Desire In The Desert: Sheikh's Rule. Ryshia Kennie
said something?” She looked at him with eyes alight at this new piece of information. “That wasn’t in the report. You spoke to him after,” she said, confirming what was already clear. “What did he say?”
He knew that she was anxious for a clue that would get this investigation on the road. They both were.
“He said ‘desert’ and then, the irony of it all is that the next words weren’t clear, but it sounded like a name—Davar. I don’t know what Ahmed was trying to tell me. He coded almost immediately after.” He clenched his fists, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, his mind back to that hospital room. “They were working on him when I left.”
If what he’d heard and what he now suspected was right, the desert was where they needed to go. But the Sahara was a big place—it was like saying they were going to Europe.
“Emir.”
Her voice was like a caress and he took a step away. His jaw tightened and he fought not to send her home then and there.
“I’ve never heard of it as a place. I imagine you ran a check of local surnames?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Maybe I heard wrong. He was half mouthing—could barely speak.” He shook his head.
“It will be sunset soon. We can’t be heading out, not in the dark and with no idea where we’re going.”
“Agreed.” But she didn’t move. Instead she stood there, considering. “Was it a name—place name, I mean? And if so could it have been something close—not exactly what you heard?”
“I don’t know. There hasn’t been much time to examine the possibilities.”
“You had to pick me up and then there was the small shoot-out,” she said.
“Exactly,” he said with a slight smile. “Thanks.”
“For what?” She frowned.
“For at least an attempt at humor. Oddly, it helps.” There was more that helped, but he feared it also distracted—her lithe figure for one...and most of all her sharp intelligence and quick wit. He was still going to tear a strip off Adam, but he felt slightly more confident than he had an hour ago.
“Can I see her quarters?”
“There was nothing—”
She cut him off. “Trust me.”
* * *
“THIS WAY,” he said.
Kate noticed that he didn’t temper his pace. At six-one, he was only three inches taller than her, yet his legs covered distances quickly.
She strode beside him, thankful for long legs that sometimes made finding jeans a challenge. This time, they were a gift that allowed her to keep up as they headed toward the sprawling mansion that was a mix of old and new. The size and opulence was like nothing she’d seen in the working-class neighborhood of Detroit where, except for the stint in the Middle East, she’d grown up, or like Jackson, Wyoming, where she now lived. Her gaze swept the area, focusing on security details, potential breaches, rather than the opulence of the building and the grounds.
“There are sensors on the wall that monitor activity inside and out.”
His arm swept the five-acre square where as far as she could see, a cream-colored masonry fence surrounded the complex’s grounds.
“The cameras are on twenty-four-seven.”
If Kate hadn’t spent years immersed in Moroccan culture and, as a result, been aware of what “rich” in Morocco meant, she would have been pie-eyed with disbelief. This wasn’t the wealth of royalty, and by no means a palace, but it was more than 90 percent of the population of Morocco would ever see.
She could understand why the security was as intense as it was and why Tara had been taken. The estate’s opulence combined with their business, Nassar Security, added to riches that could be hugely tempting to anyone with a criminal bent. She knew the history of the company, knew that the twins had begun it and then, with the inclusion of their brothers, built a business that had taken on more high-profile cases than any other security company of its kind in either the western United States or Northern Africa.
“Interesting—about the security I mean.” Her gaze met his. “And yet they took her at a place near where the cameras didn’t reach.”
His jaw clenched. “I’d planned to add security cameras there, too. But somehow it felt like overkill. Now, it’s a glaring error.”
“Cameras wouldn’t have stopped—”
“No,” he interrupted. “But alarms and—”
“You couldn’t have known,” she interjected as she tried to reassure him.
But the anger that emanated from him made it clear he didn’t want reassurance.
“One of Tara’s security is dead and the other, the only witness, is fighting for his life,” Emir said. “It was an unforgivable lack of judgment on my part. I should have...” His voice dropped off as if he couldn’t, or didn’t, want to finish.
“What? Known? Are you psychic?”
“No, I don’t believe...” He stopped and turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. “You were being facetious.”
“The man who lived. He was knifed in the chest. I’d guess that he was defending her.”
Emir shook his head. “He shouldn’t have been there. Ahmed was estate security. He volunteered to go with Tara that night. It wasn’t his usual job but one of our regulars called in sick.”
“That wasn’t in the file,” she said.
“Like I said, some of the details weren’t available, at least not then. I wanted an agent on the first flight here. I couldn’t wait to fill in the blanks.”
Nor could he wait to ensure the sex of the agent, either, she thought dryly, admonishing herself.
To be fair, after the opposition at the airport, he now seemed to have accepted her for what she could do and had at least stopped talking about sending her back because of her sex. It appeared that she was the only one who had yet to get over that faux pas, but in her mind it had been a big error. Enough, she told herself. She needed to focus on the key elements of the case.
“The security seems airtight. Explains why they didn’t take her here,” Kate said as they walked through the massive entrance that led to the Al-Nassar family home.
She glanced at Emir as he ran a hand down the dark stubble that covered his chin and jaw. He was an extremely good-looking man, but then, she’d known that. Now he looked agonized, worry lines creasing his forehead. She wanted to say something to comfort him but there was nothing that would help until his sister was home—safe. No matter what he thought, it hadn’t been his error. It had been Tara’s. His sister had made an error by ditching her security and that could cost her her life.
Still over a quarter of a mile away, she took in the scope of the house, more aptly a mansion, and its surrounding grounds and thought there was some irony in its sweeping size when only half the family lived here at any given time. She knew the majority of the family spent a great deal of time overseas. On most days she imagined that Emir was vastly outnumbered, not by family, but by the staff necessary to maintain such an estate.
“Emir?”
He looked at her as if he had been somewhere else. And she imagined he was fighting his own fear—fear for his sister’s well-being and for her very life. He was too close emotionally and that was why he needed her. Her ability to move ahead without emotional attachment to the victim, his sister, whom she’d never met, was critical.
“And yet none of this security kept Tara safe,” Emir said and both of them could hear the irony in his voice.
“You