Read Online Allure of Deceit by Susan Froetschel - Free Book Online

him awake. Alert, Parsaa was determined to keep surprise on his side. Night disturbances were rare, except for the occasional illness or nightmare among his children or others in neighboring homes. Children burst awake with tears or shouts, and the women hurried to their sides, offering comfort and quickly restoring quiet. Children did not move with stealth.
    Parsaa waited and studied familiar shapes in the darkness. His wife was still. The mound of blankets in the corner of the room was Baby Komal. The toddler was not their daughter and could not sleep with Parsaa’s other children, all boys. Instead, she had her own bundle of blankets in the corner of the bedroom within reach of Sofi’s arm.
    Both were sound sleepers and did not move. The noise seemed to come from the opposite direction—the common area or perhaps the room where his sons slept.
    Normally, the source of a random noise at night quickly became apparent—adults murmuring in nearby homes, a mouse stealing crumbs in the kitchen, trees creaking in protest against the wind. Parsaa could check the kitchen, ensuring that no embers had escaped the stove. But the very absence of noise alerted Parsaa that something was wrong. He sensed a presence—someone fighting to control every breath.
    The next footstep was light, followed by another long pause.
    Parsaa moved his hand slowly, slowly, to reach for a small, loaded Glock. Such pistols were once rare in Afghanistan, and Parsaa was surprised and grateful for the gift from one of the Afghan soldiers before the team vacated the nearby outpost. The man promised the weapon was sure. He also pointed out that the markets would soon offer more ammunition as the foreign troops returned home and more pistols were left behind.
    The pistol was convenient for the bedroom’s tight space. Parsaa wrapped his hand around the grip and pulled his hand back underneath the blanket, aiming the pistol toward a doorway he could not see.
    Parsaa thought about his options. He could storm the other room, but the person might get away. He could fire the pistol into the darkness, but miss, and the person could shoot back in return. Or, he could wait for the approach and then tackle the intruder.
    A black shape glided into the bedroom. The figure was small, but not one of the children. No, the boys would dash into the room and squirm between their parents. No one other than his sons had reason to enter the space. The figure was too cautious, with a long pause between every step, so long Parsaa wondered if his mind wasn’t playing tricks.
    The shadow moved again, edging along the wall on the other side of the room. Sofi’s side. Soon, Parsaa would have to shift position to see the intruder.
    Parsaa prepared to move and place his body squarely between the person and Sofi. Steeling himself, he took slow, deep breaths and hoped for a footstep, a clue to the intruder’s position.
    And then it came—a soft footfall near his wife’s head, the sound of a hand reaching about in the darkness.
    In a single move, Parsaa lunged over his wife, grasping at cloth and then a small leg. He pulled hard, but the leg swung his way, kicking him in the head. Hard. On one elbow and one knee, Parsaa lost his grip as the person pulled away.
    â€œStop!” he ordered and reached in the tangle of covers for the pistol. Without a word, Sofi crawled out from underneath him.
    Parsaa stood, shouting again and reaching for a wall to find the doorway as Sofi fumbled with a lantern.
    But he didn’t need the lantern. An orange glow beckoned him. The intruder knelt before the stove, shoving an object into the flames. Sparks flared and hit the floor. There was a whiff of burning flesh.
    Before Parsaa could cross the room, one of his sons emerged from the darkness, wrapping an arm around the intruder’s neck and pulling the person to the floor with a thud.
    A girl groaned and twisted to one side but did not resist.
    Saddiq,