Seized by the Sheik

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Maybe they’d never heard of computers, Efraim thought drily. Although he’d bet if the aim was to rattle the suspect, a stack of paper was more intimidating.

  Finally the man seemed to find what he was after. He looked up at Efraim. “Here. Faraj Aziz. Lived in Afghanistan for a year. And here’s a nice list of known contacts, including some pretty high ranking names in terrorist circles.”

  “Yes.” Those were the facts, facts of which he couldn’t pretend to be proud.

  “So you’re admitting all these things are true?”

  “They are true. But I am not Faraj Aziz. I am Efraim Aziz, acting leader of Nadar. Faraj is my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Priebus looked at him as if he didn’t believe a word.

  “Even Arabs have brothers.”

  The FBI agent scoffed. “The question is, does Faraj Aziz have a brother, and is he any less radical?”

  “My brother is a little…wild, angry. It is true. But since I am not him, and I’m not very close to him, I don’t see what else I can tell you. Perhaps you have a file somewhere on me. Perhaps you could look that up and then tell me if you think I’m a danger to you and your country.”

  Priebus gestured to the door with a sway of his head, and Joy stood and left. Priebus paused, hand on the door, and glanced back at Efraim. “We’ll be back.”

  Efraim gave him a phony smile, thinking of the old movie quote delivered by Arnold Schwarzenegger. “No problem. I’ll wait.”

  The door closed behind them and left him alone with the camera once again. More time to contemplate pulling out of COIN and leaving the United States as soon as Fahad’s murderer was found…as soon as Amir was found…as soon as Efraim made the bastards attacking his friends and his family pay.

  If not for the rift between them when Darek first learned of COIN, Efraim and his friend might have reached an understanding before this whole mess began. Before he’d been cajoled into trusting the Americans. Before he’d started down this path. He needed to talk to Darek as soon as possible. There might be an option for Nadar yet. An option that didn’t include trusting people who hated everything he was.

  A knock sounded on the door once again, but this time it didn’t immediately swing open.

  “Found the files on me already, did you?” Efraim called. “Well, come in. I can’t wait to have a peek.”

  The door pushed open, but it wasn’t the FBI who stepped into the room.

  She’d showered, changed into a clean blue T-shirt and pulled her hair back, making her eyes look bigger and deeper than the sea surrounding Nadar. “I already know what’s in your files. Believe me, they aren’t as interesting as the man himself.”

  “Callie.” Efraim pulled in the sight of her along with a jittery breath.

  She scooped the air toward the open door. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they pull strings that outrank the strings I pulled.”

  Chapter Seven

  Efraim hadn’t realized how comfortable it would be letting Callie take the wheel until he was sitting in the passenger seat of her pickup. Too bad his comfort level didn’t extend further than that.

  Not that he wasn’t grateful to Callie for getting him out of the ridiculous situation with the FBI. He was. But he needed time to think before she cornered him about his commitment to COIN, time to think and a second perspective. And somehow he doubted they would manage the long drive from Dumont to the resort in silence.

  She scooped up a hatbox and a pair of old cowboy boots lying at his feet and transferred them to the backseat of the king cab. “Sorry about the truck. I know it’s not the kind of vehicle a sheik is used to riding in.” She gestured to a windshield pocked with dead bugs and clouded with dust.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It belongs to my brother Russ. He uses it to haul to rodeos.”

  He suppressed the urge to ask which brother—the one who hated him or the one who hated him more.

  She strapped on her seat belt and started the pickup. Soft country music drifted from the radio. A welcome break in the silence. Efraim only wished the soaring steel guitar could dispel the tension hanging in the air.

  Callie shifted into gear and pulled out onto the street. “The truck isn’t all I’m sorry about. I’m so sorry for your loss, Efraim.”

  He stared out the windshield, watching the town roll away and the open country stretch ahead. “Thank you. I’ll convey your sympathies to Fahad’s brother, as well.”

  “Thank you. And there’s more.”

  He wished he could say something, head her off before she started discussing things he hadn’t yet come to terms with, asking questions he wasn’t quite ready to tackle. He didn’t know if his English was deficient or the day had been too harrowing and exhausting. Whatever the reason, he simply couldn’t find the words.

  “I’m sorry for what the FBI put you through and for the sheriff’s questions, but most of all, I’m sorry for my family. I was hoping they would show you more American hospitality.”

  He brushed away her apology with a wave of his hand, although it felt good to hear her say it. “It does not matter.”

  “I’m afraid it might.”

  “How is that?”

  “The COIN compact is very important for the future of Nadar.”

  Just what he was hoping to avoid. He held up a hand, not wanting her to continue on that path. He didn’t want to talk about this with Callie. Not until he knew where he wanted to go. Not until he’d laid out his options, at least in his own mind. “About the COIN compact. I have some thinking to do.”

  “I was afraid you were leaning in that direction.”

  “What direction? Thinking?”

  “I recognize your tone. You’re considering pulling out of COIN.”

  He couldn’t deny it. He only wished he could talk to Darek before getting embroiled in this conversation. “I’m not prepared to talk about my intentions at this time.”

  “You don’t have to be so formal. I promise this is not an official meeting.”

  He gave her a glance. “Trying to lower my defenses?”

  “If that’s what it takes to get you to hear what I have to say, then yes.”

  He could think of many things she could do to lower his defenses. Not that he’d be listening to her arguments about COIN if she chose any of the actions on his list.

  He pushed those particular thoughts out of his mind. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  Keeping her gaze glued to the ribbon of road ahead, she set her chin. “I know these past few days have been hard on you, and that today was the worst. I can’t blame you for feeling negatively toward my country after what has happened here and the way people and the authorities have treated you. But these past few days are not indicative of what my country is and how an agreement like COIN can help stabilize Nadar’s economy and political situation.”

  “What do you want, Callie? You want me to promise Nadar will be part of COIN?”

  Wind whistled through Callie’s lowered window. Highway hummed under the tires. Outside the pickup, vegetation changed from the low sage of the plains to Russian olive, aspen and even a few pine and fir. Finally Callie answered. “I want you to trust me.”

  “It’s your country and countrymen I don’t trust.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “And you have a prepared response?”

  She shook her head. “Not one that will work.”

  “You know I had serious reservations about the COIN agreement from the beginning.”

  Callie let out a sigh. “I’d hoped your trip to Wyoming would make some of those reservations go away. I’d hoped it would improve your opinion of America.”

  Now he didn’t know what to say. Callie was proud of her country and she loved it passionately. He could understand that. He even admired it. But no matter what he thought about her love for the United States, he couldn’t say that he shared it.

  Finally she broke the silence. “But it hasn’t, has it? Impr
oved your opinion?”

  “It’s been a hard day.” As hard as any he’d lived through.

  She pulled her gaze from the road and focused for a second on him. “Do you think you can trust me?”

  He felt her question as a pang behind his breastbone. “I want to.”

  “Then know I won’t let my country do to you what it did to your father.”

  “It’s not that simple. As good as you are at your job, you don’t singlehandedly control your government.”

  “No, but I can promise if I see anything wrong or hear of anything that might be detrimental to your people, I will tell you. No matter what it means for my job.”

  He wanted to believe she’d choose him over her job, over her country, over her family, over everything. He wanted a lot of things where Callie was concerned. Things that were impossible to ask, impossible to believe. Things that were out of the control of either of them.

  He peered out the side window and stared at the blur of a split rail fence whipping past. Nadar was a small island and filled with people. Any drive along the cliffs or walks on the beaches and one saw houses and villages and people wherever one looked. In Wyoming it seemed they could drive for miles or ride for hours and see no one at all.

  “You’re not convinced.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say that she wouldn’t feel she had to refute.

  “Then I’ll make a deal with you. Just between us, you and me.”

  He looked back to her. “A deal?”

  Her eyes shifted to him and then back to the road. She swallowed, the gentle movement of her throat visible in the dashboard lights. “I doubt you’re planning to just up and leave Wyoming. Not until Amir is found and not until you see Fahad’s murderer brought to justice.”

  He wasn’t sure her version of justice was identical to his, but he nodded just the same.

  “Then there’s no reason for you to make a decision on the future of COIN until then. Until it’s time to go back to Nadar.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then here’s my proposal. If you stick with me on COIN, I’ll do everything I can to help you find out who killed Fahad.”

  “I can’t make a deal like that.”

  She pulled one hand from the wheel and held it up to stop him. “I’m not asking you to agree to any kind of terms. Just listen to the proposals, participate in the negotiations with the other leaders. In the end, if you don’t believe COIN will benefit your people, you’re welcome to walk away. I just want you to stay for the summit and give the compact a fair hearing.”

  “If the summit ever takes place.”

  She set her chin. “It will.”

  If it was up to her, he was sure that would be true. Problem was, only so much was up to her. “You just want me to stay?”

  She pulled her focus from the road, just for a second, the briefest glance, but a shiver blew over his skin, cold and then hot. “Yes, Efraim. More than I can say.”

  THE MAIN LODGE of the Wind River Ranch and Resort soared out of the landscape, a palace of stone and rough-hewn logs that sought to match the grandeur of the mountains themselves. While Callie maintained that it didn’t quite measure up in that ambition, she couldn’t help feeling a little in awe over the beauty and opulence of the place.

  This was a guest ranch fit for royalty, yet it held a rugged charm that was pure American West. But as much as she loved this place, as she accompanied Efraim into the soaring great room, she couldn’t fully appreciate its beauty.

  Even though Efraim had agreed to the deal she’d offered, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mired in doubt. Doubt about COIN, doubt that the authorities would find Amir, doubt that the American justice system would deliver for Fahad, and most hurtful of all, doubt in her. And try as she might, she couldn’t think of a way to prove to him that he could trust her.

  On the entire drive back, she’d hemmed and hawed about what Fahad had said to her before he died. Just thinking about it made her unspeakably sad. She hadn’t told Efraim. She didn’t know what she would say.

  Your cousin hated me? He thought I was trying to manipulate you? He thought you shouldn’t trust me?

  In the end, she hadn’t said anything. Until she could figure out some way to prove herself to Efraim, it seemed as if admitting Fahad’s dying words would be akin to telling Efraim to never trust her again.

  “Efraim. Ms. McGuire. In here.” Stefan Lutece motioned them into a small conference room. A gleaming wood table stretched the length of the room, flanked by comfortable leather chairs. The setting for the COIN summit, if it ever took place.

  They joined Stefan, and Sebastian and Antoine Cavanaugh in the room. Antoine closed the door behind them. When she’d called from the Seven M, Callie had explained everything that had happened to Stefan. Judging from Sebastian’s and Antoine’s grim expressions, he’d passed information on to them as she’d requested.

  “The sheriff’s just arrived.”

  Callie nodded. Jake had left as soon as she’d arrived to rescue Efraim from the FBI. She’d guessed the sheriff had been heading to the Wind River Ranch. “He’ll want to look through Fahad’s belongings.”

  “Yes, Jane is with him,” Stefan said, referring to Jane Cameron, a crime scene investigator. Jane and Stefan had been through a hell of their own recently. Callie was glad to see them still spending every spare moment together, obviously deeply in love.

  Stefan continued. “I think we have to assume this was an attack on you, Efraim. That whoever shot Fahad was aiming to take out your security.”

  Sebastian pulled out a chair as if to sit, but remained standing. “The car bomb might have only hurt Amir, but it was meant for all of us. That’s what the text said.”

  Callie glanced at the nods coming from around the room. She knew about the text message Jane had found on another investigator’s phone. Bomb failed. Intended for all the coalition. Move to plan B. She glanced at Prince Stefan. “Has Jane or the authorities discovered who sent the text?”

  Stefan shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “I can guess what plan B is,” Sebastian continued. “After Amir disappeared, there were attempts to kill Stefan. Now Efraim. If they can’t get us all with one bomb, they are going to try to take us out one at a time. The question is, who is they?”

  “Not a simple question,” Sebastian’s twin brother Antoine said. He looked at Stefan. “It could be Russian organized crime.”

  Stefan nodded. He’d had a close call with a sniper, a man wearing a tattoo known as the type of art preferred by the Russian mob.

  Callie added her nod to his. “The Russian mob is known to be active in the area surrounding your island nations. There have even been rumors that they have had dealings with the king of Saruk in the past, although those can’t be substantiated. Yet to date, they hadn’t been able to gain a strong foothold in any of COIN or in Saruk. Not that they aren’t still trying. Maybe this is their latest attempt.”

  Efraim shook his head. “There’s one problem with that theory.”

  “What is that?” Antoine asked.

  “The man who shot Fahad wasn’t Russian.”

  Callie frowned. He hadn’t mentioned that. Of course, they hadn’t had much of a chance to talk since her family “helped” Efraim at gunpoint, the sheriff grilled him and the FBI took him away. “How do you know?”

  “He spoke to me.”

  “He spoke?” Callie repeated. Efraim hadn’t told her that, and she had to wonder why.

  “He spoke with an American accent. His accent was familiar.” He glanced at Callie out of the corner of his eye. “He sounded like he might be from the area.”

  His words clanged through Callie’s head like a hard blow. A local? How could that be possible? “No.”

  Efraim bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

  So he thought the shooter was one of her neighbors? One of her friends? Her family? She shook her head. She couldn’t accept that. There must be another explana
tion. “So an American could be working for the Russian mob. Or it could be a mobster who’s an American citizen.”

  Efraim nodded. The lines bracketing his eyes softened a little, as if he was as relieved to have found a possible explanation as she was.

  “There was a group protesting our presence in front of the courthouse,” Stefan said in a low voice. “Americans who believe we are here to learn how to enrich uranium for bombs.”

  Callie waved her hands, trying to erase any horrible images Stefan’s words might conjure. “I saw them. They’re just a bunch of people whose fear has been stoked by cable TV. They’re not violent. Just afraid.”

  Antoine shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Although he and Sebastian were twins, they had always struck Callie as very different men. Sebastian seemed like a bold and strong leader, always quick to protect anyone in need. Antoine was much darker, and she suspected his years in Barajas’s intelligence, particularly his expertise in interrogation, was what gave him that unsettling edge.

  She met his eyes. “You don’t agree?”

  “In my experience, some of the most violent people are those who are afraid. Like dogs that bite.”

  She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to think about any of it. But she knew she had to. “I will look into the protesters.”

  Efraim and Sebastian opened their mouths at the same time as if readying their own protests.

  She held up a hand to stop them. “You don’t need to protect me. Either of you. Think about it. You’re the people they’re afraid of. I’m a local girl. I can handle it better than any of the four of you can. You best focus on finding out more about the Russian mob.”

  “We can call Darek,” Efraim said. “See what problems he’s had with the Russians.”

  Callie’s stomach tensed. The last she’d heard, there was tension between Darek and the royals whose countries were part of COIN. Apparently that had changed. “Darek?” She looked up at Efraim.

  He glanced away and began studying one of the Western paintings stretching across the boardroom’s richly paneled walls.

  “He called when he heard about Amir’s disappearance,” Stefan explained. “He has reopened the lines of communication.”