Heir to a Fortune

Someone is threatening to expose Sara Elliott’s secret. After draining her bank account, she flees to Morocco to face the one man she fears, the only man who can truly protect her son. Sheik Talib Al-Nassar has money and power beyond compare, but nothing could prepare him for seeing his ex, especially in his homeland. Though suspicious of this reunion, he would do anything to shield her and her little boy from further danger. He welcomes them to his family compound, but Talib’s shelter has a price of its own. Like Sara’s blackmailer, he desires only one thing: the truth about her son…

Desert Justice

“I’ve lost my son.”

She gasped for air. Tried to think straight, tried to remain calm, but it was all impossible. “He’s two. Please.” She bit back hysteria. “Help me.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure he’s been found and taken outside. Go outside and wait.”

“Wait?” It was the second time she’d heard it and this time she could take no more. “My son is missing!” She clenched her fists, driving her recently home-manicured nails into the palms of her hands. A sharp pain ran up her arms. It grounded her, temporarily dispelled the blinding panic.

Her hands shook and her head pounded. She wouldn’t give up. Coming to Marrakech had been a decision made in desperation. For it was here, in the land of the sheiks, where she searched for the lifeline that would protect her heart. Only one man could save her son and keep them both safe.

She needed to find Sheik Talib Al-Nassar. But first she had to find Everett. He was her heart, and without him, there was nothing.

Son of the Sheikh

Ryshia Kennie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist for the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit www.ryshiakennie.com.

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When I was a toddler, you read endlessly to me and then

wondered why I became a bookworm. I suppose that makes

you partially responsible for the writer I am. You taught me how

to read and you also taught me self-reliance. If it can be bought,

it can be made. From soup to wedding veils. For my mother,

who reminds me every day that nothing is impossible.

Quit just isn’t in her vocabulary. To you, Mom.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Epilogue

Extract

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Marrakech, Morocco

Tuesday 4:00 a.m.

He slipped out of the back entrance of the Desert Sands Hotel and disappeared into the darkness. And, although he didn’t move far away, he looked back only once, and with a self-satisfied smile. He had been in the hotel for a little over twenty minutes. It had all been too easy. He had come in through the unlocked fire exit where security cameras hadn’t been installed. He didn’t glance at the man at the front desk, for he knew that he had also been paid both for his assistance and his silence.

Neither of them would be here for the outcome. They only knew their parts, nothing more. He waited for the one other player in this game. She arrived exactly thirty minutes later, on schedule, as was her habit. Despite her initial reluctance, a doubling of the original sum was all that was required.

He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock. He had ten hours before the second act.

He vanished into the narrow and twisted corridors of the Medina, where he had lived the majority of his life and where the plan had incubated. It was here where he would wait for his finale and then others would take charge. He was only a pawn in a much bigger game.

The signs of a new day merged into late morning and then followed into early afternoon. It wasn’t until the day drifted close to midafternoon that the man from the Medina returned. And then he waited. There was no need to enter the hotel. Everything he needed would be brought to him, as planned.

* * *

THE FIRST SIGN of trouble went unnoticed by anyone in the lobby of the Desert Sands Hotel. The day began like any other, full of promise for business and tourists alike. The hotel was abuzz with the imminent arrival of a busload of tourists that would soon mesh with the energy of the guests already there. Times were changing and new ideas were being implemented. The hotel was under new ownership and so far, the change had been flawless. Everything was going as beautifully as the clear September day that held such promise for those eager to explore the city. Marrakech was full of places to discover, secrets waiting to be found. The city had an exotic history that was steeped in the depths of the Medina. There, the hustle and bustle in the souks, the numerous and varied shops with the merchants peddling their wares, added excitement and mystery, as had been the tradition for centuries. It was the place tourists came to spend good money and be part of that rich history. It was a special place, an exciting place. For most, it was very different from what they were familiar with. For others, it was a place of business—a place where commerce was at the center. For there was money here as well as history. There were other things, too, like poverty and crime, that lurked in the narrow alleys where he waited.

Now, near the heart of all that, the low ticking of an explosive device went unheard. It had been placed close to where the luggage rack was customarily parked. It hid in the far corner of the lobby, buried beneath the chatter of the guests and the stream of voices that kept the hotel running without a hiccup. The deadly, monotonous beat was too quiet to be heard or seen...yet.

Chapter One

Marrakech, Morocco

Tuesday 3:15 p.m.

At the Desert Sands Hotel registration desk, Sara Elliott laid her passport on the counter. She then set her two-year-old son beside it so that she could keep an eye on him while completing the hotel registration. It had been a long flight and they were both exhausted. Despite the fact that it was midafternoon, she was looking forward to getting a snack and then getting her son bathed, and both of them having a nap. Traveling over an ocean and between continents with a two-year-old was no picnic. Only her son had managed to sleep on the long flight from Maine to Marrakech. For her, there had been no pleasure in it, but rather, only an endurance test in a flight borne out of desperation.

She had her arm around her son’s waist, for a hand on his leg wasn’t enough. Everett was a busy little boy. He didn’t like to sit still for any length of time and now was no different, as within seconds he was reaching for the registration pen. Then he poked the edge of the registration clerk’s computer while endearing himself to the older couple beside her who were checking in, as well.

After a minute of that, his bottom lip began to quiver as he lost interest. She guessed that he was realizing that despite devouring two cookies on the ride between the hotel and the airport, he was hungry. She dug in her purse for his soother. He was too old for such a thing. That was what the latest parenting book she had read indicated, but they hadn’t mentioned another option for situations such as these. The soother was immediately grabbed up in her son’s chubby hand and popped into his mouth. Her nerves settled slightly. Now she had a few minutes of peace. Time to get them registered and settled in their room.

She closed her purse, using one hand to steady her son as she juggled the diaper bag that was over one shoulder, along with her carry-on bag and purse. She fisted the hotel pen in an attempt not to drop it when what sounded like outrageously loud fireworks went off behind her.

She jumped and dropped her purse onto the counter. The hand holding her son remained, instinctively, protectively, there. Someone screamed and a man shouted. The registration clerk jumped back, shock in his dark eyes. Smoke immediately began to fill the room and it was unclear what had happened.

She pulled her son off the counter, holding him tight against her side, his legs dangling. She turned to see what was going on, and one of the three bags she carried caught on the thin wooden panel that acted as a counter divider. Her carry-on twisted and wrapped around her arm, locking her in position. Smoke was billowing from the corner of the lobby, where the suitcase trolley was, and a small fire was licking at a couple of the bags. The smoke only added to the confusion because minutes earlier, the lobby had been flooded with an influx of tourists that had just gotten off a tour bus.

There was chaos in the haze, as people began to run for the exit. They pushed through the crowded area where others stood, stunned. She could see that the window that faced the parking lot had been blown out. A bomb, she thought with shock, and then realized that it was an outrageous idea.

It was seconds before the reality of what had just happened seemed to hit her full-force. They needed to get out of here. Who knew what might follow. There could be another explosion, a larger fire. The situation was unpredictable and dangerous. She’d wasted precious seconds. Her son was in her arms, but her important documents were in the bag caught on the counter. She wasn’t frightened enough to leave the bag behind, at least not yet. For without their passports and travel documents...she couldn’t think of it. But she also couldn’t hold her son any longer and continue to juggle her bags. She put Everett back down on the counter. His hands immediately went over his ears as he sniffled, but didn’t start crying.

A woman jostled Sara and when the fire alarm began to bleat it was somehow unexpected and she let out a small involuntary scream. Everett immediately followed her example, as he always did, his soother now clutched in his chubby fist.

Darn it, she thought. But she couldn’t have bit back her reaction, it was as involuntary as every other shriek that had run through the room.

“It’s all right,” Sara said quickly, not knowing how all right it might be. She held him in place with one hand while with the other she tried to free the caught bag. Her purse banged against her hip as Everett began to wail.

A short, thick woman pushed past her, herding a trio of children, knocked her elbow and threw her completely off balance. She staggered against the counter and noticed, while not really acknowledging, that all the staff had now vacated their posts.

A snowy-haired man with a pleasant expression and eyes that crinkled with concern approached her. “Here, let me help you.” He reached for Everett. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said to her son.

Everett stopped crying long enough to look at the man and held his tiny arms out.

“No!” The word was sharper, louder and fiercer than she intended.

She guessed that he didn’t mean any harm. Still, despite everything, she wasn’t taking any chances. The thoughts ran rapidly through her mind and she considered the possibility that he might really just want to help. The offer seemed suspect, but he was from a generation where helping someone with their child was natural. The simple kindness did not place you immediately in a lineup as a suspect to potential kidnapping, as it did today.

He looked at her and moved to her other side. “I’m sorry. You just looked like you had your hands full.” He reached over and unhooked her bag. “That should help.”

She looked at him sheepishly. “Thank you,” she said as the man nodded and moved on. And she was thankful in more ways than one, for despite the noise and confusion, Everett had stopped crying.

She lifted her son, who, at thirty-two pounds, was a good size for a two-year-old. Normally she had a stroller, but that was somewhere with the luggage, what might be left of it. She had no choice but to carry him.

“It’ll be all right,” she whispered to him and wasn’t sure if that helped. She was just glad he hadn’t let out a howl of outrage. Instead, his arms were around her in a death grip and he was sucking his soother again. If her arms stopped shaking she’d be all right. But the man was right about one thing—they needed to get out of here. The smoke was swirling through the lobby, making it almost impossible to see to the other side, where their luggage was, or to her left, where the exit was.

She moved forward. She meant to follow the crowd to the exit, when the stairwell door opened and people streamed out as they began to come down from the upper floors. The hotel lobby was suddenly not just busy but congested to the point that no one could move. Everett twisted in her arms, trying to get down, and with her arms still shaking, his squirming made him difficult to hold. The soother was gone. It must have dropped. She looked down but there was nothing but smoke and chaos. He began to cry, she imagined more from frustration than fright.

“No, sweetie. You can walk once we’re outside.” She tightened her grip as his cries threatened to match the noise of the fire alarm.

“Ma’am,” the concierge said, taking her by the elbow. “You’ve got to leave now. Get the little one out of here.”

“Yes,” she agreed as she fumbled, the pull on her elbow the final straw to her already shaky grip that was weakening the more Everett squirmed.

“Mama!” he yelled.

“We’re going, Ev. We’re going.” But she wasn’t so sure as Everett twisted again and slid halfway down her chest.

The concierge had already moved on, unaware that his actions had loosened her hold on her son. She struggled to get a better grip on him, but he was slipping further. It was all made worse by the crowd as they jostled them this way and that. Someone knocked her left side and this time she lost her grip. She didn’t have any choice but to either drop Everett, or set him down.

She placed him on the ground, her hand on his shoulder as she stood up. But the split second between that and when she reached down to take his hand found her fishing for air. She looked down. In the space of a second he had disappeared. There was nothing but a sea of people amidst the chaos of noise and smoke. Her heart raced.

A woman screamed.

To her right, in a thick cloud of smoke, something tipped and crashed to the floor. There was another scream. This time she realized that it was her. Panic threatened to engulf her. She couldn’t let it. She had to find Everett.

Through a break in the smoke, she could see that the flames were licking one corner of the wall behind where the suitcase trolley had been standing. Shock raced through her at the fire and at the thought that everything she had brought was more than likely about to be, or already was, destroyed. But the thought was fleeting, for none of that mattered. She had to find Everett.

A man with a hotel employee jacket rushed forward with a fire extinguisher. He blasted the flames that were eating up the wall. Another employee attacked the flames that were threatening one suitcase with a dripping wet towel. But his attempts only caused the fire to move from one area to another. Clothes were strewn around the luggage rack. It was obviously an explosive device of some type, at least that’s what her suspicious and slightly hyperactive mind thought. It was a strange thought, considering the panic that was filling her every second that went by. Instead, she saw trivial details like that. Details that meant nothing when the entire hotel could go up in flames at any moment and her son was nowhere in sight.

“Everett!” she screamed.

To her right she distinctly heard a woman’s unpleasant voice tell her to shut up. She swung around. She was facing the opposite way that the crowd was moving. She’d been oblivious to the danger to herself, or the obstruction she was to others. It was like she faced the enemy alone, as the crowd seemed to act like one beast racing for the main exit.

She looked down, as if expecting to see Everett right there, right at her side where he should be. Instead, she bumped elbows with a matronly woman, who pushed past her, causing her to stumble. A man shoved by on her other side and as he did, he tripped and caught himself as he grabbed her arm, before he righted himself and disappeared into the smoke.

“Have you seen a little...”

She was shoved from the side as more people emerged from the stairwell and headed for the exit. Water began to spray from the overhead sprinklers.

“Ma’am,” a man said. Her burning eyes could barely make out the uniform, but it was a hotel employee, and all she could think was that finally there was help.

“My son...” she began. “I’ve lost my baby!” The words came out in a panicked shriek. She’d lost control. She was beyond words. She had to get it together. She had to find him.

“You’re going to have to leave,” he said as he pushed her forward toward the exit.

“No!”

His grip on her elbow tightened. Now he was pulling her toward the exit.

“No!” This time it was more forceful and she considered that she might have to do something violent if he didn’t let go, like kick him in the shins. Something. “I’ve lost...”

“Ma’am.” He kept walking, dragging her along. “This is an urgent situation. You need to leave now. The emergency crews will handle it. You’re making it difficult for the others, blocking the exit.”

“What? My—”

“Out!” he said shortly, obviously losing patience with her.

She was ready to smack him if that was what it took. Instead they were pushed from behind and his grip loosened. She pulled free of him, backed up and dodged her way through the stampede.

“Everett!” she shrieked.

“Get moving!” someone else snarled as they shoved past her.

She gagged on smoke. She imagined her baby struggling to breathe. She imagined him trampled as people pushed their way out of the hotel.

She tried to call his name again but her throat was dry and tight. She coughed. He could be crushed. He was so small, too small. How had she lost him? She was a horrible mother and, despite everything that had happened, she was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.

Someone rammed her shoulder. She was knocked off balance. She staggered, fighting to prevent herself from falling. Yet even as her hand hit the carpet, she was still frantically scanning the area. In fact here, low to the ground, she could see better, for the smoke was less dense and she was at his height, the height of a two-year-old. She was also in danger of being trampled, as she was sure he was. She swallowed against the panic and smoke that was locking her throat. Her voice was all she had—he had to hear her. For there was danger everywhere and he was alone.

Sirens were wailing in the distance, the haunting call both frightening and hopeful. Would they get here in time? They had to. She had to find him. She would find him. There was no other outcome, not one that she could survive.

“Everett,” she croaked as she stood up and elbowed her way against the crowd.

Where could he be? Had someone taken him? It was another thought to cloud her mind with fear. It was a thought that taunted the mind of every parent. A fear fed by the media and that one never outgrew—the boogeyman in the closet.

But this time the boogeyman had gotten out! He had her son and her heart constricted at the thought. She bumped into a woman and pushed away from her without a second look. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t a rude, self-serving woman who shoved people to the side without an apology. It didn’t matter. She was now. She’d be anything she needed to be if only she could find her little boy. She was bent low to the ground, not crawling, still standing and buffeted on either side by the relentless crush of panic rushing to escape.

“Crazy,” someone muttered.

“Get out of my way,” someone else said as a knee caught her shoulder and threatened to knock her off balance.

She stood up, saw another hotel employee and tried to make her way to him. “Help me,” she said.

“Ma’am. You’ve got to leave.”

“My son...”

She was thrown off balance as a tall, heavyset man, leading with his belly, knocked her aside as he headed for the exit.

It was impossible. She couldn’t give up. She had to find him. Tears began to blur her vision and her head pounded from the smoke. What must he be feeling? She squinted in the murky lobby that oddly seemed clearer than it had only a minute ago.

She would die if she lost him. Her throat closed and smoke threatened to choke her, but she forged ahead.

Yet no matter how hard she fought against the tide of panicked hotel guests, her son was nowhere in sight. Her baby had disappeared!

“Everett!” Her son’s name came out in a choked mockery of a shout. This wasn’t happening! She hadn’t come all the way to Morocco to lose him now, or for that matter, to lose him ever. She was here to make him safe, keep him safe. She’d given up a job, security, and now he was gone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This trip, the uncomfortable flight, all of it was supposed to result in her keeping him away from the danger that threatened him in the States. And now he was missing!

It was unbelievable. She took a deep breath and screamed his name. Smoke billowed around her and a man looked at her curiously.

“Can I help?”

“I’ve lost my son.” She gasped for air. Tried to think straight, tried to remain calm, but it was impossible. “He’s two. Please.” She bit back tears. “Help me.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure he’s been found and taken outside. Go outside and wait.”

“Wait?” It was the second time she’d heard it and this time she could take no more. Her voice was not the voice she told Everett to use on a regular basis, it was not her indoor voice. “My son is missing!” Her fists clenched, driving her recently home-manicured nails into the palms of her hands. A sharp pain ran up her arms. The pain grounded her, temporarily dispelled the blinding panic.

Her hands shook and her head pounded. She wouldn’t give up. Coming to Marrakech had been a decision made in desperation. For it was here in the land of the sheiks, where she searched for the lifeline that would protect her heart. One man, who she held responsible for almost destroying her life, was now the only man who could save her son.

But now it didn’t matter if she found Sheik Talib Al-Nassar. Only one thing mattered—finding Everett. He was her heart and without her son, there was nothing.

Chapter Two

Even for a car fanatic, one who had experienced the ultimate of vehicles, the BMW Z4 was a dream to drive. The car’s custom paint job hinted at shades of an early morning sky. Its pearl-blue base and finishing coats were multi-layered and hand applied. The result gleamed in the sunlight. The butter-soft, smoke-gray leather steering wheel was almost erotic beneath his palm. While he’d owned and driven many luxury sports cars, this one was sweeter than any vehicle he’d had before. Just a slight touch of his hand on the wheel had the car responding. Even within the confines of the city, the vehicle was amazing. The engine purred like a satiated mountain cat. He could hardly wait to get it onto the open road and test its limits.

Talib Al-Nassar had the seat back as far as it would go, his left leg was stretched out and the warm fall air whispered across his cheek like a lover’s caress. Poor analogy, he thought, reminded of his last lover. The BMW definitely scored higher points than she had. Ironically, she’d been rather like the rest, holding his attention for not much longer than it had taken to bed her. He supposed he deserved the playboy label his older brothers had given him. But the truth was that the women in his life wanted no more from the relationship than he was able to give them. It was only his brother Faisal who seemed to truly get it, but then Faisal, like him, was living what they called “the life.” There was no woman to hold him to account, no children, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. At twenty-nine, he just couldn’t imagine being responsible for another human. It was unthinkable. And a woman... The thought dropped as he took a corner with ease and couldn’t wait to get the speed up and test what this baby was capable of. He couldn’t imagine a woman, no matter how beautiful or how arousing, ever matching the thrill that this BMW would give him. Only an hour ago he’d picked up the new car. He’d been looking forward to this for days. In fact, he had a road trip planned into the Atlas Mountains. He would visit an old friend and test the car’s slick handling on the tight curves and bends of the mountain roads. But today he needed to stop by the hotel his friend Ian had just purchased. Ian had called wanting advice on getting the security in his hotel beefed up after a recent breach. It was only a favor between friends. It wasn’t the usual kind of situation he dealt with as one of the executives of Nassar Security. The business was headed by his brother Emir and co-run by he and his brothers. It provided security and protection through branches in both Jackson, Wyoming, and here in Marrakech.

He doubted that this consultation would take any time at all as he was already familiar with the hotel’s security. In fact, he anticipated that he might be able to convince Ian to go for a short test drive prior to tomorrow’s excursion.

As the vehicle easily took the corner, its engine purring, he frowned.

“Bugger.” He’d picked up the phrase on a recent trip to Australia and it had since become part of his vocabulary. His hands tightened on the wheel, the thrill of the car and the promise of speed and luxury it promised forgotten. Instead he was shocked first by the smell of smoke and then, as he turned another corner, by clouds of smoke filling the air.

“What’s going on?” he muttered. For it looked like the hotel might be on fire, yet he couldn’t see flames. What was clear was that smoke was billowing out of the door as fast as people were emerging. The fire alarm was shrilling down the street, cutting through the sounds of shouts and screams. In the distance, the sirens of the approaching emergency vehicles could be heard. He frowned as he gripped the wheel and assessed what he could of the situation from where he was. His phone was in his pocket but he hadn’t received a call from Ian. That was understandable; whatever was going on, Ian would have his hands full.

Talib turned the vehicle smoothly into a parking space at the end of the block, leaving room for the emergency vehicles. He grabbed a bag from behind the seat that contained a few items that he’d often found indispensable. He pulled out one item that he hadn’t thought he would need on a day where the upper-most thing on his mind was the joy of a new vehicle. The explosive detection device was more than likely overkill, but one never knew.

Talib leaped out. A few men in hotel uniforms were directing the crowd, keeping them on the sidewalk, out of the way of the imminent approach of emergency crews. Up ahead he saw one hotel employee moving among the crowd, laying a hand here, offering a word there. Another was passing out water bottles. He looked over and saw an older woman leaning against a vehicle as another staff member held her shoulder, obviously trying to calm her. Ian’s staff were well trained. His friend had followed the advice that Talib had given all those months ago, when Ian had first mentioned that he was planning to get into the hotel business.

Things were chaotic but seemed under control. No one seemed to be in imminent danger—at least here, outside the hotel. It had taken him seconds to make that assessment as he strode the short distance to the hotel entrance. Now within yards of the front door, he was faced with a milling crowd that was not quite as organized or controlled as those he had just passed. He guessed that they’d just emerged from the building and were still shocked, unsure of what they’d escaped from, or what they had yet to face.

“Get away from the entrance!” he commanded, pointing to a green space just across the street. Half a dozen people followed his instruction, the rest continued to mill where they were.

He directed more stragglers across the street. In one case, he took a woman’s elbow and escorted her to the curb, where she finally managed to cross the street under her own steam. He’d had a lot of experience with this as he and his brothers had built Nassar Security into the powerhouse company that it was. He’d learned over the years that people often responded like herded animals in an emergency. They lost their individual ability to think.

His phone beeped.

“Yeah,” he answered, knowing it was Ian. They spoke for less than a minute. In that time, Ian told him what he knew, that they believed there’d been an explosion and that it might be linked to a suspicious-looking man seen in the early morning hours by the hotel parking lot. That information had been revealed on the security footage Ian had just remotely accessed.

“When this is over...”

“We’ll get you beefed up,” Talib assured him. “I’m going in now.”

His friend had confirmed that the explosion had been confined to one area of the lobby. Ian had been at an outside meeting, but was now en route. From what Ian had said, he estimated that his own arrival was five minutes after the explosion and now, from the sounds of the rapidly approaching sirens, minutes before emergency crews.

Talib considered the information he’d just received. Combined with what he knew of the security and the time line, he believed that there was only one perp responsible for planting the device. It wasn’t easy to plant an explosive device undetected in a public area of a hotel. The time that had passed since the explosion backed up his preliminary theory that there was only one explosive device.

Explosives were used for any number of reasons. This one appeared to be small but he would see for himself in a minute. If that was the case, there was a good chance that this bomb had been set to make a statement, or had been used to create a distraction. Since the damage had been contained and been in an area that saw low traffic, he was led to believe that whoever had done this wasn’t going for a high kill rate. It could be a grudge against the owner. The explosion hadn’t been far-reaching enough to provide much of a killing field. Unless there was another explosive, or this one had been a screwup...

He strode through the hotel doors, which someone had had the foresight to prop open. Inside, the emergency procedures weren’t quite so efficient, as he had to weave through a lobby still crowded with stragglers.

Traces of smoke swirled through the lobby, but he was immediately able to see where the explosion had been. Embers still burned in two ruined suitcases. Clothing was scattered everywhere. The metal suitcase trolley lay where it had tipped over. To his left, a woman, wearing only a bathrobe and flip-flops, tripped and stumbled. He was there in a flash. His reflexes were quick. They’d been honed by physical fitness and a regular baseball scrimmage with friends that occurred at least twice monthly. He had her elbow, and powered her toward the door, where he released her ten feet from the exit.

“Thank you.” Her lips trembled but there was a stoic gleam in her eye. “I’m all right now.”

He nodded but watched as she hurried past a hotel employee who was directing the remaining guests. He remained standing there, watching until she was safely out of the building.

He turned and scanned the lobby and saw a woman moving away from the crush and out of sight. She was wearing a maid’s uniform. The dull beige material was designed to fade into the background, to provide service while flitting on the periphery. It was the perfect ensemble for what was intended, but now it seemed that blending in was giving her an advantage. The thought was one he tagged and filed away for later consideration; there were other things to concern himself with now. He was more interested in the explosion site and how someone had slipped in and out and planted the explosive unnoticed, than in the maid’s uniform. He knew, from looking at the hotel plans, that a corridor led from the back of the lobby to conference rooms and a back exit. He was surprised that no one else seemed to be using that exit.

He activated the portable explosive detection device. As he moved slowly along the perimeter of the lobby with the device, he was cognizant of the rapidly thinning crowd. He was also aware that no one was acting suspiciously, but rather that there was still a great deal of confusion. People were almost spinning in circles as smoke continued to obscure the exit and the remaining staff seemed to have evacuated. So much for security measures, he thought, realizing that not everything he’d advised had been implemented. His attention returned to the device. The lobby wasn’t officially clear of explosives yet, but he was reasonably sure that there wasn’t another planted.

He moved away from the luggage and farther into the lobby. As he did, he looked down and saw a child’s soother on the floor. That was odd. There weren’t any children in sight. He didn’t expect there to be. Even in chaos it seemed people managed to instinctively grab their children. He wasn’t sure why, but he picked up the soother and put it in his pocket.

He looked up, thinking of the woman in the maid’s uniform. She was the only one he’d seen using the back exit. His instincts, everything in his being, told him that something was off, that there was something more to this lone woman. Had she placed the explosive and come back to see the results of her work? Even as he considered that option he discounted it. Her mannerisms hadn’t reflected anything nefarious.

As he made the decision to follow her, a woman’s panic-torn voice sliced through both the chaos and his thoughts. It brought his attention, to the lobby.

“Everett!”

The voice sounded familiar, even muted by the chaos of sounds that swirled around him. He didn’t have time to analyze it. Instead, he moved deeper into the lobby, turning left and following the path of the maid he’d seen head in that direction. He turned a corner in the corridor and that’s when he saw her. She was holding a small boy by the wrist, causing him to stand on tiptoes. The child’s cheeks were wet from crying and he had his free thumb in his mouth. She was wearing a cream-colored head scarf and the beige uniform he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. Nothing about her seemed out of the ordinary. It appeared only that she was leading a child to safety.

But his gut told him that something was very wrong. “What are you doing with him?” he asked in Arabic. He doubted that the child was hers. No worker would have brought their child to work.

His theory was justified by the look of panic in her eyes and the way she held the boy by the wrist rather than by his hand. Clearly, she was unfamiliar with children that young, the panic obvious in her entire demeanor. He supposed his size and the fact that he was carrying an unconcealed firearm made him look official. Police, she might be thinking, although it wasn’t true.

“Where did you get him?” he asked without explaining who he was. He acted on his first hunch. “He’s not yours.” Aggression could work to his advantage in this instance.

Her mouth tightened and her eyes darted, as if she was seeking an escape.

He strode forward and kneeled down in front of the child, who now had half of his free fist stuck in his mouth. His face was smeared with what looked like dirt and streaked with tears. His dark hair curled wildly in every direction, but his shimmering light brown eyes looked at Talib with more curiosity than fright.

Talib stood up. He wasn’t sure what was happening here, but he intended to get to the bottom of it.

“A man said his wife had taken him. He paid me to deliver him to the back exit.” She clasped her hands and backed up. “I...” She stumbled, speaking in Arabic. “It was easy to take him. There was so much running, screaming.”

“You took him in the confusion?” he asked.

She nodded. “I don’t understand much English and that’s what he—” she pointed at the child “—speaks. Although he can’t speak much, he keeps saying Mama.” She looked genuinely frightened and possibly even sorry. “I...something was wrong. I was going back to the desk to tell Mohammed,” she said.

“Who’s Mohammed?” Talib asked and made no effort to filter the edge from his voice.

“My supervisor,” she said anxiously.

“How much money were you offered?”

“None. I wouldn’t—”

“If you want to keep your job...” He let the threat dangle. He was beginning to lose patience with the whole situation. “Look, I assume you need the money but this kid isn’t the way you’re going to get it.”

“He said he was his father. I needed the money. But I was going to take him back.” She shook her head and looked down at the boy.

“You were doing the right thing,” Talib said, strangely believing her. Poverty could cause good people to do desperate things. And in Morocco, the father’s rights could still often trump those of the mother. It was possible that she truly thought she was bringing the boy to his father. Possible, but unlikely. He squatted down and picked up the child.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said with the voice of authority that was never questioned. “I’m sure his mother is beside herself with worry.” The woman’s story had rung true and odds were that she was struggling to feed a family, possibly extended family, on a maid’s wages. Still, she had taken this child, and in ordinary circumstances he would have detained her. He shifted the toddler on one arm just as the panic in her eyes flared and she bolted. He had no choice but to let her go.

He looked down at the child in his arms and was met by curious eyes that looked at him in an oddly familiar way. “You’ve had quite the day, little man,” he said. The toddler smiled and pushed a finger against his chin.

But as he reentered the lobby, a scream rose above the alarms and the sirens of the emergency vehicles that had just arrived.

A woman charged through the throng of people, heading straight toward him.

“Everett!” she screamed.

She was a petite whirlwind. She was moving so fast, so ferociously, that there was little doubt that she was emotionally invested, that the child was hers. There was also no doubt that he knew her.

He allowed the child to be plucked from his arms. She held the boy so tightly that he began to cry, but it was the panicked look in her gray eyes and a vision from long ago that registered with Talib. He shoved the disconcerting memory away. What mattered most was getting the two of them out of here. Smoke still filled the area. Firefighters were just entering the lobby and were already directing the remaining guests outside.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. It didn’t matter why she was here or even who she’d been to him. He needed to get her and the boy he assumed was her son to safety.

“What were you doing with him?” she demanded. Her eyes pinned his like a thick gray mist and were the first warning that she was dangerously angry.

It was similar to the last time he’d seen those eyes.

Except, the last time she had only recently left the bed that was still warm from their lovemaking. He remembered that she’d given him a dreamy look and told him that she loved him. He didn’t like to think about that moment, for he wasn’t proud of how he’d reacted.

It hadn’t gone well after that, after what he had said.

She’d been proud and angry and told him what she’d thought of him, which hadn’t been at all flattering. He’d said nothing, for there’d been nothing to say. Every word she’d spoken had been the truth. After that, he’d driven her home in a car that was thick with silence. He was sorry, but at the time what he had told her had been the truth. It was what he’d told every woman who’d fancied him. He wasn’t ready to settle down, be serious, or declare undying love for anyone. He doubted that he ever would. Unfortunately, he’d told her that. It was then that she had tried to kill him with a look deadlier than he’d ever seen. Then, she’d managed to chip the custom paint job on that year’s vehicle when she’d kicked the door with one tiny, stiletto-clad foot. To her credit, he didn’t think it was deliberate. But he had his doubts. Especially because she’d done all that while telling him in a deadly calm voice that he could go to a place where it was just a bit hotter than the Sahara in midsummer.

It hadn’t been his best breakup.

Chapter Three

“Sara?”

The voice was filled with that deep, commanding ring that she had never forgotten. It peeled back the layers of panic, penetrated the emotional chaos of losing Everett and her maternal fussing that she couldn’t stop. For the first time that tone, that sense of self and of control, didn’t grate, but instead was a life raft in a sea of insanity. The tone cut through everything and his presence broke easily through the crowd. She knew his voice like she knew her own heartbeat, would always know it, could never forget it.

He was back and he’d brought her son, when she had thought that her baby was lost. There was only one thing important in this moment—getting Everett out of the hotel.

“Are you all right, baby?”

She ran her hands over her child as if she expected to find a fatal wound, a broken bone or some injury equally as threatening. There was nothing. Only a nose that was running and eyes that were red and, oddly, a smile on his face.

She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, pulled it out and wiped her son’s nose, not slowing her stride as she headed for the door. Everett pulled away to look over her shoulder and what he saw made him giggle. At least her son was finding some amusement in a situation that was causing her empty stomach to want to heave. She clutched him tighter and walked faster.

Talib.

She could feel him right behind her and to her left. He wasn’t saying anything, but his presence was insuring that there was no delay in exiting the building.

She hadn’t seen him since that fateful summer almost three years ago. She’d hoped never to see him again and yet here she was looking for his help.

Despite coming here to find him, she hadn’t been prepared for it to happen like this. Just his presence brought back all the hurt. She’d been afraid of that. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place. There’d been many reasons, but that one had trumped them all. But she’d had no choice. She was here, with him right behind her. The hurt flooded back strong enough to steal her breath, like a tsunami from which she could never escape and with it came the anger.

Her heart pounded. For even after the years that had stretched between them, he affected her. He’d been a first-class jerk and one wasn’t apt to forget such a man. But now there was one other thing that she wasn’t apt to forget. He’d saved the most important thing in her life. Saved, found—she wasn’t sure which was accurate and it didn’t matter. Everett was safe.

She shifted her baby. He was heavy, even for the short distance to the exit. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t putting him down for anything, even as her hand shook from shock and Everett began to snuffle. She knew he felt her panic. Between that and the noise and the confusion of the last few minutes, she was surprised that he was as quiet as he was.

“It’s all right,” she whispered into his ear. She could smell the unique scent of the shampoo she’d used on his hair combined with the heavy smell of smoke. She ran a finger down his soft cheek, thumbing away the remaining tears. His bottom lip quivered and she knew that he was seconds away from bursting into a full-out wail. Once that happened, there’d be no stopping him. Everett’s crying jags could be legendary. Now he had every reason to cry. She imagined that his flair for drama might mean she had a future actor on her hands. Or...she looked back at Talib, remembering.

She blew the thoughts from her mind. No matter Everett’s discomfort or the former lover behind her, they could both wait. She needed to get her son out of this hotel and to safety.

And as she thought that a firm hand was on her waist and Everett plucked from her arms. Her heart stopped. This wouldn’t happen again. She was ready to fight for her child. She turned and met the eyes of the man she had come here to see.

“Sara. He’s heavy. Let me.”

This time, his voice cut through her panic. His voice, like his presence, his personality, his everything, was too smooth and he was much too sure of himself. He looked the same and yet something had changed. She could see it in the depths of his dark, gold-flecked eyes. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, only that it was different, as if he was haunted by something or someone. A woman probably, she thought with scathing awareness and then pushed the thought from her mind. If she expected his help she would have to be civil and to do that she had to begin with her thoughts, and that one hadn’t been fair. Whatever he was, he’d help her now. That was Talib, solid and dependable in anything that was not a romantic entanglement. Her mood dove again at that word. Entanglement. There could be no better or less flattering word for their failed relationship. And it didn’t matter, for it was over—had been over for a very long time. It was another entanglement that was the problem, that was more than a problem, and that was why she was here.

He escorted her to the door, his hand holding her by the wrist as if he was her jailer. There was nothing she could do but be led to safety, to the place on the sidewalk that he deemed safe.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked.

He ignored her question. Instead he said, “You’ve spent enough time in this and the smoke can’t be good for your little guy.”

Her little guy. She sucked back relief. For coming here had been a risk. Finding Talib here today, more than lucky. Still, nothing could remove the fear. And she had so much fear. Fear for herself, for Everett, fear at facing Talib once again with the truth.

But despite all of that, she’d found him in the unlikeliest of situations. Not the most unlikely place. She’d known that he and Ian were friends, and that Ian had requested his help. That was the main reason that she’d chosen this hotel, it had been the timing that was strange. The bonus in all of it was that her travel agent had found a great promotion—everything had clicked together.

“Over here,” Talib commanded and with those two words he made it clear that not only was he back in her life, but he was also taking charge, at least for now. And, at least for now, she would let him. Later—she hadn’t thought that far.

This had been a journey of desperation. And now, despite having come all those miles to find him, she wanted to run—take her son with her before it was too late for both of them.

Instead she looked up at him. “I can’t believe I ran into you in the midst of this. But I’m glad you were here to find—”

“What are you doing here, Sara?” He cut her off with a hint of anger in his voice.

The conceited donkey.

He thought she was here because of him. She looked at her son in his arms and that was the only reason she didn’t lose it then and there. Unfortunately the truth of it was that what he was implying, what he’d left unsaid...he was right. She was here because of him, just for none of the reasons that the arrogant fool thought.

What she was here for was much more serious than any romance ever could be. And despite what he thought, and she knew very well what he thought, it was hard to deny the truth. He was a magnet for women, but he was no magnet to her. Not anymore. Those days were long over. But despite not needing him romantically, he was right about one thing. She did need him, she needed him very much.

For without him she was terribly afraid she was going to lose her son.

Chapter Four

Outside the hotel, Talib juggled the child in his arms as he put a hand on Sara’s arm. It was an automatic gesture that rose out of the ashes of the past as if she’d never left, as if he’d never asked her to leave. It was strange how the truth of their relationship, how it had ended, had never been something he’d deceived himself about. He cared about her, but he couldn’t be with her, not like that.

Sara owed him nothing, certainly no explanations. But the thought that she’d carried on with her life, married and had a baby, was oddly disconcerting. He pushed back the emotion, unable to face why it existed or what it meant. It was a moot point, he knew that. He had no right to question her actions and the sane thing to do now would be to push emotion to the background. Emotion did nothing in a situation like this. Still, it bothered him and it shouldn’t. After all, he was the one who had broken up with her, gone his own way—forgotten about her. Or had he?

“Where’s your husband?” he asked and wished he could have rephrased. The question was more abrupt, more invasive even, than he had meant it to be.

“I’m not married,” she said as she turned to look at him. There was defiance in her eyes—a defiance that had hooked him on a day that now seemed a combination of yesterday and so long ago.

“Oh, I...” he spluttered, unsure of what to say. He’d fallen into a gaffe of his own making and that was completely unlike him. But even now, she pushed buttons like no one else could.

“It’s okay, say it. It’s not like others haven’t or at least thought it.”

“Say what?”

“That you thought I was smarter than that. Smarter then becoming an unwed mother that...” Her voice choked off.

“Sara...” He stopped her with a touch of his hand on her shoulder. She’d always been, in some ways, unbelievably old-fashioned. “I’m not suggesting anything. We’ve been apart for a long time. What you do is none of my business. What is my business is getting you to a safe—”

“We’ll go wait with the others,” she interrupted and held out her arms to take her son.

“Just a minute. Wait,” he said. It was odd how that need to protect drew him even now. He wasn’t sure what Ian had planned for his guests, but for Sara and her son, he’d make sure they had alternate arrangements. He was on the phone for a little under a minute before he had things worked out to his satisfaction. The entire time he could feel her attention on him as he juggled the boy in one hand and the phone in the other.

“You’re exhausted,” he said as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “I’ve got another hotel arranged for you. Let me get you both safely on your way.”

“But—”

“It was a long flight. Get some rest and then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “But no.”

She sounded in control, calm despite everything that had happened, yet her gaze seemed distracted, like it was all too much, and her face was pale.

“No arguments. It’s on my account. You just take care of him, of the boy.” He didn’t tell her what he’d seen, why he was so concerned. He looked into her eyes. The look she gave him said that she trusted him and still he couldn’t tell her that he’d saved her child from a potential kidnapping. He didn’t know why she was here or what she wanted, but that need to protect, to not have her worry, was as alive as it had been during their relationship.

He put a hand on her shoulder. The fact that he knew the owner here, at the hotel they had only just left, was not a consideration. The hotel he was sending her to had housed royalty. It was secure on a whole other level.

“It’s secure,” he said as he pulled a pen and a business card from his pocket.

“I trust you,” she said simply.

“I imagine you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “I’m not here because of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” But something about her voice sounded off.

“Yet, you’re here in this hotel. My friend Ian’s hotel. The one I was doing security for.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Again, there was that change in tone, as if she was telling him something that wasn’t quite true.

“Don’t you?” he asked, trying to tone down any sarcasm. “That all seems oddly coincidental.”

Her lips tightened and she wouldn’t look at him.

Everything about her was the same and yet so different. The child was the most glaring change. Having a child wasn’t something she’d wanted, at least not when they were dating. He knew that because when they were together she had told him often enough how she was determined to make her career in management and one day open her own bed-and-breakfast. She’d been focused and had even said she’d have a family only when she was established. With no husband and with a child, and her longed-for career obviously in jeopardy, could this be about money? He’d never have believed that of Sara, that she’d looked him up so that he could support her in the lifestyle to which she wanted to get accustomed. It had happened before with other women, women he hadn’t cared much about. It was always about the money, not about him—except maybe for the good time he showed them. But Sara, she was different.

“What are you thinking?” she said and that tone was in her voice, the one where she expected he was going to toe the line. But there was no line, no relationship. He looked at her, at her determined stance, and saw the stubbornness he remembered. Still, she’d changed. She had a baby.

She glared up at him. “You think I’m here because...”

“Because what, Sara?” he asked darkly. “You need help. You have a kid now. You need help and I—”

“You always could be a jerk,” she muttered, cutting him off.

“Name calling, Sara?”

She looked at him with regret. “I’m sorry. That was beneath me.”

He skated over her apology. It didn’t matter. She could say what she wanted but he couldn’t see any other reason for her being here. And the last thing they needed was to fight in a situation like this. It was unwarranted and it would upset the boy. “You’ll be safer in the new hotel,” he said, as if that ended the discussion. “Let’s get moving.”

Instead, she was silent, as if considering something, and then she looked up at him. “Tell me the truth, Talib. Did something happen back there in the hotel that you’re not telling me? Besides the obvious—the explosion. I mean with Everett. It seems like you’re not telling me something.”

She was so bang on that he wanted to turn away from her. He wasn’t sure what to say. So he took the safe path and said nothing.

“It’s about Everett, isn’t it? Where was he when you found him at the hotel? Did someone try to take him? Is that what you’re not telling me?”

The tone in her voice, the words—all of it seemed to bring the heavy weight of responsibility. He wasn’t sure why he would be feeling that for her, any more than he would for any other client. But she wasn’t his client and there was the boy.

“No,” he lied. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He didn’t know what the truth was. What he did know was that he could hear the edge of panic in her voice and she needed to be calm for her and for her son. Knowing wouldn’t make a difference to her safety. He had taken care of that by arranging for the move. “I just want to make sure you’re safe after everything that happened here. And the hotel you’re going to has one of the best security systems in the city. Don’t worry,” he said, feeling rather low for lying to her the way he was. But in a way he felt justified for he knew she had yet to tell him why she was here and he wasn’t completely convinced that money wasn’t the problem.

“The security in this new hotel that you mentioned, it just frightens me that you think I need it. There’s something you’re not telling me, Talib.” She looked at him. “But I’ll let it go for now.”

“I think that might be said for both of us. Here’s my direct number.” He handed her the business card he’d pulled out earlier—on it, he’d written the private number that few people, other than his family, had access to. “I’m available night or day at that number.”

“Thank you, Talib,” she said and despite the formality in her voice there was also something oddly intimate in her tone.

He hesitated. It wasn’t a lover’s caress that he remembered, or the stern, I’m-pissed-with-you tone. It was something else, something regretful, yet stronger than that. He’d consider it all later. For now, he had more important things to think about.

A car pulled up to the corner with one of his staffers driving. “Assad will take you there. The cost of the hotel is handled.”

“Talib, no,” she protested again.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

He opened the door and she slipped in, opening her arms for him to place her son in them. He couldn’t turn away from the haunted look in her eyes and at the picture of the sleeping toddler in her arms. It was serene, so peaceful. This wasn’t the Sara he remembered. This was so much more. He had to yank his thoughts back.

“Don’t leave the hotel, Sara. Promise me,” he said. “In fact, once you’re in your suite, stay there. Order something to eat.” He handed her another business card. “If you need anything else, use this number. He’s a good friend and manages the hotel. Otherwise your money isn’t good there...”

“Talib, no.”

But her voice was quiet, resigned, as if she knew what he would say, where this was going.

“I’ll be there later,” he promised. This time his expression was serious as he handed her one more business card. “If you have any concerns at all and you can’t reach me. Call my brother, Emir.” He wanted to ask her so much more. Personal questions crowded with ones that might somehow affect this case. For now, he’d follow one of Nassar’s cardinal rules—secure the innocent, regardless of whether or not they were potential witnesses.

* * *

“WE CAN’T FIGHT an Al-Nassar. As long as he didn’t know, that was one thing. We could blindside him through Sara. Playing her was easy. But the Al-Nassars have resources. I don’t know if they’ve ever lost a case.” This wasn’t turning out as Tad Rossi—who disliked his given name, Tadbir, and was never called anything but Tad—had planned. He knew he should have given this plan more thought, but when she’d run, he’d panicked. That wasn’t what he’d intended.

“Speed will be our secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon. You’re talking stupid and—”

“Don’t you ever call me that, ever!” The last word ended in a shout. “We clean house once and run,” his partner said calmly as if he hadn’t just lost his temper. “We’ll be in and out before anyone is any wiser.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tad gripped the phone. He was beginning to have qualms about contacting this man in the first place and definitely about calling him now. But he’d never expected Sara would run to Marrakech. And when she had, he’d become desperate. He couldn’t lose her. He’d reached out to one of the few contacts he had left in that country and he’d known almost the minute he’d done it that it had been a mistake. He’d known him since public school. They’d been friends, as only two mismatched souls could be, and they had bonded together. He’d known Habib’s disdain for the Al-Nassar family even then. He’s also known that his childhood friend’s life hadn’t amounted to much except petty crime. Despite all that, they’d remained friends of sorts, oddballs thrown together by life. That was until he’d left Morocco. Then, he’d lost touch.

His old friend was someone who had every quality he required—ill feelings against the Al-Nassars and someone with no scruples. He hadn’t anticipated that the grudge that motivated his accomplice was as large and far-reaching as it was. Unfortunately, now it was clear that the man would stop at nothing now that the window of opportunity had been opened. His ideas were outrageous and he couldn’t believe what he was now suggesting.

“I know where he works and where he plays for the next few days. He’s going to be tied to her and if he’s not, he’ll be at his friend’s hotel. It’s fairly easy, at least it is at the moment.”

“Easy?” This had been a mistake and he was too far away to change any of it. “You have no idea what crap the Al-Nassars can pull, or the strings they’ve yanked. I wouldn’t want to face one of them.”

“Face? That’s never going to happen.” He chuckled. “That’s the sweet spot. Talib Al-Nassar will never know who we are or who brought him down. He’ll be done and never know what hit him. Besides, you screwed up, idiot. You’re not even in the country. You’ve got no control over what happens.”

He was right about that. Tad rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. He’d lost control and he needed to get it back. He needed to stop this thing, because what he was hearing was leading dangerously close to a place he didn’t want to go—murder.

“The key to success is a clean sweep.”

He knew what that meant. The only part of this plan that they both agreed on was the end, which left Sara as she had always been—a destitute single mother and of no interest to anyone, despite her model looks. That was exactly what she deserved. The only problem was that in his plan no one died. What was being proposed was nothing he would agree to. He needed to stop this before things got out of hand.

“It might only be about the money for you, but it’s about much more for me.” His accomplice continued, as if justifying his dark intent.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Too bad. But I see the biggest threat to my happiness on a morgue slab in the near future.” Silence slipped darkly between them. “When that happens, money or not, I’ll call it over.”

He was insane. But Tad had known that before he’d contacted him. No, he corrected himself, he knew that he’d always been a little crazy. He hadn’t expected this full-scale madness. He had to reel him in before his blood thirst destroyed everything. He’d acted on emotion, on panic, and reached out to the wrong man.

“This is over,” he said. “I can’t be part of this.” He remembered how it had started, when he’d first seen Sara and been wowed by her looks. He’d only been into her for what he might get, then he’d thought it would be about sex but she’d disappointed there, refusing any of his overtures. It had been luck that had caused him to stumble on something even better than sex—money. When he’d realized who her son’s father was he’d known he’d hit a gravy train he hadn’t expected. That kind of luck was once in a lifetime.

“Too late. Dress rehearsal is over. We’ve taken the boy—”

“No!” Kidnapping wasn’t in the cards—at least not what one would call a traditional kidnapping. A threat here or there, maybe. But murder hadn’t been, either, and now he was suggesting both.

“You’ve lost control, my friend. It’s my game now.” He ended the call before Tad could say another word.

This was his fault, his stupidity. He’d bought time with a madman. He’d been desperate and desperate men did desperate things. He was living proof of that. But threatening to kill an Al-Nassar was insanity. Their reach and scope was not something a common man could go up against. He knew that, he’d always known that, just as he’d always known that it was Sara who was the key to everything.

And now it was Sara who was close to ruining his life, his plan—his everything. She was the path to getting what he wanted. He had to shut down his accomplice and he had to do it now. Except all he had was the twenty in his pocket. It wasn’t enough for a bus across the country, never mind a plane across the Atlantic.

He was screwed unless he moved to Plan B. The thought of that cheered him, gave him hope.

If Sara wanted to play hardball, she’d be sorry. Soon she was going to learn who she was dealing with.

Chapter Five

Talib watched until the car was out of sight and Sara and the boy were out of the area—out of danger. He stood rocking on the balls of his feet, then spat the remains of his mint gum into the trash. He glanced at the No Parking sign above the trash can that was so faded, it was almost illegible. He thought of the boy. There was something familiar about him. In a way, it was like looking in a mirror. But that was ridiculous. Sara would never do that to him. She obviously liked Moroccan men and she’d made a mistake, but it hadn’t been with him.

He reached into his pocket as if a pack of cigarettes was there. Stress always seemed to bring with it the need for tobacco. If nothing else, the gum took the edge off the craving and replaced a much worse habit that he’d kicked only six months ago. He’d started smoking three years ago despite his otherwise health-conscious lifestyle. It had been different then. He’d needed something, as the cliché went—a crutch. His mind flashed back to when Sara left. At the time, it seemed as though smoking was the only way to get through the pain he refused to admit he was feeling. Still refused to admit.

A senior police officer who he’d known for years came out of the north entrance, spotted him and came over. He gave the officer what information he knew.

Now, he waited as Ian crossed the street.

“How the hell could this have happened?” Ian asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Anything new?” The frown lines carving his tanned face reflected his unspoken worry, that the explosion could have a catastrophic effect on a new opening.

“No,” Talib said. “I haven’t had a chance to do more than a cursory investigation and the police are still inside.”

He had gone through the possibilities and checked the site before the authorities had arrived. “It all adds up to a fairly professional job, and yet, oddly amateur. I know those two images clash, but that’s how it appears to have gone down. It seemed to be more a diversion than anything else.”

He thought of the boy, Sara’s child, that he’d snatched from the hands of a woman who claimed she was returning him. All that seemed a little much unless there was money involved. The Sara he knew had no money, but despite his assumptions, that all could have changed in the intervening years since they’d been a couple. He didn’t know anything about her since their breakup. He’d been back to the States as part of his career with the family business on numerous occasions, and never had he looked her up. Mainly, he’d tried not to think about her. The end of their relationship hadn’t been easy. It had been a blow to his pride, or at least that’s what he told himself. The truth hurt a little too much.

He wasn’t sure what to add to what he’d just said for he didn’t know how the child and the maid fit in. “Of course, that’s just off the top. I haven’t had a chance to take a close look at the aftermath.” The truth was that his thoughts couldn’t focus.

Sara.

He couldn’t believe she was here and he had no idea why she was. The last time he’d seen her had been in Wyoming. She’d been finishing up her last year of school and paying for it by working as a manager at the hotel where he was staying. Her appearance now was a mystery, one for which he didn’t have an answer, and in the order of priorities, it would have to vie with the aftermath of the explosion and the investigation that would follow. He knew that the police would follow up with various hotel guests, but he’d pull a few strings to get her out of the fray. He’d do that because, no matter what had happened to the two of them, he still wanted to protect her. That meant making sure that neither she nor her son was any more involved than they needed to be.

“They seem to be petty thieves after money and jewelry. There was quite a bit of that taken,” Ian said, breaking into his thoughts. “Three wallets and a purse are missing, but a jewelry bag in one of the suitcases holding some rather expensive jewelry was left. Odd, when it seems like a pickpocket was at work in the lobby, they miss a stash there for the taking.”

One of the police officers spotted them and came over. “You were here at the outset?” he asked Talib.

“I was. I’ve given my report,” Talib said. “Have you found anything else?”

“We’ve gotten all the physical evidence we can. Looks like the explosion was a diversionary ploy to commit a bit of petty theft.”

“None of the rooms were disturbed. In fact, there’s no evidence that the perpetrators went any farther than the main floor,” he said, addressing Ian. “We’ll be continuing with the investigation but we should be able to let you clean up the area later this afternoon.”

“Seems a little excessive for petty theft,” Talib said. He didn’t like the direction this investigation was taking. It seemed slightly off-track.

“We’ve seen it before,” the officer said, but his tone was almost defensive. He didn’t give them a chance to reply but instead moved toward where the hotel guests gathered.

He was wrong, Talib thought. The explosion as a diversion for petty theft seemed too simple. In fact, it was too simple. It was why law enforcement in Marrakech had recently gotten a bad name. Too many crimes had been stuffed under the rug. But the police had their own problems with ongoing complaints of conspiracy and corruption. That aside, there was more at work here and the police officer either didn’t know, or wasn’t admitting to.

Talib thought of the scene with the maid and the boy. He’d told no one. He wasn’t prepared to divulge what he knew. Not yet, and not to the authorities. There had been too many recent issues with the police from the firing of a corrupt member, to the bungling of a recent tourist kidnapping. He wouldn’t chance an error being made here. Far too much was at stake.

“We need to get your security one hundred percent in place, like I advised you weeks ago.” There was an edge to his voice that only matched the darkness that seemed to fill his being.

“Talib?” Ian asked. “What’s going on with you? It’s got to do with her, Sara. I knew she’d booked but...”

“You didn’t feel it necessary to tell me,” Talib said. There was no question but only a slight recrimination in his tone.

“After three years, no. Man, you haven’t been a couple for a long time.”

“And it was none of my business.”

“I suspected she had her reasons and if it had to do with you, she’d let you know.” He looked at Talib with a frown. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just shocked to see her.”

“Did she say why she’s here?”

“No. And I doubt if it involves a need to see the country.”

“My office,” Ian said, and it wasn’t a question. “We need to talk and it’s the only place we’ll get any privacy in this craziness.”

Chapter Six

Talib nodded at the police officer who was monitoring the main doors to the hotel. He held up the distinctive card with its bronze-and-black flash of color that symbolized the Nassar company logo. The hotel was under lockdown but Nassar Security was well-known in Marrakech, almost as well-known as he was. Entering a scene like this was usually not an issue.

“I’m sorry.” The police officer held up his hand.

“You’re kidding me,” Talib began with a scowl. “You won’t let us back in?” This was unprecedented.

“Do you know who I am?” Ian interrupted.

“I don’t care who you are,” the police officer said. “No one’s getting in.”

“I own...”

“Get back before I have to use force.” The police officer cut off Ian’s words.

“I don’t believe this.” Ian shook his head.

Five minutes later they had worked their way through the emergency crews and around to a side entrance that wasn’t being monitored.

“Back door?” the police detective asked with an amused look as he met them a few feet from the entrance. He was in charge of the investigation and Talib had spoken to him earlier. In fact, he’d spoken to him in a number of instances on other cases in the past. He was one of the few Talib trusted. Now the officer greeted them with a frown.

“Overenthusiastic rookie wouldn’t let us in,” Talib said.

“I see.” His grimace was half smile and half resignation. “Follow me.”

“The explosive device was fairly unsophisticated,” the detective confirmed five minutes later. “Looks to me like it was meant as no more than a diversion, to get what cash and jewelry they could.” He looked at Talib, as if expecting that he’d provide some insight.

“Fortunately there were no injuries,” Ian said. “Thanks for getting us in.”

The detective gave them a brief nod. “All right, I’ll leave you gentleman to it. If I can just ask that you stay away from the luggage area where the device was detonated, at least for now. They’re still collecting evidence.”

“This wasn’t about me, was it?” Ian asked as the detective moved back into the room and into the heart of the investigation. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Get over yourself,” Talib said with a smile that held an edge of dry humor.

He looked across the room. Suitcases lay scattered in the haze of smoke that hung lazily, as shadowed tendrils still drifted through the room. Talib and Ian moved past the chaos and turned into a corridor, where Ian’s office was separated from the main flow of the hotel lobby.

“My hotel is attacked—my guests terrified and probably not apt to come back to the Desert Sands and you want me to get over myself.” Ian laughed, a dry mirthless sound that had more edge and no light-heartedness. “What happened to a little help from my friends or at least a little sympathy?”

Talib shook his head as Ian opened the door to his office. They entered a spacious, freshly painted office. New furnishings, complete with a large gleaming mahogany desk and black leather furniture, gave a solemn feel to the room. A vibrant painting full of color and reflecting the Atlas Mountains hung on the back wall and added a touch of color.

“Nice digs,” Talib said in an attempt to be casual. In reality, it was the first opportunity that he’d had to see the finished office and what he considered the hub of his friend’s hotel.

He sank into one of the leather chairs. He met his friend’s worried look and knew the one person who needed to know everything was Ian. After all, the woman involved was in his employ. He began to tell him everything that had transpired. Ian was not just the owner of this hotel and a good friend—Ian Hendrik had once worked for Nassar. He’d been part of their research team before ending that career path to become an entrepreneur, beginning with the purchase of this hotel.

“So you think someone may have used the explosion as a smoke screen to kidnap the child?”

“Possibly,” Talib said. “I’m not closing any doors right now.”

“I’ll find out the identity of the maid,” Ian said. “Once we have that, maybe you’ll have some answers.”

“None of it makes sense.”

“You’re sure about that?” Ian asked.

“What are you suggesting?” Talib scowled.

“Someone tries to kidnap the child. I’d say they’re trying to get money from Sara or her family.”

“I considered that possibility. But unless things have changed, Sara has no money.”

“Her family?”

“Same.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t come from money. The family fishing business has never been prosperous. It supports the family, her parents and her sisters’ families, but that’s about it.” He looked off into the distance, as if he could find the answer there. “I had the office do a quick search on the family and on Sara. She’s been underemployed for a while.” He frowned—that information was not in line with the ambitious, professional woman he knew. Something rang sour about all of this.

“So the attempted snatching, just a crime of opportunity, black-market adoption?” Ian mused.

“I don’t know.” Talib shook his head. “Seems a bit of a stretch. I suppose we can only be thankful that the maid got cold feet.”

“We’ve got a half-dozen children registered under the age of ten.” Ian ran a hand through his hair.

“Frightening,” Talib said. “We need to up your security, like yesterday.” He didn’t need to point out that his earlier advice hadn’t been followed. That the hotel had opened under Ian’s new management before all systems were in place.

“You were right,” Ian agreed. “Whatever the reason behind this we can be thankful that no one was seriously injured. There was no irreparable damage done, except to my reputation. I’ll reimburse any of the guests who lost belongings. Meanwhile, I’ve done a check with my public relations people. It looks like other than being shaken up, the hotel guests, with the exception of a few, are more than happy to take advantage of my offer. A free full-spa experience and one-night free stay, and coverage of alternate rooms for tonight. Most are willing to come back for the remainder of their stay here.”

“That’s generous,” Talib said.

“You think? After scaring them to death with what looks like a terrorist attack.” He stood up, pushing back from the desk. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Makes sense. You don’t want to lose any business. Although, you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose some.”

“I don’t think it will affect business in the long term and that’s all that matters. That’s my priority. That, and making sure that this doesn’t happen again,” he said with a look at Talib.

“When I’m finished, you’ll have security that will make the royal family jealous,” Talib said. “This time give me carte blanche and stand aside.”

“You’re on,” Ian said. “I can’t have a repeat of this. I’ll have my assistant get the employee records together. Should be an hour, two at most.”

Talib glanced at his watch. “I’ll check in with you later.”

He stood up. His hand swept through his hair as if it was long enough to get in his face. Three years ago it had been. Three years ago he had experimented with a ponytail. Three years ago he’d experimented with a few things.

He left with a quick shake of hands and his mind already moving forward to the piece that didn’t fit the puzzle—Sara and the boy.

Why were they here—why now... Why at all?

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