Ryshia Kennie

Desire In The Desert: Sheikh's Rule


Скачать книгу

This section was built in the mid-1800s. We’ve put in a computer-monitored surveillance system in the last few years, added motion detectors and thermal laser-heat detectors. It was all we needed without going overboard. At least, so we thought...” He shook his head, lines bracketing his mouth.

      “You couldn’t have known.”

      “Don’t placate me,” he growled. “I should have known. It was my job to know.”

      The security keypad was imbedded in a teak panel arched into a design that looked rather like a small pseudo door set alongside the door frame.

      Emir punched in a code.

      The doors in front of them opened with the whir of a hidden motor, leading to a smaller teak doorway and a wooden door that, while arched like the first set of doors, was smaller, singular and, as a result, much less imposing than the first set. Emir unlocked the door, flicked on the light and stood aside for Kate to enter first. Inside was the sleek metal lines and modernity of a penthouse apartment without the extravagantly opulent touches of the entranceway.

      His hand was on the small of her back as she hesitated, taking it all in. Her heart beat just a little faster as his hand rested there for just a few seconds longer before the intimate touch was gone and it was as if it had never happened.

      She was being ridiculous and, worse, unprofessional, she chastised herself, dragging her thoughts to what was important—learning about Tara and finding anything that might help to bring her home, safely, to her family.

      “Tara detests the old look. It reminds her of the old ways and the customs that still impact women. She left some of the original touches, the original door and entranceway, because they amused or maybe, more aptly, intrigued her.”

      Kate walked the length of the cool, ivory tile that matched the rest of the mansion and straight through a kitchen and sitting area to a bank of windows that looked out to a gleaming infinity pool surrounded by palm trees. She turned back to Emir.

      “If she wasn’t so smart, this wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have pushed the rules, tested her limits,” Emir protested. “She’d have been inside and safe.” His lips were taut, his eyes dark and troubled. Kate held back the urge to put a hand on his shoulder, to offer what little comfort she could.

      “You can’t turn back the clock,” she said softly.

      Her gaze went to the sofa as she walked over to the bookcase. “She’s very serious,” she said, her eyes skimming the titles. “And yet she has a lighter side, fun-loving.” There were characteristics of Tara that were obvious in her choice of furnishings. The sleek, butter-yellow leather sofa hinted at a lighter side. The heavy, teak desk with generations of wear marring the surface and the three volumes of Wells’s The Outline of History leaning against an economic text were testament to her seriousness.

      Kate glanced at a collection of graphic novels but picked up an archeological magazine from a pile and thumbed through it. It was a unique collection for a young woman whose major was computer science with a minor in psychology. She put the magazine back on the stack that seemed to cover the prior year.

      “Did she just read about archeology or had she gone on a dig?”

      “What does it matter?” he asked.

      “Anything you remember could help, you know that.”

      He nodded. “You’re right. She wanted to go check out a new find. It was a day trip into the desert and another back.”

      “And you told her no?” Kate guessed and got her answer from his silence. “That must have been hard for her to take. Maybe impossible, considering she’s legally an adult. Is it possible that she planned to go anyway, that maybe...?”

      “No!” A minute of silence hung between them before he spoke again. “What are you implying?”

      Tara picked up another magazine and thumbed through the pages, deliberately putting off her answer. It was best that he knew now, before this investigation went any further, that she wouldn’t be intimidated. She also knew he was a hard man to convince, considering a gunfight hadn’t done it.

      She would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Instead she continued her perusal of Tara’s living space, finding bits of information that would give her insight the file and Emir hadn’t. Finally, after a minute had passed, and then two, she looked up, met his gaze and saw a hint of what might be admiration.

      It was vital that she had his full attention. What she had to say could be very important to who, at least, some of the perpetrators might be. She didn’t expect him to take what she was about to imply well, but it had to be said. “Is it possible that days or even weeks ago, she made first contact, made the culprits aware of her vulnerability?”

      This time his look was thunderous as he turned away from her. The tension between them was thick and bleak before he turned back. Now his eyes glimmered with anger, agony—maybe a combination of the two, it was impossible to tell.

      “Is that so unbelievable? I’m not saying it was her fault but only that...” She paused.

      “Yes, it’s possible. But I don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you and what was in the report.”

      “What about that night? What wasn’t in the report, Emir?”

      “She was celebrating the beginning of the school year, getting together with some old school pals on a few days’ jaunt home before going back to the States. And...” His full lips thinned and his jaw tensed, and she could see he was struggling with something.

      “Sit,” she offered with a wave of her hand to the chair opposite her.

      He sat.

      “I admit the report is missing some information. It wasn’t all known. I learned it after your plane took off and—” he wasn’t looking at her “—I’ve filled in all the blanks.” He opened his mouth as if to say more.

      She cut him off. “I need to know what Tara was doing last night—all of it.”

      “I...”

      She met his rich, dark eyes, saw the trouble, the doubt, that lurked deep within them, and still she didn’t back down.

      “She left the restaurant alone with her security. She managed to ditch them shortly after—no one knows why.” He blinked, as if that would change the words she knew, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to admit.

      “It won’t help to hold anything back.”

      Silence ticked between them.

      “The only thing that matters now is having all the information so we can figure this thing out and find her. What aren’t you telling me?”

      “She’d been drinking,” he admitted. “That’s what her friends said.”

      “What else did her friends say?” she asked softly.

      “I didn’t want this in the report, it...”

      “Could ruin her reputation.” She paused. “Look, Emir, we’ve all gone there. A youthful mistake—a bit too much to drink. It happens. Usually it turns out well—we luck out. Let’s make this turn out well. Tell me what happened. Everything you know, including what you screened from the report.”

      She looked at him as if he were no different from any other witness.

      “You knew this before I left the States and you left the fact that she’d been drinking out of the report. You did that on purpose, thinking it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything or help us find her.”

      She sank onto the luxurious softness of the leather couch and thought how she’d love such a piece for her small apartment. Then she turned her focus on Emir. “That’s where you’re wrong—and you know it. Everything matters, every piece of evidence.”

      He ran his hand along his brow and his