“You said it was too dangerous.”
“It is—was! They have shot at us, hunted us. If they learn where I am … It is why I must get supplies and leave the city as quickly as possible. I do not mean to bring trouble to you, Gabina, or the children.”
After considering her for a long second, Coman nodded. Drew in a breath that lifted his jaw, which he jutted to his wife. “Give her the pottery money.”
“No!” Kasra gasped. “No, Coman. It is too much. We only need—”
“Enough!” Coman said gruffly, silencing her.
Range frowned. Pottery money? Is that what the man did for a living?
“Work quickly and be gone.” Coman refocused on eating.
Why was this man willing to help her escape? There was no familial resemblance, but that did not necessarily mean anything in a place where a man might have more than one wife. But here in a Muslim country, Range expected a more strident reaction to Kasra because of her profession. Their hardline approach to morality didn’t sit well with most Westerners.
“You are confused.”
Not a question, so technically nothing to answer.
“Most only see one side to her—the sinful side.” Coman sipped from a small round cup. “Do you know her story?”
The man had his attention. his confusion, he nodded. “Some.”
“Sadly, her story is not for me to tell, and as she is not family, it is not for me to defend her. However, I take very personally what happens to her.”
A warning? Range squinted at him. “Why?”
“Two years ago, my Gabina and her sister were taken right off the street in Kabul and ended up … at Roud.”
Oh man … Range wiped a hand over his mouth.
“Yes,” Coman said gravely. “I searched and searched for her. When it was suggested that this evil thing was done to my wife, I went to Roud.”
“That went over well, I bet.”
“The guards beat me and left me on the side of the road to die.”
Not surprising.
“But a week later, in the darkest art of the night, I hear a knock on my door.” He let out a laugh-cry. “It is Gabina! She is free, and her sister.”
Range shifted. “How did they get free? Did they run away?”
“No. No one can run away from that place.”
Except Kasra. With all the girls …
“Kasra did it.” Coman nodded. “She returned my wife and her sister.”
His earlier confusion had nothing on the ricochet in his head right now. “I don’t …” Range started to shake his head. Why would she send girlsback? “How … Why?”
“Ask her.” Coman slapped his hands together, ending the meal—and apparently the conversation. “You take her, so you ask.”
Wait. What? Head spinning, Range frowned. “No, she’s in my custody. I’m”—hold up … if these people were friends with her, it might not work in his favor to mention he was just detaining her until he could turn her over; that they’d made a deal—“getting her to safety.”
“Yes, see? You a good man.”
If he only knew …
