The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath

She shook her head slowly from side to side. “God, I was such a fool.”

Spencer didn’t rush her, he just let her talk. He sensed that what she had to say next would prove key to new and vital information about al-Shimmari.

“The entire portfolio I’d evaluated for hours and hours, days really, was a hoax. What he allowed me access to was nothing more than a fake set of financial records created specifically for my entertainment.”

Tension roiled through Spencer. “What tipped you off?”

“We were in his office at home. I was pointing out a problem I’d discovered when he was called out of the room for a moment. His computer screen was open to what I thought was the same data system I accessed from my own small office. So I sat down at his desk to print out a page I’d somehow failed to print. The differences in his database and the one I was permitted to access were glaringly obvious.”

Spencer’s tension escalated to a new level. “Did he catch you at his computer?”

She laughed, the sound dry and wholly lacking in amusement. “He didn’t have to catch me. I confronted him about the differences.” Another laugh choked out of her. “I was totally convinced that someone was keeping a second set of books, so to speak, in order to skim his finances. It never entered my mind that he was the guilty party.”

Spencer could imagine what happened next. None of it good.

“He was furious,” she went on. “He accused me of making up the data he claimed didn’t exist. I was never allowed even to speak of his work or his finances again. Two months later I broached the subject of a trial separation. I’d gotten so frustrated with the way his mother kept Ata away from me and with his indifference I was ready to take drastic action.” Her attention turned back to the window. “I thought maybe if I shocked him with that news that maybe he would turn back into the man I’d married. I had no idea that he’d already made plans of his own. A few days later I found myself in LAX with no ID or money.”

Spencer touched her arm, the one closest to him. “Those months must have been very difficult for you.” Being so far from home with no support network, surrounded by people who didn’t want her, had to have been a nightmare.

She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with that haunted look that tugged at his emotions. “The hard part came when they wouldn’t let me see my son again.” She grabbed his shirtsleeve when he would have moved his hand away. “You have to get my son back for me, Mr. Anders. I can’t keep living this way.” She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. “I dream about him, only to wake up and realize that I’m alone. Do you know how that feels? To be completely alone? So alone that nothing matters to you anymore?”

A single tear trekked down her cheek and he couldn’t resist touching her again. He swiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. No one should have to go through this kind of hell. She loved her child. She only wanted the things any mother would want. The man she’d loved and trusted had taken that away from her.

“I’ll get your son back.” He didn’t answer the other question. “No matter what else happens, I will see that you get your son back.”

The crackle of electricity between them startled him at first. But he couldn’t draw his hand away from her sweet face. She needed him. No one had needed him in so long. More than that… he needed her just a little.

The sound of the flight attendant’s voice over the speaker system shattered the moment. “… Seatbelts should be fastened and trays should be placed in their upright position in preparation for landing…” Another of the flight attendants hurried along the aisle to reclaim empty refreshment containers and any other trash from the passengers.

Willow kept her gaze straight ahead as the plane started to descend. He had wanted to ask her if she’d found anything in al-Shimmari’s finances that sent up a red flag for her. Obviously there was something her ex-husband had wanted to hide from her. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted her to know the true extent of his assets. But why bother to hide those? As a non-Muslim she had no rights to his holdings. If he hadn’t gotten so caught up in touching her he might have asked the question.

Later, when they’d gotten to the hotel maybe he’d ask her to elaborate on what she’d found. For now, they had to concentrate on getting through customs and the airport without incident. Operations of this nature were best accomplished one step at a time.

When the plane bumped along the tarmac, Willow felt her tension start to climb once more. She’d spent the past forty-eight hours bracing for this moment and still she felt ill-prepared for what was to come.

What if Khaled learned that she was here?

What if one of his many spies saw her?

She chewed her lip and fought the panic. He wouldn’t find her. Mr. Anders had taken care of a passport under an alias. She would wear the khimar. Khaled would not know she was in the country. She and Ata would be gone before he suspected she was up to anything. He surely thought he’d foiled her attempts to retrieve her son when he captured or murdered Mr. Davenport’s man.

If she and Spencer succeeded, Khaled would retaliate, but she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

This was the only way.

Willow resisted the urge to look at the man next to her. There were other things she wanted to tell him. But she couldn’t. She’d sworn never to tell. If she breathed a word of what she knew, Khaled would not rest until she was dead. If she were dead there was nothing she could do for Ata. His well-being was first and foremost in her mind.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

Khaled’s business dealings were not her problem. There were government agencies responsible for catching men like him. She couldn’t be that kind of martyr. Not when her son’s life hung in the balance.

She knew exactly what would happen if she told Spencer Anders or Jim Colby what she knew. They would do the same thing any of the others she’d hired would have done had they learned her secret: go straight to the FBI.

As much as she loved her country… as much as she longed to do what her brain told her was the right thing, her heart wouldn’t let her do anything that would jeopardize her child’s safety.

Khaled had told her what he would do if she ever told a soul. The fact that he hadn’t simply killed her had been surprise enough. At first, she had been so happy that he hadn’t executed her on the spot, that she had stupidly thought maybe he still loved her. But he hadn’t, not the way a man was meant to love a woman in any event.

So, she’d had to muddle through alone. Her family had disowned her. She had no friends. The few she’d had before moving to Kuwait had gone on with their lives. There was no one to help her except this stranger she’d hired with the last of her savings.

She could say or do nothing that would alienate him in any way. He could never know she was keeping such a horrible secret. He was ex-military. He would not understand her reasoning.

Every step had to be carefully planned. Every word cautiously chosen.

When the seatbelt light had gone out and the flight attendant announced that they could deplane, Spencer stood and stepped back for her to exit before him. Willow dragged the khimar from her purse and wrapped it around her hair as she moved down the aisle. She had lightened her hair just a little and she’d lost some weight. She had to believe that no one would recognize her. Otherwise she might just have a nervous breakdown before they got out of the airport.

As they walked along the corridor that would take them into the terminal, Spencer moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. Apparently he understood that acts of affection or touching in general were not well-perceived in this country. His apparent knowledge of the country prevented any awkwardness.

God really had been looking out for her when he’d led her to the Equalizers.

Her heart started to pound harder when they moved into the crowded terminal. She tried not to scan the crowd. She wanted to look like any other arriving visitor. If she appeared suspicious or apprehensive someone might notice.

As they approached customs, she found herself holding her breath. If they made it through this security checkpoint, they would be home free.

Several other passengers lined up in front of them.

Anders leaned down. “We’ll be fine,” he whispered softly.

She prayed he was right.

Working hard not to study the faces of the customs officers, she rested her gaze anywhere but on the activities going on directly in front of her.

Stay calm, she told herself over and over.

There is no reason for anyone to be suspicious. Her papers were in order. She had nothing in her possession that would raise questions.

Five more minutes and this part would be over.

One of the officers motioned for her and Anders to move forward. It was their turn.

She walked slowly up to the counter and placed her purse and small carry-on bag there. Somehow a smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

“State your business in our country.”

Anders answered in spite of the fact that the man looked at Willow when he asked the question. “We’re appraising real estate for one of my clients.” He smiled down at Willow before turning his attention back to the man. “And doing a little vacationing.”

How could he sound so calm and cool?

The officer continued to review their passports and belongings. Willow noted nothing even remotely familiar about him. He looked to be in his forties. Medium height and weight with a bit of gray in his dark hair. His tone was brusque when he spoke, but that was typical.

Just when she’d decided she could relax marginally, the officer motioned for another man to join him at the counter. He passed Willow’s passport to his associate. Her heart lunged into her throat.

The second man, who wore a similar uniform to the first, looked at Willow and said, “Madam, you will need to come with me.”

Chapter Six

Willow knew what it was to be afraid. She’d been afraid many times in the past year, but not once had she been as terrified as she was at that moment.

“Is something wrong?”

She looked from the customs officer waiting for her to follow him to the man next to her who’d asked the question, his tone clearly impatient.

“Whatever the problem,” Anders added firmly, “you’ll need to explain it to me as well as my wife.”

Willow held her breath, prayed there was merely a misunderstanding.

“There is no problem, sir,” the officer assured him. “We select individuals at random for questioning. This is a security measure that is perfectly legal and of only minor inconvenience, I assure you.”

Anders nodded. “Fine, but I insist on being present. Do you have a law against that?”

“No, sir. This way, please.”

The wave of relief that rushed over her made Willow sway ever so slightly. She did not want to do this alone.

Anders placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her in the direction the officer had already taken. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “this won’t take long.”

Her entire being gravitated toward him and the protection he offered. It had been so long since anyone had protected her in any way. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed someone to take care of her until that moment.

The interview room was small. It reminded Willow of the rooms where suspects were taken in the television cop shows. Anders sat next to her at the small table. The officer took a seat on the opposite side.

“You stated that you are in Kuwait on business.” This the officer said to Anders.

“Yes,” Anders responded. “I’m an international Realtor. I have a client who is interested in office space here. I’ve contacted a local agent.” He reached into his pocket and removed a business card and offered it to the officer. “He’ll be showing me a couple of spaces later this morning. I’m sure he’ll be happy to verify that for you if you find it necessary to call.”

It was the middle of the night. Willow didn’t know who Anders’s contact was, but surely he was in bed.

“Have you been to Kuwait before?”

There was no doubt as to whom this question was directed. The officer’s gaze bored straight into hers.

“No.” She tried to swallow the emotion tightening in her throat. “This is my first visit.” Anders had instructed her on what she should say if the subject came up. She hadn’t expected it to come up only minutes after her arrival in the country.

“You’ve been here before.”

That too-familiar fear paralyzed her for two beats before the officer turned his attention to Anders.

“Have you not?” he pressed.

“Yes,” Anders confirmed. “Several times.”

Another uniformed man entered the room. He deposited Willow’s purse and carry-on bag onto the table. He placed Anders’s briefcase there as well.

The officer handed both passports to Anders. “I hope your visit is productive and enjoyable.”

Willow’s heart rate didn’t return to normal until they had exited the terminal and picked up the rental car. As much as she wanted to close her eyes and block the memories bombarding her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore the details of the place she had called home for three years or the incident that had just occurred, reminding her that this was not America.

“Are you okay?”

She inhaled deeply and let the breath out to clear her head. “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need him feeling sorry for her. She needed to be strong. She needed to focus on getting her son back. The memories, the fear, all of it would do nothing but distract her.

After a few miles of silence, he said, “Just so you know, that little intimidation episode back there might have had more to do with me than some random selection.”

The lights of Kuwait City in the distance held her attention for a moment before she turned to the driver. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m ex-military. I was in and out of this territory dozens of times. My name might have triggered a security check.”

“If you knew that was a possibility, why didn’t you use an alias?” Spencer Anders appeared far too smart to make a misstep that glaringly obvious.

“I wanted them to associate you with me. Any suspicions will be on me, not you.”

“Oh.” Wow. Another one of his protective measures. She couldn’t help being surprised all over again at having someone take steps to shelter her. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say more so Willow opted not to. Instead she focused on surveying the city. The lights were gorgeous, but she knew from experience that the true beauty of Kuwait City could only be seen by day. A heady mix of market bazaars and gleaming skyscrapers along a glistening coast. The mosques and souks and other sandy traces of bygone Bedouin days awaited the wanderings of tourists. No matter how much emotional stress she’d endured here she knew that beyond the glitzy opulence lay a deep sense of traditional values and warm Arabic hospitality.

She had loved this city with its diversity of people and richness of culture. It was only the man who’d brought her here that she despised. They wouldn’t pass his residence en route to the hotel. Like the other wealthy residents, his massive villa lay in the Suilhibikat area closer to the heart of the city. Kuwait boasted the wealthiest population in the world; thankfully most were kind and generous people.

The situation Willow found herself in now was her own mistake. If she hadn’t let love blind her four years ago she might have taken the time to consider the laws that could possibly come into play in her future. But she hadn’t dreamed things would go wrong and that the child she hadn’t known she would have would become a pawn in the ugly battle.

REGISTERING at the hotel at 2:00 a.m. took little time since there wasn’t a line of arriving patrons. Spencer tipped the bellhop generously and closed the door behind him. When he turned around he found Willow standing in the middle of the room staring at the bed.

“There’s only one bed.”

True. “Remember, we’re traveling as husband and wife. Our cover needs to appear realistic.”

His reminder didn’t erase the frown from her face, but she did seem to relax fractionally.

“It’s a big bed,” he added with a sweep of his hand to indicate the king-size width.

The frown eased into more of a neutral line. “It is big.”

At least that was settled.

“Did you want to use the shower first?” After the long hours of travel, he was definitely ready for a shower.

She waved him off. “You go ahead. I’ll…” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “… unpack a few things.”

At past two in the morning he wasn’t about to argue. He waited until he’d gotten inside the bathroom with the door closed before he stripped. It felt good to peel off the clothes wrinkled by too many hours sitting on a plane or in an airport.

He turned on the water and gathered the complimentary soap and shampoo and a towel before climbing beneath the hot spray. Closing his eyes, he just stood there for a couple of minutes and let his body absorb the heavenly heat.

When he’d managed to prod his brain back into action he started the cleansing routine, but a part of his mind kept going back to those tension-filled minutes at the airport.

There was every reason for Willow to be apprehensive about running into her ex-husband or someone he knew. He understood that her previous investigator had given her additional reason to believe her ex might be dangerous. But al-Shimmari hadn’t killed her when he had the chance. He could have located her at any time during the past few months if harming her had been his intention. Not that Spencer was giving him any credit at all. He wasn’t. The guy was on a federal watch list. He was most likely damned dangerous to the world at large, but not necessarily to any one particular individual, like his ex-wife.

Apprehension and anxiety Spencer had expected. Absolute terror he had not. The idea that being recognized had scared her that badly made him wonder if there was more she wasn’t telling him. Had something happened between her and her ex that she hadn’t divulged? Had she seen or heard something that gave her reason to suspect he might want to harm her if she returned?

That still didn’t explain why al-Shimmari hadn’t simply tracked her down and taken care of her if she had seen or heard something he didn’t want her to know.

She’d been more forthcoming those last couple of hours on the plane than she had been since they’d met. Maybe she would reveal more as she came to trust that he truly was on her side. He understood that she had been let down many times before coming to him. Her trust wouldn’t be easily gained. Unfortunately, time was their enemy.

When he’d pulled on fresh boxers and jeans he cleaned up after himself. He found Willow sleeping soundly on the far edge of the bed. She’d slipped off her shoes, but otherwise she was fully dressed. He pulled the cover up around her and then climbed into bed on the other side, as close to the edge as possible.

A big part of gaining her trust would include respecting her feelings. He sensed that no one had worried about her feelings in a long time. From what he could see so far, she was so accustomed to being alone that she was startled when he came to her rescue in any capacity.

No one should ever feel that alone.

He remembered what she’d said on the plane about being alone. That was the part that bothered him the most. It wasn’t right. Not right at all.

He pushed away the thoughts. Ordered himself to sleep. Tomorrow, later today actually, he would need to make contact with his “real-estate” connection. There were things he needed. Things he couldn’t have brought along in his luggage or in his carry-on bag.

Whether Khaled al-Shimmari was actually connected with one or more terrorist cells, whether he was capable of murder or not, Spencer had every intention of approaching this situation as if he and his security personnel were lethal as well as hostile.

Being fully armed would be his first step.

Thursday, February 24

WILLOW INHALED deeply. Her lungs filled with warm air, her senses vibrated with the scent of something earthy and delicious. She wanted to open her eyes, but that place between asleep and awake wouldn’t let her go. It felt so good. She hadn’t slept this well in so very long.

She snuggled deeper into the covers, hugged her pillow more closely.

Warm… smooth… hard.

Willow’s mind shifted toward the awake zone. Slowly, she opened her eyes and let the room around her move into focus.

Hotel.

Kuwait.

Spencer Anders.

The sound of her breath catching echoed in the room.

“Morning.”

The deep, thick sound of his voice vibrated up from his chest. She knew this because her cheek was pressed to that smooth, warm flesh. She felt the rumble.

Her initial thought was to roll away from him as quickly as possible, but his arm was around her, draped along the length of her back.

She couldn’t lie here like this. What would he think?

“Good morning.” She scooted away from his inviting body, noting thankfully that he lifted his arm out of her way without any awkwardness. Now if she could only unwrap herself from the cover she would make a mad dash for the bathroom.

But that wasn’t going to be easy. Somehow she’d wound herself in the sheets all the way from her edge of the bed until she’d nestled against his muscled torso. The room was cool. Maybe her body had instinctively sought out the heat. And then generated a little of its own, she admittedly self-consciously.

Enough of this. She had to get up.

As if he’d picked up on her discomfort, he dropped his feet to the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. But not before she’d gotten a full view of that broad chest and those sculpted abs. Even his back looked strong and toned.

She put her hands over her face and groaned.

He had to think she was totally pathetic.

Not that she cared what he thought of her personally. She drew her hands away from her face and glared at the ceiling. None of this was personal. She had hired him to get her son back. He didn’t have to like her or even respect her. He only had to do what she’d paid him to do.

If only she could maintain that sense of logic.

Kicking off the twisted covers, she managed to scramble out of bed. Her clothes were as twisted as the covers, so she righted them before sifting through her suitcase to pick out something to wear today.

Khaki slacks and a white long-sleeved pullover and sneakers.

The bathroom door opened and he emerged.

She hurried past him, careful not to make eye contact, and closed herself in the bathroom. A shower would help. She was a little off-kilter this morning. Jet lag. She just needed to regain her bearings and she’d be fine.

Truth was she hadn’t woken up with a man next to her in nearly a year. Waking up next to a man to whom she wasn’t married was even more unusual.

But that was her hang-up. She had plenty.

Spencer ordered room service and made a quick call to his contact. They would meet in an hour at one of the available commercial properties in the city. Touring a couple of office buildings would confirm his cover. If anyone had decided to keep an eye on him, this would back up Spencer’s reasons for visiting the peaceful state of Kuwait. Meetings with a couple of random agents in the city wouldn’t hurt.

When the light rap came at the door, he checked the peephole and established that it was room service. He opened the door and watched as the waiter rolled the cart into the room. He signed the check and locked the door once the waiter had gone.

The coffee smelled great. He needed caffeine. Lots of it. Though he doubted any amount of caffeine would erase the feel of Willow nestled snugly against him. The heat from her body had awakened urges he’d thought long dead. Not so, evidently. Too bad the timing was seriously off.