Seized by the Sheik

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “No.” Her voice wavered.

  His throat went dry. This couldn’t be happening. Not with Callie. And yet he could feel her pulling away. Just as she’d pulled away physically. She was withdrawing, circling the wagons and leaving him on the outside of that circle. “I trusted you. I chose to believe you over Kateb, my own blood.”

  “And you can still trust me, Efraim. You have to.”

  He held on to her words. He wanted to trust her. “Then I will ask again. Did one of your brothers shoot Fahad?”

  “I don’t know.” She gulped air and pushed on. “But whatever happened, it’s not like we thought.”

  “Was it Brent?”

  “Fahad said something before he died.”

  Efraim leaned forward. “Fahad?”

  “He wished both my family and yours be destroyed.”

  He shook his head. She’d told him Fahad had said ugly things about her. But she’d left out this. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “I thought he was delirious and didn’t know what he was saying. But it was like he was cursing us.”

  He still didn’t get it. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because it’s happening. Don’t you see it? If we don’t take this slow, learn what really happened, why it happened…”

  “Why it happened? Fahad is dead. Murdered.”

  “That’s not right. He wouldn’t do that. There must be more we don’t know.”

  His mind latched on to the thing she’d said when she’d first walked in the door, when he was more focused on his thoughts of her and worries over her emotional state than on what she was saying. Before he’d wanted to face it. “Was it Russ? Did your brother Russ kill Fahad?”

  Her throat moved, as if she was choking back tears.

  He had his answer. “Was he working with the Russian mob?”

  “No. And I don’t know what happened. Please, Efraim. We need to learn the truth before racing into something. We need to know why.”

  “I don’t have to know why.” He grasped the keys from where Callie had laid them on the bookshelf.

  “No. Don’t. Efraim, please. I don’t know that Russ had anything to do with it.”

  “Your eyes say different.”

  “Please, don’t.”

  He strode into the hall and closed the door behind him, shutting out her pleas. Time for investigation was over. Time for waiting done. Now was a time for justice. And as painful as it was to turn his back on Callie, he knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Callie’s knees folded. Gripping one of the leather chairs, she lowered herself to the floor. The suite smeared in front of her, a wash of color. Salty tears rolled down her cheeks and wet her lips.

  So Fahad had been right after all. Her family, Efraim’s, all of them would be destroyed.

  No.

  She needed to call the ranch, warn Russ. But if she did, she knew her family would greet Efraim with guns blazing. Brent might be the expert marksman, but that didn’t mean Russ and Timmy couldn’t hold their own. And they had a regular arsenal of hunting rifles in the house with which to get the job done.

  The sheriff. She had to call the sheriff. She felt useless without her BlackBerry.

  She glanced around the room for a phone. A small, cheap-looking cell phone lay in a jumble of receipts next to Efraim’s laptop computer. She picked it up, praying it wasn’t the one he’d carried into the creek.

  She turned it on and scanned the display. A text sent message flashed on the screen.

  She shook her head. The time readout indicated the text was sent several days ago. Yet she never remembered Efraim using a stripped-down phone like this one.

  She chewed her bottom lip. She knew she shouldn’t snoop, but something felt strange about this. Something wasn’t right.

  She brought up a copy of the text. As she read the words, her stomach tensed into a knot.

  AS SOON AS he crested the rise and spotted the timber gate announcing the Seven M Ranch, Efraim felt his stomach hollow out the way it had when he’d been a soldier. When it had been his job to fight.

  And, if need be, to kill.

  He scanned the sagebrush and sparse grass sloping down to the creek, growing more lush the nearer to water. He took in the white house, the fence of pine rail stacked in interconnecting vees, back and forth like an accordion, and the silver shine of wire stretching for miles across the plain. He wondered how it all looked through the eyes of a young girl growing up with big dreams, the only girl with four brothers and a mother who died.

  He focused on the asphalt road.

  He’d tried to push Callie from his mind the entire drive from the Wind River Ranch and Resort. He still couldn’t believe she’d tried to keep the truth from him. The look on her face when he’d guessed the blame rested with her brother Russ cut into his chest like a physical wound. But he really couldn’t blame her. She was looking out for her brother, her blood. The same thing he had to do now.

  The only thing a man or a woman could do.

  Under other circumstances, if they’d had more time to build a bond together, things might be different. Maybe she could have become his family and he hers. But with Fahad’s death at her brother’s hand, that die had been cast. And there was no going back.

  The dream he’d nurtured of the two of them transcending these forces of nature was just that—a dream.

  He turned the truck into the drive. Its frame rattled over the cattle guard and tires popped and crackled over gravel. The house looked still, no life, no movement. He drove past it and headed for the barn.

  Callie had said her father was stringing fence. Even with as little ranch experience as Efraim had, he knew that job took more than one. Yet Callie had talked to Russ here at the ranch. He could only hope Russ hadn’t ventured out onto the land to help. He didn’t want to wait, risk the fire in his blood cooling to where he could no longer do what needed to be done.

  He had to bring this to an end. Win justice for Fahad. Set things right.

  He pulled the truck up to the barn and switched off the engine. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he climbed out, paused and listened to his surroundings.

  There was no barking of a dog this time. The border collie either knew the sound of Russ’s truck so well that he didn’t pay attention, or he was out with Callie’s father in the pasture. A dozen horses milled around the corral adjoining the barn. Callie’s palomino mare raised her head and nickered, then lowered it to resume searching for sparse blades of dried grass. A mare with a foal by her side milled in an adjoining enclosure. The soft twang of country music wafted from a radio inside the barn. Somewhere a door rumbled open on old runners.

  He moved away from the sound, to the small human-only entrance on one end of the structure. The knob turned under his hand, but the door didn’t move, the corner stuck. He gave the door what he hoped was a quiet shove and it swung open.

  The door opened into a utility area filled with equipment one might use on a ranch. Next to it was a tack room that smelled of leather saddles and horse sweat. Next, a feed room sweet with hay and oats.

  He turned into the barn aisle. The music came from a radio strung high up on the wall. This part of the barn smelled strongly of pine shavings and alfalfa hay. A wheelbarrow stood in the aisle piled high with bales. No horses inhabited the stalls, and Efraim assumed they were the ones outside in the corral.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Efraim peered past swirling dust motes. Callie’s brother Russ stood at the end of the aisle, a push broom clutched in his hands. Like the rest of Callie’s brothers, he was a good-looking kid. Although he might be the most classically handsome of them all. Efraim imagined he thought nothing of Tanya passing her phone number along. It probably happened to him all the time. Efraim tried to go further, tried to picture the kid agreeing to go along with Tanya and her friends’ plan, but that image didn’t come.

  What would make a kid like this sell ou
t his country? What would make him sell out his sister? A sister who would give up everything to protect him in turn?

  “I said, why are you here?” Russ’s voice wobbled a bit. He jutted out his chin in a gesture so familiar to Efraim by now that it made his chest ache. “Callie already left.”

  “I didn’t come for Callie.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “I want answers.”

  “Answers to what?”

  “I want to know who killed Fahad Bahir.”

  “Callie sent you?” He craned his neck, as if trying to see past Efraim, even though there wasn’t much beyond him but a wall, the doors to the areas he’d walked through off to the side. “Where is she?”

  Efraim kept his focus on Russ. “What did you tell Callie this afternoon?”

  “I didn’t tell her anything.” Russ stopped as if realizing that was too close to a confession. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “You shot my cousin Fahad. You murdered him.”

  “What?”

  “You murdered him.”

  “I sure as hell did not.” The chin tilted up again. So defiant. So brave. So like his sister. “Now get out of here or I’m going to call the sheriff.”

  “Go ahead and call him. Then you can confess.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  A sound came from behind him.

  Efraim tensed but didn’t dare take his eyes off Russ. Instead he searched the doorway to the side of him with his peripheral vision but couldn’t make out any movement.

  Russ craned his neck again. “Dad?”

  For a moment, Efraim braced himself, half expecting Callie’s father and brothers to barge in, rifles pointed at his back. He risked a glance.

  No one was there.

  He swung his focus back to Russ. “You told Callie you shot Fahad.”

  “I did not. Is that what she said?”

  “She said you knew something and she wanted to learn more.”

  “That’s not the same as saying I did it. I didn’t. I swear.” He glanced down at Efraim’s waist.

  The gun. He’d brought it to threaten the boy, to get answers. He didn’t want to think beyond that. But he could tell by the sheen of fear in Russ’s eyes that the kid thought he’d come to use it. To put a bullet in him. To take his revenge.

  Hadn’t he?

  Efraim pushed the question to the back of his mind. “Tell me the truth. Tell me the truth and I’ll let the sheriff deal with you.”

  “That is the truth. I didn’t shoot him. I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  Another possibility popped into Efraim’s mind. “Did you attack me out on the Bureau of Land Management land?”

  He shook his head. “The first time I laid eyes on you was when we were riding up and caught you with Callie. I swear.”

  Frustration wound like a ball just under Efraim’s rib cage, making it as hard to breathe as the cracked rib. He wanted to throttle the kid. Beat him in the head until he admitted killing Fahad. The problem was, Efraim sensed Russ was telling the truth. That he hadn’t shot Fahad after all. And if that was the case, Efraim didn’t know where to turn next. “So you didn’t kill Fahad. I believe you. But I also believe you know who did.”

  Russ’s eyes flared wide.

  That was it. Russ was protecting someone. That must have been why Callie wanted to ask more questions, talk to her father, find out more. Russ didn’t do it, but he knew who the murderer was. “Tell me who did it.”

  The kid’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t speak.

  “Was it your father?”

  The kid didn’t answer.

  “Are you going to tell me, or should I just go find him?”

  “No…no, it wasn’t Dad.”

  “Then who?”

  Russ shook his head. “Don’t make me tell you.” Tears trickled down the kid’s face. He might be in his early twenties, but right now he looked fifteen and scared out of his mind.

  Efraim gritted his teeth.

  “Please. He didn’t have a choice.”

  “Didn’t have a choice?” Efraim focused on those words. Anger coalesced around them, made him feel focused, solid in his purpose again. “Did Fahad have a choice when the bullet plowed into his chest? When it stole his breath? When he drowned in his own blood?”

  Russ shook his head. Tears streamed faster, glistening on his cheeks, dripping from his chin.

  “Whoever shot Fahad murdered him in cold blood. He deserves to pay.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t have a choice.”

  “Tell me who,” Efraim demanded.

  “Please, no.”

  Seeing Russ fade back, hearing the plea in his voice, made Efraim sick to his stomach. But he couldn’t walk away. He had to know the truth. “Tell me,” he repeated.

  “I can’t. I won’t.” The kid’s voice hitched with a sob. “But he didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t let her die.”

  “Couldn’t let her die?” Efraim repeated.

  He almost didn’t hear the voice come from behind him, low as a whisper. “I did it. It was me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Callie jumped out of the car before Sebastian had come to a complete stop. She hit the gravel running. When they’d first turned into the drive, she’d noted the absence of a sheriff’s department SUV. Russ’s truck sat in front of the barn, a good indication that Efraim was inside. She just prayed Russ wasn’t in there with him. Or if he was, that Efraim had paused to ask questions before acting on whatever it was he thought he knew.

  Things had gotten so much clearer since he’d left her.

  She gripped the cell phone in one fist. She had to show Efraim the text. She’d read it to Sebastian, Antoine, Stefan and Jane, who’d all been in the Wind River Ranch’s great hall. All of them had recognized it as the same text they’d found on Jane’s colleague’s phone. And all had been as shocked as she was to learn the sender was Fahad.

  Sebastian had jumped at the chance to help, racing through the winding roads as fast and sure as any native. Callie had been relieved to have him drive. She was so afraid for her family, so afraid for Efraim, she couldn’t see straight, let alone navigate the curves. Jane had promised to call the sheriff and she’d left Stefan and Antoine discussing what to do about the fact that Fahad seemed to be at the very heart of the plot against them.

  But to Callie, none of it mattered as much as stopping what she feared was about to take place. The problem was, she had no idea how she was going to do it.

  She pushed through the door. Voices hit her as soon as she stepped inside.

  “Tell me who.” Efraim’s voice.

  “Please, no.” Russ.

  Callie’s stomach lurched. Oh, God. She had to stop this. She had to…

  “Tell me,” Efraim repeated.

  “I can’t. I won’t.” Russell sobbed, the tough twenty-something ladies’ man gone. Just a kid left in his place. “But he didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t let her die.”

  Then another voice, not much louder than a whisper. “I did it. It was me.”

  Callie reached the aisle. Her knees faltered. She reached for the door frame and sagged against it. Somehow she’d known it was him. Somehow she’d suspected it. His trip out on the BLM that day. His story about the ATV. The injuries to his face and the way he’d sequestered himself in his room. She just hadn’t wanted to face the truth. She couldn’t make sense of it. She still couldn’t.

  Timmy had shot Fahad.

  EFRAIM TURNED and faced a boy he’d never met. But even though he hadn’t been introduced, he knew who the skinny teenager must be. His hand holding the tiny dagger from Efraim’s belt buckle, he stood feet spread, chin up, as if ready to fight to the death to defend his older brother. A brother who had been hiding the truth to defend him.

  Callie’s youngest brother. Tim. The one she said was so much like her.

  Efraim’s mind swirled with questions, but only one rose to his lips. “Why?”

 
“He was going to shoot my sister.”

  Efraim shook his head. He must have misunderstood. “Fahad? Shoot Callie?”

  “He was down on one knee. He had her in his sights. I couldn’t let him pull the trigger.”

  Darek’s words jangled in his memory. Fahad had told Darek Callie was a threat. Did he think she was so dangerous to his vision of Nadar that he would try to shoot her? Murder her in cold blood?

  “I’m sorry.” The kid’s wobbly voice cut through his thoughts. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I didn’t want Callie hurt. I’m so sorry.”

  Timmy opened his hand and the tiny dagger clattered to the concrete. His shoulders sagged. “I know you want to kill me. But don’t kill Russ. Please. He didn’t do anything. He wasn’t even there.”

  “Why did you attack me?”

  “I…I thought you’d hurt Callie. Just like him. I thought you were tricking her.”

  That explained why he’d followed Efraim and not Callie and Fahad. Why he’d run when Callie cried out. Why he’d let them get to the creek without attacking again.

  “Are you going to shoot me?”

  Efraim followed the kid’s gaze to the gun at his waist. He’d come to the ranch for justice. That was what he’d told himself. But he knew in his heart he’d really come to get the vengeance he’d promised Fahad.

  Vengeance he no longer wanted.

  It had been easy to want to strike out at a shooter he didn’t know. A murderer he could hate and didn’t have to understand. A faceless enemy who was different from himself.

  But this boy?

  When he’d come to America, he’d focused on the protesters’ fear and anger. That had been easy to hate. To give fear and anger of his own in return. But this boy didn’t shoot Fahad out of fear and anger and hate. He was simply protecting a sister he loved.

  A woman Efraim loved, as well.

  Callie had told him they needed to find out more. She had begged him to trust her. She was protecting her brothers. He’d accused her of that at the time. But what he hadn’t understood was she was also protecting him.

  And what had he done in return? He’d chosen fear and anger and hatred. He’d seen threats where there was just tragedy. And as a result, he’d nearly compounded it.