“I don’t know, but I have a guess.” He held a matchbook scissored between index and middle finger.
Callie recognized the logo of the Tumbledown Tavern. “He went to a bar? There’s a bar here at the lodge.”
“He didn’t necessarily go to get a drink.” He flipped open the flap and handed the matches to her.
When she saw the name and number, Efraim’s line of thought became clear. “A woman. He went to meet a woman.”
“And maybe a local man wasn’t happy about it.”
Deciding that neither of them could sleep despite the late hour and that Efraim preferred to not sit around in his suite waiting for the sheriff’s questions, the two of them made their way back out to the pickup and were soon back on the road to town. At least during the tourist season, the bar should still be hopping until closing time.
The town of Dumont boasted a population of less than seven thousand, not including the surrounding ranches, like the Seven M. But this time of year, tourists flooded into town like water gushing out of the mountains during spring thaw. Located at the foot of the Wind River Mountains, travelers came for hiking, camping, fishing, climbing and mountaineering. Some traveled on to Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone. But some ended up at guest ranches, luxury accommodations like the Wind River Ranch and Resort and more modest operations like the half-dozen others in the area.
And when nighttime fell, vacationers and locals alike enjoyed the summer nightlife in Dumont.
The parking lot of the Tumbledown Tavern was packed with everything from motorcycles to cars to pickups dirtier than Russ’s. They wound through the lot, finally finding a vacant space in the gravel lot in the back. They circled the building on foot. The smell of fried food, thunk of drums and whine of a guitar floated on cool night air. A sign out front heralded a country-and-rock band called The Unforgiven that had traveled from Cody to put on tonight’s show.
A burly local wearing a cowboy hat and boots stood outside the door. He crossed his arms and scrutinized the driver’s licenses of a group of girls wearing ribbons braided into their hair.
Efraim’s steps slowed. He stopped before they reached the lighted area around the entrance. “See his shirt?”
She focused on the cotton T-shirt stretched across his chest. It looked homemade, a white shirt with iron-on letters. But slick or not, the message was clear.
ROYALS GO HOME
An ache settled in Callie’s stomach. She looked past the bouncer and into the bar. Three more men just inside the door sported similar shirts, some more derogatory than the message worn by the bouncer.
“This is just…surreal.” A weight settled into Callie’s stomach, making her queasiness grow. “Some of these people…I don’t understand it. They’re the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. Generous, you know? They’d do anything to help a neighbor.”
“But not to help a foreigner.”
She shook her head. Before seeing this scene, before witnessing her own father’s and brothers’ behavior, she would have disagreed with Efraim’s statement. These were good people. They’d always been generous in the past. And tolerant, even of those different from themselves. But now?
What was happening to her country? Her town? Her family? Was everyone so driven by hate that they couldn’t see what they were becoming? “They’re better than this.”
Efraim nodded. “I’ve seen it in my countrymen, too. Neighbor turning against neighbor.”
It’s what they’d talked about in the boardroom, what she’d heard in Fahad’s voice and seen in Kateb’s eyes, and once again, she had to agree. It was rude, cruel and maybe much worse. Fear made people do desperate things, she knew. It made them cross lines they never otherwise would even consider crossing. “You’d better let me nose around this crowd on my own.”
For a second, he looked as if he was about to argue, then he squinted into the bar. “You’re right. I have a phone call to make anyway.”
She opened her mouth, then clamped down on the inside of her bottom lip. It wasn’t any of her business who he was planning to call. “Okay. Here.” She held out the set of truck keys dangling from a fob sporting the Wyoming-cowboy-on-a-bucking-bronc logo.
He took the key chain, turned and strode back across the parking lot. She hesitated, then ran to catch up.
“What is it?”
He looked good in the crisp white button-down shirt and black trousers. Too good. He’d stand out, even just sitting in the truck making a phone call. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it before they’d approached the bar, but at least she’d thought of it now. “I have an idea.”
She waited while he opened the truck door. Then she leaned in. Stretching over the seat, she groped in a box, her fingers touching stiff felt.
She pulled out Russ’s new Stetson and handed it to Efraim. “Try it on.”
He fitted the cowboy hat on his head. The beige-silver color of the hat looked striking against his nearly black hair.
She shook her head. “And here I was hoping it would make you stand out less.”
He gave her a smile that made her bones feel soft.
She wanted him to kiss her again, to forget all about murder and fear and oil leases. She wanted to head back to the luxurious bed in his suite and stay there forever, wrapped in his arms.
She looked down at the gravel under her boots. “Okay, then, I’ll just be a few minutes. If I find Tanya, I’ll let you know.” She forced her feet to turn and carry her away from the pickup.
She retraced her steps across the parking lot, gravel crunching under her boots. She didn’t know what it was about that man, but just being near him made her feel as light-headed as if she’d downed a whole six-pack on her own. She needed to keep her head clear, not full of fantasies about a man who could never accept both of her worlds. A man who one of those worlds would never accept.
She stepped through the door and into a haze of smoke. The dance floor was packed with people, some dancing, some standing and watching the band, beers in their fists.
Callie checked her watch. Almost bar time. She didn’t have a lot of time to find a woman named Tanya in a crowd like this.
She scanned the room. If the man who shot Fahad was one of those cowboys wearing the homemade T-shirts, she doubted he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it. In the current atmosphere, he was certain to be hailed a hero. And as the cowboys raised their beers in a toast, she had to wonder what they were drinking to.
Maybe once she tracked down this Tanya, she could find someone to fill her in on the latest gossip.
“Cal. I was wondering where you hurried off to.”
She turned toward the familiar voice and met eyes as blue as her own. “Brent.” Her gaze only had to lower a little to read the iron-on letters on the shirt stretched across her big brother’s chest.
Chapter Nine
Callie thought she’d been upset by the ugly spectacle of the mob protest before. Now, looking up at her oldest brother, she felt more than a little sick. “How can you be a part of something like this, Brent? What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here with him?” Brent asked.
She let out an exasperated breath. He must have seen her with Efraim before they returned to the truck. “I work for the Office of Foreign Affairs.”
“You can’t tell me that’s business.”
“No, it’s also about finding a murderer.”
“Murderer? Suddenly protecting your own is murder?” He glared at her out of the corner of his eye and took a swig of beer. “That sheik, he and his friends are no good, Callie. You have to see that.”
“I see a brother I’d hoped was better than this.” She shot a look at the T-shirt.
“Give me a break. This was a peaceful town until they got here. No explosions. No murders. Your royal friends have turned Dumont into a war zone. We just want our town back, our peaceful way of life.”
“I’d love to believe that you want peace, but if that�
�s really the case, threatening and violence isn’t a way to get there.”
“Who’s threatening? Who’s committing violence?”
“Whoever set off that car bomb. Whoever shot Fahad Bahir.”
“What makes you think it was someone from Dumont?”
She would like to believe it wasn’t. She was desperate to believe that. But she couldn’t close her eyes and avoid what was right in front of her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there’s enough hate in the air around here to choke a horse.”
“If your royal pals don’t like that, they should go home. They’re in our country. They don’t belong here.”
“And it’s exactly that type of attitude that might lead someone to start shooting.”
“Are you accusing me of murder, little sis?”
Was she? She had to admit that of all her brothers, Brent was the one who was bitter. Brent was the one struggling to control his anger. Brent’s life had changed in the Middle East and it would never be the same again. But with all of Brent’s challenges, she still couldn’t accept the thought of him shooting Fahad in cold blood and attacking Efraim. Maybe she was just closing her eyes to reality, but she couldn’t believe her brother was a murderer. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because if I’d wanted these foreigners dead, not only would this Fahad be in the morgue, your friend in the truck would be with him.”
She’d always been able to handle Brent when they were growing up. She knew her brother was having trouble adjusting to the unexpected turn his life had taken. She knew he’d seen horrible things in Afghanistan, and those things had changed him. But she couldn’t stand here and listen to him talk of killing Efraim.
She pushed past him.
“Cal.”
She kept going, wading farther into the crowd. She needed to get away from Brent before she belted him. Before she lost all hope that the decent streak he used to possess had been killed right along with his military career.
A hand closed around her biceps. “Callie, stop.”
She wrenched her arm free from her brother’s grip and tried to keep pushing through the crowd.
“Where are you going?” He grabbed her again, this time his grip too strong to break. “Callie?”
She turned and looked up at her big brother. She’d always looked up to him, ever since she could remember. But after his threat, she had trouble doing so now. “I have things to take care of.”
“What things?”
She shook her head.
“Listen, I went too far back there.”
“Really? You think a death threat is too far?” All her life she’d been a peacemaker. God knew, she’d gained most of that experience making peace between Brent and Joe when they were growing up. But this day had been too long, too traumatic and too filled with hate and violence. She’d reached her limit. “The men at the Wind River Ranch and Resort are not our enemies.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re seeing things straight.”
“I know you’re not. What do you want, Brent? What does this crowd want? A lynching? Do they want to kill the outsider? Fear what they don’t understand? Destroy it? You’re better than that. We Americans, we’re all better than that.”
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, Callie.”
“No, I haven’t. But you haven’t seen what I’ve seen either. We can move beyond all this hate and fear. We can work together.”
“My sister the dreamer.” He gave her an apologetic quirk of the lips.
She wasn’t sure she still had the capacity to accept the apology. She turned away from him, ready to head into the crowd.
“Callie, wait.”
She paused. Brent was infuriating and bitter and impossible, but he was still her brother. “What?”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for a woman named Tanya.”
“Tanya? Tanya what?”
“I don’t know her last name.” She pulled the matchbook out of her jeans pocket and gave it to him.
He squinted at the writing in the dim light. “That would be Tanya Driscoll. Why are you looking for her?”
“You know her?”
“Not really. But Russ does.”
“Russ? How?”
“About two weeks ago, she gave him one of these.” He handed the matchbook back to her.
“And he called her?”
“You know Russ.”
She did. Out of all her good-looking brothers, Russ had the most luck with women. It had been that way since grade school. And he enjoyed it for all it was worth. “Two weeks ago? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. We were here for my birthday. Russ, Joe and me.”
“How many times did he go out with her?”
“I don’t know. Three, four times maybe. Why? What’s so interesting about this Tanya?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” And she didn’t like where her thoughts were leading. Three or four dates with the same woman was a lot for her little brother. “Did Russ really like her?”
“He sure talks about her enough.” Brent shrugged. “She’s hot.”
Apparently hot enough for both Russ and Fahad to want to spend time with her. And that worried Callie. Brent was a bitter, angry man besides being a natural hothead. Russ took after his oldest brother in every way, even hoping to follow in his military career footsteps until Brent’s injury had changed everyone’s plans. Now he had almost graduated from college and was adrift, with no future in mind except ranching and chasing women and, like Brent, always spoiling for a fight.
Could Russ…
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. She’d come into the Tumbledown Tavern to find Tanya, and that’s what she needed to do, not let her imagination run amok before she had a single fact.
“How about a peace offering? What can I get you, Cal?” Brent asked, motioning to the bartender by raising his empty glass.
“Nothing, thanks.” She scanned the crowd, then looked up at her brother. “On second thought, you can point out Tanya Driscoll.”
“Love to. Only she’s not here tonight.”
Callie let out a breath. Maybe it was just as well. It was late. She was bone-tired, the adrenaline of all they’d weathered today was finally wearing off. Maybe it was best to just drop Efraim off at the Wind River Ranch and Resort and go to bed.
For a second the image of the luxurious bed in Efraim’s room skipped into her mind. She pushed it away, trying not to think about how horrified her brother would be if he had the slightest idea what she’d just been picturing. “I’ll see you at home, then.”
“Wait, Callie. I said she’s not here, but I know where you can probably find her.”
AS SOON AS Callie’s cute little blue-jeaned butt had swayed across the parking lot, Efraim pulled out his cell phone. It would be morning in Saruk. He hoped Darek wouldn’t be attending a state function of some kind and unable to talk.
He pulled up Darek’s private cell number and hit Dial. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to stick around and give COIN a chance. It was Callie. Between her smile and his hormones, she could probably talk him into anything. He had to be careful where she was concerned.
Exactly why he needed another perspective.
“Efraim.” Darek’s voice sounded clear, as if he was sitting right there in the pickup. “Have you found Amir?”
“No. No sign of him yet.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you. But Amir is not the reason I called.” Darek had a clear head about political matters and had always been a good sounding board for Efraim. “Can you talk?”
“I have to leave in a few minutes. Until then, my time is yours.”
“You remember my cousin, Fahad Bahir?”
“He is in charge of security?”
Was. Efraim swallowed, his throat aching. “He was killed. Shot.” He didn’t go
into the rest. Whether he was the target or Fahad, it didn’t matter. It would all be the same to Darek.
Darek’s heavy sigh shuddered over the phone. “Get out of there, Efraim.”
Exactly the reaction Efraim expected. “I can’t.”
“You can. We can come up with an agreement over the oil leases on our own. We don’t need the Americans.”
It wasn’t that easy and Darek knew it. “And if we cut the Americans out, who will the oil go through?”
“My father has contacts in Russia. We keep the oil here. In our hemisphere. You of all people should know we can’t trust the Americans.”
He did know. It was only when he was around Callie that he wanted to forget. “The Americans’ offer is more favorable to us. Stefan Lutece, Sebastian and Antoine, Amir, that’s why we are here. That’s why you should be here, too.”
“My father won’t have anything to do with the Americans. If your father still had the heart to understand what was going on, he wouldn’t either.”
Efraim knew he was right. After the disastrous treaty his father signed years ago, he’d distanced himself from negotiations of any kind. All but the ceremonial aspects of leading Nadar were Efraim’s responsibility now. A responsibility that most of the time felt like a yoke around his neck.
“Fahad called me.”
Darek’s words jolted through his body like an electric shock. “When?”
“Yesterday. He was concerned about you.”
“Concerned?” He thought of the argument they’d had before Efraim had Kateb trailer a horse out to the badlands for him. Before Fahad had followed him and gotten shot. “Why was he concerned?”
“He wanted me to talk some sense into you.”
Efraim gritted his teeth. “It was about searching for Amir, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“A woman. A blonde who works for the United States government. Fahad was concerned about her.”
The second surprise Darek had dealt him in the last minute. “Callie McGuire?”
Seized by the Sheik Page 9