Sheik's Rule

by Ryshia Kennie

  “Just a minute,” Emir said to his twin.

  “We need to get there as soon as possible. Does he have the coordinates?” Kate was on her feet.

  “I sent them to your email, Em,” Zafir said.

  “There could be more information there and a more specific area—” She broke off, a worried expression on her face.

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Zafir agreed, his voice slightly distant through the speaker phone.

  “Is it possible to land anywhere nearby?” Emir asked.

  “There’s a short landing strip. I’ve spoken to them and they’ll have it lit for you,” Zafir said.

  “This confirms what we were already thinking.” Emir looked at Kate and saw the same urgency he felt, to get going, reflected in her eyes. Already he was planning their new strategy even as he saw the intense look on Kate’s face, the frown that marred her normally smooth brow and knew she was considering options. None of his agents did any less than think on their feet. It was how they succeeded in some of their most difficult cases and how they protected the clients they had—how they had become number one on two continents.

  “The sooner someone gets there, the better. I’d go there myself...” Zafir paused. “But apparently I’m on Emir duty.”

  Emir gave a half smile. It was how Zafir had always referred to the times when they had switched roles, more notably in their youth. As adults, this was the first time they’d resorted to such tactics.

  “Kate and I have it covered.” He looked at her with a wry smile, thinking how much his opinion of her had changed and how, only a few hours ago, he couldn’t imagine himself saying that. But she’d more than proved herself in the short time they’d known each other. She’d proved her skill in the best and worst situations. She’d been willing to take a bullet for the cause. Fortunately, good marksmanship on both their parts and Dell’s had prevented that from happening.

  “We’ll fly tonight. Hopefully we can get there soon enough to get some answers. That means you, like you said, lead this show. Tara’s kidnappers have to be heading into their final act and asking for more and soon. I don’t think they can play this out much longer.” He looked over at Kate, who nodded agreement.

  “I’m a good twenty minutes away,” Zafir replied.

  “We’ll wait.”

  “That’s not all I’ve got. I think I have a major lead, man. More than what I just told you, but you needed to know that first. There’s no getting around the fact that someone has to go there. And, as we agreed, that’s you and K.J.,” Zafir said. “But there’s something else,” he repeated.

  “Shoot.”

  “A sighting—and it’s a good chance it might be Tara.”

  “Why didn’t you say that right away?” Emir’s eyes met Kate’s, his heart pounding at the idea—hope and fear seeming to converge at what this might mean.

  “Because I think it’s more important you get to the village.”

  “You thought? Zaf, this isn’t your case.”

  “She’s my sister, too. You’re not the only one who is torn up about it,” his brother growled. “Look, this is what I have. A girl who looks like Tara was reported in Ouarazate Province by a couple of Berbers.”

  “When?”

  “That’s the problem. We received the information late. The man who reported it said they’d seen her just before noon today. At the time, they didn’t know about the kidnapping. Word’s gotten out since then. I think what happened may have been let out by our own staff at the compound. You know, mentioning something of our situation to friends or family. Many of them or their families have ties to the desert. Anyway, he contacted me as soon as he heard. They said they came upon the group over twelve hours ago and they were in a Jeep. There were five of them and the girl.”

  Emir cursed under his breath. Ouarazate, the gateway to the desert. But too much time had gone by; they could be anywhere.

  “Look, I’ll be there as soon as I can. There are a few things I have to clear up here and then, depending on the traffic...” Zafir paused, as if considering options. “Don’t wait. You’ve got to get moving. There is too much that needs to be done. Too much at stake.”

  “You’re right. Tara can’t wait,” Emir said.

  “Get moving. Let’s get our sister,” Zafir said.

  “Done,” Emir said and clicked off.

  * * *

  TARA CRINGED. She hated the dark, the shadows her imagination had the uncanny ability to turn into more threats than those she already faced. Time seemed to be crawling by and the darkness was never-ending. Without the moon, the night was only broken by the few, too distant stars, and by the fire that crackled and spit over thirty feet away. There was a tent, but she preferred to sit outside it and, oddly, they’d allowed that one request.

  Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, the leader remembered her for who she was and what she had been to him. Whatever the reason, she was grateful. Somehow it seemed safer here where there was some distance between her and them. She clutched the blanket. It was cold again tonight. She shivered and her eyes never left the fire and the men around it. It wasn’t safe for her to take her eyes off them. She’d learned in the early hours of her kidnapping that they were unpredictable.

  She was so tired. She couldn’t help closing her eyes just for a second. A minute passed and then two before she was snapped awake by angry shouts that echoed through the small, struggling oasis.

  Tara drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if that would make her smaller, invisible. Her eyes never left the men. Loud voices meant trouble. This time, as usual, it was the leader. It seemed he didn’t like what one of the men had said and now the shouts were followed by something even more deadly. Silence. The moon slipped from behind a cloud and bathed the area in light.

  She wished she could disappear but there was nowhere to go. Instead she was trapped by the frightening scene in front of her as the man pulled his rifle from his shoulder and hurled it. She watched as the smaller man, who it was meant for, lunged, missed the catch and stood. The moonlight disappeared again as the gun hit the ground and skipped twice along the battered rug she knew, even in the fickle light of the fire, lay on the desert sand.

  Now the gun lay forgotten and their raised voices began to dissolve into shouts and yet another fight. It was a relief, for she knew the fights kept their attention from her.

  The leader muttered a string of curses in Arabic before he launched himself into their midst, punching one and grabbing the other and throwing him to the ground. His voice was harsh and, as usual, louder than necessary. She closed her eyes and hoped they remained there—killing themselves in their fight would be ideal. But, as always, she knew this fight wouldn’t last long.

  She prayed he’d stay away from her. Her prayers went unanswered as minutes passed, silence ensued and then came what she had hoped wouldn’t.

  She could see him clearly as he approached. His face was highlighted in the moonlight. It was so familiar and yet so very strange. She dropped her gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes, hoping he would leave, change his mind. Instead the sand crunched beneath his heavy boots and he squatted beside her.

  She looked up and met the odd yet gentle smile. The smile didn’t match the dark look in his eyes. She dropped her gaze to the sand. She could smell the sweat of him, like he hadn’t bathed in weeks or even months. He was too near and she fought not to move away for she had nowhere to go and little rope with which to do it.

  She drew back, trying to make herself small. He wasn’t the man she remembered.

  He chuckled as he ran a knuckle along her cheek.

  She fought not to cringe or to move away. Although there wasn’t far to move; the rope gave her five feet of freedom.

  This time she blew out a relieved breath as he stood to join the others.
<
br />   “Do you know what stands between us and wealth?” she heard him ask. But it was his reply that made her cringe. “Death.”

  She shuddered, trying not to think of whose death he might be implying. She watched as the moonlight reflected across his face and clearly showed the disfiguring scar that covered the left side. The scar made a mockery of what had once had been a handsome face. Close up, she knew the scar appeared raw, almost painful, despite the fact that it was clear it had been from wounds long healed.

  But it was then that she heard the most frightening thing of all. His promise to take down the house of Al-Nassar, to take what it held most precious and to leave nothing to remind anyone it had ever existed.

  Chapter Nine

  “Kaher is on the fringe of the Sahara, like Zafir said. Not well used by tourists and hikers, but that might be to our benefit.” Even Kate could hear the trace of excitement in her voice. “What incredible luck that they have an airstrip.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him. His dark eyes were both grim and determined. “That information certainly came out of nowhere,” she added. “Let’s hope someone knew this guy. Like, who he was hanging with, what he was doing...”

  “And we can find out who and what they know quickly,” Emir said.

  “At least before first light,” she agreed, grimacing. “You’ve flown at night? I mean, you have experience at this sort of thing?”

  “You doubt me?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. I was just surprised.”

  “I’m a qualified pilot and I’ve flown at night often,” he assured her. “I’ll get us there in one piece, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Did I say I was worried?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Let’s get moving.”

  But before either of them could act on those words, her phone dinged, signaling a text message. She looked at it with a frown then back up at him. “It’s a blocked text—no identification.” She held up her index finger, warning him to silence. “This is odd.”

  Outside, a siren broke the quiet; the distant sound knifing in through an open window. The flashing lights seemed to pulse through the night, as if forewarning them of something even more threatening than what they already faced.

  Seconds seemed to tick away and the silence within the room wrapped around them in a thick, almost choking veil.

  Her eyes met his and she pushed a button on the phone.

  “It’s a video.”

  She looked up, saw the perspiration dotting his forehead and wondered if the pressure of it all was finally getting to him. She dismissed the thought. He was strong, too strong. There were other words for men such as him... Just his nearness could take a woman’s breath away. She’d bet that he’d never had a woman turn him down. She remembered how, earlier, he had been outlined in his office by the city lights as he’d stood by the window, how his well-muscled form had been clearly defined by his T-shirt.

  She was always in control and now, at a completely inappropriate time, her mind was running amuck thinking of...

  She frowned and clutched the phone tighter. “It might be nothing—”

  “Or it might be from them,” he said, cutting her off.

  And they both knew what he meant. Tara’s kidnappers.

  Her finger lifted from the phone as if that were a deal-breaker. “Maybe I should watch it without you.”

  “No, start it. We need to see it and see it now.”

  They didn’t know what was on the video. It could be anything or anyone. But in this situation, with everything that had happened, the possibility that it wasn’t a ransom demand in some form, that Tara wasn’t involved, was slight.

  “Start it,” he said thickly as he leaned over her shoulder.

  They watched the video begin with no prelude but, rather immediately, a woman’s face dominated the screen.

  “Tara,” he said, an edge to his voice.

  Her hands were tied and she was kneeling, looking right at them or, more aptly, at the camera or at whoever was filming her.

  “Please, Emir,” Tara said, her voice pleading. But the words didn’t seem as panicked as they seemed forced. It was as if she wasn’t saying them voluntarily but instead was being coached. She hesitated and stumbled over what she was saying, sounding reluctant.

  Kate swallowed. It was tough to watch. There was a flashlight on her face and Tara blinked frequently, squinting against the light. Her dark hair was long and loose, curling wildly around her dusty face. Her faded jeans were torn, not as a fashion statement, Kate suspected, but more a result of her ordeal. Her flowered, peasant-style cotton blouse had chalk-colored streaks running through it. There were numerous thin, red scratches on her hands and across one cheek, but she met the camera with fire in her eyes despite the tears on her cheeks.

  “Tara,” Emir murmured. “Hang in there. I’m coming.”

  In the video, Tara turned slightly, as if she might have heard him.

  She sat on her heels on what looked like a burgundy blanket, but it was faded with age and dusty with sand. It was hard to tell if the blanket might have some sort of ethnic origin, a clue to who she was with or where she was, but that clue was lost as the camera never went near enough to give them a clear visual.

  Kate tried to remain objective as she watched an animated, if you could call it that, Tara. This was the first time she’d seen her in anything other than a still photo. She made a mental note of her mannerisms and listened to what she said as she looked for signs of coaching and for some hint of who was with her. She was fairly sure that she had a better chance of seeing any of that than Emir, who was too close to be objective.

  Kate looked at Emir, who confirmed everything she had thought, as anger seemed to emanate from him in the tightness in his lips and the intense way he looked at her. She knew that any objectivity he had maintained had been lost in the moment. It wasn’t surprising. Anyone in his situation would have reacted the same, although in her mind he was holding on better than most. Still, objectivity and her skill in these situations, was why she was here. But now she feared that the deeper they got into this, the closer they got to finding Tara, the more difficult it would be for Emir to keep a check on his emotion. She didn’t blame him, it was natural, but she also knew it wasn’t going to help the investigation one bit.

  “They want it in American dollars.” There was no emotion in Tara’s voice.

  The video blurred and garbled and then became clear again.

  “Someone will tell you when and where,” Tara said, her words a monotone, as if she were reading a script.

  There was a sound behind her, a scuffling, and then the video blanked out and came back on. This time Tara was gone and the muffled voice of a man was saying, “Be prepared, you’ll have little time.”

  The video clicked off.

  “What kind of joke is this?” Emir stormed. “They prop her up, ask for money yet again, and don’t give a drop zone, an amount, even a time—nothing?”

  Kate looked at him, at the fire in his dark eyes and the pain that overrode everything, and couldn’t begin to imagine how it might feel. Even if she’d had siblings, she doubted she could imagine such a nightmare. She wished she could fix it, that it wouldn’t carry on any longer. That somehow she could end it.

  “So they want what they asked for earlier or it’s another amount. Whatever it is, will that be enough? Will they let her go?” Emir’s voice was raised and tense.

  Kate didn’t say anything. This was about Emir regaining control. He didn’t need or want anything from her right now.

  Silence flooded the room.

  “Get in touch with Zafir. Now,” she said after a minute had passed.

  She listened to the one-sided conversation as Emir laid out what had happened and what
Zafir needed to do.

  He put the phone down and ran splayed fingers through his hair before he looked at her. “He’s already on the way.”

  “Let’s watch that video again. Can you? Is it too much...?”

  “Start it,” he rasped.

  They watched it through two more times before she turned it off and set the phone down.

  “She was in the open. There wasn’t any shelter.” His words were like grim drumbeats of doom.

  “Emir,” she warned as she shook her head, “don’t go there. None of that is relevant, not now. She’s not comfortable but she’s not injured and she’s not—” She bit off the last words.

  “Dead.” He filled the word in for her. “And she’s not going to be, either.” He looked at his watch. “Where the hell is Zafir? It’s been...”

  “Two minutes,” she noted. “Look, let’s review that video one more time. There was something I wanted to mention but I thought it was a nervous tic, considering what was going on. Where she was, what—”

  “Tell me,” he broke in.

  She looked at him, saw the pain in his eyes that he was struggling to contain and her heart almost broke. He was a strong man but even strong men had their limits.

  “I think she’s trying to tell us something.”

  She picked up the phone and pushed Play. The video no sooner began to run before she hit Pause. “Did you see that slight tapping of her finger on her left hand?”

  He frowned. He leaned closer. “Son of a desert stray,” he muttered.

  He hit Rewind again and again.

  “This is difficult,” she said, thinking how hard it was to watch his sister being held captive like that—to see she wasn’t alone but surrounded by her captors. That much was evident based on the fact they could see the boots of two men obviously milling nearby. They were boots that, this time, gave them no clue. They were clean, generic, with no sign of sand or dirt—no evidence of any kind.

  Kate turned her attention back to Tara. When she’d first noticed the thumb tapping on Tara’s left hand, she had thought it might be anxiety. The woman had much to be anxious about.