he’d underestimated her determination to cooperate.
“Funny,” she said quietly, “I never wore them before.”
She didn’t look at him as she said this, instead she stared out the window at the passing clouds or maybe nothing in particular.
“An act of defiance?” Was this how the marriage had started off? Or had her husband at first permitted her to cling to her western ways?
“Our relationship was different in the beginning.” Her gaze shifted to the back of the seat in front of her as she spoke. “There was mutual respect. His mother didn’t like that he allowed me to be American, but he seemed perfectly happy with the me he’d married.”
“When did things change?” They’d covered some of how things started to deteriorate, but maybe if he persisted along these lines she would delve into those final months. He settled his half-empty glass on the tray and waited for her to go on with her story.
“After Ata’s birth.” She held her soda in both hands as if she feared a sudden bout of turbulence would catch her off guard. “It was as if he grew ashamed of me. The pressure to stay home and out of the public eye was at first subtle, but then I started to feel like a prisoner. God knows that fortress he calls a residence is more like a prison than a home.”
She placed her drink on the tray above her lap, but didn’t let go of the glass. “Everything about Ata became an issue. I wasn’t holding him right. I wasn’t feeding him properly. Half the time Khaled’s mother was in charge of Ata’s care. They just pushed me aside and did things their way, as if I had no say in the matter.”
That couldn’t have gone over very well. “How did you put a stop to that?”
For the first time since the conversation began she looked him square in the eye. “I pitched a fit. For a while things were better.”
“But that didn’t last long.”
She shook her head. “Then my ex-husband found business to occupy my time.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “To keep me away from our son as much as possible. I didn’t recognize the tactic at first. I was so happy to be involved with my husband’s pursuits I didn’t see the hidden agenda.”
This was the first he’d heard of her being involved with any of al-Shimmari’s work. “What exactly did you do for the family business?”
She traced the droplets of water forming on her glass. “Since my training was in trading stocks and evaluating investment potential, he pretended to want my advice on his financial portfolio.”
If Spencer had been surprised before, he was outright shocked now. Why would a man like al-Shimmari allow her access to his financial records? Sure, she’d been educated in finances, but she wasn’t a seasoned pro by any means. “What do you mean he pretended to want your advice?”
She shook her head slowly from side to side. “God, I was such a fool.”
Spencer didn’t rush her, he just let her talk. He sensed that what she had to say next would prove key to new and vital information about al-Shimmari.
“The entire portfolio I’d evaluated for hours and hours, days really, was a hoax. What he allowed me access to was nothing more than a fake set of financial records created specifically for my entertainment.”
Tension roiled through Spencer. “What tipped you off?”
“We were in his office at home. I was pointing out a problem I’d discovered when he was called out of the room for a moment. His computer screen was open to what I thought was the same data system I accessed from my own small office. So I sat down at his desk to print out a page I’d somehow failed to print. The differences in his database and the one I was permitted to access were glaringly obvious.”
Spencer’s tension escalated to a new level. “Did he catch you at his computer?”
She laughed, the sound dry and wholly lacking in amusement. “He didn’t have to catch me. I confronted him about the differences.” Another laugh choked out of her. “I was totally convinced that someone was keeping a second set of books, so to speak, in order to skim his finances. It never entered my mind that he was the guilty party.”
Spencer could imagine what happened next. None of it good.
“He was furious,” she went on. “He accused me of making up the data he claimed didn’t exist. I was never allowed even to speak of his work or his finances again. Two months later I broached the subject of a trial separation. I’d gotten so frustrated with the way his mother kept Ata away from me and with his indifference I was ready to take drastic action.” Her attention turned back to the window. “I thought maybe if I shocked him with that news that maybe he would turn back into the man I’d married. I had no idea that he’d already made plans of his own. A few days later I found myself in LAX with no ID or money.”
Spencer touched her arm, the one closest to him. “Those months must have been very difficult for you.” Being so far from home with no support network, surrounded by people who didn’t want her, had to have been a nightmare.
She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with that haunted look that tugged at his emotions. “The hard part came when they wouldn’t let me see my son again.” She grabbed his shirtsleeve when he would have moved his hand away. “You have to get my son back for me, Mr. Anders. I can’t keep living this way.” She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. “I dream about him, only to wake up and realize that I’m alone. Do you know how that feels? To be completely alone? So alone that nothing matters to you anymore?”
A single tear trekked down her cheek and he couldn’t resist touching her again. He swiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. No one should have to go through this kind of hell. She loved her child. She only wanted the things any mother would want. The man she’d loved and trusted had taken that away from her.
“I’ll get your son back.” He didn’t answer the other question. “No matter what else happens, I will see that you get your son back.”
The crackle of electricity between them startled him at first. But he couldn’t draw his hand away from her sweet face. She needed him. No one had needed him in so long. More than that… he needed her just a little.
The sound of the flight attendant’s voice over the speaker system shattered the moment. “… Seatbelts should be fastened and trays should be placed in their upright position in preparation for landing…” Another of the flight attendants hurried along the aisle to reclaim empty refreshment containers and any other trash from the passengers.
Willow kept her gaze straight ahead as the plane started to descend. He had wanted to ask her if she’d found anything in al-Shimmari’s finances that sent up a red flag for her. Obviously there was something her ex-husband had wanted to hide from her. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted her to know the true extent of his assets. But why bother to hide those? As a non-Muslim she had no rights to his holdings. If he hadn’t gotten so caught up in touching her he might have asked the question.
Later, when they’d gotten to the hotel maybe he’d ask her to elaborate on what she’d found. For now, they had to concentrate on getting through customs and the airport without incident. Operations of this nature were best accomplished one step at a time.
When the plane bumped along the tarmac, Willow felt her tension start to climb once more. She’d spent the past forty-eight hours bracing for this moment and still she felt ill-prepared for what was to come.
What if Khaled learned that she was here?
What if one of his many spies saw her?
She chewed her lip and fought the panic. He wouldn’t find her. Mr. Anders had taken care of a passport under an alias. She would wear the khimar. Khaled would not know she was in the country. She and Ata would be gone before he suspected she was up to anything. He surely thought he’d foiled her attempts to retrieve her son when he captured or murdered