The next morning, he stopped to check on them before heading out for the day. It was time to get some answers. Already the police would have finished their interrogation and he wanted to hear what they’d learned.
Twenty minutes later he was in police headquarters. He strode past the counter and through a door made to stop anyone not in uniform. But he wasn’t just anyone. His family name opened doors—combined with his reputation, he knew, with no degree of false pride, that no one in this building would stop him.
He reached his destination on the second floor and entered a large, rather sparse office.
“Talib.” Diwan Zidan was a large man with a rich chocolate complexion who stood a quarter of an inch taller than Talib’s six foot three. Now he rose and held out his hand, leaning across his desk and smiling an undeniable welcome. “It’s been a long time.”
Diwan was a detective Talib had worked with often. Despite the problems in the police force, he was among a select few that Talib trusted completely. Over the years they’d shared tips, one helping the other to close cases. It was an informal relationship, a friendship that had begun with their fathers and moved to the sons. Unfortunately, both their fathers had died too early. Both in what were originally labeled traffic accidents. Diwan’s father’s death had been an accident. His parents’ accident, and resulting deaths, had unfortunately not been. That had been a long time ago. But it had changed the family’s world.
“It’s been a while.”
“Thank the stars for that. Every time I see you it’s bad news,” Diwan said with a smile, before looking down at his computer. He then scrolled through what was on the screen. “I assume you’re here because of what happened at the Desert Sands Hotel.”
“You’ve had your ear to the ground,” Talib said with a chuckle.
“My job,” he said shortly. “You were attacked twice by the same man.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe that one.”
“I’m pretty banged up,” Talib said in his own defense.
“I’ve seen you look better.” He pulled out a file.
“The maid wasn’t able to give us any information. She was exactly as you thought, an opportunist who had a change of heart.” He gestured to a chair on the other side of his desk. “Have a seat.”
He opened the file and pulled out a picture, turning it around so Talib could see. It was a picture of a thirtysomething man with a sullen expression.
“The guy who attacked you.” He looked up. “Twice.”
Talib bit back a scathing remark birthed out of his own embarrassment.
“Just a small-time crook. We’ve got him in a holding cell. He’s refusing to talk.” He sat down before continuing. “We brought him in and had him interrogated by one of our female investigators. Sometimes that’s more effective than men.” He shook his head. “Not in this case, though. He was still pretty tight-lipped but he did give us the name of the man who contracted him. Here’s where it gets interesting. The man who contracted him knows you, Talib. Not just knows of you, but there’s a family connection.” He opened another file and pulled out an old newspaper article. “Back in the day, before most things were online, his family made headlines.”
Talib looked and saw a face that rang a bell, but didn’t bring anything immediately to mind. But he knew who Diwan was going to say. Coming here today was only adding to what he already knew.
“He went to the same primary school as you, same class. Wealthy family. Scandal involving gambling on borrowed funds and some suspicious stock market trades.” He looked up. “But you know this?”
“Some of it,” Talib admitted.
“The family left Morocco over fifteen years ago.”
“And fast-forward to today,” Talib said impatiently. He was trying to move the story along.
But Diwan had a love of telling a story and when he had a handle on a good one, he wasn’t about to be hurried.
“Not quite, my impatient friend. So you remember him, Habib Kattanni?”
Talib nodded. “The question is how did he hook up with Sara Elliott’s ex-boyfriend?”
“Tad went to public school with him. When Sara came here I’m betting he panicked. He needed help fast. Who better then Habib, a small-time crook he was once friends with who is living in Marrakech to help regain control of Sara? Especially with the ante upped—I mean your family’s wealth and all.”
“Son of a...” Talib’s curse broke off as his fists clenched.
“There’s no known address on Habib. Wherever he’s living, he’s keeping low. We’ll get a report filed on him and hopefully he’ll be picked up.”
They looked at each other and neither said what they were thinking, but it was clear that they both had the same thoughts. That he was more violent and unpredictable now as his resources ran out.
“Watch your back, Talib,” Diwan said. “I’d send some extra men your way, but with the recent attacks on the outskirts of the city and a flu bug running through the ranks, I’m low on men. Anyway, Habib has made a relatively successful life of crime. He’s the one you need to watch, Talib. The others were disposable.”
Talib shook his head. Everything he’d heard was typical of so many career criminals.
They shook hands and four minutes later he was back in the BMW heading for home and Sara.
* * *
HABIB KATTANNI NEVER thought that Al-Nassar would get away. He should have guessed that he would. The family lived on luck. It didn’t matter what tragedy they had to deal with. They came out smelling sweet. They always had.
He hated them and he hated Talib the most. But none of that mattered. What mattered was getting the money. He’d been an idiot. He’d tried for revenge and he’d failed. Talib had gotten away. He wasn’t sure how, but he had. If he was here he’d kill him with his bare hands.
He gritted his teeth. That was impossible, he knew that. Without an advantage, Talib could take him down in an instant and had on that horrible day in primary school when they’d both been ten years old. It had been one of the most humiliating experiences of his life. The worst had happened the next day, when his father had publicly declared his bankruptcy. He’d been removed from the school where other children of wealth and privilege went. Al-Nassar had given him a bloody lip when he was a boy and he’d set his life for failure ever since.
Now he had a chance to put his life back together and get the final revenge. This time when he took the boy, he’d make sure that no one ever saw the little brat again. This time it wasn’t Talib Al-Nassar he vowed would die, but his son.
He’d hired out with his last attempt at the Desert Sands and two of his hires had been caught. The other had blown the simple job he’d been hired for and hadn’t been heard from since. But Habib wasn’t in the business of being screwed around. He’d had to step in himself, it was the only way to get the job done.
The only thing that had been accomplished at the hotel was to frighten the woman. She wouldn’t be staying there a moment longer. It was the only logical move, to get her out of there and take her and the boy to the safest place possible. There was only one place safer than a hotel that housed royalty and that was the Al-Nassar estate or compound, as they’d always called it. He’d hated the term. He’d hated everything about them.
They thought it was so safe, so impenetrable. And it was. Not just anyone could breach the well-protected grounds. But he wasn’t just anyone.
He had an in that they wouldn’t expect. He had friends in all kinds of places and it was about time he looked up the one he had at the Office National de l’Electricité. He was sure something could be arranged to let him slip by the security, it didn’t have to be a long power outage, just one at the right time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Al-Nassar family compound
Friday
“I’ve bad news,
Sara. You were right in assuming that Tad had connected with someone here,” Talib said. “You might want to sit.”
She looked reluctant but sat on the edge of the sofa just off the dining area. She laced her fingers together, her hands on her lap. “Tell me.”
“The little worm he’s hooked up with went to primary school with me. It was only for a few years. I wouldn’t remember him except there was a scandal and his parents pulled him out.” The memory of that for a moment diverted his anger. “I remember they moved. I never considered where they would have gone.”
“Go on.”
“The game has changed, Sara. We’ve found out a few things that surprise and concern me. Appears your boyfriend...” He wasn’t sure why he tagged that on, but he knew it pissed her off like nothing else he could say would. Unless, of course, he said something derogatory about the boy. But he would never do that, couldn’t... The boy was perfect in the way that only one’s child can be.
“He’s not—”
“No matter,” he said, cutting her off even though he knew he’d said it that way to anger her. It was stupid. One of the childish things one does in a relationship to provoke the other. In this situation it was uncalled for because for one, they weren’t in a relationship. “I’m sorry,” he said and he truly meant it. He had to get his emotions under control.
“I only remember him, the man Tad partnered with, because at the time, what happened to Habib’s family was so dramatic that the adults talked about it in front of us.”
“What happened?”
“Bankruptcy,” he said, the word stark and as bare as its meaning.
“You remember things like that,” she agreed softly with a troubled look on her face.
“His family lost everything in the stock market crash. His father unwisely invested everything, diversified too little, probably trying to recoup prior losses. Instead they went from wealth to selling their properties in order to survive. They emigrated to England. After that, I heard nothing...” He made a note of another line of investigation that needed to be followed. “Apparently he’s back and has been for a while. He also leans toward petty theft and a lot of unsavory acquaintances, but other than a couple of brushes with the law he’s a free man.”
“So what’s changed?” Sara asked, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Since Tad contacted him he’s hooked up with some other unsavory types. He was responsible for ramping up the kidnapping threats. The others are in custody.” He covered her hand with his. He didn’t mention the one hood still at large. He wasn’t a threat, as he wasn’t directly after Sara, but instead more of a threat to society as a whole. He’d leave that one to the police. “You’re safe here. I wouldn’t worry. We have decoys out to make him think you’re leaving Morocco. With any luck we’ll be able to catch him before he realizes that the decoys are just that.”
“How do we end this?” Sara asked.
“There is no we,” Talib said. “We have to put our son first. That means you staying here so I can protect him, and you.”
He could see the anger flare in her gray eyes, and in the way she frowned at him.
“What do you think—”
“You’ve been doing the last two years...is that what you’re going to say?” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve done a fine job of protecting him. Now it’s my turn.”
“But—”
“There’s no choice, Sara,” he interrupted. “If we want to keep Everett safe, no choice at all.”
She looked at him and something softened in her look as they both realized that for the first time, he’d called his son by name.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Sara.”
His tone was soft and yet strong and unhesitating. It carried a world of strength, the strength she’d run so far to come to. The strength she now feared. He could protect and destroy everything that she had. He was the devil and her savior, and he held her destiny in his strong, sun-bronzed hands. It was terrifying, it was...
It was as if he knew what she thought. And she wasn’t sure how it happened, how she ended up in his arms. All she knew was that she didn’t want to be there and couldn’t move away.
As she looked into the passion sparkling in his eyes, she was drawn like she’d been so long ago. She ran a finger along his jawbone, wanting him, needing him as she always had. This time when he bent to kiss her, there was something different. Maybe it was the life they’d lived in the interim, or the boy they’d created. But the kiss was more intense, more passionate than anything she’d remembered before.
She tentatively reached up, her fingers threading through the curls that framed his face. It was an odd combination, that sun-bronzed, masculine face and the curls that seemed so soft in comparison.
Everett.
She pulled away at just the thought of her son. This was all too much, too inappropriate. It didn’t matter that the boy was in another room or that he couldn’t hear them or that he was asleep. None of it mattered.
She pushed him back and turned away from him, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her breath coming fast and her heart pounding.
“Sara,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.” His hand was on her shoulder as if that might make her turn around and face what she couldn’t admit even to herself. It wasn’t just about Everett anymore. She loved Talib and yet a relationship between them would never happen. She knew that. He’d thrown her to the curb once, she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
His hand was gentle but firm on her shoulder and she turned with the slight pressure. She saw the regret in his eyes and it was her undoing.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Something inside her died at those words. Somehow, despite everything or maybe because of everything, she had hoped. That had been ridiculous. That hope had been a child’s dream not that of a grown woman, especially that of a woman fighting to save her child. It was no longer about her. It hadn’t been for a long time. Yet, for a moment back in Talib’s arms, she had hoped.
“No worries,” she said briskly as if the issue at hand was nothing more major than a broken dish.
She walked away from him and stopped at the window, where she could feel the solitude of the compound as it lay edged in darkness.
She’d only been here a short time, yet she hadn’t gotten used to the silence.
“Sara,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned slowly, reluctantly, as if facing him would reveal what she really felt, the feelings that she didn’t even want to admit to herself.
“You’re not making this easy,” he said.
“What...” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He’d been so clear three years ago. It was only now that she’d muddied the waters coming here, bringing Everett, that he seemed to have more on his mind.
“You do things to me. You always have.”
She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want him to dredge up feelings she’d never fully buried. “Don’t say it.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do. You don’t want me. You want...”
“Sex?” He shook his head. “Is that what you think? It’s not...”
She came over to him, drawn as she always was, as much as she tried to resist. She traced his cheek with her forefinger. “It’s what I want.” The words were soft and a surprise to both of them but especially her.
“Sara.”
The blouse slipped off easily. He watched her. And knowing that, even without looking up, meeting his eyes, he made her hot, made her want it more. The shoulder strap of her camisole slipped down as her thumb casually looped under it. She shut down the evil little voice in the back of her mind that told her to remember what had happened, despite protecti
on, the last time. And with everything and all she’d been through, she wanted this—one last time.
“Sara.” There was a thickness to his voice, a gravelly edge that wasn’t normally there.
She moved closer.
“For old times’ sake,” she said and wondered where those words came from, whose voice that was. But heat ran through her and she only wanted him and she wanted him now.
He stood there as if she was no more interesting than any of the other pieces of furniture in this expansive room. She took another step and her breasts lightly touched his chest. The other strap dropped and the camisole slipped, revealing a lacy pink bra.
“Sara,” he said again, as if her name was the only English word he knew, and he sounded slightly choked.
“Kiss me,” she said softly as she reached up, taking his face in her hands, bringing him down to her as their lips met, soft, tentative. Everything inside her, the logic she refused to listen to, was screaming at her that this was insanity.
This time she didn’t wait, she pulled him, unresisting, to her. She deepened the kiss, tasting him, feeling him hard against her before his arms tightened around her. This was what she wanted, what she knew they both wanted.
This was wrong, not the way it should be.
“No,” she murmured, her hands moving to his shoulders, pushing him back.
He looked at her with troubled eyes.
She wanted him and yet she didn’t. She wanted him for a short time and was terrified that her heart would make that a long time. She couldn’t stand the heartache of losing him again. And she was fooling no one, herself least of all. She loved him and there was no going back.
She kissed him, hot and openmouthed, her body tight against his.
“I want you.”
“You’re sure?”
She didn’t say anything, instead her hands slipped under his shirt and felt the silken skin and the sleek lines. His body was as hard and toned as she remembered. “I couldn’t be more sure,” she whispered.
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