He’s an investigator on a mission, but it’s impossible to ignore the brilliant woman helping him complete it…

His sister’s life is at stake, and despite his wealth and power, Sheik Emir Al-Nassar feels helpless. At least heading his family’s security agency provides him with resources to track down her kidnappers. But when the ace profiler he’s sent turns out to be K. J.—Kate—Gelinsky, Emir is furious. Finding the kidnappers’ desert hideout is dangerous enough without the distraction of a beautiful woman.

But K.J. is unlike any woman he’s ever known. Her fearlessness and incisive mind inspires Emir’s admiration. And her compassion breaches his guarded heart. Still, rescuing his sister is a perilous mission. And allowing desire to cloud his focus could endanger them all.

Desert Justice

“You’re the new agent?”

Emir’s words were heavy with disbelief. “You’re the one Adam recommended?”

“Yes,” Kate said. “I’m K.J.…”

“This won’t work.”

“By this, you mean me?” She took a step forward. Now she was in his face.

“That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? I’m not a man so…” She left the remainder of the sentence hanging.

“You need to get on the first flight home,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Give me a chance.”

“It’s not me that’s the problem.”

“I know,” she interrupted. “It’s the customs, the tribes outside the city, the…”

“It won’t work.”

“Look, I know what I’m getting into. I’m qualified. I specialized in Middle Eastern studies—an exchange student. I’ll help you find your sister. You just need to trust me.”

Sheikh’s Rule

Ryshia Kennie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist in the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit www.ryshiakennie.com.

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For Rourke, who was dedicated to the art of fun.

The “Wookie Man” would have loved to

rip this book to shreds, while enjoying

every word and every moment of it.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Marrakech, Morocco

Monday, September 14, 5:54 a.m.

The first haunting notes of the call to prayer seemed troubled, almost off-key, when usually the melodious sound wove through the predawn stillness, beckoning with an easy allure not unlike the nimble fingers of the weavers in the casbah who wove the many rugs sold to the tourists. Like the rugs, the ancient chant was as much part of the rhythm of life and the fabric of Marrakech as was the still night-shrouded skyline. But today, in a mansion hidden in the depths of palatial grounds and secured by the most current technology and the best in security guards, the simple power of the timeless notes not only felt off, they were lost in the guttural roar that sounded more wounded beast than man.

Emir Al-Nassar crushed the pen in his right hand. On the desk, the smartphone lay where he had thrown it, the blue protective cover fractured, the crack running through the Blue Jays’ baseball emblem. A thin line of ink ran down his arm and dripped onto the thick Persian carpet. Like blood, he thought, and wondered how much more blood would be spilled before she was safe once again.

“I won’t lose her, too,” he muttered thickly, his voice choked. The emotion that had welled up only seconds earlier had taken everything he had. “None of us will.”

But, despite his words, the unthinkable had happened. His sister had been kidnapped.

He couldn’t fathom how frightened she might be. And at this particular moment there was nothing he could do. He was at the whim of the demands of others. But inaction was not in him, no matter what they had ordered.

His mind was already jumping through a series of options. Most importantly, what action would not increase the danger that already threatened Tara and what would ultimately bring her home where she belonged. He needed to think logically, think that it was someone else’s sister, that it was not Tara. It was the only way he could give everything to her rescue without the emotion he knew would only cloud his judgment.

He dropped the broken pen, not caring about the stain that might ruin the ancient carpet. He took a step away from the desk as the last notes of the call to prayer died away. He turned slowly, as if facing an executioner. Through the open blinds, the city lights shone a warm glow across Marrakech’s still-shadowed beauty. It was a view he never got tired of. But today he could have been anywhere in the world for he saw none of it.

A door slammed somewhere in the hallway and suddenly the room was full of unleashed testosterone as two of his brothers, Talib and Zafir, entered the room.

“Emir, what’s going on?” Talib began. “Your Jays are done and the Yankees don’t play for another hour, even with the time difference, so—”

“Shut up about bloody baseball, Talib,” Zafir interrupted as he looked at Emir and the silent awareness that had always run between the twins jumped like a living coil across the space that separated them. “No one cares about your fave team or even Emir’s for that matter. He wouldn’t call us here, at this hour of the morning, unless—” He broke off, looking to Emir for confirmation, his eyes troubled, as if expecting the worst.

“Tara’s been kidnapped,” Emir said with no emotion. His back was to them and he was still facing the window that allowed a view of the grounds his sister loved so much. He turned to face his brothers, schooling his features, reining in his thoughts. It was difficult, for he couldn’t believe how foolish his sister had been.

“Kidnapped,” Zafir repeated, a frown slicing his handsome face, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing.

“Impossible!” Talib said as his fist smacked the palm of his hand and disbelief laced through the word. “We have one of the best security teams in the country. How?”

The word reverberated for a second, then two, as Talib and Zafir processed what this meant, how the impossible had become possible.

“She was on a night out with the girls. But, at the end of the night, she left her girlfriends behind and, it appears, her security, too. Fortunately her team caught up with her. The reports say she was with her security team just outside the gates. The evidence is in the signs of a scuffle and the fact that they left one of them dead.” Emir said the words reluctantly, as if it had been his fault. “I can’t imagine how they got so close to the compound—how they got her—unless security was distracted. They were two of our best.” It wasn’t an excuse and he still couldn’t believe it had happened.

Zafir clenched his fist, his jaw tight. “She’s alive?” And while it sounded like a question, they all knew it was really a command or, more accurately, a demand that she was alive or there would be hell to pay.

“As far as I know,” Emir said, his voice devoid of emotion. He glared at Zafir for flirting with the reality he hadn’t dared consider—that Tara was hurt, or worse. “She was taken just outside the grounds.”

“She dodged her security?” Talib repeated as if not believing the possibility. “She knew the risks. She...” His voice broke and he turned away.

“When we find her, she’ll be grounded for the rest of her life,” Zafir snarled as if anger at her would somehow ensure his sister’s safety.

“She’s twenty years old,” Emir reminded him. The words came almost by rote, meaningless considering the scope of what had happened. But sometimes it was difficult to remember that his sister was officially an adult. He thought of her as his little sister in need of protection. And the fact that, physically, her petite size made her almost doll-like only accentuated those thoughts. But Tara’s personality was another story. It was as forward and brash as her physical being was delicate. Emir prayed that her larger-than-life personality and piercing intelligence that could challenge and often match him in many a game of chess would see her through.

“Her security tracked her, apparently found her immediately before the kidnapping,” Emir continued. “The kidnappers used knives. Ahmed lived...” he said, referring to one of the men assigned to Tara. He took a breath, as if that would put reason into the insanity they faced. “He’s in rough shape. It’s touch and go right now. He’s not able to give any information but when he is...”

“I’m on it.” Zafir’s jaw clenched as he said it and at the same time Talib’s open palm slammed against a vase that, at best guess, had been created over three centuries ago. The vase crashed to the floor and none of the brothers bothered to look as pieces flew across the room. Instead they stood poised like predatory animals, unmoving, contemplating the unfathomable.

Normally, Emir would have been all over Talib and his well-known temper for breaking the vase. He was the one who cared about the irreplaceable items that foretold a long and venerable heritage. But now, in a crappy and equally frightening situation, he knew Talib’s anger was more than justified.

He’d felt the helpless rage himself and, as much as he hated the emotions that had rolled through him in the minutes since he’d learned the incomprehensible truth, he couldn’t stop them. He’d been at the kidnappers’ mercy. And, without consultation with his siblings, he’d given in to their first demand in the hope of buying time and knowing what they asked was small enough to assure a second request, possibly even a third. That’s what he told himself. The truth was that he wasn’t sure what to expect or even what to do in this situation. The only thing he wanted to do was to kill the men who held his sister, if he only knew where or who they were. Kidnapping was neither his nor his brothers’ expertise.

“We’ll need guns and—”

“No,” Emir growled as he cut Talib off. He turned to Zafir. “I need you to take my phone. Not now,” he said as Zafir held out his hand. “Later. That’s how they’ll contact us.” Their voices were similar and, as identical twins, one could easily imitate the other. “When I get an idea of where they might have gone, I’m going after her—alone, at least without the two of you. All of us moving in a pack would alert the perps to what we’re doing. Therefore, we all can’t go. Someone—” he looked pointedly at Zafir “—has to be available for their demands. Let them believe we’re waiting, getting funds together—playing the game as they want.”

“There’s already been a request,” Zafir said quietly as he put a hand on Emir’s shoulder. It was not a question; as twins there were things each had always known about the other.

“It was small. There’ll be more,” Emir confirmed.

Although he was by no means a kidnapping expert, he knew the pattern with other kidnappings of strangers, people he had not known or loved—people who were not his sister. And, while they weren’t following the M.O. of an average kidnapper—sadly there was such a thing—he suspected they weren’t unique. He moved away, slipping from his twin’s abbreviated touch.

Zafir nodded. “And you’ve paid it.”

“You think that will get Tara back?” Anger was tight in Talib’s voice. He was a gifted member of their team but, of all of them, Talib had the least control over his emotions, especially now.

As always, his twin was on the same wavelength, he knew that as he saw the look of approval in Zafir’s eyes. He was the one who would most likely hold his emotions in check and who could make it look like Emir was doing exactly what the kidnappers wanted—waiting and complying.

“No. They’ll want more. But for now we look cooperative, and that’s good for Tara,” Zafir said.

“Hopefully we’ll have bought enough time to get some help,” Emir said.

Talib paced, his fists clenched and his jaw set. “We can’t do nothing,” he growled.

“Agreed.” Emir paused, considering the options. He met Zafir’s eyes. Although Zafir was younger by only minutes, there was never dissention because of birth order; they were usually in agreement. The slight tilt of Zafir’s head told him they were in agreement in this situation, as well. His gaze went to Talib—of the three of them, the one most likely to act impulsively, more likely to insist, as he already had, that they go at the kidnappers en masse with guns blazing. He didn’t blame him. They all felt the pain, the shock and the anger. For it was their baby sister they were talking about.

“For now, we act like nothing has happened,” Emir said.

“No.” Talib’s fist clenched and he brought it down on the desk, making a trio of pens jump. His eyes met Emir’s, passion blazing as his jaw clenched. His shoulder-length hair did not hide the strength in his jaw or the anger in his flashing brown eyes. “I’ll kill...”

“We’ll kill...” Zafir corrected. “When the time comes. First we get Tara home in the safest way possible. Too many of us would be an obvious and threatening action to the kidnappers, which will only endanger Tara. And that’s one thing we will not do.”

For it was not just them, Emir knew. There was their youngest brother, Faisal, whom he had yet to contact. He feared that Faisal would be on the first plane from Jackson, Wyoming, to Marrakech as soon as he heard. It was why he’d contacted their second-in-command at their Wyoming branch first, for Emir hadn’t thought of a way to forestall his brother once he was aware of the situation. “Faisal...” he began as if his thoughts and his voice were one.

“I’ll speak to Faisal.” Zafir cut him off. “There’s no need for him here. Not yet.”

Emir nodded. He worried that it might take both of them to keep Faisal in the States and not jumping on the first plane. He hoped Faisal’s common sense would do the job when he heard what was in place to ensure Tara’s safe return.

“I spoke to Adam,” Emir admitted. It was one of the first things he’d done when he’d received that devastating call just before 4:00 a.m.

Adam Whitman had been a good friend from his college days at Wyoming State and was now second-in-command in the Wyoming branch of their security agency. He was one of the few people outside the family Emir could trust. They had always had each other’s back, even though, through the years, there’d been long lapses where neither one had contacted the other.

“And?” Zafir prodded.

“Adam’s concerned that our family is high-profile, too well known. If this is a straight kidnapping case, that’s one thing, but if there’s some sort of revenge on the family...” He paused, collecting his thoughts.

“Revenge?” Talib’s fist clenched and Zafir looked worried.

“We don’t know, but fresh eyes... Adam might have something. The agent he’s assigned will be looking at it from a different angle, without any preconceived ideas.”

“He might see something we’ll miss because of familiarity,” Talib said.

“Exactly,” Emir agreed and Zafir nodded.

“The other thing...the man he’s recommending is an amazing profiler. Exactly what we need and the first thing I mentioned when I called Adam. We want nothing less than the best.” He looked at his brothers, saw the pained expression on both their faces and, still, determination radiated from them. They wouldn’t be beaten. He felt hope just being surrounded by them and he knew he in turn gave them hope. That was the way it had always been.

“Who is it?” Talib asked. “There’ve been a number of new hires in the Wyoming branch.”

Emir shrugged. He’d get the name when he gave Adam the update after his brothers left. For now, names were irrelevant; he trusted Adam’s judgment. “He’s new, but Adam claims he’s good.”

Silence seemed to steep like an uneasy brew through the room as every instinct urged them to surge forward, armed-dangerous, potentially lethal as they plowed over the threat. But they were hobbled by a threat that had intelligence they weren’t privy to; it knew exactly where they were and, worse, it held what they claimed most precious.

“We have no idea where they’ve taken her,” Emir said. “Only that they want money and their demands, I suspect, will continue to go up.”

Emir’s stomach clenched and he ached to see his sister’s kidnappers’ blood seeping into the depths of the endless desert sand. But he needed something more than revenge. He needed his baby sister safe. He looked at the ink staining the ancient rug and the cracked phone, both evidence that he had lost control.

“Here’s what we will do...” He motioned his brothers to sit and he laid out what had and would be done in the hours that followed.

“I don’t like it, but it makes sense,” Talib said ten minutes later.

“Forty-eight hours, Emir. No more,” Zafir interrupted as he clapped his hand on Emir’s shoulder.

“Or less if we’re needed,” Talib said.

“Or if you lose contact,” Zafir said.

“Agreed. But if there’s progress, that may change.” Emir had explained his conditions and knew it was a shaky agreement. With their sister’s life in jeopardy, he was surprised his brothers had agreed to that much. But they knew how delicate a situation like this was. No one had to be reminded of what they stood to lose.

Tara, the only girl in the family, with none of the brothers in a steady relationship, was all that was soft and feminine in the family. Without her, Emir knew that the niceties in life would disappear as easily as that beautiful vase beneath Talib’s fist. She organized family celebrations and get-togethers, remembered family traditions. Only last month she’d gotten them all together on Skype for a toast to his and Zafir’s birthday. Without her... He wouldn’t think of it, couldn’t.

Twenty minutes later, as his brothers exited the room, he picked up the phone. Fortunately its case was the only thing that had cracked in his initial rage. He punched the number of the Wyoming branch of their security agency. Adam picked up on the second ring.

Emir laid out what had transpired since they’d last spoken.

“Don’t do anything more until K.J. gets there. Promise me.” Adam’s voice held an edge of concern.

Eight hours. It was a long time—it was forever. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said.

“I don’t know what more to say, Emir. K.J.’s already en route.”

Emir sucked in a relieved breath at that.

“As we agreed, I’m sending the best. And despite the fact that I’m not coming over—this agent is better than either me or, for that matter, Faisal. It took a bit of work at this end, had to rearrange a few cases, but you’re not going after these perps without the best at your side.”

“I appreciate it,” Emir said, and the call ended seconds later. There was nothing more to say.

For now, all he could do was wait. He began to pace.

* * *

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Monday, September 14, 9:00 a.m. GMT

K. J. GELINSKY’S LONG legs were stretched in front of her and a cup of coffee sat at her elbow. Jackson, Wyoming, was a long way away and yet only days ago she’d been admiring the view from her apartment window, still in awe of the mountain peaks that cradled the city. Now the only view was the blind that covered the jet’s window and hid the endless expanse of the Atlantic. At another time she would have soaked up the luxury of flying on such a plane, the decadence of being the only passenger with a flight attendant just a call-bell away. She’d been with Nassar Security for a little over a month and their use of private jets was still a novelty.

No expense had been spared to get her on a jet and flown over the Atlantic at a moment’s notice. Briefly, she considered the resources of the men who owned both the agency in Wyoming and in Marrakech.

She’d met only Faisal and then only briefly. But she’d liked him immediately. His youth had surprised her. But, at twenty-five, only the snowboard he’d carried under his arm when she’d met him unexpectedly in the parking lot had indicated anything other than what he was: a serious business owner. He’d welcomed her to the team and put the snowboard down to shake her hand with the cordiality she’d later heard he offered to all his employees.

Faisal was approachable, friendly—the opposite of what she’d heard of his oldest brother who was rarely seen, at least by the Wyoming branch of the agency.

With only hours before wheels to the ground in Marrakech, she was anxious to get started, intrigued by the assignment and more than curious to meet Emir Al-Nassar. The head of the Moroccan branch of the agency, Emir, and his twin, Zafir, were the reason the agency had expanded as rapidly as it had. Emir was a friend to the man she directly reported to, which was interesting in itself, as were Adam’s words as she’d prepared to leave. “He is one of the few people on earth I would trust completely.”

This assignment was a coup for any agent. She’d been lucky that both her skill set and the fact that she’d been in New York on the last day of a training session had placed her as not only the logical choice but four hours closer than she’d normally have been.

She pulled her thoughts back to the case. The fact that she would be working with Emir and what kind of man he might be was irrelevant. What recognition she might get from her employers, the potential boost to her career, also moot points that only clouded her thinking. And yet they were very valid moot points. This case would—could, she amended—be career-making. She emptied her mind, bringing herself into a state of meditation for a few minutes.

Fifteen minutes later she was centered and focused on one thing: finding Sheikka Tahriha Al-Nassar.

On the tray in front of her was everything she knew and everything she might need to know about the case. She’d been through much of it already. Now she scrolled through the pictures Adam had just sent her. She memorized the features of the kidnapped sister, but it was the picture of her oldest brother that wouldn’t leave her mind. Despite the fact that he was the president of the company, she’d never before seen a picture of him. She’d known that he and his brother Zafir were twins, but she hadn’t known they were identical. She’d never seen either of them in person. Adam had provided her with a picture of each of them, for although it was Emir she’d be working with, they were all in Marrakech awaiting her arrival.

She clicked on Emir’s picture, noting the difference that ran deeper than the length of their hair—Emir’s shorter than his brother’s, clipped above his ears. The difference was in the depth of his piercing brown eyes. She kept going back to his picture and told herself it was part of this assignment to know who she was meeting at the other end. But that was only part of the truth. Emir had an aura about him, a powerful sense of confidence that seemed to emanate from the picture.

K.J. closed her eyes. Despite her mind-focusing meditation, a nap would help her hit the ground running. But that wasn’t an option. There was more to be done. She needed to know everything they had on the Al-Nassar family.

Despite working in the office headed by Faisal, she’d had little contact with him or his family, and now it was critical to fill in those gaps, along with learning everything about today’s Marrakech. The last time she’d been in Morocco had been five years ago. She needed to familiarize herself with not only present-day Marrakech but also with the surrounding area if she was to get Sheikka Tahriha safely home.

She remembered the conversation just before she had taken off.

“There’s been a payment,” Adam had said in his usual, abbreviated, no-intro sort of way. “Hopefully that will hold them off.”

“You’ve advised that no more payments are to be made.”

“Emir is well aware of that.” Adam paused, clearing his throat. “One other thing. Be careful. A woman in rural Morocco—” he shook his head “—I’m taking a chance on this.”

“I know. Don’t worry, Adam,” K.J. had said with a confidence she hadn’t felt. It might be the twenty-first century, but this was the land of sheiks where ancient traditions and strict religious laws governed much of day-to-day life, especially in the rural areas where it was highly possible the kidnappers had fled to. She’d considered that and brought tops with long sleeves, and long pants. She’d also be sure to secure her long hair before she landed so that it was away from her face. Still, she knew it wasn’t enough. But it was the best she could do. Her knowledge of the area would be her best defense. And if they wanted the best, she thought with more self-awareness than conceit, they would have to take her as she was.

She scrolled through the additional information. Then, she set down the tablet and lifted the paper report and skimmed through the pages. The report didn’t give her a lot of hope. The kidnappers weren’t sophisticated, judging from the trail of evidence. Thugs were more difficult to reason with. In some instances, thugs couldn’t be reasoned with at all. She feared that, in this situation, that might be the case.

Chapter Two

Emir glanced at his watch. Adam’s last text told him that the investigator was thirty minutes away from landing. It was 2:30 p.m. and, according to the evidence, Tara had been missing for over twelve hours. Time was slipping away and yet there was nothing he could do beyond what he already had. Now, he waited, and only his iron-clad will kept him from taking charge of this case alone. That, and the knowledge that emotion had already colored his judgment.

The airport was crowded with people and luggage as commercial airline queues filled up and passengers waited for their flights, oblivious to his inner turmoil or to the fact that his family was in dire straits.

Emir strode through the crush of incoming passengers emerging from one flight and into a back room where few were admitted, to the security area where the pulse of the airport was monitored on a second-by-second basis.

“How much longer, Sihr?” he asked the man who had first become familiar to him in the aftermath of the horror of the car crash that had killed both his parents six years ago. It had been here where an emergency crew had taken off in the hope of airlifting survivors from the isolated mountain road, and this man who had facilitated the quick takeoff. Emir ran a hand over his chin as if that would dispel the memory of a tragedy that had changed everything. Instead, all he felt was stubble and a reminder that time was slipping away.

He went over the expected time of arrival in his mind juxtaposed against weather conditions. As an amateur pilot he knew that, despite Adam’s report fifteen minutes ago, flight conditions could easily have changed the plane’s arrival time. “Early?”

Sihr gave him a brief nod. “It’s landing now.” The lean, middle-aged man swept his arm toward the back of the small office. “We can go out this way and meet them at the gate.”

Emir was three steps ahead of the smaller man as he strode down a narrow corridor that turned into a common area used only by security. They were in an area that was off-limits to the average passenger, but not to Emir. Despite the fact that he had come to know Sihr during one tragedy where rules had been bent, despite the fact that his family employed Sihr’s brother, being allowed into the security area wasn’t a favor, at least not one in the traditional sense. It was how things were done for him, his family and those around him. It was how it had always been.

As they made their way through the bustling security area and Sihr opened a door that led directly to the runway, a small breeze hit him. That was immediately overlaid by the smell of jet fuel and the roar of a commercial airliner taking off that erased the chance of any conversation even if Emir had felt like starting one. He did not. He had nothing to say and nothing that Sihr needed to know.

To the left, a Gulfstream jet had just landed and was taxiing toward them.

“Security will clear them on the tarmac. Barring anything unexpected, you should be able to go straight through,” Sihr said in his brisk, business-first manner.

Emir nodded. That bit of information was unprecedented for a foreign-origin aircraft and he knew it was Adam’s doing. Their investigators traveled the world, sometimes disguised as normal tourists, and each time clearance was negotiated before the jet took off.

One passenger got off the jet. He waited. No one else appeared. He frowned, unsure of what was going on and yet sensing something wasn’t right. His gaze traveled back to the passenger. She was a good-looking woman. He could tell that even from this distance. She was blond, her hair short or pulled up and away from her face, it was hard to determine which and none of it mattered. Still, he continued to watch as a security agent ran a wand down one side of her, skimming shoulder to ankle. Emir’s gaze shifted away, uninterested—waiting for the investigator K. J. Gelinsky.

Minutes passed and then she was in front of him. She only had to tip her head slightly to catch his eye; a tall woman with a forward attitude. He took a step back, taking her out of his personal space.

“Mr. Al-Nassar,” she said, holding out a slim hand. “I’m K. J. Gelinsky.”

“Emir,” he said almost by rote for “mister” had been his father and that era had ended in tragedy over half a decade ago. But even as he responded, the thoughts were shoved to the background as the reality of what she had said hit him.

“K.J.,” he repeated as if he needed the repetition to commit the initials to memory. Something inside froze as he realized what Adam had done—what he would have said if Adam had told him the sex of the investigator beforehand. Adam would have known how he would have reacted. He would have known that this meeting would never have happened. He didn’t offer her his hand. He couldn’t.

“You’re the new agent?” he asked, the words heavy with disbelief. “You’re the one Adam recommended?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “I’m K.J.—”

“This won’t work,” he said. His thoughts were clouded with anger at the thought of what Adam had done, of how much time might be wasted, and of Tara whose life would be further endangered now that there was no help forthcoming.

Her wide, smoky-blue eyes narrowed. “By ‘this,’” she said slowly, “you mean me?” She took a step forward. Now she was in his face.

He frowned. If she were a man that would have been a mistake. But she was no man.

“That’s what you were meaning, wasn’t it? I’m not a man so...” She let the remainder of the sentence hang.

He paused long enough to take a breath to control the anger that made him want to lash out at someone, anyone. “You need to get on the first flight home,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Give me a chance.” There was no hesitation in her voice or in her stance as she faced off with him, her head up, her eyes sparking as if enjoying the challenge.

“It’s not me that’s the problem or needs to give you a chance,” he said. All he could feel was the pressure of an invisible clock ticking and the betrayal of a friend thousands of miles away. Adam knew the customs, the inherent sexism that still wove through the ancient traditions of the desert tribes. He knew it all and, still, he had sent her.

“I know,” she interjected. “It’s the customs, the tribes outside the city, the—”

“It won’t work,” he interrupted, thinking of the desert and where he suspected Tara’s kidnappers were hiding. He’d always been an equal opportunity employer and supported his sister, Tara, in her fight for change. It was a man’s world. It didn’t matter how much he disliked the fact, it was a truth that, for now, wouldn’t change.

“Look, I know what I’m getting into. I’m qualified,” she said, her bag swinging from her shoulder, her eyes bright with passion. “I specialized in Middle Eastern studies—an exchange student.” She waved one delicate, well-manicured hand at him.

Just looking at that hand confirmed every doubt he had. It wasn’t just about customs, she was female and because of that and so many other things, she was the wrong person for the job.

“I’ll help you find your sister. You just need to trust me.”

“No!” The word came out with all the pent-up fury that had built since the fateful call from Tara’s kidnappers and now the full impact of it sparked in his eyes as his temple pounded and his fists clenched.

“No,” he said with less edge but with no room for negotiation. He was wasting time, had wasted time, first waiting and now in a senseless airport run. “I don’t care what you specialized in. You’re a woman and because of that you’re going home,” he said bluntly. “I’ve wasted enough time. I’ll speak to the pilot and we’ll get you out of here.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair,” he repeated, emphasizing each word. If she’d been a man he would have had her by the collar up against the wall, his face in hers. But she wasn’t and that was the problem. “You’re useless to me. I’d have to watch out for both you and me. That’s a distraction. Look at you—you couldn’t swing a punch or...”

One minute he was seething, glaring at her, and the next he was flat on his back.

“You bloody flipped me,” he snarled, leaping to his feet.

“As you can see, I know martial arts as well as being an excellent marksman.”

“Do that again,” he said in a slow, measured tone, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“That’s it?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“This isn’t going to work. None of it matters. Whatever your skill set, it comes down to you’re a woman. Useless to me in this environment.”

“You don’t have a choice. It’s me or no one,” she said and glared at him.

His jaw clenched.

“Oh, and by the way, your attitude about women sucks. I feel for your sister.”

“Keep Tara out of this,” he snapped, realizing it was a ridiculous thing to say when it was all about Tara.

“This might not just be about money. I think you already suspect that.”

He held his surprise back. He hadn’t expected that; it was an idea he and Adam had only briefly touched on.

“Adam told you.”

She shook her head. “Tara is the heart of your family. Without her, it’s broken.”

She was bang on and he wished she wasn’t for it changed everything, including his decision to send her home.

“These could be men with a grudge against the House of Al-Nassar. After all, your family has a long and deep history in Morocco. Someone has more than likely been hurt along the way. What better opportunity than a chance to bring you down by taking the sister you and your brothers adore and bleeding you for some cash.” She shrugged. “Simplistic, I know, but not improbable.”

“Don’t make me sorry,” he said, hoping that by not escorting her back to the plane he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

“There’s no time to waste,” K.J. said, swinging around and striding ahead of him. She didn’t stop talking and her comments trailed behind her.

With no choice but to follow, he did, even as his eyes drifted downward and he found, in spite of the situation, that he couldn’t take his eyes off the endless length of her legs, which were enticing despite the fact they were covered by faded, beige-cotton pants. That and the generous curve of a hip only confirmed that in no way could she be mistaken for the man he had only minutes ago hoped she was. He pulled his gaze away. He was engaging in exactly the kind of behavior he abhorred and the behavior his sister, Tara, would have berated him for. No playful calls of “it’s a guy thing” would ever quiet her criticisms and attempts to get him and his brothers to toe the line. But all of those looks and comments in regard to the opposite sex, at least in Tara’s presence, had only been made in jest, brotherly teasing of a sister they all adored.

“The first twenty-four hours are critical,” K.J. said over her shoulder, as if telling him something he didn’t know. She stopped, pivoted on one heel and faced him with more determination on her face than he’d seen on anyone in a long time. “You know that time is a luxury you don’t have and I’m a problem you didn’t factor. That’s why you’re angry, and I don’t blame you.”

The admission and her logical, calm attitude in the face of what he knew had been insulting, even contentious words, surprised him.

“Whether you want me or not, I’m here. There’s no time to get a replacement and I have knowledge you don’t have and objectivity that you desperately need. I believe that’s why you made the call to bring me here. Am I right?”

“What do you know about the Middle East other than your studies?” The words revealed all the disdain and upset he was feeling. “What experience do you have?” Her education meant nothing. It wasn’t experience and therefore, to him, not real. “You grew up—” He was going to say in Midwestern America; the truth was in the way she said certain words.

“Morocco.” She cut him off and he guessed she was being deliberately vague. He could hear the edge in her voice.

“Really?” he said and didn’t soften the sarcasm that laced the word.

“Really,” she repeated and turned to face him. “At least, a few years anyway. Six years total—as a child and then a number of years in my last years of high school.” She seemed to draw herself taller. “My father was an economic counselor in the American Embassy in Rabat. A few years later he returned, accepting another position in the Moroccan Embassy.” She eyed him with a challenge in her eyes. “Are you done?”

His jaw tightened. She was right, there was nothing more to say.

“Good,” she said and began to walk away then stopped. “By the way. Call me Kate.” She threw that over her shoulder as if it were an afterthought. “One phone call?”

“So far.”

She stopped.

“So the call came in shortly before 4:00 a.m.?”

“Correct. I alerted Adam immediately and got a plan in place. Apparently that was a mistake.”

His phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at it for just a split second as dread roiled through him.

“Yeah?” he snapped and then his hand stilled as his pulse seemed to speed up. He couldn’t believe their audacity and knew it didn’t bode well for them to have contacted him twice in such a short period. They weren’t following a normal pattern. “You’ve been paid, release...”

Kate shook her head, mouthing something at him. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t care. He needed to focus on this, on what the kidnappers wanted and on how to get his sister out of their clutches.

“Put him off,” she mouthed.

He gave her a brief nod. It wasn’t anything he didn’t know but at least it was confirmation they were on the same page. “I can’t get it together right away.”

The call ended shortly after and somehow during that brief time he and K.J. had formed a shaky alliance. “This time they want a quarter million,” he said to her. It was double what they had first asked for and it was nothing in the scope of what his family was worth.

“By when?”

“Forty-eight hours or they’ll kill her. There was no drop information.”

“This is their second request and you paid them once.”

He stopped, surprised, and then realized that Adam would have told her.

“You negotiated with them successfully.” She nodded approval. “That’s promising. I suspect they’re a fragmented group but, even so, they’re testing your limits, prodding you, making you more vulnerable by not giving you the drop site, making you worry.”

“Making me react emotionally.”

She nodded, as if his response were normal. “The next contact should give us a drop. They have their initial demand, still I doubt if they’ll chance playing it out any longer. And that call? They were tormenting you—nothing more.”

He thought of what he had done in those first desperate hours when he’d heard his sister was missing and what his first thought had been to do now, but there’d been no drop site and Kate was right. She knew her stuff. It was clear in her perception and instant analysis of what had transpired in the short time in which they had been together.

“Surprised?” she asked with a smile that was more a lifting of her lips as no emotion showed in her beautiful yet deadly, intelligent eyes. “Small. Unorganized.” She wiped a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail from her face. “Not so much unorganized as brought together temporarily for a common goal. What I mean is...”

“This isn’t what they do regularly. They have no cause.”

“Exactly. I would say that they’re rough men needing money. Colleagues of some sort...”

“And none of that matters.”

“All of it matters. We need their profile to get in their heads, find out who they are, to ultimately find Tara and get her out safely.”

She was right and he didn’t want to admit it. Yet he was beginning to believe that, despite his doubts, what she had in her head, the profiling ability she spoke of, would be invaluable in finding Tara.

“Satisfied?”

He nodded, his mouth set. “But you do what I say, especially if this takes us, like I suspect, into the desert.”

“Thanks,” she said pertly, an edge to her voice.

He had no idea if that was a yes or a no. The only thing he was certain of was that she was staying.

“Let’s get going,” she said briskly. “I need to be briefed on everything that’s happened since you last spoke to Adam and anything you might not have told him.” She looked at him with eyes that seemed to rip through the protective layers that shielded his emotion from the world. “I need everything.”

But as she said those words they emerged into the crowded main area of the airport and nothing was said as they made their way past a queue of passengers dressed in everything from blue jeans to sundresses and burkas. The crowd thinned near the doors leading to the outside, where the air was thick with the scent of the heated rubber of airplane tires and exhaust fumes.

The driver had them loaded and they were leaving the airport within minutes, but it was as they exited the airport and a few miles away that chaos erupted.

Chapter Three

“Dell,” Emir said to the driver of his Hummer. He put his hand on his shoulder. “This is K. J. Gelinsky, she’s here to help us get Tara back.” He turned to Kate. “Dell’s a good friend. He’s had my back more times than I can count.” He knew that didn’t explain everything to Kate but it gave her a reason to trust this newcomer.

The big, blond, broad-shouldered man had a grim look that, combined with his size, made most people back away. But despite that, his unsmiling face and rather utilitarian brush cut, there was a warmth about him few people except his close friends ever saw. His distinctive look with his bleached-blond hair was a striking contrast to his swarthy complexion, but no one would dare comment on the look, for Dell’s size intimidated most people. Emir knew Dell could be deadly but he also had a soft spot for women, children and cats. In fact, he’d seen the big man stroke a tabby, murmuring to it like it was a baby.

“K.J.?” Dell asked her as if hinting there should be more to her name than just initials.

“K.J.,” she agreed with an easy smile and a “don’t mess with me” look in her eye.

Emir bet there were few people who called her Kate. It wasn’t anything she had said but rather the way she owned the initials and the odd way she had looked when he’d called her Kate despite her having given him permission. He wondered why she’d allowed him the privilege. Was it merely because he was her boss or...? Whatever the reason, it was irrelevant under the circumstances.

He still had reservations about her. There was no proof of her abilities other than an expertise in martial arts and what Adam had said. Despite that, he had to admit there was something in her demeanor, a confident air, that took the edge off his doubts. She acted like someone who knew the Moroccan culture, exactly as she had claimed, and she moved with the fluid ease of a local, regardless of her foreign look. None of it mattered. The only thing that did was that she could do the job and that, with her, they could bring Tara home.

But something was off. Oddly, it wasn’t doubts about Kate that had him on edge. It was something else and he knew she felt it, too. The ease he had felt radiate from her in the airport and even just now, when she’d met Dell, was gone. Now she was tense, her attention taking in her surroundings.

As he looked at her, a silent communication leaped between them. Yet there was nothing tangible, no action to take, and he didn’t feel comfortable with that. He could see that she was equally as disconcerted. Her brow was furrowed and her hand was on the seat in front of her, the other on the holster of her gun. He suspected that she, too, was considering the possibilities of a threat that might not yet be visible.

He leaned forward.

“What’s going on?”

Dell shook his head. His attention was focused on the road but a tendon in his neck stood out and his grip on the wheel was tighter than required for the driving conditions of a low-traffic road bordering the outskirts of the city. Tension seemed to run through the vehicle. “I don’t like that Rover,” he grumbled. “Don’t ask me why.”

The Land Rover was the only vehicle besides theirs on the road. It was ahead of them, having turned in from a side road only minutes ago. From the moment it had moved in front of them there seemed to be an instinctive reaction by everyone in the Hummer. It was a feeling that was common in the field, one he’d discussed with his brothers and one they had all agreed had validity. Instinct was what many modern men ignored and one in which the Al-Nassar brothers and their associates had committed to never sweeping aside. In fact, it was what had been the difference between success and tragedy on a number of occasions.

Other than the fact that it was moving slowly along the road, there was nothing overtly threatening about the Rover. The back window was tinted and they couldn’t see inside. That fact alone had Emir moving his hand to the shoulder strap beneath his jacket and the reassuring feel of gunmetal.

He looked at Kate. She didn’t look at him, but instead her attention was riveted on the steel-gray Land Rover. Something was off and he didn’t like it.

“Why in Allah’s name are they moving so slow?” Dell asked, his voice troubled.

“Something’s not right.” Kate pulled her Colt from its holster.

“I’m going to pull back,” Dell said as the Land Rover maintained its rather slow speed, as if taunting them to pass.

In the Hummer the tension had just moved into overdrive, everyone poised for a threat that had yet to be determined.

The silence in the Hummer was thick. Emir glanced at Kate. There was no give in her posture and her jawline and lips were tight, her eyes focused ahead, her gun in her hand. Tension seemed to tick between them like a bomb about to explode. His finger twitched. Behind them was a stretch of empty road, but that could change at any moment.

Without warning the Rover stopped and Dell had no choice but to hit the brakes or go around. Without a backward glance to see if they were on board with the decision, Dell put the Hummer in reverse, taking them away from the Land Rover.

Emir’s instinct sent prickles down his spine. None of this made sense. His eyes were fixed on the vehicle ahead of them that was now flipped around so that it blocked the road.

“What the...?” Dell reached for his gun and the driver’s door almost at the same time as their vehicle stopped. “They’re blocking us.”

He had no worries about Dell, who, as a former soldier in the Moroccan military, knew how to not only take care of others but how to take care of himself. It was the guidelines Emir had used to hire many of his security and why it had been such a shock to hear of Tara’s kidnapping. He’d surrounded her with the best.

His hand was on the door handle and his other pulling his gun from its holster when a shot was fired from someone in the Rover. It narrowly missed Dell. They’d been right to suspect trouble, but they hadn’t been quick enough to avoid ambush.

Kate flung her door open almost simultaneously with Emir as he leaped to the ground on the other side, using the door for cover.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her crouch before she jumped to the pavement and fired, taking out the Land Rover’s left rear tire, crippling it.

Emir moved forward, keeping his head down as he used their vehicle for cover. Ahead of them, the passenger door of the Land Rover hung open. He peered over the edge of the hood of the Hummer and saw what looked like a hand, the black metal of a gun gleaming over the door. He fired, one shot and then two, and ducked down.

Silence.

He glanced behind him, mindful of their proximity to the airport. There was the possibility that at any moment innocent travelers could be heading out of the airport and directly into the line of fire. And almost as bad, possibly worse, there could be police. They didn’t need the confusion or the procedures of police involvement complicating the situation and taking valuable time away from the search for Tara. This was their business and no one else’s. He gripped his gun grimly, determined to end this and end it soon. Whoever these renegades were, they were obviously out of sync with what was going on and, more obviously, by the law of coincidence, somehow involved with Tara’s kidnappers.

He took in the scene in front of him, the threat and the results of the threat that still remained. Twenty-five feet ahead and to the left was a body. He dove, taking cover as gunshot sprayed over the pavement. A glare from the passenger side momentarily blinded him as sunlight sparked off the metal of the opposing weapon and confirmed that someone was still alive.

“We want at least one of them alive,” Kate said. She had moved around to his side and behind him. “I’ve counted two. Not giving us good odds,” she muttered, “that we don’t easily kill them both.”

It was the ideal situation but it was also hard to control. The most they could ask for was that he, Kate and Dell came out alive. That was mandatory. Emir refused to accept anything else. He set the bar high when it came to keeping his employees safe.

Another shot was fired. This time it was clear that the weapon was different. It was a handgun. He’d seen the glint of the short barrel and then nothing—a single shot and silence. It was hard to tell how many there were. He wasn’t as sure as Kate that there were only two. No more than three, he suspected, but they were keeping down, out of sight. So far there was no visual, so he couldn’t pinpoint it.

A shot from the passenger side and then another and as he raised his gun. It was obvious that the choice to keep one of their attackers alive might not be theirs to make.

Emir fired and the man’s gun clattered to the pavement, but no body followed. Instead the passenger managed to fling himself into the driver’s seat even as Kate fired again and again. The Land Rover peeled away, veering right then left as the smell of burned rubber and gunpowder knifed through the air before the Rover careened to a stop about four hundred feet away from them. The vehicle listed slightly to the left with one tire flat and its right side jammed against an embankment of dirt and discarded cement.

“Stay here,” Emir said to Kate.

He nodded to Dell. “Cover me.”

But as he came up to the vehicle, there was no movement. The Rover had pitched on its side. The smell of gas permeated the air. Emir moved to the right, away from the driver. Everything was still. He inched along the driver’s side where the man was slumped. Dead, unconscious or feigning—it wasn’t clear. The only thing that was clear was that he wasn’t moving and that, for now, he didn’t pose a threat. Still, one couldn’t be sure. Emir held his gun in one hand and pulled the driver’s door open as he jumped back, both hands on his gun.

Nothing.

He moved forward, jammed the gun in the man’s ribs and took a closer look.

“Dead,” he muttered.

“Bad luck,” Kate said as she came up behind him. “Or not.” She held her handgun in one hand, her other free. “He probably wouldn’t have given you anything, anyway, whether he knew where she was or not. You know that. It was all a long shot,” she said matter-of-factly.

Emir looked at her. He wasn’t surprised that she was there. Somehow, despite his command to stay, he had known she would back him up. In an odd way, it both infuriated and pleased him. The thought ran through his head even as he assessed the truth of what she’d said. It was clear that, somehow, in some way, these men were connected with his sister’s disappearance. Otherwise, none of it made sense. Now it was possible they might never know how they were involved or, more importantly, what they might know.

She moved past him, poking her head into the vehicle, looking at the corpse, her movements quick and decisive as she went through his pockets.

He went up beside her. “Any ID?”

She shook her head.

“We don’t have a lot of time and we don’t want to get caught up in the bureaucracy of airport security.” He looked back to where their vehicle sat and then above, where the roar of an approaching plane reminded them of the nearness of the airport.

Over two hundred feet away the man who had been on the passenger side lay sprawled on the pavement. With no thought to Kate, assuming only that she’d follow, he sprinted back the way they had come, his long legs easily covering the distance between the two vehicles. He heard Kate behind him, her breath coming in short puffs, and whether she could keep up or not—for now, it was not a consideration.

He stopped by the body, bending to get a closer look, but it lay facedown. He turned it over—male, he already knew that, and there was nothing unique about his clothing. The passenger had been thirty or so, and was dressed to blend in, in brown cotton trousers and boots. Like the man they had just killed, his T-shirt was brown, as well, and it, too, had no identifying markings. There was nothing but a slim gold ring on his right hand that might be used to identify him.

Emir eased the corpse down after a quick check of his pockets and gave him a final once-over, this time only with his eyes, looking for clues they might have missed. He stood. He hadn’t expected answers but he had hoped that there would have been something—one clue that might bring him closer to finding Tara.

“Who are they? It makes no sense that they would attack us.”

“You’re assuming this is connected?”

“Aren’t you?” She looked at him as he grimly nodded agreement.

Kate bent and pulled something from the man’s shirt. She held it up. “Camel hair. This guy’s been outside the city, and recently.”

He took the small wad of coarse hair from her. It was more than likely camel—the texture, length and color was right—but what did that mean in a country where camels were common? “There are camels in Marrakech. Camels everywhere—this is Morocco,” he said as if it was a fact that needed pointing out.

He wasn’t making fun of her or, for that matter, even contradicting her. The blood seemed to roar in his ears. He wasn’t thinking straight, hadn’t been since Tara disappeared. He had to get it together and, in an odd way, despite their initial meeting, he was counting on Kate. His eyes met hers and he could see something troubling in their depths. He knew she was considering what he had said and more.

“True,” Kate said. “But he’s not the type to own one.” She lifted a hand and turned it palm-up. She ran a thumb along the tips of his fingers. “Too soft. There’s no evidence he worked with his hands, other than with firearms.” She laid the arm across the decedent’s chest and straightened as she pointed to his boots. “Knock-off Ralph Lauren boots.” She grimaced. “Not something a camel owner would have, but maybe someone who had been near one recently. Sand on his boots.” She turned the sole of the boot sideways. “Not much, but I think he came from somewhere out there. Look, the leather is scraped, like he was walking on rough terrain, not city sidewalks.” Her arm swept in the direction of the mighty Sahara Desert. “What brought him here?”

She glanced in the direction of the airport. “We need to get out of here before the police show up.”

“You’re right.” He gave the scene a final once-over. These men weren’t professionals and he’d bet neither were those who held Tara. The burning question was whether the two of them were connected and, if so, why had they targeted him? It seemed improbable. Why kill him and jeopardize a ransom? He glanced at Dell, who had been quietly listening to what they had to say.

In the distance the sirens from approaching emergency vehicles began to wail. They all headed back to the Hummer.

“Trouble. Let’s get moving,” Dell said as he motioned for them to get in.

Emir opened the rear passenger door and Kate slipped inside.

“None of this makes sense,” Emir said as he sat beside Kate.

“Or it makes complete sense,” she said softly.

They were silent for the next few minutes as the Hummer sped away, leaving the mayhem behind for the authorities.

Emir’s attention was now on Marrakech’s sprawling yet oddly elegant skyline as the vehicle turned from the rural landscape and headed back to the heart of the city.

* * *

THE SILENCE WAS thick over the next few minutes as the miles dropped behind them and distance separated them from the recent mayhem. While Kate appreciated the opportunity to mull over her theory without questions, she suspected that Emir, too, had theories with no solid answers and, like her, was mulling them over, trying to piece it all together, to make sense of it.

She looked at him, at the seemingly unfeeling line of his lips and yet she knew, from the little he’d said, that he had to be worried sick. He cared for his sister, and he’d do anything to get her back. That he’d give his life—that he’d said and she was here to make sure that didn’t happen.

Everything was still, quiet between them.

She noticed little things. His hands were thick, sun-bronzed, yet he had long fingers. His hands were like those of an artist mixed with those of a laborer. But none of what was in his hands matched the aristocratic planes of his face or... Her heart pounded just a beat faster—and her mind wrestled with distance, with control. This was not about lust or even like but about life and death. She was here to do a job.

“We need to do this silently and quietly. That means as few people involved or in the know as possible.” She glanced at Dell. In the heat of battle Dell been a good addition. But finding Tara was a different matter. They had to be subtle and more people created noise, figuratively speaking, and could alert the kidnappers. Besides, she knew nothing of Dell. She didn’t know if she could trust him, even though Emir did, or if she wanted to.

“Dell’s ex-military,” Emir said as he watched her attention turn to Dell. “We served together. He’s going to help while he can. Don’t question that or anything else I decide,” he said, practically ordering her not to question him.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t like it, but she’d see how it played out for now.

“I’ll show you what we think is ground zero,” he said as if that were the reward not for her success in the field but for her silence.

She looked at the tense way Emir gripped his handgun and the tight line of his jaw and saw pain, a strong man who was fighting not to break. He needed help and not just someone who wielded a gun, not just muscle—he needed someone who could think clearly, unaffected by the emotion he refused to admit. Emir, whether he knew it or not, needed her.

“Where they took Tara,” he said.

And it was with those words that she found herself locked into the reality of going back in time with the dark and silently brooding Sheik Emir Al-Nassar.

Emir, she corrected, for she couldn’t think of him as “Sheik.” Sheik didn’t fit the persona of the young and brash man beside her. He was a man she imagined could easily steal a woman’s heart even after annoying her as deeply and maddeningly as he had her. He was also a man in the midst of a tragedy that, she’d instinctively thought from the moment she’d seen his name, would eventually lead her to the hinterlands of the Sahara Desert.

But it was the man, not the desert, that caused her to pause. There was something about Emir, a passion and an intensity that was different from any man she had ever known. And that scared her more than anything else.

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