Free Murphy's Law by Kat Attalla Page A

was speaking hypothetically.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    He uttered a heartfelt groan and turned her loose. “In a hypothetical situation, I never need a cold shower before breakfast.”
    “Oh,” was all she could get out of her mouth as he exited the small cabin.

     
    * * * *

     
    Lilly finished the last of the breakfast dishes and put everything back in the cabinets. The boat would be docking in under an hour. With a cup of tea clutched firmly in her hand, she climbed up to the deck and settled herself on a chair at the bow of the ship. Through the parting blanket of mist, she caught her first glimpse of Africa. The Dark Continent—exotic, mysterious, and completely overwhelming to a farm girl from the American Midwest.
    As they moved closer, the eerie silhouette gave way to defined outlines. Stucco buildings with orange shingled roofs dotted the landscape. The ancient mosques, with their onion shaped domes, rose high above the houses in a glorious testament to the Islamic religion so fundamentally a part of their lives.
    Loud speakers pierced the quiet with chanting from the Koran. All work forgotten, the men stopped to bow towards Mecca to say their prayers: a ritual they performed five times a day, faithfully.
    “Lilly.”
    The spell was broken, and the reality of her situation returned. “Yes?”
    Jack came up next to her and gave her a hand up from the chair. “You have to get changed.”
    “I know.”
    He handed her an envelope. “Put it in your pocket.”
    She glanced at the peculiar writing on the outside and back to him. “What is it?”
    “It’s a letter for Mustafa’s wife. He’s going to take you off the ship and put you in a cab. The driver will leave you in front of the building. You go to the apartment number on the outside of the envelope and give it to the woman who answers the door.”
    “Number seventeen,” she read off the envelope.
    “Yes.”
    She shrugged and slipped it in the pocket of her jeans. “When will you get there?”
    “I don’t know. I have to help unload the ship and take care of a few details. Mustafa’s wife was educated in England, so you won’t have a problem with language. Don’t look so scared.”
    She exhaled deeply and attempted a smile that she didn’t quite pull off. “Easy for you to say.”
    “Everything will be fine. Trust me.”
    “Trust me,” she mimicked and smacked him in the chest. “I’d love to know how many women ended up in trouble after you said that to them.”
    He laced his fingers through hers and smiled. “Would you like to end up in trouble with me?”
    She refused to feed his ego by acknowledging his offer. “I thought I already had.”
    “A little danger stimulates the senses.”
    “If you want to draw parallels between this adventure and sex, just let me know when I can roll over and go to sleep. I’m tired.”
    He turned her around and pointed her in the direction of the stairs. “Go get changed.”
    She strolled away holding up a finger in the air. “One point for the pink team.” She knew exactly where he was staring and added a bit more swing just to taunt him.
    He laughed. “It ain’t over yet. And from here on, the ball is in my court.”
    “Try not to dribble.”
    She disappeared down the stairs holding up two fingers.

     
    * * * *

     
    Lilly relaxed in the back seat of the taxi and let out a deep sigh of relief. Her black caftan draped her like a tent, and the veil clung to her face. Jack gave her the option of wearing her own clothes, but hinted strongly that she would draw less attention dressed like a local. The cab weaved through the streets, passing areas that had remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Bad shocks and   cobblestone   streets   made   for   one   of   the   bumpiest   rides   she’d   ever experienced.
    In twenty minutes, she arrived at her destination. Mustafa had already paid the driver, so she wasn’t expected to do it again. She felt guilty that she