Desire In The Desert. Ryshia Kennie

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Desire In The Desert - Ryshia Kennie


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a mosque or the walls of the city.

      “Do you have the kidnappers’ original message?” she asked.

      “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

      “Trust me,” she said, holding out her hand.

      He pulled his phone from his pocket, punched in a code and handed it to her.

      She took the phone, listened and then hit Replay immediately after it ended.

      “What do you think?”

      “The voice isn’t distinctive. It’s male, but beyond that there’s nothing. Midrange. No accent of any sort. Odd.”

      “Exactly what I thought,” he said.

      “Too bad we couldn’t listen to the second. Compare.”

      “They were different. I’m sure of it,” he said. Unfortunately there’d been no time to record that message.

      She handed the phone to him.

      “They used a knife,” she said. She didn’t wait for him to answer for they both knew that had been in the report. “Interesting choice of weapon. Silent, but it also takes surprise or strength, ideally both, to be effective. At least to do it quietly with little struggle.”

      “It was dark, past midnight. She was almost home and her security was taken by surprise.”

      “Will he make it?” she asked, referring to the man who was now in the hospital.

      “I went to see him. He’s critical.” His fist clenched. “Ahmed was a good man—is,” he amended. “He tried to help, to stop them. That’s what I assume from how it all ended. He wouldn’t have done otherwise.” The thought of one of his employees so close to death was gut-wrenching. There wasn’t anything about this case that wasn’t. He cleared his throat. “And then he tried to help me, give me information...but he’s in such rough shape.”

      Emir’s voice was tight even to his own ears and he could still feel the pain of seeing someone he’d known for years struggling to live and yet still wanting to help. “Ahmed would do anything for Tara.” He took a breath as if controlled breathing would somehow change how he felt. “It will kill her to find out what has happened to him.” He stopped for a moment, trying to regain control of his emotions.

      “He said something?” She looked at him with eyes alight at this new piece of information. “That wasn’t in the report. You spoke to him after,” she said, confirming what was already clear. “What did he say?”

      He knew that she was anxious for a clue that would get this investigation on the road. They both were.

      “He said ‘desert’ and then, the irony of it all is that the next words weren’t clear, but it sounded like a name—Davar. I don’t know what Ahmed was trying to tell me. He coded almost immediately after.” He clenched his fists, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, his mind back to that hospital room. “They were working on him when I left.”

      If what he’d heard and what he now suspected was right, the desert was where they needed to go. But the Sahara was a big place—it was like saying they were going to Europe.

      “Emir.”

      Her voice was like a caress and he took a step away. His jaw tightened and he fought not to send her home then and there.

      “I’ve never heard of it as a place. I imagine you ran a check of local surnames?”

      “Nothing,” he said. “Maybe I heard wrong. He was half mouthing—could barely speak.” He shook his head.

      “It will be sunset soon. We can’t be heading out, not in the dark and with no idea where we’re going.”

      “Agreed.” But she didn’t move. Instead she stood there, considering. “Was it a name—place name, I mean? And if so could it have been something close—not exactly what you heard?”

      “I don’t know. There hasn’t been much time to examine the possibilities.”

      “You had to pick me up and then there was the small shoot-out,” she said.

      “Exactly,” he said with a slight smile. “Thanks.”

      “For what?” She frowned.

      “For at least an attempt at humor. Oddly, it helps.” There was more that helped, but he feared it also distracted—her lithe figure for one...and most of all her sharp intelligence and quick wit. He was still going to tear a strip off Adam, but he felt slightly more confident than he had an hour ago.

      “Can I see her quarters?”

      “There was nothing—”

      She cut him off. “Trust me.”

      * * *

      “THIS WAY,” he said.

      Kate noticed that he didn’t temper his pace. At six-one, he was only three inches taller than her, yet his legs covered distances quickly.

      She strode beside him, thankful for long legs that sometimes made finding jeans a challenge. This time, they were a gift that allowed her to keep up as they headed toward the sprawling mansion that was a mix of old and new. The size and opulence was like nothing she’d seen in the working-class neighborhood of Detroit where, except for the stint in the Middle East, she’d grown up, or like Jackson, Wyoming, where she now lived. Her gaze swept the area, focusing on security details, potential breaches, rather than the opulence of the building and the grounds.

      “There are sensors on the wall that monitor activity inside and out.”

      His arm swept the five-acre square where as far as she could see, a cream-colored masonry fence surrounded the complex’s grounds.

      “The cameras are on twenty-four-seven.”

      If Kate hadn’t spent years immersed in Moroccan culture and, as a result, been aware of what “rich” in Morocco meant, she would have been pie-eyed with disbelief. This wasn’t the wealth of royalty, and by no means a palace, but it was more than 90 percent of the population of Morocco would ever see.

      She could understand why the security was as intense as it was and why Tara had been taken. The estate’s opulence combined with their business, Nassar Security, added to riches that could be hugely tempting to anyone with a criminal bent. She knew the history of the company, knew that the twins had begun it and then, with the inclusion of their brothers, built a business that had taken on more high-profile cases than any other security company of its kind in either the western United States or Northern Africa.

      “Interesting—about the security I mean.” Her gaze met his. “And yet they took her at a place near where the cameras didn’t reach.”

      His jaw clenched. “I’d planned to add security cameras there, too. But somehow it felt like overkill. Now, it’s a glaring error.”

      “Cameras wouldn’t have stopped—”

      “No,” he interrupted. “But alarms and—”

      “You couldn’t have known,” she interjected as she tried to reassure him.

      But the anger that emanated from him made it clear he didn’t want reassurance.

      “One of Tara’s security is dead and the other, the only witness, is fighting for his life,” Emir said. “It was an unforgivable lack of judgment on my part. I should have...” His voice dropped off as if he couldn’t, or didn’t, want to finish.

      “What? Known? Are you psychic?”

      “No, I don’t believe...” He stopped and turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. “You were being facetious.”

      “The man who lived. He was knifed in the chest. I’d guess that he was defending her.”

      Emir shook his head. “He shouldn’t


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