and caught himself as he grabbed her arm, before he righted himself and disappeared into the smoke.
“Have you seen a little...”
She was shoved from the side as more people emerged from the stairwell and headed for the exit. Water began to spray from the overhead sprinklers.
“Ma’am,” a man said. Her burning eyes could barely make out the uniform, but it was a hotel employee, and all she could think was that finally there was help.
“My son...” she began. “I’ve lost my baby!” The words came out in a panicked shriek. She’d lost control. She was beyond words. She had to get it together. She had to find him.
“You’re going to have to leave,” he said as he pushed her forward toward the exit.
“No!”
His grip on her elbow tightened. Now he was pulling her toward the exit.
“No!” This time it was more forceful and she considered that she might have to do something violent if he didn’t let go, like kick him in the shins. Something. “I’ve lost...”
“Ma’am.” He kept walking, dragging her along. “This is an urgent situation. You need to leave now. The emergency crews will handle it. You’re making it difficult for the others, blocking the exit.”
“What? My—”
“Out!” he said shortly, obviously losing patience with her.
She was ready to smack him if that was what it took. Instead they were pushed from behind and his grip loosened. She pulled free of him, backed up and dodged her way through the stampede.
“Everett!” she shrieked.
“Get moving!” someone else snarled as they shoved past her.
She gagged on smoke. She imagined her baby struggling to breathe. She imagined him trampled as people pushed their way out of the hotel.
She tried to call his name again but her throat was dry and tight. She coughed. He could be crushed. He was so small, too small. How had she lost him? She was a horrible mother and, despite everything that had happened, she was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.
Someone rammed her shoulder. She was knocked off balance. She staggered, fighting to prevent herself from falling. Yet even as her hand hit the carpet, she was still frantically scanning the area. In fact here, low to the ground, she could see better, for the smoke was less dense and she was at his height, the height of a two-year-old. She was also in danger of being trampled, as she was sure he was. She swallowed against the panic and smoke that was locking her throat. Her voice was all she had—he had to hear her. For there was danger everywhere and he was alone.
Sirens were wailing in the distance, the haunting call both frightening and hopeful. Would they get here in time? They had to. She had to find him. She would find him. There was no other outcome, not one that she could survive.
“Everett,” she croaked as she stood up and elbowed her way against the crowd.
Where could he be? Had someone taken him? It was another thought to cloud her mind with fear. It was a thought that taunted the mind of every parent. A fear fed by the media and that one never outgrew—the boogeyman in the closet.
But this time the boogeyman had gotten out! He had her son and her heart constricted at the thought. She bumped into a woman and pushed away from her without a second look. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t a rude, self-serving woman who shoved people to the side without an apology. It didn’t matter. She was now. She’d be anything she needed to be if only she could find her little boy. She was bent low to the ground, not crawling, still standing and buffeted on either side by the relentless crush of panic rushing to escape.
“Crazy,” someone muttered.
“Get out of my way,” someone else said as a knee caught her shoulder and threatened to knock her off balance.
She stood up, saw another hotel employee and tried to make her way to him. “Help me,” she said.
“Ma’am. You’ve got to leave.”
“My son...”
She was thrown off balance as a tall, heavyset man, leading with his belly, knocked her aside as he headed for the exit.
It was impossible. She couldn’t give up. She had to find him. Tears began to blur her vision and her head pounded from the smoke. What must he be feeling? She squinted in the murky lobby that oddly seemed clearer than it had only a minute ago.
She would die if she lost him. Her throat closed and smoke threatened to choke her, but she forged ahead.
Yet no matter how hard she fought against the tide of panicked hotel guests, her son was nowhere in sight. Her baby had disappeared!
“Everett!” Her son’s name came out in a choked mockery of a shout. This wasn’t happening! She hadn’t come all the way to Morocco to lose him now, or for that matter, to lose him ever. She was here to make him safe, keep him safe. She’d given up a job, security, and now he was gone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This trip, the uncomfortable flight, all of it was supposed to result in her keeping him away from the danger that threatened him in the States. And now he was missing!
It was unbelievable. She took a deep breath and screamed his name. Smoke billowed around her and a man looked at her curiously.
“Can I help?”
“I’ve lost my son.” She gasped for air. Tried to think straight, tried to remain calm, but it was impossible. “He’s two. Please.” She bit back tears. “Help me.”
“Ma’am, I’m sure he’s been found and taken outside. Go outside and wait.”
“Wait?” It was the second time she’d heard it and this time she could take no more. Her voice was not the voice she told Everett to use on a regular basis, it was not her indoor voice. “My son is missing!” Her fists clenched, driving her recently home-manicured nails into the palms of her hands. A sharp pain ran up her arms. The pain grounded her, temporarily dispelled the blinding panic.
Her hands shook and her head pounded. She wouldn’t give up. Coming to Marrakech had been a decision made in desperation. For it was here in the land of the sheiks, where she searched for the lifeline that would protect her heart. One man, who she held responsible for almost destroying her life, was now the only man who could save her son.
But now it didn’t matter if she found Sheik Talib Al-Nassar. Only one thing mattered—finding Everett. He was her heart and without her son, there was nothing.
Even for a car fanatic, one who had experienced the ultimate of vehicles, the BMW Z4 was a dream to drive. The car’s custom paint job hinted at shades of an early morning sky. Its pearl-blue base and finishing coats were multi-layered and hand applied. The result gleamed in the sunlight. The butter-soft, smoke-gray leather steering wheel was almost erotic beneath his palm. While he’d owned and driven many luxury sports cars, this one was sweeter than any vehicle
