the family’s first encounter with the Taj Zabbar—over five centuries ago. Is that what you want?”
“To start.”
“Yes, well. For nearly a thousand years the Kadir clan have been nomads and traders. Originally we traveled the Spice Route in ten-mile-long caravans, staying for a time with the various peoples we met along the way. Our clan never claimed any lands as our own but would rely on the kindness of those who would allow us to pitch our tents on their land.”
Rylie leaned back in her chair and listened to him speak in that dreamy voice of his. As he spoke, she thought about the Arabian Nights tales. His hushed words tied her in a web of romance, destiny and mystic promise. Visions of sandstorms and camels and dark sheiks riding across dunes on horseback swam in her mind.
“At around sixteen hundred AD,” he went on, “the Kadir caravan arrived in a new territory. A land of vast, isolated deserts and rough mountain terrain. A land with easily accessible coastlines for commerce. The Kadirs found the territory was inhabited by a fierce warrior tribe called the Taj Zabbar.”
Darin was finally getting down to the legend. “The Kadirs have always come and gone in peace, no matter where they’ve traveled.” Shooting a quick glance around at the thinning crowds in the bar, he continued. “But the Taj Zabbar wanted no trade and no peace. Our people were preparing to move on when the caravan was attacked. Taj Zabbar warriors robbed, raped and murdered many of our people before the Kadirs could mount a defense.”
He’d stopped talking and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. Rylie wondered if the magic of the legend was affecting him the same way it did her.
“Don’t stop now. What happened next?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” He suddenly looked annoyed and Rylie was about to ask why when he said, “Do you see anyone watching us?”
She pivoted in her chair and checked around the bar.
“Nope. Why?”
His lips narrowed into a grimace. “Nothing. It’s just.
“Never mind. Where was I?”
“Your ancestors defending themselves against attack.”
She couldn’t quite name the expression in his eyes, but in a moment he began his story once more.
“The Kadirs successfully defended themselves. But by then the caravan was destroyed. It would’ve been impossible for them to move on in the shape they were in. They were compelled to settle down where they were for long enough to repopulate their herds of camels and horses and to construct new tents. A second generation of our people had been born before the caravan was ready to travel again.”
“Wow. So, like, years, then? What about the Taj Zabbar during that time?”
“Yes, it was many years. And the Taj Zabbar continued their raids on our people.” Darin’s voice dropped to a near whisper and she was forced to lean forward to hear what he was saying. “Finally, in desperation, the Kadir elders decided they had no choice but to fight back. They rounded up as many of the Taj Zabbar as they could, executing the worst of the murderers and dispersing the rest.”
Rylie felt a whiff of air on the back of her neck at that moment and looked around to see if someone had opened a door behind her. She found the bar crowds had thinned considerably, and the door was firmly shut against the night air. She could barely believe she’d been so entranced by the story that she hadn’t even noticed the time.
Darin kept talking and she whipped her head back to hear what he was saying. “After the Kadir clan left their territory for good, the Taj Zabbar rulers and warriors had been so decimated that they couldn’t defend themselves. Their neighbors swarmed over their lands and enslaved what was left of the tribe.” Darin shook his head at his own words, which seemed a little strange to her.
“The Taj Zabbar never forgot or forgave the Kadirs, I suppose.”
“No. Not for the following five hundred years.”
“But it’s over now, isn’t it?” she demanded. “I mean, the Taj Zabbar finally got their territory back a couple of years ago. All the problems between your clans were long ago.”
“Not exactly.”
She thought about what he’d said at the start of his story…. Our first encounter with the Taj Zabbar—
“Something else has happened since? What?”
Darin raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s my turn to ask the questions.”
“But …”
“Uh-uh.” His face lit up like he’d been given a special present. “A promise is a promise.”
He was right about that. She believed in honoring a promise, too.
But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she grumbled. “What do want to know?”
Taking his time, Darin raised his glass and swallowed the last of his wine. “First, I would like an explanation of why you threw that accusation around last night about me causing the explosion?”
Struck, as if by his hand across her face, Rylie drew in a breath. “I didn’t mean you exactly. I was talking about …”
“My family?” he suggested. “But even that doesn’t make any sense. My uncle was killed in the explosion the same as your father. Thinking logically, why would the Kadirs kill a member of their family and cost their own company untold amounts of trouble and aggravation?”
“I …” It did sound ridiculous now hearing him say it. How would she explain herself?
The ugly truth was all she had to offer, but she vowed to take the punishing embarrassment that came with it like her father’s daughter should. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I guess. Maybe I thought the explosion was some sort of suicide bombing.”
“Terrorism? You thought we.” He stopped talking and the strangest look crossed his face.
His shoulders raised and straightened as he glared at her. “Certainly an educated person wouldn’t let prejudice cloud their mind in such dark ways. You seem too sophisticated for racial profiling.”
“I am.” She heard the desperation in her voice and wondered why this man’s opinion of her had suddenly become so important. “I mean, I don’t really believe any of that stuff. But my judgment has been impaired since the explosion—since the death of my father. I … I haven’t been completely well. Obviously.”
It took him a second, but the hard expression in his eyes finally softened to sympathy as he said, “Which brings me to my next question. Why are you here? You should be home with your family and running what’s left of your company.”
She tightened her lips and glared at him, not ready to discuss this yet.
“I learned this morning that you have nearly bankrupted yourself and the entire Hunt firm,” he continued. “All in an effort to lessen the suffering for victims of the explosion—every one of them, and not only Hunt employees. That may be admirable, but what good are you doing them or yourself by
