“It’s not Abdul Amir’s fault.” Huda took another step toward the path of concrete slabs.

“I expected more from you, Huda.”

“Please, don’t let the Bolt Cutter hurt him.”

“Bolt Cutter? That’s what you call my partner?” Abu Issa laughed sourly. “I suppose it suits him.”

Huda trembled. “I’m sorry.”

“That damn fool is out of control.” Abu Issa raked his hands across his scalp. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

He stabbed his finger at her.

“Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be back.”

Abu Issa spun on his heel, returned indoors, and disappeared past the kitchen window. Huda doubled over, breath coming in hard, hot gulps. She wanted to collapse on the soft green grass, but a voice inside her yelled, Go, now, before the mukhabarat come back!

Huda raced inside, snatched the tea canister from the pantry, and pried it open. Precious dollars and dinar spilled onto the counter. Huda ran to Khalid’s bedroom and hauled his backpack from the closet. As she stuffed the cash in the bag, doubts rushed at her. Should she leave Khalid with his father? Should she take the money and flee to Basra? Deep inside, she knew it was pointless. Wherever she went, the mukhabarat would hunt her down.

“What the hell?” Abdul Amir’s bulk filled the doorway. He stared at the rolls of cash in her hand and the backpack on the bed.

“What is this? Are you leaving me? Are you taking Khalid?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” A spike of pain made Huda clutch her chest. “But it’s not safe for Khalid here. The Bolt Cutter sat on our couch tonight, drinking our juice without washing the blood from his hands. Khalid can’t be around this. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can barely look at you.” Abdul Amir’s face contorted as he stepped through the door.

“Please . . .” Every muscle in Huda’s body tensed. “Don’t—”

“An innocent man is dead, and it’s my fault.”

Huda couldn’t breathe. She shook her head, but his words still didn’t make sense.

“I told the mukhabarat about that driver, Hatim, ferrying Ally around.” Abdul Amir slumped on the edge of the bed. “Abu Issa asked me to ride with them and point Hatim out. When they found him, they threw him in the back of their car. I thought they’d take him for questioning.” He covered his face with his hands. “The Bolt Cutter got out of control.”

Huda’s mind replayed the Bolt Cutter’s raw knuckles, the fresh blood on his shirt.

“Hatim’s dead?”