He put a hand on her shoulder. The fact that he knew the owner here, at the hotel they had only just left, was not a consideration. The hotel he was sending her to had housed royalty. It was secure on a whole other level.
“It’s secure,” he said as he pulled a pen and a business card from his pocket.
“I trust you,” she said simply.
“I imagine you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “I’m not here because of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” But something about her voice sounded off.
“Yet, you’re here in this hotel. My friend Ian’s hotel. The one I was doing security for.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Again, there was that change in tone, as if she was telling him something that wasn’t quite true.
“Don’t you?” he asked, trying to tone down any sarcasm. “That all seems oddly coincidental.”
Her lips tightened and she wouldn’t look at him.
Everything about her was the same and yet so different. The child was the most glaring change. Having a child wasn’t something she’d wanted, at least not when they were dating. He knew that because when they were together she had told him often enough how she was determined to make her career in management and one day open her own bed-and-breakfast. She’d been focused and had even said she’d have a family only when she was established. With no husband and with a child, and her longed-for career obviously in jeopardy, could this be about money? He’d never have believed that of Sara, that she’d looked him up so that he could support her in the lifestyle to which she wanted to get accustomed. It had happened before with other women, women he hadn’t cared much about. It was always about the money, not about him—except maybe for the good time he showed them. But Sara, she was different.
“What are you thinking?” she said and that tone was in her voice, the one where she expected he was going to toe the line. But there was no line, no relationship. He looked at her, at her determined stance, and saw the stubbornness he remembered. Still, she’d changed. She had a baby.
She glared up at him. “You think I’m here because...”
“Because what, Sara?” he asked darkly. “You need help. You have a kid now. You need help and I—”
“You always could be a jerk,” she muttered, cutting him off.
“Name calling, Sara?”
She looked at him with regret. “I’m sorry. That was beneath me.”
He skated over her apology. It didn’t matter. She could say what she wanted but he couldn’t see any other reason for her being here. And the last thing they needed was to fight in a situation like this. It was unwarranted and it would upset the boy. “You’ll be safer in the new hotel,” he said, as if that ended the discussion. “Let’s get moving.”
Instead, she was silent, as if considering something, and then she looked up at him. “Tell me the truth, Talib. Did something happen back there in the hotel that you’re not telling me? Besides the obvious—the explosion. I mean with Everett. It seems like you’re not telling me something.”
She was so bang on that he wanted to turn away from her. He wasn’t sure what to say. So he took the safe path and said nothing.
“It’s about Everett, isn’t it? Where was he when you found him at the hotel? Did someone try to take him? Is that what you’re not telling me?”
The tone in her voice, the words—all of it seemed to bring the heavy weight of responsibility. He wasn’t sure why he would be feeling that for her, any more than he would for any other client. But she wasn’t his client and there was the boy.
“No,” he lied. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He didn’t know what the truth was. What he did know was that he could hear the edge of panic in her voice and she needed to be calm for her and for her son. Knowing wouldn’t make a difference to her safety. He had taken care of that by arranging for the move. “I just want to make sure you’re safe after everything that happened here. And the hotel you’re going to has one of the best security systems in the city. Don’t worry,” he said, feeling rather low for lying to her the way he was. But in a way he felt justified for he knew she had yet to tell him why she was here and he wasn’t completely convinced that money wasn’t the problem.
“The security in this new hotel that you mentioned, it just frightens me that you think I need it. There’s something you’re not telling me, Talib.” She looked at him. “But I’ll let it go for now.”
“I think that might be said for both of us. Here’s my direct number.” He handed her the business card he’d pulled out earlier—on it, he’d written the private number that few people, other than his family, had access to. “I’m available night or day at that number.”
“Thank you, Talib,” she said and despite the formality in her voice there was also something oddly intimate in her tone.
He hesitated. It wasn’t a lover’s caress that he remembered, or the stern, I’m-pissed-with-you tone. It was something else, something regretful, yet stronger than that. He’d consider it all later. For now, he had more important things to think about.
A car pulled up to the corner with one of his staffers driving. “Assad will take you there. The cost of the hotel is handled.”
“Talib, no,” she protested again.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
He opened the door and she slipped in, opening her arms for him to place her son in them. He couldn’t turn away from the haunted look in her eyes and at the picture of the sleeping toddler in her arms. It was serene, so peaceful. This wasn’t the Sara he remembered. This was so much more. He had to yank his thoughts back.
“Don’t leave the hotel, Sara. Promise me,” he said. “In fact, once you’re in your suite, stay there. Order something to eat.” He handed her another business card. “If you need anything else, use this number. He’s a good friend and manages the hotel. Otherwise your money isn’t good there...”
“Talib, no.”
But her voice was quiet, resigned, as if she knew what he would say, where this was going.
“I’ll be there later,” he promised. This time his expression was serious as he handed her one more business card. “If you have any concerns at all and you can’t reach me. Call my brother, Emir.” He wanted to ask her so much more. Personal questions crowded with ones that might somehow affect this case. For now, he’d follow one of Nassar’s cardinal rules—secure the innocent, regardless of whether or not they were potential witnesses.
* * *
“WE CAN’T FIGHT an Al-Nassar. As long as he didn’t know, that was one thing. We could blindside him through Sara. Playing her was easy. But the Al-Nassars have resources. I don’t know if they’ve ever lost a case.” This wasn’t turning out as Tad Rossi—who disliked his given name, Tadbir, and was never called anything but Tad—had planned. He knew he should have given this plan more thought, but when she’d run, he’d panicked. That wasn’t what he’d intended.
“Speed will be our secret weapon.”
“Secret weapon. You’re talking stupid and—”
“Don’t you ever call me that, ever!” The last word ended in a shout. “We clean house once and run,” his partner said calmly as if he hadn’t just lost his temper. “We’ll be in and out before anyone is any wiser.”
“What do you mean by that?” Tad gripped the phone. He was beginning to have qualms about contacting this man in the first place and definitely about calling him now. But he’d never expected Sara would run to Marrakech. And when she had, he’d become desperate. He couldn’t lose her. He’d reached out to one of the few contacts he had left in that country and he’d known almost the minute he’d done it that it had been a mistake. He’d known him since public school. They’d been friends, as only two mismatched souls could be, and they had bonded together. He’d
known Habib’s disdain for the Al-Nassar family even then. He’s also known that his childhood friend’s life hadn’t amounted to much except petty crime. Despite all that, they’d remained friends of sorts, oddballs thrown together by life. That was until he’d left Morocco. Then, he’d lost touch.
His old friend was someone who had every quality he required—ill feelings against the Al-Nassars and someone with no scruples. He hadn’t anticipated that the grudge that motivated his accomplice was as large and far-reaching as it was. Unfortunately, now it was clear that the man would stop at nothing now that the window of opportunity had been opened. His ideas were outrageous and he couldn’t believe what he was now suggesting.
“I know where he works and where he plays for the next few days. He’s going to be tied to her and if he’s not, he’ll be at his friend’s hotel. It’s fairly easy, at least it is at the moment.”
“Easy?” This had been a mistake and he was too far away to change any of it. “You have no idea what crap the Al-Nassars can pull, or the strings they’ve yanked. I wouldn’t want to face one of them.”
“Face? That’s never going to happen.” He chuckled. “That’s the sweet spot. Talib Al-Nassar will never know who we are or who brought him down. He’ll be done and never know what hit him. Besides, you screwed up, idiot. You’re not even in the country. You’ve got no control over what happens.”
He was right about that. Tad rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. He’d lost control and he needed to get it back. He needed to stop this thing, because what he was hearing was leading dangerously close to a place he didn’t want to go—murder.
“The key to success is a clean sweep.”
He knew what that meant. The only part of this plan that they both agreed on was the end, which left Sara as she had always been—a destitute single mother and of no interest to anyone, despite her model looks. That was exactly what she deserved. The only problem was that in his plan no one died. What was being proposed was nothing he would agree to. He needed to stop this before things got out of hand.
“It might only be about the money for you, but it’s about much more for me.” His accomplice continued, as if justifying his dark intent.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Too bad. But I see the biggest threat to my happiness on a morgue slab in the near future.” Silence slipped darkly between them. “When that happens, money or not, I’ll call it over.”
He was insane. But Tad had known that before he’d contacted him. No, he corrected himself, he knew that he’d always been a little crazy. He hadn’t expected this full-scale madness. He had to reel him in before his blood thirst destroyed everything. He’d acted on emotion, on panic, and reached out to the wrong man.
“This is over,” he said. “I can’t be part of this.” He remembered how it had started, when he’d first seen Sara and been wowed by her looks. He’d only been into her for what he might get, then he’d thought it would be about sex but she’d disappointed there, refusing any of his overtures. It had been luck that had caused him to stumble on something even better than sex—money. When he’d realized who her son’s father was he’d known he’d hit a gravy train he hadn’t expected. That kind of luck was once in a lifetime.
“Too late. Dress rehearsal is over. We’ve taken the boy—”
“No!” Kidnapping wasn’t in the cards—at least not what one would call a traditional kidnapping. A threat here or there, maybe. But murder hadn’t been, either, and now he was suggesting both.
“You’ve lost control, my friend. It’s my game now.” He ended the call before Tad could say another word.
This was his fault, his stupidity. He’d bought time with a madman. He’d been desperate and desperate men did desperate things. He was living proof of that. But threatening to kill an Al-Nassar was insanity. Their reach and scope was not something a common man could go up against. He knew that, he’d always known that, just as he’d always known that it was Sara who was the key to everything.
And now it was Sara who was close to ruining his life, his plan—his everything. She was the path to getting what he wanted. He had to shut down his accomplice and he had to do it now. Except all he had was the twenty in his pocket. It wasn’t enough for a bus across the country, never mind a plane across the Atlantic.
He was screwed unless he moved to Plan B. The thought of that cheered him, gave him hope.
If Sara wanted to play hardball, she’d be sorry. Soon she was going to learn who she was dealing with.
Chapter Five
Talib watched until the car was out of sight and Sara and the boy were out of the area—out of danger. He stood rocking on the balls of his feet, then spat the remains of his mint gum into the trash. He glanced at the No Parking sign above the trash can that was so faded, it was almost illegible. He thought of the boy. There was something familiar about him. In a way, it was like looking in a mirror. But that was ridiculous. Sara would never do that to him. She obviously liked Moroccan men and she’d made a mistake, but it hadn’t been with him.
He reached into his pocket as if a pack of cigarettes was there. Stress always seemed to bring with it the need for tobacco. If nothing else, the gum took the edge off the craving and replaced a much worse habit that he’d kicked only six months ago. He’d started smoking three years ago despite his otherwise health-conscious lifestyle. It had been different then. He’d needed something, as the cliché went—a crutch. His mind flashed back to when Sara left. At the time, it seemed as though smoking was the only way to get through the pain he refused to admit he was feeling. Still refused to admit.
A senior police officer who he’d known for years came out of the north entrance, spotted him and came over. He gave the officer what information he knew.
Now, he waited as Ian crossed the street.
“How the hell could this have happened?” Ian asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Anything new?” The frown lines carving his tanned face reflected his unspoken worry, that the explosion could have a catastrophic effect on a new opening.
“No,” Talib said. “I haven’t had a chance to do more than a cursory investigation and the police are still inside.”
He had gone through the possibilities and checked the site before the authorities had arrived. “It all adds up to a fairly professional job, and yet, oddly amateur. I know those two images clash, but that’s how it appears to have gone down. It seemed to be more a diversion than anything else.”
He thought of the boy, Sara’s child, that he’d snatched from the hands of a woman who claimed she was returning him. All that seemed a little much unless there was money involved. The Sara he knew had no money, but despite his assumptions, that all could have changed in the intervening years since they’d been a couple. He didn’t know anything about her since their breakup. He’d been back to the States as part of his career with the family business on numerous occasions, and never had he looked her up. Mainly, he’d tried not to think about her. The end of their relationship hadn’t been easy. It had been a blow to his pride, or at least that’s what he told himself. The truth hurt a little too much.
He wasn’t sure what to add to what he’d just said for he didn’t know how the child and the maid fit in. “Of course, that’s just off the top. I haven’t had a chance to take a close look at the aftermath.” The truth was that his thoughts couldn’t focus.
Sara.
He couldn’t believe she was here and he had no idea why she was. The last time he’d seen her had been in Wyoming. She’d been finishing up her last year of school and paying for it by working as a manager at the hotel where he was staying. Her appearance now was a mystery, one for which he didn’t have an answer, and in the order of priorities, it would have to vie with the aftermath of the explosion and the investigation that would follow. He knew that the police would follow up with various hote
l guests, but he’d pull a few strings to get her out of the fray. He’d do that because, no matter what had happened to the two of them, he still wanted to protect her. That meant making sure that neither she nor her son was any more involved than they needed to be.
“They seem to be petty thieves after money and jewelry. There was quite a bit of that taken,” Ian said, breaking into his thoughts. “Three wallets and a purse are missing, but a jewelry bag in one of the suitcases holding some rather expensive jewelry was left. Odd, when it seems like a pickpocket was at work in the lobby, they miss a stash there for the taking.”
One of the police officers spotted them and came over. “You were here at the outset?” he asked Talib.
“I was. I’ve given my report,” Talib said. “Have you found anything else?”
“We’ve gotten all the physical evidence we can. Looks like the explosion was a diversionary ploy to commit a bit of petty theft.”
“None of the rooms were disturbed. In fact, there’s no evidence that the perpetrators went any farther than the main floor,” he said, addressing Ian. “We’ll be continuing with the investigation but we should be able to let you clean up the area later this afternoon.”
“Seems a little excessive for petty theft,” Talib said. He didn’t like the direction this investigation was taking. It seemed slightly off-track.
“We’ve seen it before,” the officer said, but his tone was almost defensive. He didn’t give them a chance to reply but instead moved toward where the hotel guests gathered.
He was wrong, Talib thought. The explosion as a diversion for petty theft seemed too simple. In fact, it was too simple. It was why law enforcement in Marrakech had recently gotten a bad name. Too many crimes had been stuffed under the rug. But the police had their own problems with ongoing complaints of conspiracy and corruption. That aside, there was more at work here and the police officer either didn’t know, or wasn’t admitting to.
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