you not?” he pressed.
“Yes,” Anders confirmed. “Several times.”
Another uniformed man entered the room. He deposited Willow’s purse and carry-on bag onto the table. He placed Anders’s briefcase there as well.
The officer handed both passports to Anders. “I hope your visit is productive and enjoyable.”
Willow’s heart rate didn’t return to normal until they had exited the terminal and picked up the rental car. As much as she wanted to close her eyes and block the memories bombarding her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore the details of the place she had called home for three years or the incident that had just occurred, reminding her that this was not America.
“Are you okay?”
She inhaled deeply and let the breath out to clear her head. “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need him feeling sorry for her. She needed to be strong. She needed to focus on getting her son back. The memories, the fear, all of it would do nothing but distract her.
After a few miles of silence, he said, “Just so you know, that little intimidation episode back there might have had more to do with me than some random selection.”
The lights of Kuwait City in the distance held her attention for a moment before she turned to the driver. “Why do you say that?”
“I’m ex-military. I was in and out of this territory dozens of times. My name might have triggered a security check.”
“If you knew that was a possibility, why didn’t you use an alias?” Spencer Anders appeared far too smart to make a misstep that glaringly obvious.
“I wanted them to associate you with me. Any suspicions will be on me, not you.”
“Oh.” Wow. Another one of his protective measures. She couldn’t help being surprised all over again at having someone take steps to shelter her. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say more so Willow opted not to. Instead she focused on surveying the city. The lights were gorgeous, but she knew from experience that the true beauty of Kuwait City could only be seen by day. A heady mix of market bazaars and gleaming skyscrapers along a glistening coast. The mosques and souks and other sandy traces of bygone Bedouin days awaited the wanderings of tourists. No matter how much emotional stress she’d endured here she knew that beyond the glitzy opulence lay a deep sense of traditional values and warm Arabic hospitality.
She had loved this city with its diversity of people and richness of culture. It was only the man who’d brought her here that she despised. They wouldn’t pass his residence en route to the hotel. Like the other wealthy residents, his massive villa lay in the Suilhibikat area closer to the heart of the city. Kuwait boasted the wealthiest population in the world; thankfully most were kind and generous people.
The situation Willow found herself in now was her own mistake. If she hadn’t let love blind her four years ago she might have taken the time to consider the laws that could possibly come into play in her future. But she hadn’t dreamed things would go wrong and that the child she hadn’t known she would have would become a pawn in the ugly battle.
REGISTERING at the hotel at 2:00 a.m. took little time since there wasn’t a line of arriving patrons. Spencer tipped the bellhop generously and closed the door behind him. When he turned around he found Willow standing in the middle of the room staring at the bed.
“There’s only one bed.”
True. “Remember, we’re traveling as husband and wife. Our cover needs to appear realistic.”
His reminder didn’t erase the frown from her face, but she did seem to relax fractionally.
“It’s a big bed,” he added with a sweep of his hand to indicate the king-size width.
The frown eased into more of a neutral line. “It is big.”
At least that was settled.
“Did you want to use the shower first?” After the long hours of travel, he was definitely ready for a shower.
She waved him off. “You go ahead. I’ll…” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “… unpack a few things.”
At past two in the morning he wasn’t about to argue. He waited until he’d gotten inside the bathroom with the door closed before he stripped. It felt good to peel off the clothes wrinkled by too many hours sitting on a plane or in an airport.
He turned on the water and gathered the complimentary soap and shampoo and a towel before climbing beneath the hot spray. Closing his eyes, he just stood there for a couple of minutes and let his body absorb the heavenly heat.
When he’d managed to prod his brain back into action he started the cleansing routine, but a part of his mind kept going back to those tension-filled minutes at the airport.
There was every reason for Willow to be apprehensive about running into her ex-husband or someone he knew. He understood that her previous investigator had given her additional reason to believe her ex might be dangerous. But al-Shimmari hadn’t killed her when he had the chance. He could have located her at any time during the past few months if harming her had been his intention. Not that Spencer was giving him any credit at all. He wasn’t. The guy was on a federal watch list. He was most likely damned dangerous to the world at large, but not necessarily to any one particular individual, like his ex-wife.
Apprehension and anxiety Spencer had expected. Absolute terror he had not. The idea that being recognized had scared her that badly made him wonder if there was more she wasn’t telling him. Had something happened between her and her ex that she hadn’t divulged? Had she seen or heard something that gave her reason to suspect he might want to harm her if she returned?
That still didn’t explain why al-Shimmari hadn’t simply tracked her down and taken care of her if she had seen or heard something he didn’t want her to know.
She’d been more forthcoming those last couple of hours on the plane than she had been since they’d met. Maybe she would reveal more as she came to trust that he truly was on her side. He understood that she had been let down many times before coming to him. Her trust wouldn’t be easily gained. Unfortunately, time was their enemy.
When he’d pulled on fresh boxers and jeans he cleaned up after himself. He found Willow sleeping soundly on the far edge of the bed. She’d slipped off her shoes, but otherwise she was fully dressed. He pulled the cover up around her and then climbed into bed on the other side, as close to the edge as possible.
A big part of gaining her trust would include respecting her feelings. He sensed that no one had worried about her feelings in a long time. From what he could see so far, she was so accustomed to being alone that she was startled when he came to her rescue in any capacity.
No one should ever feel that alone.
He remembered what she’d said on the plane about being alone. That was the part that bothered him the most. It wasn’t right. Not right at all.
He pushed away the thoughts. Ordered himself to sleep. Tomorrow, later today actually, he would need to make contact with his “real-estate” connection. There were things he needed. Things he couldn’t have brought along in his luggage or in his carry-on bag.
Whether Khaled al-Shimmari was actually connected with one or more terrorist cells, whether he was capable of murder or not, Spencer had every intention of approaching this situation as if he and his security personnel were lethal as well as hostile.
Being fully armed would be his first step.
Thursday, February 24
WILLOW INHALED deeply. Her lungs filled with warm air, her senses vibrated with the scent of something earthy and delicious. She wanted to open her eyes, but that place between asleep and awake wouldn’t let her go. It felt so good. She hadn’t slept this well in so very long.
She snuggled deeper into the covers,