Tempest Court. Jan Walters
way he did.
The two-story buildings blocked the light from the setting sun. Damn, damn, he silently cursed. Why had he agreed to this?
Omar promptly stopped and pulled open a weathered wooden-arched door. He pointed inside. “This way.”
Before Brett could object, Lisa disappeared behind the door. He immediately followed, grabbing her hand. If they had to leave quickly, he wanted her near him. Omar shut the door behind them and locked it. Brett’s brow drew together. What is going on?
Following Omar, they entered a room where four men dressed in traditional garb sat on floor pillows. Their dark eyes studied Lisa with her curly blond hair and T-shirt. A man with a dark beard muttered something in Arabic to Omar, who nodded. Bastards! Are they talking about Lisa?
Brett stepped backward, slowly edging toward the door. A mirror on the wall reflected his raging emotions. His green eyes darted back and forth. Sweat from the sun had plastered his thick brown hair to his forehead. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. His lips were clamped together in a tight line.
A woman quietly entered the room, bringing several cups and a teapot. Brett tensed. What is in the pot? After setting the pot in front of the man with the beard, the woman hurried from the room.
Omar turned toward Brett. “Please sit. We will drink together.”
Lisa sat down and glanced toward the serving tray. “Is that mint tea?”
Omar smiled. “You are familiar with our traditional drink?”
“Oh yes. I’ve had it several times. It’s wonderful.”
Lisa tugged on Brett’s hand, trying to get him to sit down. The situation was getting better by the second. They would probably be poisoned and buried in the desert. No one would ever know what happened to them.
Omar poured the tea and set the steaming cups in front of them. The man with the beard nodded, and Omar served him tea as well. The other three men sat quietly, never taking their eyes off Brett. He tensed. Something was going on that he didn’t understand, and he’d had enough.
“Omar, tell the men thanks for the tea, but we have to leave.” Brett reached down to pull Lisa to her feet.
“Brett,” Lisa murmured, “we can’t be rude and just leave.”
Meeting her gaze, he leaned down and whispered, “Watch me. We’re leaving now.”
Lisa stiffened. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting crazy.”
In a low voice, he pleaded, “C’mon, Lisa. This is a scam. There’s nothing—”
A deep voice rang out behind Brett.
“I’m afraid I cannot let you leave quite yet.”
Chapter 2
Brett froze and slowly turned, his hand instinctively reaching for his nonexistent gun. The man with the beard stood, waiting. His dark eyes stared at Brett—looking for a reaction, an emotion.
What did he mean that they couldn’t let them leave? Why not? Brett was pissed that the bearded stranger could speak English and had hidden that fact. Why hide it?
“Please,” the bearded man bowed, “we wish you no harm. We only want to share a unique treasure with you—something that you and your lady friend will love.”
With Omar standing in front of the door, there was no quick escape. He couldn’t overpower five men without a weapon. Plus, he had Lisa to worry about.
Once seated, the bearded man spoke. “I am Hassan. Omar is my nephew. Since he is familiar with your ways and language, he helps me. I deal with antiquities. I recently acquired an exceptional item, which I believe you Americans will appreciate.”
Brett’s head throbbed from the stress. “We’re not into antiques.”
Lisa squeezed Brett’s hand. “I’d kind of like to see what Hassan has, but it’s up to you.”
Lisa’s expectant gaze met his. Damn! How could she not sense his anxiety about this place?
“Fine,” Brett growled.
Hassan smiled before turning toward one of the men and barking orders in Arabic. A man brought in a worn leather satchel and put it in front of Hassan. After opening the bag, Hassan set several pieces of jewelry on a rug in front of Lisa.
Lisa glanced at Hassan and grinned. “Wow. How old are these pieces?”
“Nearly three hundred years old. Do you see anything you like?”
Lisa picked up a lapis necklace, studying it. “It’s nice, but do you have other items for sale?”
Brett glanced at Lisa in disbelief. What was she doing? They were supposed to be getting out of here, not bartering with them.
Hassan clapped his hands, and another man brought out a large hand-woven rug, stretching it out on the floor beside them. “This rug is very, very old. A woman in each Arabic tribe works her entire life, making one rug. The rug tells a story. If you start at the top and work your way down the tassels, it is a story of her tribe.”
Lisa’s face lit up. “I can’t believe it would take a woman her entire life to make one rug. This is priceless. Why would anyone want to sell their family heritage?”
Hassan shook his head. “It is the way of the world. People need money to feed and clothe their family.”
“There’s no way I can afford such a rug.” Lisa glanced at Brett.
He knew that look. Lisa wanted the rug. “How much?”
Hassan scratched his beard, looking at the rug and then at Brett. “For you, only $2,500.”
Brett choked back laughter. If they thought he was going to pay that much money for a dirty old rug, they were crazy.
Hassan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m curious. Where are you from in America? I don’t recognize the accent.”
“We’re from Iowa,” Lisa blurted out. “Do you know where that is?”
Hassan’s dark eyes glinted dangerously. “Iowa. Yes, I am familiar with it.”
“You’ve been there?” Brett asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.
“Perhaps one day. I have friends in Des Moines. They tell me about the wonders of your state. The beautiful farms.”
Brett forced his fingers to unclench. What is this guy smoking? He knew a scam when he saw one. Hassan’s shuddered gaze was difficult to read.
“If that’s all you got, we’d better go. It’s getting late.”
Lisa sighed as she dug her fingers through the vibrantly colored rug. Brett rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to pay thousands of dollars for a used carpet. He’d make a low-ball offer. Once they refused, they could get out of here.
“Three hundred dollars is the best I can do.”
Lisa jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Oomph,” he groaned.
Hassan’s lips tightened. Maybe he was insulted by Brett’s offer. That was okay with Brett. He wanted an excuse to leave.
One of the men near Hassan murmured something. Hassan held up his hand, making a slicing motion in the air.
“Since your woman wants the rug, I will accept your offer.” His dark eyes pierced Brett.
Shit! Why would Hassan accept such a low price for the rug? Maybe it isn’t handmade as he said. It could be a dirty manufactured rug. Brett chewed his lower lip in frustration. He probably just got screwed.
“I thought you wanted jewelry.”
Lisa sighed. “I thought I did but when I learned the story of