by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
A very young Elena, her hair in a long ponytail and her smile wide, stood beside a young, fair-haired man who had his arm draped familiarly over her shoulder. Her arm was wrapped around the young man's waist. The man—no, the boy—in the photograph smiled with the same innocent joy that brightened Elena's face. They both wore T-shirts and jeans. The T-shirts were emblazoned with the words "Oklahoma State." Hassan flipped the photo over. On the back was scribbled, "Elena and Johnny, May 1992."
He returned the photo to the drawer, a little uneasy. For the first time he felt like an intruder. A thief.
But there was no time for recriminations. While he was here, he might as well check the other drawers in Elena's desk. There would probably be no need for him to break into the building again; he might as well make the best of this effort. In the bottom right hand drawer, Elena had stored feminine things. A small, soft bag of makeup, a brush for her hair, a spare pair of panty hose, still in the package.
The bottom left hand drawer contained more files. Schematics on the refinery, he saw as he leafed through. He rifled through the files, expecting to find nothing more.
The gun surprised him, lying there at the bottom of the drawer beneath the papers. He reached down and lifted the heavy weapon, a Heckler & Koch 9mm semiautomatic pistol. He ejected the magazine and studied it before ramming the clip back into the housing. The pistol was fully loaded.
His certainty that Elena was perfectly innocent suffered a dent, a small setback. Why would a woman who apparently lived such a clean, innocent life need such a weapon so close at hand?
"The plant is small, as refineries go, but we have an excellent record of safety and productivity," Elena cast a sideways glance to Hassan, who walked beside her. His eyes took in everything, from the men working in this area up to the catwalk far above their heads. Bless him, he hadn't mentioned last night once.
"I'm impressed," he said, sounding sincere.
He had shown up at her office, once again right on time, wearing blue jeans, a white button-up shirt, and his own pair of steel-toed boots. She hadn't had to tell him to take off the emerald ring and expensive watch, he'd left his jewelry behind. You'd almost think he knew something about a working refinery.
When she'd handed Hassan a pair of black coveralls with the Rahman Oil logo on the breast, he hadn't said a word, but had donned them without mentioning the plastic zipper. Perhaps he knew that even the smallest spark in the wrong place at a refinery could be devastating.
Once they'd reached the refinery, she'd supplied Hassan with a yellow hard hat and safety glasses, like the ones she wore herself. Instead of looking hopelessly out of place, as she had been certain he would, he looked right at home, here.
He had to raise his voice to be heard above a pump that ran close by. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to an area that was under construction.
"We've had problems with the piping in this area," she explained. "My engineers are rerouting the conduit in hopes that will take care of it."
He looked over the duct carefully, walking around the area and finally climbing the ladder to get a closer look at the pipes that ran above their heads.
"What are you doing?" she called, hands on her hips as she craned her neck to watch him climb a good thirty feet. If he fell... "Get down here!" All she needed was a visitor to the plant falling and breaking his neck.
But Hassan climbed like a man who knew how to keep his balance and his footing. Of course he did. Hadn't she read somewhere that he'd climbed a mountain or something? Yeah. He'd climbed mountains, raced boats and dated supermodels. She had to remind herself that he was just a bored playboy looking for something new to play with. The new of the refinery, and of her, would wear off quickly. Of that she had no doubt.
"Just taking a closer look," he yelled, glancing down at her and flashing a quick grin. When he swung out to the side, holding on to the ladder with one hand and balancing on the sole of one boot, she held her breath.
His inspection completed, Hassan quickly descended the ladder. Elena was prepared to scold him for doing such a foolish thing, but he didn't give her a chance.
"You're using the wrong fittings," Hassan said as his feet touched the concrete floor. "They're not off by much, and I can see where your men wouldn't notice, but obviously they've been mismarked. And if you run the pipe around this way," he lifted his hand and gestured to the right, "your problem will be taken care of. You'll get a more natural flow that way."
Elena stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"If you have the drawings handy, I can explain."
She shook her head. "I have engineers..."
"I have a degree in mechanical engineering," he interrupted. "MIT."
Elena crossed her arms across her chest. "I had no idea."
Hassan shrugged his shoulders. "Many people don't."
"MIT?"
"You are impressed?"
There was no way she would let him know that she was at all impressed. "Of course not. I have several engineers on staff, but none of them graduated from MIT."
"I'm so sorry," he said, teasing her.
"I would never hire an engineer from MIT," she said with a straight face. "They think they know everything, and are impossible to work with."
His grin never faded. "I've been told I am quite easy to work with."
She snorted.
"You are not impressed?" he asked again.
"Nope," she said, turning away and heading for the engineers building where the drawings were stored. With her back to him, she gave in to a small smile.
"I graduated in three years," he said, following closely. "Now are you impressed?"
"Sorry." Three years! He must've dedicated himself to nothing but his studies, to accomplish that.
Once in the building, she removed her hard hat and safety glasses and laid them on a long, empty table. Hassan did the same. She nodded hello to Frank Cortez, one of her engineers, and led Hassan into the room where the drawings were stored. Taking the correct set of drawings from the storage area, she spread them across yet another long table.
"All right," she said. "Show me what you're talking about."
He did, quickly and effectively. Okay, so now she was impressed. Elena called Frank into the room, and once she showed him what Hassan had seen, he took the radio off his belt and called two other engineers to take a look.
Frank stepped into the outer room to wait for the other engineers, and Hassan turned to Elena and set his black eyes on her face. He looked like he was trying to stare through her. And succeeding.
"Leon's again tonight," he said lowly. "Eight o'clock."
"No," she said quickly.
Hassan raised his rakish eyebrows, but said nothing. She really should make an excuse. After all, Kitty wasn't here to contradict her, not today. And this guy was nothing but trouble. She could practically swell trouble on his skin.
She sighed in surrender. "While you're here, you really should see more of Evangeline than Leon's. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven o'clock." He grinned widely. "I look forward to it." Unfortunately, so did she.
* * *
He followed Elena's directions, turning onto a two-lane side road. She had protested when he'd insisted on driving, but had quickly given in. He could see why she liked the pickup truck. It was a powerful vehicle.
As she had in her office today, before donning the black coveralls for their excursion to the refinery, she wore blue jeans and boots. The blue jeans she wore tonight were softer than those she had worn to the office. They molded to her legs in a most tantalizing way, as if they caressed her skin the way he longed to. The boots she wore this evening were low-slung leather cowboy boots that looked well-worn, rather than bulky steel-toed boots. Instead of a prim work shirt, she wore a lightweight blue-green sweater, a form fitting top suited to the mild April weather. That sweater didn't disguise her delicate shape the way the coveralls had.
Elena's hair had been brushed back, away from her beautiful face, and she
wore a little makeup. A hint of turquoise eye shadow, a touch of pink lipstick. She had no idea how beautiful she was.
"Where are we going?" he asked again.
She pointed. "Just ahead."
He saw the parking lot she gestured to, a gravel lot crowded with pickup trucks and minivans and cars. The building was ordinary. In fact, it was no nicer than Elena's own warehouses at the refinery. A red neon sign flashed outside the large concrete block building. Molly's Barbecue. The be in the middle of barbecue had burned out, so when the lights flashed on it actually read Molly's Bar cue.
He pulled the pickup truck into a space near the door, and turned to Elena. "Are you certain this is the right place?"
She gave him a blinding smile. "Trust me."
Some spy he was. He did trust Elena, and he had absolutely nothing to go on but his gut instincts.
The interior of the restaurant was a little better than the outside. Fat blue-padded booths lined the walls, and rough-hewn wooden tables, round and square, were scattered throughout the large, open, middle section. A jukebox against one wall played a twangy country-western tune, and there were so many people talking the room hummed with its own dull roar.
The hostess greeted them with a wide smile. "My goodness! We haven't seen you in ages." She gave Hassan a quick, calculating once-over, and then an approving smile. "A booth or a table?"
"A booth, if you have one available," Elena answered.
They followed the hostess across the room, and she tossed two menus on the table and told them the waitress would be by soon. As she left, she winked at Elena.
"She is a friend?" Hassan asked, leaning over the table.
"No," Elena said. "I just know her from the times I've eaten here."
"She seems very friendly."
"She is. Most of the people around here are."
Hassan reached for the menu, but Elena playfully snatched it out from under him.
"Uh-uh," she said with a smile. "Tonight I order for you."
He settled back in his cushioned seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Very untraditional," he said softly.
"Do you mind?"
He knew if he insisted, she would give him a menu and allow him to order for himself. "Not at all."
A waitress appeared and Elena, without so much as glancing at the menu, ordered two barbecue beef plates, tea, and chocolate pie.
Tea. Thank goodness. He hadn't had a decent cup of hot tea since arriving in Evangeline.
He had seen nothing today to make him think the Brothers of Darkness were active at the Rahman Oil Refinery, though that was far from conclusive. He'd only seen a portion of the plant. It was spread over more than a square mile, and he had only been inside a few of the buildings. There had been a large number of Arab faces at the refinery, but since he'd seen Elena's personnel files he'd expected that. Since the plant ran on twelve-hour shifts, four days on and four off alternating day shift to night shift, he had only seen one quarter of her people.
"Are many of your employees from Maloun?" he asked, forcing himself to remember why he was here.
Elena nodded, not at all disturbed by the question. "Yes. My father insists on hiring as many Malounians as possible." She set very serious eyes on him. "The economy in my father's home country is not as prosperous as that of your own."
She did not say what she had to be thinking, that Tamir's prosperity was thanks in part to the oil fields that some of her countrymen, the Brothers of Darkness included, considered their own, thanks to early Malounian settlers on that productive land.
"Many of our employees send most of their paycheck home, while others bring their families here."
He nodded, as if it were unimportant. "It seems to work well. If what I saw today is any indication, the refinery runs quite smoothly."
"We have our bad days," she said with a wry smile. "But for the most part I've been very pleased."
"Does your father spend much time at the refinery?" He couldn't push, but he needed to meet Yusuf Rahman. Elena was CEO, but she was still a woman. There was no way she would be trusted with the secrets of the Brothers of Darkness. If she didn't lead him where he needed to go, perhaps her father would.
"Some," she said. "Not a lot. Believe it or not, he does have faith in the way I run the company."
He couldn't help but smile at her. "Most CEOs don't spend much time in the refinery. But everyone on site seems to know you well."
"I'm there almost every day," she said.
"Why?"
She shrugged gently. "Some of the guys call me a maverick. Others think I'm trying too hard to prove myself, being a woman in a man's business."
"Are either of these accusations true?"
"Both of them, to some extent," she admitted. She laid expressive green eyes on his face, and her expression turned serious. "But the real truth is, that refinery is all I've got."
"I find that hard to believe." Elena should have suitors he had to fight off to spend time with her, a family, an exciting life outside the mundane workings of the plant.
"Sad but true." She tried for a lighthearted tone, resting her arms on the table that stretched between them. "I don't want to talk about the refinery all night," she said, baldly changing the subject. "Tell me more about your sisters."
He saw that Elena was envious of his family, that she got some small pleasure from hearing him talk about his siblings and his parents. So he told her little stories about his sisters, small moments he had forgotten about until Elena revived the memories with her questions.
Their dinner arrived, and the waitress plopped two platters laden with food on the table, and then set huge glasses of tea beside the platters. Ice floated in the tea.
"It's not hot," he said needlessly.
"No it's not." She lifted her own glass and took a swallow.
He lifted his glass and followed her example, and almost spewed tea across the table. "And it's full of sugar!"
"Welcome to the South," she said as she placed her glass aside. "This is tea as it was meant to be. Cold, sweet, and strong."
He took another drink. Now that he knew what to expect, the iced tea wasn't so bad. In fact, it was very good.
"Delicious," he finally admitted. "Different, but I think I could get used to this. But while I'm here, I'm going to teach you to make proper Arabian coffee."
"You don't like Kitty's special blend?"
"No. It's much too weak. Have you ever had Arabian coffee?"
She shook her head.
"Tomorrow," he said, picking up his fork to dig into his meal, "I will find the proper pot and ingredients, and on Friday morning I'll bring it to your office and show you how it's done. Once you have a decent cup of coffee, you'll never be satisfied with anything else." He laid his eyes on her face, on her mouth and then her eyes. "Once you've had the best, nothing else will satisfy."
She gave him a strange look, no doubt wondering if his thoughts had strayed from coffee to something else entirely. Of course they had, but he would never admit it. The expression on his face remained completely innocent.
Chapter 4
Elena arrived at the office prepared to knock out a few mundane chores before Hassan arrived. He would stop by her office later in the day, since he had several errands to run this morning. He'd be searching for his Arabian coffee and pot, she imagined. She'd told him he'd probably have to drive to Galveston to do his shopping, but he hadn't seemed to mind. She'd expected that he'd simply call someone at the hotel and farm the chore out, but he'd seemed determined to find what he was looking for himself.
Hassan always surprised her. She'd expected a brainless playboy and found a mechanical engineer. She'd expected a macho jerk, and while he did have his moments, he was also a good listener and a fun date.
No, she amended with a shudder. Not a date. Their dinners together had been strictly business. So what if they hadn't talked business much at all, or if they'd ended the evening walking by the bay? He'd even taken her hand once, but
that hadn't been at all romantically motivated. She'd been about to step on a discarded beer bottle, and he'd spotted it and guided her aside. What difference did it make that he'd held her hand just a few minutes longer than was necessary?
Elena was unable to get directly to work, as she had planned. When she got to the office, Kitty was hard at work, and her office door was open. That could only mean one thing.
"Dad," she said, stepping into her office to find her father sitting at her desk. As usual, Yusuf Rahman was dressed in a custom-fitted dark gray suit. Though he would deny it, he was vain enough to think the well-cut jacket made him look slimmer and taller. It didn't. He was less than an inch taller than Elena, and had been stocky all his life. His hair, almost completely gray now, had been neatly cut and styled, and his white beard was trimmed short. A smoking cigarette hung from his fingers. As always, he completely ignored the No Smoking signs that were posted throughout the building. "What brings you into the office this morning?"
He raked his eyes up and down her, taking in the blue jeans, work boots, and man-style button-up shirt she wore. He did not approve of her attire—he never had—but he no longer argued with her about the subject. "Do you always arrive so late, these days?"
It was seven-fifteen, hardly late. "I had a long day yesterday."
He nodded and stood crisply. "How was your meeting with Sheik Hassan?"
"Fine. He's much more knowledgeable about the business than I expected he would be," she said, opting not to include their after-hours meetings in her report.
"Is he gone?"
"No. He wants to see more of the operations. I expect him here later today."
Yusuf Rahman was a hard man. It was his nature, or so Elena told herself when she longed for a more tender, loving father. "Show him around the refinery, entertain him if you must. When all is said and done, if he makes an offer you will decline."
"But I think it might be good for the company..."
