at all. She feared that, in this situation, that might be the case.
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
