“Fifty thousand! Fifty thousand! Is it so insensible, by comparison, to chop the hands off a few thieves?”
“Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. It's in the Koran.”
“Besides, tell me this: If someone killed Aziza, wouldn't you want the chance to avenge her?”
Laila shot him a disgusted look. “I'm making a point,” he said. “You're just like them.”
“It's an interesting eye color she has, Aziza. Don't you think? It's neither yours nor mine.”
Rasheed rolled over to face her, gently scratched her thigh with the crooked nail of his index finger.
“Let me explain,” he said. “If the fancy should strike me and I'm not saying it will, but it could,”
“it could, I would be within my rights to give Aziza away. How would you like that?”
“Or I could go to the Taliban one day, just walk in and say that I have my suspicions about you.”
That's all it would take. Whose word do you think they would believe? What do you think they'd do to you?”
Laila pulled her thigh from him. “Not that I would,” he said. “I wouldn't. Nay. Probably not. You know me.”
“You're despicable,” Laila said. “That's a big word,” Rasheed said. “I've always disliked that about you.”
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