clapped his hands, and another man brought out a large hand-woven rug, stretching it out on the floor beside them. “This rug is very, very old. A woman in each Arabic tribe works her entire life, making one rug. The rug tells a story. If you start at the top and work your way down the tassels, it is a story of her tribe.”
Lisa’s face lit up. “I can’t believe it would take a woman her entire life to make one rug. This is priceless. Why would anyone want to sell their family heritage?”
Hassan shook his head. “It is the way of the world. People need money to feed and clothe their family.”
“There’s no way I can afford such a rug.” Lisa glanced at Brett.
He knew that look. Lisa wanted the rug. “How much?”
Hassan scratched his beard, looking at the rug and then at Brett. “For you, only $2,500.”
Brett choked back laughter. If they thought he was going to pay that much money for a dirty old rug, they were crazy.
Hassan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m curious. Where are you from in America? I don’t recognize the accent.”
“We’re from Iowa,” Lisa blurted out. “Do you know where that is?”
Hassan’s dark eyes glinted dangerously. “Iowa. Yes, I am familiar with it.”
“You’ve been there?” Brett asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.
“Perhaps one day. I have friends in Des Moines. They tell me about the wonders of your state. The beautiful farms.”
Brett forced his fingers to unclench. What is this guy smoking? He knew a scam when he saw one. Hassan’s shuddered gaze was difficult to read.
“If that’s all you got, we’d better go. It’s getting late.”
Lisa sighed as she dug her fingers through the vibrantly colored rug. Brett rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to pay thousands of dollars for a used carpet. He’d make a low-ball offer. Once they refused, they could get out of here.
“Three hundred dollars is the best I can do.”
Lisa jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Oomph,” he groaned.
Hassan’s lips tightened. Maybe he was insulted by Brett’s offer. That was okay with Brett. He wanted an excuse to leave.
One of the men near Hassan murmured something. Hassan held up his hand, making a slicing motion in the air.
“Since your woman wants the rug, I will accept your offer.” His dark eyes pierced Brett.
Shit! Why would Hassan accept such a low price for the rug? Maybe it isn’t handmade as he said. It could be a dirty manufactured rug. Brett chewed his lower lip in frustration. He probably just got screwed.
“I thought you wanted jewelry.”
Lisa sighed. “I thought I did but when I learned the story of the rug, I knew we’d never have this opportunity again.”
“Fine. I want to make sure you get what you want.”
Lisa threw her arms around Brett’s neck and squeezed. “I can’t believe it. We have a Moroccan rug.”
Brett rose and started to pull out his wallet. “Wait. There’s no way that this size of rug will fit in our luggage.”
“No problem. We will wrap it and ship it to your address.” Hassan’s dark eyes narrowed.
“Ship it?”
Hassan nodded. “Of course. We ship items for tourists all the time.”
“That will be fine,” Lisa added. “Now we won’t have to worry about lugging it on the plane.”
Out of excuses, Brett opened his wallet and counted out the money. Omar took the money and handed it to Hassan. One of the bearded men quickly folded the rug and took it to another room.
Omar wrote up a receipt and handed it to Brett. “Our contact information is listed. You can expect the package in a few weeks. Since it is dark, I will walk you back to the riad, I mean hotel.”
Brett followed Lisa to the door. They quickly made their way through the dark narrow alleyways. The smell of cigarette smoke and food filled the air. Curious eyes followed their movement as they passed the shuttered souks.
Omar and Lisa walked ahead of Brett. A thudding sound drew his attention; he froze, listening. His gaze darted to the nearby entryways, which provided ample opportunity for someone to hide. His eyes strained, peering into the night. Again, he wished he had his gun.
Omar’s voice suddenly hissed in his ear. “Sir, we must not linger here. Please stay close.”
With a long sigh, Brett nodded. Upon reaching their hotel, Omar bowed and shook Brett’s hand. “Thank you. May you have a safe journey back to America.” Without waiting for a response, Omar turned and disappeared in the shadows.
Once in their room, Brett checked the locks on the door. He slid the deadbolt into position.
Lisa plopped on the bed, looking up at him. “So are you pleased with our purchase?”
Brett leaned against the solid wood door with folded arms. “Hell, I think we’re lucky we weren’t mugged or kidnapped.”
Lisa kicked off her shoes. “Sweetie, you need to lighten up. I get that you’re a cop, but bad guys don’t lurk around every corner. Besides, Omar got us back here with no problems.”
“You’re going to give me a heart attack.” He paced in front of the bed, waving his arms. “You…you can’t just take off down deserted alleys like that. Didn’t Hassan’s behavior make you suspicious?”
“Hassan? No, but those other men made me nervous the way they stared at us.”
“See? I told you something weird was going on.”
Lisa sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I can be impulsive, but at least we have a real Moroccan rug.”
Brett wagged a finger at Lisa. “Didn’t you think it strange that they practically gave us the rug?”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? They liked us and wanted to give us a deal. That’s it. Nothing more.”
Brett’s head throbbed. “Why were they so curious where we lived? Why would anyone in Morocco care that we’re from Iowa?”
Lisa’s cool hand covered his cheek. In a soft voice, she answered, “Let it go. Nothing happened.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re edgy. Maybe a little romance will help. Let’s get to bed. Tomorrow will be a long travel day.”
He wasn’t going to win this debate. Maybe Lisa had a point. He was so used to seeing danger at every corner. He might have misread the situation.
“Go take your shower first. I’ll sit here and calm down
