are they? It makes no sense that they would attack us.”
“You’re assuming this is connected?”
“Aren’t you?” She looked at him as he grimly nodded agreement.
Kate bent and pulled something from the man’s shirt. She held it up. “Camel hair. This guy’s been outside the city, and recently.”
He took the small wad of coarse hair from her. It was more than likely camel—the texture, length and color was right—but what did that mean in a country where camels were common? “There are camels in Marrakech. Camels everywhere—this is Morocco,” he said as if it was a fact that needed pointing out.
He wasn’t making fun of her or, for that matter, even contradicting her. The blood seemed to roar in his ears. He wasn’t thinking straight, hadn’t been since Tara disappeared. He had to get it together and, in an odd way, despite their initial meeting, he was counting on Kate. His eyes met hers and he could see something troubling in their depths. He knew she was considering what he had said and more.
“True,” Kate said. “But he’s not the type to own one.” She lifted a hand and turned it palm-up. She ran a thumb along the tips of his fingers. “Too soft. There’s no evidence he worked with his hands, other than with firearms.” She laid the arm across the decedent’s chest and straightened as she pointed to his boots. “Knock-off Ralph Lauren boots.” She grimaced. “Not something a camel owner would have, but maybe someone who had been near one recently. Sand on his boots.” She turned the sole of the boot sideways. “Not much, but I think he came from somewhere out there. Look, the leather is scraped, like he was walking on rough terrain, not city sidewalks.” Her arm swept in the direction of the mighty Sahara Desert. “What brought him here?”
She glanced in the direction of the airport. “We need to get out of here before the police show up.”
“You’re right.” He gave the scene a final once-over. These men weren’t professionals and he’d bet neither were those who held Tara. The burning question was whether the two of them were connected and, if so, why had they targeted him? It seemed improbable. Why kill him and jeopardize a ransom? He glanced at Dell, who had been quietly listening to what they had to say.
In the distance the sirens from approaching emergency vehicles began to wail. They all headed back to the Hummer.
“Trouble. Let’s get moving,” Dell said as he motioned for them to get in.
Emir opened the rear passenger door and Kate slipped inside.
“None of this makes sense,” Emir said as he sat beside Kate.
“Or it makes complete sense,” she said softly.
They were silent for the next few minutes as the Hummer sped away, leaving the mayhem behind for the authorities.
Emir’s attention was now on Marrakech’s sprawling yet oddly elegant skyline as the vehicle turned from the rural landscape and headed back to the heart of the city.
* * *
THE SILENCE WAS thick over the next few minutes as the miles dropped behind them and distance separated them from the recent mayhem. While Kate appreciated the opportunity to mull over her theory without questions, she suspected that Emir, too, had theories with no solid answers and, like her, was mulling them over, trying to piece it all together, to make sense of it.
She looked at him, at the seemingly unfeeling line of his lips and yet she knew, from the little he’d said, that he had to be worried sick. He cared for his sister, and he’d do anything to get her back. That he’d give his life—that he’d said and she was here to make sure that didn’t happen.
Everything was still, quiet between them.
She noticed little things. His hands were thick, sun-bronzed, yet he had long fingers. His hands were like those of an artist mixed with those of a laborer. But none of what was in his hands matched the aristocratic planes of his face or... Her heart pounded just a beat faster—and her mind wrestled with distance, with control. This was not about lust or even like but about life and death. She was here to do a job.
“We need to do this silently and quietly. That means as few people involved or in the know as possible.” She glanced at Dell. In the heat of battle Dell been a good addition. But finding Tara was a different matter. They had to be subtle and more people created noise, figuratively speaking, and could alert the kidnappers. Besides, she knew nothing of Dell. She didn’t know if she could trust him, even though Emir did, or if she wanted to.
“Dell’s ex-military,” Emir said as he watched her attention turn to Dell. “We served together. He’s going to help while he can. Don’t question that or anything else I decide,” he said, practically ordering her not to question him.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t like it, but she’d see how it played out for now.
“I’ll show you what we think is ground zero,” he said as if that were the reward not for her success in the field but for her silence.
She looked at the tense way Emir gripped his handgun and the tight line of his jaw and saw pain, a strong man who was fighting not to break. He needed help and not just someone who wielded a gun, not just muscle—he needed someone who could think clearly, unaffected by the emotion he refused to admit. Emir, whether he knew it or not, needed her.
“Where they took Tara,” he said.
And it was with those words that she found herself locked into the reality of going back in time with the dark and silently brooding Sheik Emir Al-Nassar.
Emir, she corrected, for she couldn’t think of him as “Sheik.” Sheik didn’t fit the persona of the young and brash man beside her. He was a man she imagined could easily steal a woman’s heart even after annoying her as deeply and maddeningly as he had her. He was also a man in the midst of a tragedy that, she’d instinctively thought from the moment she’d seen his name, would eventually lead her to the hinterlands of the Sahara Desert.
But it was the man, not the desert, that caused her to pause. There was something about Emir, a passion and an intensity that was different from any man she had ever known. And that scared her more than anything else.
Monday, September 14, 5:00 p.m.
“I need a vehicle registration search,” Emir said as he spoke to his contact. It was standard procedure, a first link to who or what these men had been—dead bodies didn’t talk.
“Stolen vehicle,” he said to Kate after he ended the call.
“Not what either of us hoped for.”
He shrugged. “Did you expect anything else?”
She paused as if pondering the information. “It fits. Definitely not best case, but not a surprise, either. The vehicle makes sense but the attack itself seems like a piece that just doesn’t fit. If the men who attacked us at the airport were originally with the kidnappers, why would they leave the group, come back and try to kill us?” She rubbed her thumb along the inside of her wrist, as if doing so would somehow provide answers. “They won’t get money from a body. It makes no sense.”
Emir looked at her. “I have three brothers.”
She frowned. “They can still negotiate with one of your brothers.” Her eyes met his. “Were they trying to kill you to ensure the others paid?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
As the Hummer slowed, Emir pulled out his phone and punched a series of numbers. The massive bronze gates leading to his home slipped smoothly open and Dell maneuvered the vehicle inside.
Emir slid the passenger window down.
“Heard anything?” A middle-aged man with a Beretta