“Monday? That’s days away. Anything could have happened to Henry by Monday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Has he told you anything? Please, if you have any information, I need to know what it is.”
The woman took pity on Jensen. “I’m not supposed to be discussing this with you, but I really don’t see what harm it will do anyone. The answer is no. We haven’t been able to find a trace of your brother. But be assured that we haven’t given up.”
“Just for the weekend,” said Jensen bitterly.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman again. “Truly.”
Jensen sighed in resignation. It was like a conspiracy of silence that she couldn’t break through. “I’m staying at the Metropole Hotel. Mr. Turner already knows that, but remind him. And please make sure he calls me first thing Monday morning.”
“I will. You have my word.”
“Thank you.”
Jensen couldn’t face going back to the hotel. What could she do there but sit in her room and worry?
So she wandered aimlessly around the city, going into shops, looking at things she had no interest in buying, still unaware of her darkly silent companion.
Ordinarily this would have been a wonderful adventure; fodder for the romance novels she so loved to write. She got out so rarely, and never to anywhere exotic like this.
But at the moment, she couldn’t see beyond her worry.
Night had fallen by the time she got back to the hotel. Yusef was parked in front, leaning against his taxi. His face lit up as soon as he saw her.
“Hey, lady, you have much luck?”
“None, I’m afraid.”
“Where you been?”
“The embassy.”
“And no one there could help?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Yusef shook his head. “I ask questions out here. Some remember your brother. He look like you, yes?”
“Yes.”
“One driver remembers taking him around a lot.”
Jensen was suddenly interested. “Which driver?”
“He not on duty now. Home.”
“I need to speak to him.”
“Yusef know where he lives. You want me to take you to him?”
“Yes, please.”
“Hop in, lady.”
This time, Jensen didn’t hesitate as she climbed into the back and slammed the creaky door shut after her. The taxi chugged off down the road in a cloud of dark exhaust.
The man in the turban who’d been following Jensen wasted no time climbing into the driver’s seat of a shiny car and taking off in pursuit. It wasn’t difficult to keep them in sight. All he had to do was follow the smoke.
Yusef drove through the maze of streets using his mental map. Jensen would never have found her way there alone. When he stopped the car in front of a small home connected to seemingly dozens of other small homes that looked exactly the same, he hopped out of the car and opened the door for her.
“You stay quiet. If you must speak, whisper in my ear and I will ask questions. The man doesn’t speak English anyway. And don’t look directly at him. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“You really should have better clothes for woman here. Tomorrow you shop.”
Taking her arm, Yusef walked her to within five feet of the front door and made her stop. “You stay here.” Then he moved forward and knocked on the door.
A lightly veiled woman answered and lowered her eyes as soon as she saw that it was a young man, though she couldn’t help looking up through her lashes at Jensen. As soon as Yusef explained to her what he wanted, she bowed twice, backed away and closed the door.
“What’s going on?” whispered Jensen.
“She is going to get her husband.”
“Can’t we go inside?”
“I may. You may not. Since we are together, we both stay here and he comes to us.”
“All right.”
A moment later, the door opened again, spilling light into the darkness. Jensen took a good look at him before lowering her eyes the way Yusef had instructed her. Yusef began asking questions in Arabic and the man answered rapid-fire.
Jensen stepped closer to Yusef and whispered in his ear. “What’s he saying?”
“He says he took your brother many places.”
“What places?”
Yusef asked.
“Well?” asked Jensen.
“Two private homes and three businesses.”
“Did any of those private homes belong to Michael Hassan?” asked Jensen.
Yusef asked the question and listened to the answer. “He doesn’t know,” said Yusef. “All he knows are addresses.”
“Get them.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“Did my brother say anything to him?”
Again, Yusef asked the question and waited for the answer. “Not directly,” said Yusef. “But he overheard your brother say to another man that he had one more bit of research to do and was looking forward to going home after that.”
“When did he hear this conversation?”
Yusef asked. “A week ago Sunday. He remembers because it was same day of his daughter’s birth.”
“Did he see my brother at all after that?”
Yusef asked. “Only one time, when he left hotel with his backpack and entered a fancy car driven by a man in a suit. That was last he saw of your brother.”
“Thank him for me, please,” said Jensen, “and give him this.” She reached into her purse and took out a handful of coins, which she instinctively knew to give to Yusef for transfer to the man.
The man bowed several times and watched while Yusef walked Jensen back to his taxi.
“We go now to the places your brother went, yes?”
“Yes, please.”
At the first private house, Jensen was surprised by its elegance. It was large and well maintained, even though it still blended in with those surrounding it. There was even a gate to keep out strangers, with a buzzer on an outside pillar. No one answered their call.
The second private home was just as large. When Yusef answered the voice that came over the speaker, explaining who Jensen was and that she wished to speak with them, the voice that replied was hostile and cut them off.
“I wonder what my brother could possibly have done to have provoked that kind of reaction?” she wondered aloud.
“I don’t know, but you must not come back here alone.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to begin to find it. All the streets and homes look the same to me.”
Yusef nodded. “That’s why Yusef is the taxi driver and you are the passenger.”
Jensen smiled.
Yusef saw it in the rearview mirror. “You pretty when you smile. Should do it more often.”
“I will when I find my brother.”
“I understand. We go to businesses now.” Yusef aimed the taxi in what Jensen believed to be the general direction of the hotel, but turned off onto some side streets before they got there.
Seedy side streets.
Every city in the world had them, apparently.
As Yusef parked the taxi, he turned to Jensen. “You stay here and keep doors locked. I go inside and ask about your brother.”
Jensen touched his shoulder. “I should go with you.”
“No place for lady, believe me. I know.”
Jensen looked at the bearded men loitering in front of the place, staring at the taxi.
Staring at her.
“Then it’s no place for a child.”
That was completely the wrong thing to say to him. “Yusef is no child! Now stay here and lock doors.”
He got out and slammed the door with a bit more force than necessary, still furious with her assessment of his age. Jensen quickly reached around and punched down all of the locks.
Even though she avoided looking at the men, she could feel their eyes on her. She sank lower into her seat.
It didn�
�t help. They began to surround the taxi, like crows readying for a feast.
Then there was a shout; a deep throated shout that certainly hadn’t come from little Yusef.
Jensen looked up and saw a huge man in indigo blue robes and a turban, his hand resting on the butt of his sheathed sword, as he faced the men down.
The man didn’t utter another word as he stood near the rear window of the taxi, apparently ready to do battle on her behalf. He didn’t have to speak. The men backed away and averted their eyes from Jensen.
Yusef came out of the little building at that moment and looked with huge eyes at the man in blue. The man spoke only a few words. Yusef nodded his head and hurried to the car. When he pulled on the door handle, it was locked.
Jensen quickly reached out and pulled the pin up.
Yusef scooted behind the wheel, fired up the engine and laid rubber as he peeled out of there.
“Who was that man?” asked Jensen.
“What man?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” she scolded. “The one in the blue.”
“Just a man. We go back to hotel now.”
“What about the other businesses?”
“No more tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Did something happen inside there?” she asked.
“No. Yusef just a little scared.”
Jensen nodded. “Me, too. I guess you’re right. We’ve had enough for one night.”
“We go other places in daylight.”
“All right.” She sat back in her seat. “Yusef?”
“Yes, lady?”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
He smiled in the rearview mirror. “No problem.”
As he parked in front of the hotel, Yusef hopped out and opened the door for her.
“How much?”
He suddenly looked down. “I didn’t keep track of the meter.”
Jensen pressed the equivalent of a hundred dollars into his hand and folded his fingers around it. “This is for everything you’ve done. Please don’t turn it down. I’ll be insulted if you do.”
He couldn’t see what she’d given him, but he knew it was a lot. “Okay, lady. But we go searching again tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Yusef.” She couldn’t help herself as she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
He flushed straight to the roots of his hair.
“You’ll find that we Americans are incorrigibly affectionate,” she said with a smile as she walked into the hotel.
She went straight to the desk. The same man was there. Before she could say a word, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss O’Hara, but Mr. Hassan did not call. You have no messages.”
“Thank you.”
Looking around, she saw a sign with an arrow pointing the way to the hotel restaurant. Jensen felt less conspicuous among other tourists and businessmen and decided to eat there.
Sitting at a table alone, she ordered couscous—one of the few familiar things on the menu—along with a bottle of mineral water. When the food came, she spent more time pushing it around her plate than actually eating it. Worry about her brother and the heat had sapped what little appetite she had.
She signed the bill and then headed for her room.
As she got off the elevator and began to walk down the hall, she saw a dark-skinned man at the far end dressed in indigo robes. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded across his chest. It might have been the same man who’d stood off those men earlier, but she hadn’t seen his face. Besides, what would he be doing here?
Jensen smiled at him, but there was no response.
Surprise. No one except Yusef had smiled at her all day. It definitely wasn’t the same man.
Unlocking her door, she stepped into her dark room and closed the door behind her before turning on the light. As soon as it snapped on, she was grabbed from behind. A scream tore into her throat, but before she could make any noise, a hand was clamped over her mouth.
As she struggled against the man’s hold on her, Jensen bit his hand, just the way she’d been taught in a self-defense class. He swore, but didn’t remove his hand.
Then she tried to elbow him in the groin, but he blocked her and got her in a shoulder lock that immobilized her from the waist up. Even as he lifted her off the floor, she kicked out. Their furious dance took them across the room until they both lost their balance and landed in a tangled body heap on the bed.
Jensen, squirming frantically, was pinned beneath the heavy body of the robed man. His hand still covered her mouth, but he’d learned his lesson. There was no way for her to bite him again.
He wrapped himself around her so tightly that she couldn’t move. How was it possible for anyone to be that strong?
“Stop struggling,” ordered the man in perfect English.
She had no choice. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.
“I haven’t come to hurt you. I only want to talk. If I uncover your mouth will you promise not to scream?”
Jensen thought about it for a moment.
“Give me your word.”
She nodded—reluctantly.
He tentatively uncovered her mouth, but kept his hand at the ready in case it was needed.
Jensen’s whole body was tense, ready to spring at the slightest physical give on his part.
There was none. None at all. The man seemed to know what she was thinking and held her as tightly as ever.
Her breathing was ragged and gasping from the fight as she looked at the man who had attacked her. The man who could still hurt her if he chose.
His bronze face was directly above hers, inches away. She could feel his breath on her skin, nearly as ragged as hers.
She could feel the steady, hard hammering of his heart, pressed against her breasts.
And he was looking at her with a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
Chapter Three
“I’m Michael Hassan,” he said. “Please relax. You have no reason to fear me.”
“Michael Hassan?” she asked. “You’re Michael Hassan?” Her voice was suddenly angry. “How dare you attack me like this. Get off of me this instant!”
With a hand on either side of her, he pushed himself away into a standing position.
“I would hardly call it an attack,” he said as he walked into the bathroom to hold his injured hand under cold running water. “I was trying to keep you from screaming.”
The door suddenly crashed open and the man in the blue robes stood there, every muscle at attention, his sword drawn, his furious eyes on Jensen.
Jensen was so stunned she couldn’t have screamed if she’d wanted to. She just lay there and waited to be run through. All she could think of was that this was such an odd way to die in this day and age. Too bad she wouldn’t live to put it in one of her books.
Michael Hassan turned off the water and walked back into the room. He said something in Arabic and the man sheathed his sword, bowed his head and backed out of the room. He couldn’t close the door, of course, because it was broken.
Jensen put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes as she lay back on the bed.
“Are you all right?” asked Michael.
“Any more surprises?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I think you’ve had enough for one evening.”
She rose from the bed with as much dignity as she could muster and brushed down her crumpled dress. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on? Who was that man?”
“That’s Ali. He works for me. I guess you could say he’s my bodyguard.”
“And why do you need a bodyguard? To save you from the women whose rooms you sneak into?”
He held up his hand, which clearly showed her teeth marks. “I’m thinking about adding that to his list of duties.”
Jensen hated to hurt anyone, whatever the circumstances. She walked over to him and took his hand in hers to examine the damage. “You should get that looked at
by a doctor so it doesn’t get infected. Bites aren’t anything to mess with.”
Michael’s eyes moved slowly over her delicate profile and that long, beautiful hair. “You look like a feminine version of Henry. I would have known you anywhere.”
Jensen’s eyes met his. She was suddenly selfconscious about touching him and released his hand. “When was the last time you heard from my brother?”
“Around the same time you did. He called to say he was coming to see me, but didn’t show up.”
“And that didn’t worry you?”
“Not really. He’s done that before. Many times. He also said he was following a hot story that could be one of the biggest of his career. I assumed then—and assume now—that he’s following that story, whatever it is.”
“He would have called me.”
“This isn’t America, Jensen. There aren’t phones around every corner.”
“Henry would have found a way. He knew I was expecting him. He never, ever just disappears.”
“I can see you don’t know your brother nearly as well as you think you do.”
Jensen wanted to tell him to take his injured hand and his bodyguard and, well, go away, to put it politely. But this was about Henry, not her. She took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “I need your help to find him.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be found?”
“Then he can tell me to go away. But in order for him to do that, I have to find him first.”
Michael looked at her for a long moment. “No.”
Jensen blinked. “That’s your answer? Your best friend is missing and that’s it? Just ‘no’?”
“That’s it.”
“First you terrorize me and then that...that...Ali person out there breaks in my door and nearly runs me through with a sword and you aren’t even going to help me?”
“When Henry wants to be found, he’ll surface. In the meantime, you should turn around and go back to America.”
Jensen walked to the empty doorway and pointed into the hall. “Get out.”
Michael walked up to her, put a finger under her chin and raised her face so she had no choice but to look at him. “Go home, Jensen O’Hara. This is no place for a woman alone. Henry would be the first one to tell you that.”
The Sheik's Mistress Page 3