by DiAnn Mills
FATIMA OPENED Yasmine’s bedroom door. “I heard you crying. What’s wrong? Is Mother all right?” She frowned at Monica. “Did you cause this?”
Another can of worms. “Indirectly.” Monica touched Yasmine’s arm. “Would you like to tell your sister what I discovered?”
The younger woman shook her head. Fatima slid onto the bed beside her sister and wrapped her arm around Yasmine’s waist. “You can tell me.”
Several seconds passed with only the sound of Yasmine’s weeping. She swallowed hard. “I’ve been seeing Malik alone. Tonight, Monica caught us outside.”
Fatima stood abruptly from the bed. “How could you disgrace yourself to meet him without an escort? At night too? What else have you done? Been with him? Are there other men? Yasmine, are you pregnant?”
Yasmine was in Fatima’s face before Monica could break them up. “How dare you ask such a horrible question? Malik would never seduce me. He’s good and kind.”
Monica could have argued against Malik’s intentions, but she’d not interfere with two sisters quarreling unless it meant they’d waken the household. That tipping point had arrived. “Enough. You will have the prince pounding on the door and demanding an explanation.”
Fatima whirled around, her back against her sister. “You’re right. If our brother learns of this, the outcome could be unthinkable. He can’t find out, but this can never happen again. Is this why you wanted to delay giving Omar your phone? I knew it wasn’t charging.”
“Yes. I . . . I needed to delete Malik’s number.”
“How shameful.”
“He wants to marry me.”
“Then let him seek permission the proper way.”
A text alerted Monica. She glanced at the screen. Kord. Bring Yasmine 2 the main kitchen ASAP. She captured the young woman’s attention. “Why would Kord need to speak to you immediately?”
The young woman’s eyes widened. “Did he see me with Malik? I thought we were careful, but—”
Fatima touched her throat. “Omar must know what you’ve done.”
Monica typed into her phone. On our way. What’s up?
Malik may b the mole.
Monica placed her phone inside her pocket and stared into Yasmine’s face. “We’re to meet Kord in the kitchen now. How much do you trust Malik’s allegiance?”
“He’s loyal to my brother. Why? Will my brother be with Mr. Davidson?”
“I have no idea.”
“I’m scared.”
Yasmine had the look of innocence and young love. Monica had been there, and she wanted to shield her from heartache. “Take a deep breath. First we need to find out why Kord has questions for you.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Simply answer him. The truth has no competitor.”
“I’m going with you.” Fatima moved to the doorway of Yasmine’s bedroom. “I’ll grab my hijab. My sister deserves my support.”
Monica blinked. “What brought on the change of heart?”
“Yasmine and I will discuss her indiscretions later. Right now she needs me.”
Monica had grown up with brothers, and her best friend—as close as she could get to a friend—was Lori. This love-hate relationship between Fatima and Yasmine seemed as foreign as their mannerisms.
What had Kord discovered? Before they reached the suite door leading to the hallway, Monica stopped and stared at Yasmine. “I need to know now. Do you have information about Zain’s murder or the assassination plot against Prince Omar?”
Yasmine sobbed. “No. I promise you. I love my brother.”
Monica understood how a woman could love a man and have him manipulate her for his own self-serving purposes. The three crept down the winding staircase and on to the kitchen. A single light shone in the cooking area, where Kord stood with Malik. The Saudi press secretary arched his shoulders the moment she and the other two women entered the area. Fatima wrapped her arm around her sister in a vise grip hold.
“That was fast,” Kord said.
“We were talking when you texted me.” She glanced at Malik. His eye twitched.
Kord leaned against the marble counter. His typical serious mode and more. “I need to ask Yasmine a few questions.”
“About what?” Fatima said, anger simmering with each word like a slow boil.
Monica sent a silent message to the woman: Leave your personal feelings out of this.
“My job is to keep your brother alive. Zain is dead. Two other innocent men are dead. Unless you can give me a name of who’s responsible, I suggest you listen while I do my job.”
Fatima’s face reddened, but she said nothing.
“Yasmine, how many times have you met Malik alone?” Kord said.
She trembled. “Twice here.”
“And at home?”
“Not sure.”
“Yasmine?”
“Several times.”
“Why have you broken your culture’s laws, dishonored yourself, and shamed your family?”
Yasmine wept against her sister’s shoulder. Monica wished Kord would take the young woman’s age into consideration.
“Yasmine, this is serious.” His voice gave no hint of sympathy.
“Why is Yasmine your concern?” Fatima said.
Kord glared at Fatima with a look that could have cracked concrete. “Yasmine, I need an answer.”
The young woman broke away from Fatima as though finding strength. “I thought only of being with Malik.”
Probably not the best response.
“What did you talk about?”
She paled but kept her stance. “Our love and our future together.”
“Does Malik have plans to eliminate Prince Omar?”
Yasmine inhaled sharply. “Never. He loves him like a brother. Respects him.”
“I differ with your assessment since he’s broken laws regarding you.”
“That will soon change,” she said. “He will take care of—”
Malik stepped in front of Kord. “Yes, I assure you the matter will be handled as soon as we are finished here.”
Kord intercepted the man and shoved him back. “I’m talking to Yasmine. Has he spoken against Prince Omar?”
“No. Aren’t you listening to me?”
“Has he talked to your brother about marrying you? Has the prince refused to speak to your father?”
Yasmine flashed a bewildered look at Malik. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m loyal to the Saud family,” Malik said. “Look at my record.”
“He’d never hurt my brother.”
“But he’d entice you to meet him in secret,” Kord said. “To break rules and risk damaging your reputation.”
A second light flipped on. Monica whirled to see Prince Omar already in all his regalia for so early in the morning. How long had he been listening?
“Malik, are you guilty of murder?” The prince’s voice rumbled low.
“No, Amir. I’m loyal to you at all costs.”
“Yet you tempted and succeeded in having my sister meet you in secret.”
“Yes. I’m guilty of dishonoring her, and I regret my actions.”
Prince Omar nodded at Ali, who stood behind him. “You will assume Malik’s duties. The first one is to arrange a commercial flight home for him tomorrow.” He turned to Yasmine. “You are to remain in this house under Fatima’s care. You will visit our mother and resume your studies. You are not to mention this to our mother. This matter will be resolved when we return home. Until Malik leaves, you are to remain in your quarters.”
“Yes, Brother.” Yasmine shook.
“Your phone. Now.”
She pulled it from a pocket and gave it to him.
“Fatima, take your sister upstairs.”
The princesses left the room.
Monica stayed and slid a look at Kord. His dark eyes captured hers. Had he detected disapproval from the prince for her presence in the kitchen? Not that his approval mattered. She had a job
to do. But Kord’s slight upturned lip gave her a bit of a lift before he looked to the prince.
“I read encrypted e-mail messages in which the IP address led back to Malik. A plot—”
“The words.”
Kord lifted his phone and scrolled through it. “These were traced to Malik’s IP address. ‘Prince Omar and those like him will be crushed like the ahle-Kitab. Prince Omar will not leave US soil alive. Allah has given him into our hands. We know every move he makes while he stumbles into a sniper’s path. He’s a fool to trust the ones close to him. Many will be killed. Soon he will be under our feet.’”
Monica studied Malik for his reaction.
Ali pulled a knife from inside his thobe and lunged at Malik. Kord slammed his fist onto Ali’s arm. The knife hit the floor, its pearl handle glittering in the light. The two men struggled. Kord twisted Ali’s arm behind his back.
“Listen to me,” Kord said. “If Malik is guilty, why would he allow his IP address to be exposed?”
Ali fought against him. “He made a fool’s mistake.”
Monica could step in, but this was Kord’s battle.
“Let me get to the truth,” Kord said. “No need for another killing.”
“Ali, stand down,” Prince Omar said. “Kord has a solid argument.”
Ali relaxed and Kord released him, then proceeded to cuff Malik. “Prince Omar, I need to take this man to the FBI office for questioning. With three murders, this is not an issue of diplomatic immunity.”
“I waive immunity,” Malik said.
“You can’t. Not up to you.” Kord had the authority to apprehend him, but having the prince’s approval would ease the tension.
“Prince Omar—” Malik’s voice was firm—“I welcome the questioning. The killer must be found, but I’m innocent of being part of a conspiracy or having any knowledge of the murders.”
A flash of regret crossed the prince’s face. “It’s hard for me to say killer and Malik in the same breath. But do we ever really know those whom we trust?”
Yasmine’s actions had hurt him.
“Omar. I’m your friend,” Kord said. “I’m going to find who has committed these crimes. I don’t care who’s responsible.”
“This is disappointing, and I’m angry. I was aware of his interest in Yasmine, but to bring disgrace on her is unforgivable.”
“I’d like to leave now. Whether Malik’s guilty or innocent, we’ll find out.”
“All right. I’m coming with you. If he confesses to these crimes, I want to hear it.”
“What if an assassin is waiting outside the gates?” Kord said.
“You know I will not cower to fear.”
Monica took a deep breath and prayed for respectful words. “Prince Omar, I’m a novice with your culture, but I’m learning. Yasmine is a child. I beg you to remember her naiveté.”
Lines creased his face. “Yes, she is young, but she’s been versed in our ways. Her actions are inexcusable. Thank you. Your concern is appreciated. Will you remain with my sisters while I’m away?”
Was Prince Omar asking her to probe for information? No need. If Fatima or Yasmine knew anything, she’d find out. “Of course. Is there anything else?”
“No. Two of my men will guard the home—Karim and Fares. You’re free to go.”
She hid a smile.
“Monica, I’ll text you with updates of Malik’s and my conversation before you arrived,” Kord said. “And will you tell us why you and the princesses were up so late?”
Such formality. “I hesitate to mention this with the cultural variances between our countries. But I heard Yasmine leave tonight. Saw her and Malik in the garden area. I followed and questioned them.”
The heavy sound of Prince Omar’s sigh echoed around the room.
FOUR THIRTY THURSDAY MORNING, and Monica saw little hope for sleep. She sat with the two sisters in the common area sipping fresh coffee. Monica must prove her sincerity to Fatima and Yasmine and search for the truth. If they knew anything about the betrayal in this house, it would not surface easily, and certainly not to a woman outside their culture. Their differences demanded an assurance Monica was on their side. Being straightforward was the best approach.
“I want to be your friend,” Monica said. “What I’m about to say cannot be told to your mother. She has enough concerns. On the surface, my job is an assistant to Kord. In truth, I’ve been assigned to help him protect this family and use every means to find who’s responsible for the tragedies. You two are in as much danger as Prince Omar. The text sent to your brother’s phone proved it. The killer has an agenda, and he has no thoughts of mercy. A conspiracy of this size means more are working against your family. They will kill again unless they’re stopped.”
“I have a question.” Fatima arched her back like an irritated cat. “Are you an FBI agent too?”
“Does it really matter?”
“You are the one who said ‘truth has no competitor.’”
Touché. “I’ve received similar training.”
Disdain passed over Fatima’s face. “Why send a woman?”
Yasmine huffed. “To protect us. Even I can see that.”
“A bodyguard could be positioned outside our door. How long have you known Mr. Davidson?”
The source of Fatima’s irritation. “Since Tuesday. Why?”
“Curious. Did he request you?”
“Our superiors made the arrangement. We’re a team. I don’t know him very well. Any other questions?”
“Not right now.”
“And I have nothing to help you find the assassin,” Yasmine said. “Malik and I have talked of marriage for the past several months. I’m a modern woman, and the treatment and restrictions for women in my country are deplorable, archaic.”
“Has he asked you to lie or has he said anything inappropriate about the Saud family?”
She stared into the coffee cup in her hands. “The only thing he’s done is suggest I sneak away to see him. Nothing else.”
“I sense there’s more.” Monica waited, allowing silence to strengthen her words.
When Yasmine failed to speak, Fatima touched her sister’s arm. “If Malik is an enemy, he’s thrown your love away. If you think his love is true, would he request such a thing? Do you want a man who urges you to break our traditions? Dishonor our family?”
Yasmine laid her cup on the table and buried her face in her hands. Fatima drew her into an embrace.
Time for Monica to be transparent. “I loved a man who used me to destroy hundreds of innocent people in Africa. All for money. When I discovered his treachery, I had to help others find him.”
Fatima stared at her wide-eyed. “Were you able to help?”
“I was placed in a situation where if I didn’t kill him, he’d kill me and others. I pulled the trigger on a man I thought loved me as much as I loved him.” Monica moistened her lips. She’d not uttered the story aloud to anyone but Jeff, and even then, her words were cold. Facts. “I will never forget the heartache, the intense grief, as though I’d died with him. Even worse was the betrayal. I often dream about the men, women, and children who died because of him.”
“How did you survive?” Tears formed in Fatima’s eyes. Was her sorrow for her sister or her feelings for Kord?
“God gave me strength to work through the agony and live with purpose. He urges me to forgive myself, but that is the hardest task. I haven’t been able to conquer the unforgiveness, but I will. His Spirit is with me.” The prince might not approve of her words. But what good was her faith if she didn’t stand for it?
“My brother said you were a follower of Jesus,” Fatima said.
“I am.” Jesus was not a stranger to the Muslims.
Fatima nodded. “Thank you for sharing your story. I’ve been rude, and I apologize. Is there someone special now?”
“No. When the right man comes along, God will tear down my self-imposed walls.” The conversation had gone in a direction Monica hadn’t
anticipated. “Because I’ve experienced the same kind of hurt, I want Yasmine to understand she’s not alone. Doing what’s right is seldom easy. We women must be courageous, despite tender feelings.”
Yasmine raised her head, and Monica used her fingertips to wipe away the young woman’s tears. “I will tell you all I can remember.”
“I’m here with you,” Fatima whispered.
“When I was almost fifteen, Malik began working for my brother as his press secretary. Once he smiled at me, and I believed he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. From then on, I stole glimpses of him whenever I could. A few months later, he saw me alone in the garden, and we spoke.” She looked at Fatima and took her sister’s hand. “I’d stolen away after our father scolded me about poor grades. Seeing Malik softened my anger. I thought it was innocent enough. He asked me about my music and told me to work hard and bring honor to my family. Nothing inappropriate was ever said. We were friends.”
Monica saw the young girl’s infatuation and how easily she had been tricked by a man who was fifteen years older. “How did your relationship change?”
“He talked about my plans for higher education, and I shared with him my desire to raise the status of Saudi women. He asked if he could be a part of my future.”
Full-blown manipulation.
“Don’t you see how wrong his words and meeting with you were?” Fatima’s question didn’t carry the harshness as before. “Never mind. I see you’re thoroughly ignorant of his faults. What else happened, Sister? We must be honest with each other.”
“Malik has kissed me. That’s all. Tonight he promised to speak to Omar and our father about marriage very soon.”
Promises to secure her cooperation? “Has Malik asked you to do anything strange or unusual?”
“Only to keep our meetings secret.”
“Has he talked to you about his work for Prince Omar?”
“He enjoys his position as press secretary.”
“Any dislikes or what he’d like to see different in politics or specific reforms?”
Yasmine straightened. “He agrees with me that women need more rights.”
Again to draw her into his confidence? “Has he shared with you about his day-to-day duties?”
