by Ronie Kendig
Is that what Brutus thought too? That she was responsible for the murders? Is that why he’d given her the phone and tracked her through the marketplace? She pulled the secure phone from her backpack. Running her thumb over the spine, she ached at the thought that she had been judged so quickly, especially by Brutus.
No, there was something about him … something different in his eyes … something more positive than condemnation or accusation.
Belief. He believed in her.
It was a crazy thought. Khalid believed in her, too, yet it was different. But how? Either you did or you didn’t. Right?
Or maybe it was acceptance. No, that couldn’t be it. Khalid knew her darkest secrets and still he had proposed. Foolish guy!
So what was it with Brutus that seemed to tear down her carefully constructed barriers?
Who cared! She tossed the phone back into her bag. Returning to the balcony, she wrapped her arms around her waist and rested her forearms on the ledge. A thick, salty breeze tousled her hair, and the fine strands tickled her almost-bare arms. The scent of the sea begged her to immerse herself in its blue-green waters. When would she be able to dive again?
With a heavy sigh, she looked at the sky. Something in the twinkling black blanket above reminded her of the night Brutus had bequeathed her the rupees and a thousand-pound box of questions. If she ever saw him again, she’d make sure to drag some answers out of him.
Maybe she could ask him if he knew anything about Baseer Khan—like did he have connections to the men who tried to kill her?
9
SO, WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?” TOBY SHUT THE DOOR TO HIS FLAT.
Reece shed the jacket and hung it over the back of a living room chair. “At least you had the good sense not to talk in front of the driver.”
“Hey, I’m an embassy official, not a moron.” Toby sauntered into the kitchen where he ripped off his tie and yanked open the fridge. “How ’bout a Coke? A real one—it's even cold.”
“I’ll pass.” Reece lowered himself onto the brown leather sofa and rested his elbows on his knees. “Abdul's involved in whatever's going on.”
Toby popped the top to a glass-bottled soda and took a long draught. “Well, I could’ve figured that out.”
“Yeah, after I brought the guy down.”
Laughing, Toby kicked off his shoes and untucked his shirt. He looked like a slob as he plopped into his recliner. A tuxedo cat leapt to the back of the chair and arched into Toby's neck with a long meow. He scratched the black and white fur as the feline purred. “So, what was your clue? What tipped you off ?”
Reece slumped against the sofa, the leather letting out a mournful hiss. “Several days ago, I attempted to divert attention from the female student.” Reece prayed Toby didn’t mention Shiloh's name. A strong possibility existed that his flat had been bugged. “She had tails and a close encounter of the ugly kind, so I set a trap.”
“Smart.”
“After what I saw on the street, I knew I had to get some heat off her.”
“Which takes heat off you.” Toby swirled the dark liquid in the bottle. “So, how does any of this connect to Abdul?”
“I called Noor posing as a doctor from St. George, told them I had a female student who, unfortunately, didn’t look like she was going to make it.”
“Ahh.” Toby set his drink down and lowered the cat to his lap. “So, when our good friend, the minister, mentioned the hospital—”
“Like I said when we went in there, I just had to get him talking. I knew he’d slip up. He might look smart, but there's a reason Chiranjivi won the election.”
“Yeah, and good thing you never mentioned that. I hear the two still aren’t talking.”
Reece processed the tidbit. It had been a heated race. Abdul tried to play on Muslim sympathies, but India had long battled to preserve their Hindu legacy. “Abdul's divulgence helped me know where to concentrate my efforts. If we didn’t look interested in the attack, they’d know that we have the girl in our court.”
“We do?” Toby's eyebrows hitched.
A shrug. “It's only a matter of time.”
“So you know where she is?”
His friend seemed a bit too interested. Reece couldn’t believe she still had the cell phone. He’d expected her to toss it after the last incident. She’d been really ticked. But he wasn’t going to force her to his side. Eventually, she’d have no choice. He only prayed she’d wise up before someone else got hurt. Surely, she would. After all, she’d tried to turn the tables on him. Spunky.
“You do realize it's against the moral codes to spy on her like that.”
Reece scowled. “What?”
“That smile on your face didn’t look like it came from allowed practice.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Toby nudged Mitty off his lap. “I might not be a spy with all the smoke and mirrors, but I know when a guy has a thing for a girl.”
“The ‘thing’ I have for this young woman is protecting her and getting her out of the country safely.”
“What about the guy who was shot?”
Quirking an eyebrow, Reece rubbed his hands together. “They’re together, with his father.”
“You don’t sound happy.” Wood floors creaked as Toby moved to the mail drop.
“It's hard to be happy when an asset is in the hands of a suspected terrorist.” Reece pushed off the couch and made his way to the kitchen where he lifted a glass from the cabinet and poured water into it.
Toby returned with a stack of letters. “Haven’t checked my mail in several days. It’ll take the whole weekend to go through these.” He tossed them onto the counter. “So you think the son is a terrorist?”
“Father. Reportedly connected to some Pakistani radicals. My theory is Sajjadi.”
Toby's eyes widened. “Osman Sajjadi? Aren’t you swinging that bat a bit high?”
“You trace the paths. The Pakistanis are notorious for covering their tracks, but more than once I’ve seen the road lead to Sajjadi. Then al Nabiri, his right-hand man, was gunned down at the Mumbai Mansion.”
Grabbing a pen and paper, Toby came around the counter. “I need the father's name and location.”
Unwilling to hand over the information just yet, Reece dumped the water down his throat and set the glass on the Formica. “Give me two days to cement this—at least.”
Challenge crossed Toby's expression. Lips taut, eyes slightly narrowed, he stared at Reece. “Our relations with the Indian government have improved since the NPT, but we still walk a fine line. Unless you have absolute proof about Sajjadi, or you can bring me your data about this girl, I can’t entertain your theories. I need names.”
The safety and life of an American college student depended on his withholding that information. Toby knew better than to ask for details. With or without the non-proliferation treaty, relations were tenuous. Of course, if Toby had the data Reece had gathered, there might be quite a bit more tension. But Reece wasn’t ready for things to heat up.
Toby eyed him for a minute and then banged a fist on the counter. “You know something.” He grunted. “I can’t believe nobody informed us about this,” he muttered, apparently realizing Reece wouldn’t give an inch. “I expected a little more respect from you.”
“This has nothing to do with our relationship. You know that.” Obviously the guy had a few things to learn about cooperative intelligence and the fact that it wasn’t always quite so … cooperative.
Rapping on the front door drew them both around. Toby huffed and stalked to the foyer.
Check the peephole. Reece shifted backward, edging to a point so that once the door opened, he’d still be concealed in case an unfriendly burst through. He tugged his weapon free and held it, ready.
Toby peeked into the tiny hole, and gasped. “What the devil!” He jerked open the door. “What’re you doing here?”
“That's the welcome I get after three weeks?”
At the soun
d of the woman's voice, Reece relaxed, sliding his weapon back into the holster on his belt.
Toby hugged her and nudged the door closed at the same time. “I didn’t … I …”
They released, and she stepped into the living area, her eyes alighting on Reece. “Well, isn’t this a surprise?” Long gauzy material clung to her lanky form as she sashayed across the room. Her dark brown hair hung in lazy ringlets past her shoulders, adding to her gypsy look. “So, little brother, what’re you doing here with a lowly embassy servant?” She tiptoed and planted a kiss on Reece's cheek.
“Keeping the guy out of trouble.” Amazing how Julia's presence eased his tension, yet cranked it up at the same time. Though she was three years older, he’d always felt the need to protect her—from herself. “How was Mozambique?”
She glared at him. “Bloody.”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. It was your choice to join the Peace Corpse.”
“It's corps, little pimple.” Despite the venom in her words, he saw the grin urging her lips apart.
“Same difference.”
Ignoring him, she whirled on Toby. “Let me guess, you haven’t checked your mail since last Saturday?”
The poor guy blanched, his eyes darting to the pile of envelopes.
“You were supposed to pick me up at the train station an hour ago.”
Although Reece loved seeing Toby squirm under Julia's snarkiness, he should get going before Toby remembered their discussion prior to the wild one's entrance. “I’ll leave so you two can decide if you still have a ‘thing’ for each other.”
Too late. Revenge lurked in Toby's eyes. “Does Julia know about her?”
Reece clamped his jaw tight.
As she spun toward Reece, Julia's dark brows shot upward, her mouth gaping. “There's a her?” Hope flickered through her expression. “After all this time, some woman has fanned the wet kindling of love in my little brother's heart?”
Fists clenched, Reece speared the putz with his fiercest glare. “No,” he said through ground teeth, driving his attention back to his petite sister. “There are things I can’t discuss, and you should know better than to believe Toby would have the scoop on anything in my life.”
“Gee, hum.” Toby rubbed his jaw. “That's why you sat on my sofa grinning like a banshee, lost during our conversation about this woman.”
“Banshees don’t grin, they scream.” Julia studied Toby for a minute, then turned her olive face back to Reece.
“I’m out of here.” He grabbed his suit jacket and stuffed his arms into the sleeves before looking back at his sister. “You in the city for a while?”
Her bracelets jangled as she crossed her arms over her chest. “A few days.”
Shrugging to smooth the kinked fabric of his shirt, he nodded. “I’ll call you.” As he stepped into the stairwell, he felt a light touch on his sleeve but kept moving.
“Reece?” Julia followed him down the single flight to the front steps. “Who is she?”
Despite the soft lilt in her voice, he grew frustrated. “She's a case, okay?” Sunlight bathed him, chasing the chill he felt in To b y 's flat.
“Please talk to me.”
Halfway down the concrete steps, he paused and pivoted to her. “Look, Toby doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”
“Is she that special that my speck of a boyfriend can get you angry?”
Scratching the back of his head, Reece groaned. “Good-bye, Julia. We’ll do dinner.”
Her laughter trailed him into the thick crowds. Soon the din of the busy city teased the tension creeping into his shoulders. Regardless of the gnat of an embassy official and his gypsy sister, he knew how things stood. Shiloh Blake was nothing more than an asset of the United States, his assignment. A really beautiful one.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Sand caked her sandaled feet, warm and comforting as she sat on the beach with Khalid. Shiloh bent and brushed the tiny grains off her legs. “You’re delirious with fever.” He’d never been this forthright during their friendship. Would they ever get back to San Diego and finish their studies? She squinted at the glimmering water. What about the Pacific Rim Challenge? It all seemed lost.
Baseer's aggressive behavior last night stirred a concoction of dread and depression in her gut. He might be her father-in-law. The man came from a totally different culture where women were little more than a means to an end. She’d always known that, but something in his eyes last night twisted the noose tighter.
“What happened last night?”
“What?” His question startled her.
Khalid reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I heard my father talking to you. What did he say? You’ve been so quiet.”
Leaning against her legs, Shiloh drew circles in the sand with her finger. How could she tell him what his father had accused her of? Would Khalid believe her?
“Why do you do this? I want to marry you. Will you ever be honest with me?”
She snapped up her head. “When have I ever lied to you?”
As he bent forward, his hair fell into his dark eyes. “You speak in half-truths, giving only what you think I want to hear. Afraid to anger or upset me.”
Heat fanned her neck and cheeks. “You just underwent hours of surgery. Of course, I’m going to do what I can to protect you.”
Outrage flared in his eyes. “It is I who should be protecting you!”
Shiloh gathered the tattered edges of her nerves and pulled them in tightly. “I’m not going to argue or fight with you. Not in your condition. Not here.” She pushed to her feet and brushed off her backside and legs. “I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like?”
“Stop coddling me, Shiloh. I’m a grown man.” The frustration and defeat on his face convicted her. He dragged himself upright, a sheen of sweat bathing his forehead. “In my world, respect is everything. Respect and love.” His eyes searched hers.
“Respect is earned—and you have that completely, Khalid. You know that. How could you ever doubt that?” Love. He wanted her to say she loved him, as well as respected him. Shiloh clenched her hands tightly at her sides to control the tremors. A rift opened between them.
“You can’t even say it.” His downcast expression chipped away at her courage.
But still she couldn’t say what he wanted to hear. She took a shuddering breath. “I’ll get you an orange soda.” Self-hatred followed her up the steps to the parking lot, digging into her like the tiny grains of sand between her toes.
Across the street, she spotted a shop. A rickshaw squeaked past, tailed closely by several ultra-compact cars. Waiting at the curb, she glanced back at Khalid. Would the chasm ever close?
She doubted it. Her aversion to his faith hadn’t fazed him. He had promised to help her through her anger issues, which only made her angry. But her stubbornness and independence would destroy their relationship.
A man walked with several women toward a shop. Something flagged her attention—his shirt! It bore the same symbol as the coin Dr. Kuntz had given her. Shiloh raced after them, dodging pedestrians to get to them.
“Excuse me!” She held up her hand and stretched on her tiptoes.
The man looked back but didn’t see her and kept going.
She pushed through the sea of bodies, and finally, she reached out and touched his shoulder. “Excuse me,” she apologized and shifted into her broken Marathi. “Your shirt. I’ve seen that symbol before. Could you tell me what it means?”
The man's chest puffed, but the way he shot a nervous look around the busy square and to his friends told her he didn’t want attention drawn to it. “Allah's Sword of Justice. We are a peaceful organization.”
Shiloh nodded. She’d never heard of them. She thanked him and stepped away. A flash of white-blonde hair caught her eye. Edie? She rushed forward, straight into the path of another rickshaw. With a yelp, she lurched back, her heart ramming against her chest.
; Where did she—there! Long blonde hair, short frame, walking east. “Edie!” The chaos of the street muffled her cry. Shiloh checked both ways for traffic, and then launched herself after her friend. Weaving through the swarms of Hindu people moving en masse toward the beach, Shiloh continued to call Edie. Maybe it wasn’t Edie. After all, why would she be farther east, when the airport and quickest passage out would be north?
However, if Edie was still here, she was in danger. “Edie Valliant!” Shiloh shouted when her friend neared a shop.
The woman paused, glanced Shiloh's way, and then disappeared into the building.
How could she miss me? “Edie, wait!”
Two men emerged from the building. Kodiyeri.
Shiloh skidded to a halt, nearly losing her balance. Her pulse catapulted. What was he doing here? She ducked and spun, her feet quickly carrying her back toward the beach. She risked a glance back.
Kodiyeri's black eyes bored into her. He lunged after her. So did several uniformed men. Sirens sprang to life. Two police cars pulled from the side of the road and raced after her.
Dear God, help me! Shiloh sprinted down the street as realization flashed like lightning through her mind—she couldn’t lead them to Khalid. She needed to lead them away from him. Maybe fate was separating their paths.
Shiloh weaved her way through the crowd, thumbing through them like a catalog—past a woman, a man, a teen. An elderly man grunted as she nudged him aside.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Where are you going, Shiloh? Panting, she banked right at the next intersection. Heavy footfalls thudded behind her.
“Stop! I’ll shoot.”
His words propelled her forward. She tore around a car, zipped across the street, and hurdled over a dog. Glass shattered. She pushed herself. Harder.
After rounding the next corner, she looked back to check on her pursuers—and barreled into a solid mass. Hands grabbed her … restrained her.
“Let go!” She writhed and kicked out against the man in the white tunic.
“Shiloh.”
The deep bass voice rattled her. She gazed up into dark eyes.
“Baseer,” she breathed. Old alarms blared inside. With a yank she tried to pry herself from his grip and glanced over her shoulder. “Let me go.” Would he hold her for them? Was that it?