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“Maybe. The prime minister might be lining up support for the action the Brothers are planning to take against Tamir.” She continued to flip through copies of the pages as he spoke. “It’s believed that bin-Sadin has a training camp somewhere in Yanda. He uses it to teach terrorist techniques to new recruits.”
But she was absorbed in the information on the screen. “After the correspondence there are bank records.”
Interest sharpening his voice, Walker said, “Probably from the safe I found. Where are the banks?”
“The Cayman Islands,” she said after a moment. Her brows raised. “Our host is a wealthy man. He has more than a half a million dollars in these accounts.”
“And another hundred grand of U.S. currency in his safe.”
“Either being a public servant in Maloun is very lucrative, or he is not above bribery.”
“Since he’s only a puppet of the Brothers, I’d say his personal integrity is hardly in question,” Walker said dryly. “What else is on there?”
“The last few pages are names, followed by dates and U.S. dollar amounts. The period of time appears to be…” She checked back a few pages, then flipped forward. “Over the last five years.”
“Any names you recognize?”
“The largest amounts have one of two names beside them. The first is Bonlei Marakeh. He was here tonight.”
“Which one was he?”
“He was the last to arrive.”
“The guy who wouldn’t let go of your hand when you were introduced?”
There was a note she couldn’t identify in his voice. “I believe the one you are thinking of was Ari Toudan. He was…attentive.”
“Yeah, I noticed he was especially attentive to your chest. Describe this Marakeh for me.”
“Five five or six, one hundred forty pounds, sixty to sixty-five years old.”
“Leathery complexion—sat at the head of the table?” At her assent, Walker gave a satisfied nod. “I’m guessing he’s affiliated with the Brothers. I overheard him and El-Dabir talking, and from the little I could make out, it sounded like the prime minister was taking orders from him.”
Jasmine consulted the screen again. “The other name that appears here many times is that of Tariq Abdul.”
“I figured that guy for a player.”
The word had her furrowing her brow. “He plays?” Although she’d begun learning English at age ten, there were still too many terms and phrases she was not familiar with. Americans especially used the same words to mean many different things.
“I figure he’s someone important in Maloun,” he explained.
She thought about that. All of the guests this evening must be of some importance in the country, or El-Dabir would not have invited them. But none of the other names on the screen matched those of the guests. Only Marakeh and Abdul. “Abdul is, indeed, a player. Perhaps even a member of the Brothers of Darkness.”
Interest sharpening his tone, Walker asked, “Did he say something tonight?”
“He didn’t mention the organization directly, but he spent this evening trying to convince me of his importance.” At his look, she gave a shrug. “It is what a man does when he tries to gain the attention of a woman.” Another female would understand without explanation. “Several times he mentioned a group he belongs to, without ever naming it. Once he called it the voice of Maloun.”
“From the intelligence we gathered, that claim would fit the Brothers.” Walker fell silent for a moment. “Did he give you any indication whether he would be coming back here?”
She managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes. Men could be extremely obtuse, especially when it came to the behavior of their gender. “He will be back.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Raising a brow, she merely looked at him. Something like amusement flickered across his face. “Of course. I didn’t mean to disparage your feminine charms, Jaz. Especially since I know from personal experience just how compelling they can be.”
If he was attempting to get a reaction from her, she was determined not to give it. “I will make it clear to El-Dabir that I have reservations about the rebel faction in the country. If he is as eager to forge a bond with Tamir as I believe he is, he will try to convince me of the organization’s harmlessness. I am certain that I can lead him to suggest a visit.”
“The sooner the better.”
His distracted tone should have warned her. In the next moment he reached out, touched her hair. “Your pins are coming loose.”
Self-consciously she reached up, meaning to resecure them. Instead she was dismayed to feel him withdraw the pin, allowing a strand of hair to escape. The instant jolt of awareness that rocketed through her veins dismayed her. “I’ll do it.”
Ignoring her, he dropped the pin in her hand and reached for the next one.
“Stop.” She tried to push his hand away, but he was immovable. Three more pins were loosened. More hair tumbled down. She tried to move away, but he shifted with her. The pins were pressed into her palm, and he reached for more.
She made the mistake of looking at his face. His expression was intense, absorbed. The expression of a man intent on mussing the woman he planned to take to bed. She’d seen the look on his face before. Knew what it meant.
She didn’t want this, didn’t want the memories of Venice slipping into her mind like stealthy little thieves. He’d seemed fascinated with her hair then, too, combing his fingers through it, smoothing it back from her face when she’d lain beneath him, shattered and limp.
Her pulse tripped once, and her heart did a slow, lazy spin in her chest. He was adept at this, she reminded herself wildly. He could switch from the cool, professional agent to the all too sensual male in the flash of an instant. He was equally adept at changing back, leaving her reeling with memories and unwelcome feelings that seemed to not touch him in the slightest.
“You need to leave.” With a recklessness fueled by desperation, she reached up, withdrew the last few pins, then shook her head to toss her hair back into place. His gaze never left her, his eyes following every movement.
Little tongues of flame danced through her veins. The man had to do no more than look at her, touch her, and she was a mass of quivering nerve endings. The thought filled her with despair. Her reaction was fueled by guilty snippets of memories she couldn’t control. Her body recognized the source of its pleasure, even as her mind rejected him.
“It’s late.” Anxious to escape, she shoved past him. “And the water has been running for too long already. You need to leave before someone comes to investigate.”
“Who? The prime minister? His quarters are on the other side of the building. And there are no servants who live here that I’ve discovered.”
“I don’t care. I want you out of here!”
“Why, Jaz?” With his hands on her hips he pulled her back against him, and his mouth went to her shoulder. “Are you afraid of what might happen if we’re alone together too long?”
She shivered under his lips. His fingers burned through the thin silk of her nightgown, branding her flesh. “This is a stupid risk. We know there are bugs in the other room….”
“So you’d have to be quiet this time.” The combination of his words and his warm breath caressing her skin had a shudder working through her. She could hear the hint of humor in his voice. “We both would.”
“No!” She pulled away and whirled to face him. His expression abruptly shuttered. “I think we can both agree that last time was a mistake. It is one I will not make again.”
“It doesn’t have to be a mistake this time. We’d both know what to expect.”
Her lips twisted at his response. “And what would that be, Walker? Should I expect to rise in the morning from the bed of my lover and return to an angry stranger making vicious accusations?”
“No accusations. No anger,” he said carefully. “We’d both go into this with our eyes wide open.”
And therein lay the heart-rending pain of it. He couldn’t have said more plainly that there was nothing between them but sex, a basic physical need that he could appease with anyone. At any time.
“I do not think so.” Her indifferent tone would have done an actress proud. “I have grown a bit more discriminating since we parted. And it is far less complicated to choose lovers who are not involved in our jobs, is it not?” Without waiting for an answer, she went to her bag on the counter, took out a hairbrush. As she pulled it through her hair, her gaze met his in the mirror. Her hand faltered. Banked emotion was apparent in his eyes. The new colored contacts couldn’t disguise the familiar piercing intensity.
Then, so quickly that she wondered if she’d imagined it, the moment passed and his expression went guarded once again. “If you plan to stick to your new formula for selecting lovers, you’ll want to tone down your come-on to Abdul. He doesn’t strike me as a guy who needs a whole lot of encouragement. And from what I saw tonight, you were giving him plenty of that.”
He could elicit flash points of emotion from her, dragging her from one to the other with almost dizzying speed. Her fingers clenched around the handle of the brush. She longed to throw it at his arrogant head. “You can go to the hellfire.” The amused lift to the corner of his mouth at her mangled English was like throwing gasoline on a flame. Her cursing was much more fluent in Arabic, so she reverted to her native language. From the way his brows skimmed upward, she knew he’d correctly interpreted at least part of her words.
“Calm down. I’m going. Don’t lock the window on the south side while we’re here.”
She pressed her lips together in an effort to regain control. “Why?”
“Because that’s how I get in.” Before she could react, he crooked a finger and ran a careless knuckle over the curve of her cheek. “Dream of me, Jaz.”
His exit stemmed any rejoinder she might have made. Dropping the brush, she gripped the edge of the sink with both hands, battling the welter of emotions crashing and colliding inside her. With short, jerky movements, she yanked off her nightgown and stepped under the shower’s frigid spray.
The icy needles of water raised shivers and chills but did nothing to douse the heat that Walker had torched deep inside her. She was very much afraid that there wasn’t enough cold water in the hemisphere to do that.
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