10.
Tuesday. New York.
Nasar sank down farther in the front seat of his borrowed truck.
He’d followed Daniel Smith to the Air Force base that morning, and the man hadn’t yet left.
Was it possible he’d been telling the truth? If he was, then where was the rest of the information coming from?
Nasar scrolled the Facebook page of one of Daniel’s cousins, a pretty blonde girl who was maybe a year or two younger than him. Like most American girls, she documented her every waking moment online and little of it was made private.
He’d scrolled back almost ten years, drinking in Daniel Smith’s story.
Every family member Nasar had investigated all said the same thing.
Daniel fixed planes.
He didn’t fly drones.
If that was the case, why had Nasar been told differently?
He set the phone down.
When his family had been killed, Nasar had been working with the Americans as a translator. He hadn’t been lying about that point. It was a fact. No one had been able to give him answers about why or how the mistake had been made. Their apologies had been worthless, with some even daring to say that the blast hadn’t come from their side of things.
Nasar rubbed his chin.
After the blast he’d been approached by some men who had stories similar to his. They’d lost families, businesses, everything. Looking back, he could see that the recruiting had begun then, and he didn’t care because he was on the right side.
Or so he’d thought.
It was through those men that he’d met Zak and Miran Samaan and begun this journey. It was because of his bosses’ contacts that Nasar had found the first bread crumbs that led him to Daniel Smith. But this was a dead end. Or was it? Were there clues to Nasar’s story mixed in with what he’d believed all these years? What was really going on?
TUESDAY. JABIR AL SAUD’S Home. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
Killam grabbed the carafe of coffee and poured the liquid into a mug. A harried looking house servant rushed toward him, but Killam held up a hand. He was not in the mood to have things done for him. He wanted to do something.
Falling asleep last night had taken effort. Thankfully Ivy didn’t seem to be much for conversation post-sex, though they had met in the middle of the bed. It was as if now he’d allowed himself to touch her he couldn’t stop. Sleeping with her tucked in close hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea in the beginning.
This morning he had a very different opinion.
After the house staff had come to collect Ivy just after sunrise Killam had tried to go back to sleep. Instead he’d lain there, awake, thinking about her.
This job had to end. It was getting far too personal.
He’d call his guy. He’d tell them this cutting the power thing had to happen fast. And then Killam could get Ivy out of here.
It was also time to update his people.
Ivy and whoever she was connected to might believe that Killam operated alone, but he didn’t. He and a handful of other freelancers had formed an agreement to look out for each other. Some of them worked far more closely than others. Killam was one of the outliers who didn’t lean on the others often. But he had a feeling this was going to get out of his control awfully fast. It would be good to have some backup.
He gulped the coffee down in the hopes that it would clear his sour mood.
It was creeping toward noon, which in this house was pretty much morning. A few guests were around, but he hadn’t seen Yousef or Jabby.
Killam checked his watch.
If the suggested schedule could be trusted, they were supposed to take the cars out today for another test drive. While Jabby might allow a few people to tag along, this was something that the two of them did alone. Yousef was never allowed, not after the beginning when Killam had earned Jabby’s trust.
The front seat of the car was likely where this supposed friendship had taken root. At least on Jabby’s side.
What little valuable intel Killam got out of the man always happened while they drove. It was as though, without the crowds, Jabby could loosen up and just talk. Maybe Killam could squeeze something out of the guy this morning that would be worth sharing with Ivy’s people.
The room suddenly seemed colder.
Killam lowered his mug and glanced across the smaller, more intimate sitting room attached to the show piece of a kitchen.
Zak and Miran stood in the entry. Zak had one of the staff by the arm and was speaking low, his gaze intent.
Those two never failed to set off all of Killam’s alarm bells.
On the surface, they were nothing.
Refugee rich boys living on the generosity of others.
If that were the case, why were they always dressed in new suits? Where was the gold jewelry coming from? How could they afford this lifestyle, even with the hospitality of people like Jabby? And what was it about them that made Killam so certain they were bad news?
Other than enjoying recreational drugs and alcohol too much, their main vices were women. He’d seen dozens of men like them, and yet something about Zak and Miran made Killam want to be extremely cautious. Especially with Ivy.
Miran glanced up, meeting Killam’s gaze.
The taller cousin had always been stoic and in control compared to Zak. But it was clear Zak was the leader of that duo.
Killam nodded, though he knew he couldn’t be on the cousin’s good side this morning.
He poured himself a second mug of coffee and headed toward the small spread of breakfast foods.
“Hey,” Zak called out.
Great.
Killam glanced up at the two men coming his way.
Zak in particular was glaring something hard. Especially for a guy who always had a party face on.
“That wasn’t cool, man,” Zak said.
The two attendants were gone. No doubt they’d taken the temperature of the room and left Killam to fend for himself with these two.
“Sorry?” he drawled.
“Last night.” Zak crossed his arms over his chest.
“Those girls didn’t look well enough for your kind of after-party,” Killam said.
Zak’s gaze narrowed. “What would you know?”
Killam held up his hand. “Look, I don’t want to start anything.”
Zak took a step toward Killam. It was likely intended to be menacing, but Zak always had made Killam think of a rabid Pomeranian. It was hard to be scared of something so little and fluffy. “Then you should keep your nose out of our business.”
He lifted one brow. “Or what? Are you threatening me? Are you really that dumb?”
Killam wanted to take that last question back, but he couldn’t.
Zak clenched his jaw. His eyes didn’t quite bulge, but Killam could feel the hate rolling off the man.
“Friends!”
Killam glanced at the entry. Jabby grinned at him, eyes hidden by reflective sunglasses. He wore slacks and some sort of silk shirt held together by one or two buttons.
“Morning,” Killam called out.
Excitement rolled off Jabby. He was a damn kid ready to go play with his toys. It was hard to not catch the feeling. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”
Killam saluted Jabby with the mug of coffee. “Just waiting on you, my prince.”
“Well come on.” He waved toward the door.
Killam drained the mug. He’d need the fortification. The food he left untouched. Jabby wasn’t exactly a good driver and there had been times when even Killam’s iron stomach got a little shook with how the man drove.
He gave Zak a tight smile as he set the mug down. “Excuse me?”
Zak muttered something too low for Killam to understand as he side-stepped the two.
Jabby was already out the front door, while Yousef hung back in the entry, not so subtly studying Killam.
“Something wrong?” he asked as he stepped into the wide foyer.
“He
had a very long night,” Yousef said quietly.
Killam glanced at the attendant. The man was old and was likely one of those who’d served Jabby since he was little. It wasn’t common to see the man trailing after the prince like this.
“Be gentle with him, I got it,” Killam said.
Yousef nodded.
Truth was, Killam had very little control of things once Jabby got behind the wheel. But Killam could make an effort.
He slid his sunglasses on as the door guards ushered him outside.
Jabby waited next to the car of the day, a bright orange Bugatti.
Killam got behind the wheel, as was their routine. While Jabby might like to drive the cars, he often needed to remember that these cars had a lot more under the hood.
The guards were loaded into the SUV, waiting for their move. Killam dropped into the driver’s seat as Jabby plopped down with a sigh.
“I needed out of there, man,” he said.
“Too much fun?” Killam shifted and worked the pedals, easing the car forward.
Jabby didn’t respond right away.
They rolled through the security gates before Killam did more than coast, but the moment the wheels made contact with the private lane he punched the accelerator.
Jabby whooped and grinned.
Adrenaline loosened the man’s lips.
“That’s what I’m talking about. Yeah.” He pumped his fist and shifted.
There wasn’t enough open space to let the car maneuver here among the mansions and extensive properties. Which was why Jabby had purchased a parcel of flat, arid land where nothing would grow and people wouldn’t live, paved it and created his own playground, so to speak.
Killam pointed them away from the house and focused on the road.
“How was last night?” Jabby asked out of the blue.
Killam glanced at him. Normally Jabby didn’t ask about such things. “Good. Thank you.”
“Good.” Jabby snorted. “That’s high praise coming from you.”
Sweat dampened Killam’s shirt.
What the hell was he supposed to say? Did Jabby want some kind of rundown about what happened? Did he even know about Zak and Miran’s stunt?
“I think I’m going to have to keep the blonde for myself. Try her out,” Jabby said, as if they were talking about a car or something. Not a human.
Killam gripped the wheel harder.
At times it was easy to forget that Jabby had no regard for women, no matter how well he treated them. It was all a means to his end goal. Never-ending fun.
Killam needed to get Ivy out of here. Now. Tonight. The plan be damned. He wasn’t going to let Jabby touch her.
TUESDAY. JABIR AL SAUD’S Home. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
Zak stared at the plume of dust rising up in the wake of the orange car.
Someday Zak was going to put a bullet in Piers Killam’s head. He’d never see it coming.
“Now’s our chance,” Miran muttered.
Zak turned toward Yousef. It was just them now. “You said the money would be in our hands last night.”
Yousef stared back at Zak with cool composure. “Who are you working for?”
Like he was going to share that information. Skilton was another breed of man, and Zak wasn’t about to fuck with him.
He spread his hands. “What does it matter so long as we make them bleed?”
Yousef’s expression never changed. “The money is on its way.”
“Cutting it kind of short,” Zak muttered.
“The Sauds move at their own pace,” Yousef said with that intonation that made him sound like a clock.
“Yeah, well, some of us have bills to pay.” Zak turned on his heel.
Someday he wouldn’t need to rely on outside funding. He’d have his own mountain of cash and he’d be protected. That day was coming soon.
TUESDAY. JABIR AL SAUD’S Home. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
Ivy stared at the TV with it’s panoramic of some beautiful mountain trail. The state-of-the-art treadmill changed incline with her to match what she was seeing.
Her lungs and muscles burned.
She knew she should quit. It was going to be another long day and she was determined to stay on Yousef’s good side. The last thing she wanted was to be sidelined and left to her own thoughts after last night.
“Hey,” a tentative voice called out.
London stepped into view, followed by Nor. They were both still in pajamas. London in ratty old sweats and Nor in a satiny nightgown that went to her ankles.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you got off that thing?” London asked.
Ivy stepped onto the runners and jabbed at the buttons, killing the programmed run. She grabbed the water, sucking down several gulps before she managed to get words out. “What’s up?”
London did a slow head to toe look. “We were wondering the same thing.”
“We brought breakfast.” Nor hoisted a tray up a few inches.
Ivy’s stomach growled. Never mind that it was noon, the omelet, bacon and fruit looked appealing. “Nice. Want to go to the dining room?”
Nor’s eyes widened.
“How about we eat outside?” London countered.
“Okay.” Ivy followed London’s lead out through the doors at the end of the room, not quite sure what Nor’s reaction was.
They circled around to the pool patio. Nor set her heavily laden tray down at a four-seater table and they each took a chair. With the overhead fans on, it was actually nice.
“Have you been on that treadmill all morning?” London asked.
Ivy picked up her silver wear. “Only for an hour? Hour and a half?”
London and Nor shared a look.
“What’s up with you?” London asked.
Ivy cut herself a piece of the omelet. “What do you mean?”
London’s nose wrinkled. “You’re...off.”
Shit.
Ivy gulped from her water bottle.
It was one thing to tell her core group of friends that she had a thing for the guy she was working with. How did she begin to explain what was going on with Killam to these two? And could she handle getting it from both sides?
Haley had been particularly enthusiastic in their text exchange.
“How was last night?” Nor asked.
Ivy met Nor’s gaze and found herself staring into deep pools of understanding.
Nor was in love with Prince Jabir. Ivy didn’t love Piers—Killam—but she liked him. Maybe more than she’d realized.
Maybe Ivy could be a little truthful with them?
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, unsure where to begin or what to say.
“It was...” Her words failed her and she turned her head, staring off across the pool to the hedges hiding the fence keeping them in. “It’s chemistry. In the moment, it’s...”
“It swallows you up,” London said.
Nor’s voice was soft. “It’s all you can think about.”
“Yeah.” Ivy swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump, but it was stuck. “I was ready for Jabir. I wasn’t ready for Piers.”
They were all quiet for several moments.
“I’m in love with Gabriel Brodeur,” London said.
Ivy turned her head. Was she supposed to know that name?
“Who is that?” Nor asked, saving Ivy the embarrassment.
London chuckled. “He was the celebrity photographer I worked with on the show-that-shall-not-be-named.”
“Then...why are you here?” Ivy figured it was her turn to ask.
London shook her head. “You really know nothing?”
Ivy shrugged. “That’s what I’ve told you.”
“Gabriel is married. Unhappily, but that’s not the point. And don’t all cheaters tell you they’re unhappily married? I don’t think they had a prenup and that’s the real reason he hasn’t divorced her. Money. We never did anything. We never so much as kissed. I think I can count on one hand how many times he tou
ched me, too. But I’m in love with him.” London tipped her head back. “That’s my secret reason why I’m here. I had to get away. Telling people I’m doing it for my family makes me feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” Ivy said.
“Me, too.” London smiled at them. “It’s for the best. He’s ten years older than me, but the man might as well be eighteen. He’s going to break more hearts than just mine.”
“Did he ever tell you he had feelings for you?” Ivy asked.
“Yes, and my silly heart believed him.” London shook her head. “Are you ever going to ask why I was kicked off the show?”
Ivy shrugged. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about it.”
“You really are one of a kind.” London’s mouth twisted into a lop-sided smile. “I was kicked off the show because I did an adult movie when I was eighteen. At the time we were about to get evicted from our apartment. We had no food. The water had just been shut off. We needed money. I don’t regret it, though I had hoped it wouldn’t be connected to me. But it was from some anonymous tip and I got kicked off right before the finale.”
Ivy let the story sink in.
Life was messy. That was the lesson she was learning from this experience.
Messy.
That word triggered her memories and she remembered the last time she’d seen Nor and London.
Ivy sat up a bit straighter. “What about you two? Last night, how did it go?”
London rolled her eyes. “The way everyone is treating us you’d think we got a Rolex or something.”
“They’re like that every morning after,” Nor said.
Ivy frowned. “What?”
London stared at her. “You sweet sheltered child.”
“What?” Ivy demanded.
Nor gestured to the house at their back. “Whoever Prince Jabir picks usually gets the cold shoulder from everyone else the next day.”
Ivy shook her head and picked up the teacup, still steaming with dark liquid. “God. Bitches.”
“Right?” London muttered.
“He didn’t look okay last night,” Ivy said slowly.
“He was high and drunk.” London rolled her eyes. “We were babysitters.”
Necessary Risk (Aegis Group Task Force Book 4) Page 14