in his native Berber and it was unclear to Tara, and she suspected to the man he had just accosted, what it was he should stop.
Silence settled for a few seconds in the small oasis that had become her nightmare. She looked around, conscious that he was sensitive even to her silent scrutiny. She was doing as little as possible to draw attention to herself. The thought of her brothers is what kept her strong and would get her through this. But the leader’s next words frightened her like no others could.
“I’ll bring the bloody house of Al-Nassar to its knees.” He chuckled, the sound as dry as the endless sand that swept around them, flirting with the boundaries of the only greenery for miles. “Soon I will be a rich man.”
He turned so that he partially faced her as he coughed and scowled.
“What are you staring at?” he snarled.
“Nothing,” she said with oomph in her voice. For the one thing she’d learned since her kidnapping was that the man she would now think of only as he, detested weakness.
She stared at him before he finally turned his back to her.
The word he snarled as he stormed away was as evil as all the others he’d cursed at her. She knew the anger wasn’t directed at her but at the house of Al-Nassar and everything he thought it stood for. He’d made that clear in the first miserable hours when they’d taken her and all the hours since.
Tara breathed a sigh of relief and prayed, for she didn’t know how much longer she could keep the evil at bay.
Monday, September 14, 7:00 p.m.
They had agreed that there was nothing they could do until daylight. The Sahara wasn’t welcoming during the day, never mind at night. There was no need to push the limits, especially as there had been no further communication from the kidnappers.
That worried Emir.
“The airport attack had to be tied to the kidnappers. But why?” Kate asked. “Something doesn’t fit.”
He paced and tried to ignore the pulsing headache. He’d already popped a couple of aspirin and an hour ago he’d admitted to himself that there was no hope for it, the headache was there until Tara was brought home unscathed.
“We should have gotten a final demand by now. None of this makes sense,” he said, knowing it could make perfect sense. But maybe it all made sense and it was that last, unspoken option he didn’t want to contemplate.
“Could their plans have gone somewhat awry?” Kate mused. “We were attacked at the airport by men who we believe were part of Tara’s kidnappers, but why attack us?” She shoved her hands into her pockets as she paced the room. “They’ve got to be connected—the kidnappers and the airport attackers. And they had to have a motive for the attack. Is it possible they’re working at odds with each other?”
Emir heard the reluctance to believe her own theory in her voice. Like him, she knew that if she was right, if there were problems among the kidnappers, that could only mean problems for Tara. It wasn’t the usual kidnapping pattern, but for every norm there was the deviant. These kidnappers were obviously true deviants. And that only made him angry and fearful at the same time, fearful that they wouldn’t find Tara alive.
“She’ll be fine, Emir. We’ll make sure of it.”
He took a breath, focusing on what could be done now.
He had to think about practical things. Things that needed to be done by morning—gathering supplies that would see them through a journey into the desert. He’d already set staff to complete that task. But there were other things. They needed to eat, rest and prepare for what lay ahead.
Whether they heard from the kidnappers or not, whether her abductors returned Tara voluntarily or not, they would face justice and Emir would be the one leading that charge.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of a more immediate problem. But already that problem was also on the edge of resolution. He’d sent word to the kitchen and ordered Moroccan omelets for both of them. It was a light meal enhanced with the subtle tastes of various herbs, tomato and onion, perfect for not making one so satiated that lethargy set in. They couldn’t afford that.
There was movement in the doorway, followed by a hesitant knock.
He looked up and saw Baz, the son of one of his estate security. The teenager hesitated in the doorway as he held a tray of food Emir had ordered less than twenty minutes ago.
“On the desk would be fine, thanks.” He eyed the boy. “You’re off duty soon?”
The slight yet gangly, dark-haired youth nodded. “I’m sorry about Tara, I...” He dropped his head and backed up, his hands behind his back. “Can I help? Find her, I mean.”
For the first time in hours, Emir had a faint urge to smile. It was a fairly public secret that the boy had a crush on Tara. But, at only seventeen, his youth combined with his current status in life—son of a guard—might mean that life wasn’t going to throw him a chance at his sister’s affections. Too bad. In a few years Emir thought it was a good guess that the boy would mature into a man who could make a woman proud. His jaw tightened. He wanted Tara to live to have the choice. He pushed the thoughts away and met the boy’s concerned gaze.
“No. You don’t want to intimidate them with too big a show of force,” he said, flattering the boy. “We’ll find her,” he assured him as Baz nodded and left.
They ate their meal quickly and in silence. It was sustenance only and, oddly, a moment to collect their thoughts individually before they began brainstorming all over again.
“We’ve still got nothing but assumptions as to where they’ve taken her. For all we know, she could still be in the city, she might never have left,” Emir said as he picked up their plates and utensils and set them on a tray Baz had left on a table by the entrance.
“I’m not so sure,” Kate said.
She looked young and too fresh and pretty to have wielded a gun as efficiently as she did. He’d read in the file that she was twenty-eight years old.
“The evidence on the man in the airport seemed to indicate desert or rural. And Tara’s security indicated the same. That’s what we’ll have to stick to, barring further evidence.”
Emir scowled. “So far it’s the best we have.”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
He watched as she stood, walked into the hallway and over to a white-marble pillar that was just one of many lining the length of the two-hundred-foot hallway. He knew she wouldn’t find any answers there. Only space.
As familiar as he was with all of it, he still, at times, felt the overpowering opulence of the office walls. He’d seen her look of surprise when he’d first brought her into his office. He imagined she thought he’d decorated it to suit his personality rather than realizing what it was: a tribute to the generations that had come before him.
If it were up to him, the office would be simpler, less elegant. The rosewood
