Desire In The Desert: Sheikh's Rule
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“Or less if we’re needed,” Talib said.
“Or if you lose contact,” Zafir said.
“Agreed. But if there’s progress, that may change.” Emir had explained his conditions and knew it was a shaky agreement. With their sister’s life in jeopardy, he was surprised his brothers had agreed to that much. But they knew how delicate a situation like this was. No one had to be reminded of what they stood to lose.
Tara, the only girl in the family, with none of the brothers in a steady relationship, was all that was soft and feminine in the family. Without her, Emir knew that the niceties in life would disappear as easily as that beautiful vase beneath Talib’s fist. She organized family celebrations and get-togethers, remembered family traditions. Only last month she’d gotten them all together on Skype for a toast to his and Zafir’s birthday. Without her... He wouldn’t think of it, couldn’t.
Twenty minutes later, as his brothers exited the room, he picked up the phone. Fortunately its case was the only thing that had cracked in his initial rage. He punched the number of the Wyoming branch of their security agency. Adam picked up on the second ring.
Emir laid out what had transpired since they’d last spoken.
“Don’t do anything more until K.J. gets there. Promise me.” Adam’s voice held an edge of concern.
Eight hours. It was a long time—it was forever. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said.
“I don’t know what more to say, Emir. K.J.’s already en route.”
Emir sucked in a relieved breath at that.
“As we agreed, I’m sending the best. And despite the fact that I’m not coming over—this agent is better than either me or, for that matter, Faisal. It took a bit of work at this end, had to rearrange a few cases, but you’re not going after these perps without the best at your side.”
“I appreciate it,” Emir said, and the call ended seconds later. There was nothing more to say.
For now, all he could do was wait. He began to pace.
* * *
Somewhere over the Atlantic
Monday, September 14, 9:00 a.m. GMT
K. J. GELINSKY’S LONG legs were stretched in front of her and a cup of coffee sat at her elbow. Jackson, Wyoming, was a long way away and yet only days ago she’d been admiring the view from her apartment window, still in awe of the mountain peaks that cradled the city. Now the only view was the blind that covered the jet’s window and hid the endless expanse of the Atlantic. At another time she would have soaked up the luxury of flying on such a plane, the decadence of being the only passenger with a flight attendant just a call-bell away. She’d been with Nassar Security for a little over a month and their use of private jets was still a novelty.
No expense had been spared to get her on a jet and flown over the Atlantic at a moment’s notice. Briefly, she considered the resources of the men who owned both the agency in Wyoming and in Marrakech.
She’d met only Faisal and then only briefly. But she’d liked him immediately. His youth had surprised her. But, at twenty-five, only the snowboard he’d carried under his arm when she’d met him unexpectedly in the parking lot had indicated anything other than what he was: a serious business owner. He’d welcomed her to the team and put the snowboard down to shake her hand with the cordiality she’d later heard he offered to all his employees.
Faisal was approachable, friendly—the opposite of what she’d heard of his oldest brother who was rarely seen, at least by the Wyoming branch of the agency.
With only hours before wheels to the ground in Marrakech, she was anxious to get started, intrigued by the assignment and more than curious to meet Emir Al-Nassar. The head of the Moroccan branch of the agency, Emir, and his twin, Zafir, were the reason the agency had expanded as rapidly as it had. Emir was a friend to the man she directly reported to, which was interesting in itself, as were Adam’s words as she’d prepared to leave. “He is one of the few people on earth I would trust completely.”
This assignment was a coup for any agent. She’d been lucky that both her skill set and the fact that she’d been in New York on the last day of a training session had placed her as not only the logical choice but four hours closer than she’d normally have been.
She pulled her thoughts back to the case. The fact that she would be working with Emir and what kind of man he might be was irrelevant. What recognition she might get from her employers, the potential boost to her career, also moot points that only clouded her thinking. And yet they were very valid moot points. This case would—could, she amended—be career-making. She emptied her mind, bringing herself into a state of meditation for a few minutes.
Fifteen minutes later she was centered and focused on one thing: finding Sheikka Tahriha Al-Nassar.
On the tray in front of her was everything she knew and everything she might need to know about the case. She’d been through much of it already. Now she scrolled through the pictures Adam had just sent her. She memorized the features of the kidnapped sister, but it was the picture of her oldest brother that wouldn’t leave her mind. Despite the fact that he was the president of the company, she’d never before seen a picture of him. She’d known that he and his brother Zafir were twins, but she hadn’t known they were identical. She’d never seen either of them in person. Adam had provided her with a picture of each of them, for although it was Emir she’d be working with, they were all in Marrakech awaiting her arrival.
She clicked on Emir’s picture, noting the difference that ran deeper than the length of their hair—Emir’s shorter than his brother’s, clipped above his ears. The difference was in the depth of his piercing brown eyes. She kept going back to his picture and told herself it was part of this assignment to know who she was meeting at the other end. But that was only part of the truth. Emir had an aura about him, a powerful sense of confidence that seemed to emanate from the picture.
K.J. closed her eyes. Despite her mind-focusing meditation, a nap would help her hit the ground running. But that wasn’t an option. There was more to be done. She needed to know everything they had on the Al-Nassar family.
Despite working in the office headed by Faisal, she’d had little contact with him or his family, and now it was critical to fill in those gaps, along with learning everything about today’s Marrakech. The last time she’d been in Morocco had been five years ago. She needed to familiarize herself with not only present-day Marrakech but also with the surrounding area if she was to get Sheikka Tahriha safely home.
She remembered the conversation just before she had taken off.
“There’s been a payment,” Adam had said in his usual, abbreviated, no-intro sort of way. “Hopefully that will hold them off.”
“You’ve advised that no more payments are to be made.”
“Emir is well aware of that.” Adam paused, clearing his throat. “One other thing. Be careful. A woman in rural Morocco—” he shook his head “—I’m taking a chance on this.”
“I know. Don’t worry, Adam,” K.J. had said with a confidence she hadn’t felt. It might be the twenty-first century, but this was the land of sheiks where ancient traditions and strict religious laws governed much of day-to-day life, especially in the rural areas where it was highly possible the kidnappers had fled to. She’d considered that and brought tops with long sleeves, and long pants. She’d also be sure to secure her long hair before she landed so that it was away from her face. Still, she knew it wasn’t enough. But it was the best she could do. Her knowledge of the area would be her best defense. And if they wanted the best, she thought with more self-awareness than conceit, they would have to take her as she was.
She scrolled through the additional information. Then, she set down the tablet and lifted the paper report and skimmed through the pages. The report didn’t give her a lot of hope. The kidnappers weren’t sophisticated, judging from the trail of evidence. Thugs were more difficult to reason with. In some instances, thugs couldn’t be reasoned with at all. She feared that, in this situation, that might be the case.
Chapter Two
Emir glanced at his watch. Adam’s last text told him that the investigator was thirty minutes away from landing. It was 2:30 p.m. and, according to the evidence, Tara had been missing for over twelve hours. Time was slipping away and yet there was nothing he could do beyond what he already had. Now, he waited, and only his iron-clad will kept him from taking charge of this case alone. That, and the knowledge that emotion had already colored his judgment.
The airport was crowded with people and luggage as commercial airline queues filled up and passengers waited for their flights, oblivious to his inner turmoil or to the fact that his family was in dire straits.
Emir strode through the crush of incoming passengers emerging from one flight and into a back room where few were admitted, to the security area where the pulse of the airport was monitored on a second-by-second basis.
“How much longer, Sihr?” he asked the man who had first become familiar to him in the aftermath of the horror of the car crash that had killed both his parents six years ago. It had been here where an emergency crew had taken off in the hope of airlifting survivors from the isolated mountain road, and this man who had facilitated the quick takeoff. Emir ran a hand over his chin as if that would dispel the memory of a tragedy that had changed everything. Instead, all he felt was stubble and a reminder that time was slipping away.
He went over the expected time of arrival in his mind juxtaposed against weather conditions. As an amateur pilot he knew that, despite Adam’s report fifteen minutes ago, flight conditions could easily have changed the plane’s arrival time. “Early?”
Sihr gave him a brief nod. “It’s landing now.” The lean, middle-aged man swept his arm toward the back of the small office. “We can go out this way and meet them at the gate.”
Emir was three steps ahead of the smaller man as he strode down a narrow corridor that turned into a common area used only by security. They were in an area that was off-limits to the average passenger, but not to Emir. Despite the fact that he had come to know Sihr during one tragedy where rules had been bent, despite the fact that his family employed Sihr’s brother, being allowed into the security area wasn’t a favor, at least not one in the traditional sense. It was how things were done for him, his family and those around him. It was how it had always been.
As they made their way through the bustling security area and Sihr opened a door that led directly to the runway, a small breeze hit him. That was immediately overlaid by the smell of jet fuel and the roar of a commercial airliner taking off that erased the chance of any conversation even if Emir had felt like starting one. He did not. He had nothing to say and nothing that Sihr needed to know.
To the left, a Gulfstream jet had just landed and was taxiing toward them.
“Security will clear them on the tarmac. Barring anything unexpected, you should be able to go straight through,” Sihr said in his brisk, business-first manner.
Emir nodded. That bit of information was unprecedented for a foreign-origin aircraft and he knew it was Adam’s doing. Their investigators traveled the world, sometimes disguised as normal tourists, and each time clearance was negotiated before the jet took off.
One passenger got off the jet. He waited. No one else appeared. He frowned, unsure of what was going on and yet sensing something wasn’t right. His gaze traveled back to the passenger. She was a good-looking woman. He could tell that even from this distance. She was blond, her hair short or pulled up and away from her face, it was hard to determine which and none of it mattered. Still, he continued to watch as a security agent ran a wand down one side of her, skimming shoulder to ankle. Emir’s gaze shifted away, uninterested—waiting for the investigator K. J. Gelinsky.
Minutes passed and then she was in front of him. She only had to tip her head slightly to catch his eye; a tall woman with a forward attitude. He took a step back, taking her out of his personal space.
“Mr. Al-Nassar,” she said, holding out a slim hand. “I’m K. J. Gelinsky.”
“Emir,” he said almost by rote for “mister” had been his father and that era had ended in tragedy over half a decade ago. But even as he responded, the thoughts were shoved to the background as the reality of what she had said hit him.
“K.J.,” he repeated as if he needed the repetition to commit the initials to memory. Something inside froze as he realized what Adam had done—what he would have said if Adam had told him the sex of the investigator beforehand. Adam would have known how he would have reacted. He would have known that this meeting would never have happened. He didn’t offer her his hand. He couldn’t.
“You’re the new agent?” he asked, the words heavy with disbelief. “You’re the one Adam recommended?”
“Yes,” she said brightly. “I’m K.J.—”
“This won’t work,” he said. His thoughts were clouded with anger at the thought of what Adam had done, of how much time might be wasted, and of Tara whose life would be further endangered now that there was no help forthcoming.
Her wide, smoky-blue eyes narrowed. “By ‘this,’” she said slowly, “you mean me?” She took a step forward. Now she was in his face.
He frowned. If she were a man that would have been a mistake. But she was no man.
“That’s what you were meaning, wasn’t it? I’m not a man so...” She let the remainder of the sentence hang.
He paused long enough to take a breath to control the anger that made him want to lash out at someone, anyone. “You need to get on the first flight home,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Give me a chance.” There was no hesitation in her voice or in her stance as she faced off with him, her head up, her eyes sparking as if enjoying the challenge.
“It’s not me that’s the problem or needs to give you a chance,” he said. All he could feel was the pressure of an invisible clock ticking and the betrayal of a friend thousands of miles away. Adam knew the customs, the inherent sexism that still wove through the ancient traditions of the desert tribes. He knew it all and, still, he had sent her.
“I know,” she interjected. “It’s the customs, the tribes outside the city, the—”
“It won’t work,” he interrupted, thinking of the desert and where he suspected Tara’s kidnappers were hiding. He’d always been an equal opportunity employer and supported his sister, Tara, in her fight for change. It was a man’s world. It didn’t matter how much he disliked the fact, it was a truth that, for now, wouldn’t change.
“Look, I know what I’m getting into. I’m qualified,” she said, her bag swinging from her shoulder, her eyes bright with passion. “I specialized in Middle Eastern studies—an exchange student.” She waved one delicate, well-manicured hand at him.
Just looking at that hand confirmed every doubt he had. It wasn’t just about customs, she was female and because of that and so many other things, she was the wrong person for the job.
“I’ll help you find your sister. You just need to trust me.”
“No!” The word came out with all the pent-up fury that had built since the fateful call from Tara’s kidnappers and now the full impact of it sparked in his eyes as his temple pounded and his fists clenched.
“No,” he said with less edge but with no room for negotiation. He was wasting time, had wasted time, first waiting and now in a senseless airport run. “I don’t care what you specialized in. You’re a woman and because of that you’re going home,” he said bluntly. “I’ve wasted enough time. I’ll speak to the pilot and we’ll get you out of here.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“I’m not being fair,” he repeated, emphasizing each word. If she’d been a man he would have had her by the collar up against the wall, his face in hers. But she wasn’t and that was the problem. “You’re useless to me. I’d have to watch out for both you and me. That’s a distraction. Look at you—you couldn’t swing a punch or...”
One minute he was seething, glaring at her, and the next he was flat on his back.
“You bloody flipped me,” he snarled, leaping to his feet.
“As you can see, I know martial arts as well as being an excellent marksman.”
“Do that again,” he said in a slow, measured tone, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“That’s it?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“This isn’t going to work. None of it matters. Whatever your skill set, it comes down to you’re a woman. Useless to me in this environment.”
“You don’t have a choice. It’s me or no one,” she said and glared at him.
His jaw clenched.
“Oh, and by the way, your attitude about women sucks. I feel for your sister.”
“Keep Tara out of this,” he snapped, realizing it was a ridiculous thing to say when it was all about Tara.
“This might not just be about money. I think you already suspect that.”
He held his surprise back. He hadn’t expected that; it was an idea he and Adam had only briefly touched on.
“Adam told you.”
She shook her head. “Tara is the heart of your family. Without her, it’s broken.”
She was bang on and he wished she wasn’t for it changed everything, including his decision to send her home.
“These could be men with a grudge against the House of Al-Nassar. After all, your family has a long and deep history in Morocco. Someone has more than likely been hurt along the way. What better opportunity than a chance to bring you down by taking the sister you and your brothers adore and bleeding you for some cash.” She shrugged. “Simplistic, I know, but not improbable.”
“Don’t make me sorry,” he said, hoping that by not escorting her back to the plane he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.
“There’s no time to waste,” K.J. said, swinging around and striding ahead of him. She didn’t stop talking and her comments trailed behind her.
With no choice but to follow, he did, even as his eyes drifted downward and he found, in spite of the situation, that he couldn’t take his eyes off the endless length of her legs, which were enticing despite the fact they were covered by faded, beige-cotton pants. That and the generous curve of a hip only confirmed that in no way could she be mistaken for the man he had only minutes ago hoped she was. He pulled his gaze away. He was engaging in exactly the kind of behavior he abhorred and the behavior his sister, Tara, would have berated him for. No playful calls of “it’s a guy thing” would ever quiet her criticisms and attempts to get him and his brothers to toe the line. But all of those looks and comments in regard to the opposite sex, at least in Tara’s presence, had only been made in jest, brotherly teasing of a sister they all adored.
“The first twenty-four hours are critical,” K.J. said over her shoulder, as if telling him something he didn’t know. She stopped, pivoted on one heel and faced him with more determination on her face than he’d seen on anyone in a long time. “You know that time is a luxury you don’t have and I’m a problem you didn’t factor. That’s why you’re angry, and I don’t blame you.”
The admission and her logical, calm attitude in the face of what he knew had been insulting, even contentious words, surprised him.
“Whether you want me or not, I’m here. There’s no time to get a replacement and I have knowledge you don’t have and objectivity that you desperately need. I believe that’s why you made the call to bring me here. Am I right?”
“What do you know about the Middle East other than your studies?” The words revealed all the disdain and upset he was feeling. “What experience do you have?” Her education meant nothing. It wasn’t experience and therefore, to him, not real. “You grew up—” He was going to say in Midwestern America; the truth was in the way she said certain words.
“Morocco.” She cut him off and he guessed she was being deliberately vague. He could hear the edge in her voice.
“Really?” he said and didn’t soften the sarcasm that laced the word.
“Really,” she repeated and turned to face him. “At least, a few years anyway. Six years total—as a child and then a number of years in my last years of high school.” She seemed to draw herself taller. “My father was an economic counselor in the American Embassy in Rabat. A few years later he returned, accepting another position in the Moroccan Embassy.” She eyed him with a challenge in her eyes. “Are you done?”
His jaw tightened. She was right, there was nothing more to say.
“Good,” she said and began to walk away then stopped. “By the way. Call me Kate.” She threw that over her shoulder as if it were an afterthought. “One phone call?”
“So far.”
She stopped.
“So the call came in shortly before 4:00 a.m.?”
“Correct. I alerted Adam immediately and got a plan in place. Apparently that was a mistake.”
His phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at it for just a split second as dread roiled through him.
“Yeah?” he snapped and then his hand stilled as his pulse seemed to speed up. He couldn’t believe their audacity and knew it didn’t bode well for them to have contacted him twice in such a short period. They weren’t following a normal pattern. “You’ve been paid, release...”
Kate shook her head, mouthing something at him. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t care. He needed to focus on this, on what the kidnappers wanted and on how to get his sister out of their clutches.
“Put him off,” she mouthed.
He gave her a brief nod. It wasn’t anything he didn’t know but at least it was confirmation they were on the same page. “I can’t get it together right away.”
The call ended shortly after and somehow during that brief time he and K.J. had formed a shaky alliance. “This time they want a quarter million,” he said to her. It was double what they had first asked for and it was nothing in the scope of what his family was worth.
“By when?”
“Forty-eight hours or they’ll kill her. There was no drop information.”
“This is their second request and you paid them once.”
He stopped, surprised, and then realized that Adam would have told her.
“You negotiated with them successfully.” She nodded approval. “That’s promising. I suspect they’re a fragmented group but, even so, they’re testing your limits, prodding you, making you more vulnerable by not giving you the drop site, making you worry.”
“Making me react emotionally.”
She nodded, as if his response were normal. “The next contact should give us a drop. They have their initial demand, still I doubt if they’ll chance playing it out any longer. And that call? They were tormenting you—nothing more.”
He thought of what he had done in those first desperate hours when he’d heard his sister was missing and what his first thought had been to do now, but there’d been no drop site and Kate was right. She knew her stuff. It was clear in her perception and instant analysis of what had transpired in the short time in which they had been together.
“Surprised?” she asked with a smile that was more a lifting of her lips as no emotion showed in her beautiful yet deadly, intelligent eyes. “Small. Unorganized.” She wiped a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail from her face. “Not so much unorganized as brought together temporarily for a common goal. What I mean is...”
“This isn’t what they do regularly. They have no cause.”
“Exactly. I would say that they’re rough men needing money. Colleagues of some sort...”
“And none of that matters.”
“All of it matters. We need their profile to get in their heads, find out who they are, to ultimately find Tara and get her out safely.”
She was right and he didn’t want to admit it. Yet he was beginning to believe that, despite his doubts, what she had in her head, the profiling ability she spoke of, would be invaluable in finding Tara.