need for one.”
Ah, but the wistful tone in her voice said that last statement was a lie. Tarik filed the interesting bit of information away for a later time when he’d gotten to know her better.
“But that’s something we have in common,” he murmured. “See? We haven’t been talking for more than a few moments and already we’ve found a subject to agree on. None of the extended Kadir family have formal roots either. Not for a thousand years. We’re …”
“Nomads,” she supplied. “Originally Bedouins. Yes, I read your file, too.”
He felt ridiculously pleased that she’d cared enough to read his file. Not that he should have doubted it. Whatever else Ms. Jasmine O’Reilly turned out to be underneath her many personas, she was a serious and dedicated CIA operative. She would never go on a mission unprepared, even one that had been as spur of the moment as this one.
The flight attendant brought them both glasses of white wine. Jass took a sip before thanking the fellow and sending him away.
“Why did you resign your commission?” she asked as she studied Tarik over the rim of her glass. “The files weren’t clear on that point.”
Ah yes, the billion-dollar question. He knew the men in his old Special Forces unit and many of his former comrades in the joint Task Force were asking themselves the same thing. Well, he wanted to become closer to Jass for this mission. Might as well tell her all of it.
“I doubt my file has a notation in it explaining the five-hundred-year-old family feud between the Kadir family and the Taj Zabbar tribes of Zabbarán. It’s something my brothers and I barely understand ourselves.”
Jass set down her wine but kept her eyes trained on his face. “I discovered a little about the feud by doing a Google search. Originally, the Kadirs were caravan traders on the Spice Route. And around five hundred years ago the caravan was decimated by the fierce Taj Zabbar tribes. Right so far?”
He nodded, fascinated by her low, hypnotic voice.
“Yes, well. Apparently the Kadirs turned around and destroyed as many of the Taj Zabbar as they could in retaliation.”
“Hold on. Our side of the story is a lot different. The Kadirs had no choice. We had to neutralize the threat in order to survive. The Taj wouldn’t stop. They kept on coming. They …”
He stopped himself mid-rant and forced a smile when her eyes gleamed with humor. “Okay, I agree. That was centuries ago and no real written records were kept at the time. It could’ve happened the way you said. And at a much later date we weren’t exactly angels when it came to our treatment of the Taj.”
“Ah yes,” she interrupted. “Let’s jump the story ahead to fifty years ago when the Kadirs were already filthy rich in the shipping industry and looking to fur ther their interests in the Zabbarán territory.” She quirked a brow. “Didn’t your family make a secret deal with the Taj Zabbar’s neighbors and oppressors, the Kasht? Supposedly the Kadirs traded guns and other armaments for the sole rights to the only deep-water port in Zabbarán and the surrounding area. Right?
“Now that was really some Spice Trade.” She’d added her own answer with a wry smile. “And didn’t the Kasht use those very weapons to subdue a revolt by the Taj? They killed Taj women and children, put the men into slave labor and then burned and pillaged everything in sight. Nice family trade, Kadir.” A note of derision filled her voice. “Why am I not even a little surprised that the Taj hate your family and want revenge?”
Tarik tamped down on the automatic rise in his blood pressure. He knew the truth of what his family had done and who they were now. The Kadir family’s past was not spotless. But in more modern times they had become contributing members of civilized world society—unlike their counterparts the Taj Zabbar.
“I don’t have to defend my family to anyone. Everything you said may be true, but it was done long ago. Before either of us was born. And it’s no excuse for the Taj to behave the way they do today.” His eyes hardened. “They’re terrorists, killers and brutes. They deal with drug lords and mobsters the world over. They’ve tried to annihilate my family by blowing us up, and never mind that fifty innocent people were caught in the explosion.”
He took a breath and let the words roll out. “They kidnap vulnerable women and sell them to the highest bidders. They run their own country like a medieval fiefdom, even with all their new wealth. And worst of all, they are secretly planning to become the world’s newest nuclear power before any of the civilized nations can take notice.”
“How do you know that last part? About their nuclear ambitions.”
She had genuine interest in her eyes for the first time since he’d begun speaking. The new expression made her look young … vulnerable, and made Tarik damned curious about getting to know this part of her a lot better.
“My middle brother Shakir went into Zabbarán covertly a few months ago to rescue the woman who has since become his wife. She and their son were being held for trade to the highest bidder,” he explained. “I was part of my brother’s backup team. While we were there, we found an underground nuclear centrifuge facility and …”
“What?” Jass leaned in close and pinned him with a doubtful look. “From what I understood the Taj are too backward and couldn’t possibly have that kind of scientific know-how.”
“Just listen,” he began, instead of counting to ten to calm his temper. “I have in my possession a few satellite photos of the area under construction. And the images seem clear enough to people in the know. But we blew the place up before we left the country. I figured why not take the opportunity and save the rest of the world a hell of a lot of grief.”
Jass leaned back in her seat. “So you don’t have any real proof. Only wild speculation and fuzzy pictures.”
He bristled but kept his voice down. “I was there. And our family’s intelligence units have been picking up further mentions of nuclear subjects in the current Taj communiqués. We’re sure they haven’t given up their ambitions.”
“How so?” she probed.
“Look at the other night. They sent a couple of representatives to that auction and stole the briefcase bomb, didn’t they?”
“Did they? We only have your word on that. I wouldn’t know what they look like. The Taj aren’t on the world intelligence radar screens.” She smirked at him. “Those Middle Eastern men in the room that night could’ve just as easily been members of the Kadir clan for all I know.”
Frustrated, Tarik sat back and stared out the window before he made a few remarks that would be totally inappropriate for anyone who intended to become her lover within the next few hours. He was usually much better at capturing a woman’s attention and interest than this. In fact, he was always better at convincing people of his honesty and sincerity. Ironically, that was part of what made him such a good covert agent.
What was with Jass O’Reilly? He’d known she was slightly different than most women. But she wasn’t even responding to him like a normal human being.
He was foundering here, trying to find some common ground. What the hell would happen when they had to pretend to have an intimate love affair?
Jass was a pro. She didn’t need Tarik Kadir to remind her of their mission. But he’d tried to do exactly that as they left the plane and entered Rio’s Galeao Airport. She’d sniffed at his ridiculous attempt to rile her and brushed out past the flight attendants.
Throwing her tote bag over her shoulder, she sidled up close to him on their walk to retrieve the baggage and whispered low, “Don’t forget Zohdi wouldn’t let Celile carry anything heavy—or walk too far ahead. It’s part of his macho personality.”
Tarik’s body jerked, almost imperceptibly, but he slowed enough to reach around and take her tote with a huge grin. “Here, let me, my darling.” He used a clear, slightly accented voice. “Wouldn’t