Son Of The Sheikh

“Talib?” Ian asked. “What’s going on with you? It’s got to do with her, Sara. I knew she’d booked but...”

“You didn’t feel it necessary to tell me,” Talib said. There was no question but only a slight recrimination in his tone.

“After three years, no. Man, you haven’t been a couple for a long time.”

“And it was none of my business.”

“I suspected she had her reasons and if it had to do with you, she’d let you know.” He looked at Talib with a frown. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just shocked to see her.”

“Did she say why she’s here?”

“No. And I doubt if it involves a need to see the country.”

“My office,” Ian said, and it wasn’t a question. “We need to talk and it’s the only place we’ll get any privacy in this craziness.”

Chapter Six

Talib nodded at the police officer who was monitoring the main doors to the hotel. He held up the distinctive card with its bronze-and-black flash of color that symbolized the Nassar company logo. The hotel was under lockdown but Nassar Security was well-known in Marrakech, almost as well-known as he was. Entering a scene like this was usually not an issue.

“I’m sorry.” The police officer held up his hand.

“You’re kidding me,” Talib began with a scowl. “You won’t let us back in?” This was unprecedented.

“Do you know who I am?” Ian interrupted.

“I don’t care who you are,” the police officer said. “No one’s getting in.”

“I own...”

“Get back before I have to use force.” The police officer cut off Ian’s words.

“I don’t believe this.” Ian shook his head.

Five minutes later they had worked their way through the emergency crews and around to a side entrance that wasn’t being monitored.

“Back door?” the police detective asked with an amused look as he met them a few feet from the entrance. He was in charge of the investigation and Talib had spoken to him earlier. In fact, he’d spoken to him in a number of instances on other cases in the past. He was one of the few Talib trusted. Now the officer greeted them with a frown.

“Overenthusiastic rookie wouldn’t let us in,” Talib said.

“I see.” His grimace was half smile and half resignation. “Follow me.”

“The explosive device was fairly unsophisticated,” the detective confirmed five minutes later. “Looks to me like it was meant as no more than a diversion, to get what cash and jewelry they could.” He looked at Talib, as if expecting that he’d provide some insight.

“Fortunately there were no injuries,” Ian said. “Thanks for getting us in.”

The detective gave them a brief nod. “All right, I’ll leave you gentleman to it. If I can just ask that you stay away from the luggage area where the device was detonated, at least for now. They’re still collecting evidence.”

“This wasn’t about me, was it?” Ian asked as the detective moved back into the room and into the heart of the investigation. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Get over yourself,” Talib said with a smile that held an edge of dry humor.

He looked across the room. Suitcases lay scattered in the haze of smoke that hung lazily, as shadowed tendrils still drifted through the room. Talib and Ian moved past the chaos and turned into a corridor, where Ian’s office was separated from the main flow of the hotel lobby.

“My hotel is attacked—my guests terrified and probably not apt to come back to the Desert Sands and you want me to get over myself.” Ian laughed, a dry mirthless sound that had more edge and no light-heartedness. “What happened to a little help from my friends or at least a little sympathy?”

Talib shook his head as Ian opened the door to his office. They entered a spacious, freshly painted office. New furnishings, complete with a large gleaming mahogany desk and black leather furniture, gave a solemn feel to the room. A vibrant painting full of color and reflecting the Atlas Mountains hung on the back wall and added a touch of color.

“Nice digs,” Talib said in an attempt to be casual. In reality, it was the first opportunity that he’d had to see the finished office and what he considered the hub of his friend’s hotel.

He sank into one of the leather chairs. He met his friend’s worried look and knew the one person who needed to know everything was Ian. After all, the woman involved was in his employ. He began to tell him everything that had transpired. Ian was not just the owner of this hotel and a good friend—Ian Hendrik had once worked for Nassar. He’d been part of their research team before ending that career path to become an entrepreneur, beginning with the purchase of this hotel.

“So you think someone may have used the explosion as a smoke screen to kidnap the child?”

“Possibly,” Talib said. “I’m not closing any doors right now.”

“I’ll find out the identity of the maid,” Ian said. “Once we have that, maybe you’ll have some answers.”

“None of it makes sense.”

“You’re sure about that?” Ian asked.

“What are you suggesting?” Talib scowled.

“Someone tries to kidnap the child. I’d say they’re trying to get money from Sara or her family.”

“I considered that possibility. But unless things have changed, Sara has no money.”

“Her family?”

“Same.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t come from money. The family fishing business has never been prosperous. It supports the family, her parents and her sisters’ families, but that’s about it.” He looked off into the distance, as if he could find the answer there. “I had the office do a quick search on the family and on Sara. She’s been underemployed for a while.” He frowned—that information was not in line with the ambitious, professional woman he knew. Something rang sour about all of this.

“So the attempted snatching, just a crime of opportunity, black-market adoption?” Ian mused.

“I don’t know.” Talib shook his head. “Seems a bit of a stretch. I suppose we can only be thankful that the maid got cold feet.”

“We’ve got a half-dozen children registered under the age of ten.” Ian ran a hand through his hair.

“Frightening,” Talib said. “We need to up your security, like yesterday.” He didn’t need to point out that his earlier advice hadn’t been followed. That the hotel had opened under Ian’s new management before all systems were in place.

“You were right,” Ian agreed. “Whatever the reason behind this we can be thankful that no one was seriously injured. There was no irreparable damage done, except to my reputation. I’ll reimburse any of the guests who lost belongings. Meanwhile, I’ve done a check with my public relations people. It looks like other than being shaken up, the hotel guests, with the exception of a few, are more than happy to take advantage of my offer. A free full-spa experience and one-night free stay, and coverage of alternate rooms for tonight. Most are willing to come back for the remainder of their stay here.”

“That’s generous,” Talib said.

“You think? After scaring them to death with what looks like a terrorist attack.” He stood up, pushing back from the desk. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Makes sense. You don’t want to lose any business. Although, you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose some.”

“I don’t think it will affect business in the long term and that’s all that matters. That’s my priority. That, and making sure that this doesn’t happen again,” he said with a look at Talib.

“When I’m finished, you’ll have security that will make the royal family jealous,” Talib said. “This time give me carte blanche and stand aside.”

“You’re on,” Ian said. “I can’t have a repeat of this. I’ll have my assistant get the employee records together. Should be an hour, two at most.”

Talib glanced at his watch. “I’ll check in with you later.”

He stood up. His hand swept through his hair as if it was long enough to get in his face. Three years ago it had been. Three years ago he had experimented with a ponytail. Three years ago he’d experimented with a few things.

He left with a quick shake of hands and his mind already moving forward to the piece that didn’t fit the puzzle—Sara and the boy.

Why were they here—why now... Why at all?

Chapter Seven

Sara shifted her sleeping son in her aching arms. She pushed back the soft dark curls that framed his face and repositioned him so that his weight lay across her, his head in the crook of her left arm. After Talib had given him back to her, in those moments of relief tinged with panic and despair, she’d seen what the future would be and she’d clung to her son. She would refuse to relinquish holding Everett to anyone, ever again. In the short time since Talib had found her, in all the chaos that had followed, he’d calmly made arrangements for an alternate place for her to stay and she hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger. The arrangements had been made swiftly, silently and efficiently. She wasn’t used to that. It was usually up to her, as a single parent, to do it all. Not now. The only thing she’d done was carry her son and she knew that she only had to ask and someone would do that, too. She wasn’t ready to relinquish Everett after everything that had happened. She knew that after all the craziness of the explosion and evacuation, holding Everett was more for her than him. He was over it and she knew that as soon as he awoke, he would rather be on the ground, exploring on his own terms.

From the moment the car pulled up to the new hotel, the Sahara Sunset, again, everything was done for her. Assad opened the door. The valet offered to take her bags. She refused. She didn’t have much. Her suitcase had been left behind at the Desert Sands Hotel, part of the evidence in the investigation.

Everett sniffed as if he was waking up and then settled against her shoulder with that familiar yet strange little sound. It almost sounded like an old man sighing. Sometimes her son seemed older than his years, and she wondered what he would be like as he grew up.

That thought made her more determined and her fright faded into the background as she entered the hotel lobby. Nothing could stop her. She’d come all this way. Now, the only challenge she had yet to face was herself. But she knew that fear could stop her despite the distance she traveled. One sign that Everett was safe without Talib’s protection and she’d turn and run back the way she’d come. But that was asking for a miracle, and for the last seven months there had been none offered through the long days, transient jobs and three states. Every one of those days had been a nightmare, highlighted by fear that any minute she’d be discovered. Now, she had little money and no place to live. More importantly, no place to hide—no options.

She shifted her purse.

“Can I take that, ma’am?” a man with threads of silver in his short, dark hair asked. He was wearing a djellaba with a gold belt around his waist. The traditional Moroccan garment had the insignia of the hotel on his shoulder. It seemed to be the uniform of many of the men employed by this hotel.

“No, I... Thank you. I have it,” she replied. Even though that was a lie. She barely had it, one bag was slipping but she refused to relinquish any of her belongings. There wasn’t much. Only her purse, the diaper bag and the bag with the essentials to get home or, alternatively, everything they would need if they had to run. It was an outrageous thought, but maybe not so much considering everything that had happened today.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.