately hit with the smell of perfume. She turned and saw the perfume store to the right. Next came a bigger shoe store. Neither of those would do. She needed a huge department store.

She meandered slowly down the walkway until she turned a corner and used the glass window of a rug shop to get a look at the man who was following her. Light blue windbreaker, chino pants, blond hair, and glasses. Nobody she recognized from the embassy.

She kept walking until she got to a rather large women’s clothing store. It had both traditional Afghan clothes and Western clothing. Now it was time to see if she had any acting ability.

She slowly walked to the back of the store, stopping occasionally to look at different items on tables, but continuing to take note that the man in the windbreaker was just keeping watch outside the storefront.

“May I help you?” a motherly-looking woman dressed in Afghan garb asked in English.

Daisy worked up a helpless expression. She grabbed the woman’s hand in both of hers. “I hope you can help me,” she said in Dari.

The woman reassessed her. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

“If you go to the front of the store, you’ll see a man who has been following me all day. He knows my boyfriend is out of town on business, and he’s,” Daisy swallowed. Then she started again. “He’s going to follow me to my home. I need to go to my friend’s house without him seeing where I’m going.”