Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  Hassan seemed to relax. Had he been jealous of Cade? Maybe just a little bit? What a ridiculous thought.

  A twangy country song came up on the jukebox. "I guess you and I should be talking about business tonight," she said.

  "Why?"

  "That's why you're here." Much as she would like to see more where Hassan was concerned, she knew what his agenda was.

  "That's why I came to Texas. Perhaps it's not why I stay."

  He stood and offered his hand. A few people danced to the faded sounds of the jukebox, and apparently Hassan wanted to join them. Elena didn't hesitate. She laid her hand in his and stood, and as she came to her feet he tugged gently and pulled her body against his.

  Elena had never in her life wanted to hide the way she wanted to hide here. She wanted to seep beneath Hassan's warm skin and stay there. Her nose rested against his shoulder, his arms encircled her and shielded her from everyone and everything else. No, she didn't want to talk about mergers or profit margins or employees tonight.

  Hassan danced her to the polished floor, sheltered her with his arms, and bent his head to whisper in her ear. The words he spoke were in Arabic, though he spoke English so well. A slip of the tongue? Or did he not want her to know what he said?

  She didn't ask him to translate. The words sounded tender and sweet, and at the moment that was all she needed.

  * * *

  Hassan parked the truck off the road, behind a grove of thickly leaved trees where it would not be seen from the refinery, should anyone look this way. It had been less than half an hour since he'd dropped Elena off at her condo, promising to pick her up at nine in the morning for the drive to her ranch. Eight hours from now.

  Dressed in black and carrying bolt cutters he approached the refinery from the north, beside the railroad tracks. Finding a spot in the fence that was not well lit, he dropped to his haunches and began to cut at the base of the chain link and then up the side. He cut just enough to make an opening to squeeze his body through.

  He slipped quietly through the opening, his body shielded by darkness and the railroad car between him and the refinery. Once he was on the other side, he repositioned the fence so it looked undamaged.

  There was only so much he could see of the refinery, during the day. Asking to be shown an array of warehouses, examining the tanks themselves, would be suspicious. If he were hiding a prince, he'd choose one of those two places. An empty oil tank or a rarely used warehouse.

  Or the water treatment plant, he thought as he moved silently toward the nearest tank. The all-Malounian crew and their determination to keep him away this afternoon were more than enough to raise his suspicions.

  As he had entered on the north side of the fenced property, he started there by examining the tanks. He quickly found them unguarded and being used for their intended purpose. That done, he began surveying the warehouses he had not yet been able to investigate.

  The warehouses were spread about the compound, most of them near the edge of the property, away from the working refinery. With the hiss of steam and the hum of running pumps in his ears, Hassan began to examine each and every building. They were all locked, but dark and unguarded. Peering through the windows, his flashlight shining through the murky glass, he was able to discern the use for each warehouse. There was nothing sinister, here.

  He kept to the shadows as he made his way to the water treatment plant. The facility was huge, almost the size of an American football field. Up the metal stairs to the roof, there sat an office and laboratory. Underground, beneath the stored water, there were more labs, as well as pump rooms and hundreds of yards of piping.

  Even now, there was a guard circling the building. The sentry was unarmed, or at least it appeared that way at first glance. An openly armed guard would surely raise suspicions.

  Taking a chance, after waiting for the guard to pass, Hassan tried one door. Locked. A quick glance told him that this was not a flimsy lock like the one on Elena's office building. He could pick this lock, but it would take more time than he had. Circling the building, peeking around the corner to make sure the guard had moved on, Hassan continued to search for a way in. He quickly found it, in a concealed, unlocked door behind the chlorine storage area.

  The dark stairway led sharply down, and Hassan moved silently. The way was lit by bare, low-watt lightbulbs set in the wall down the length of the hallway at the end of the stairway. The hum and throb of pumps was all he heard. No voices mingled with the sound of machinery.

  Once in the hallway, Hassan placed his ear against the closed door to the nearest pump room. When he was satisfied that no one was in the small room, he opened the door and searched it quickly, finding nothing unusual.

  In the next room, a table and four chairs had been set among the pumps. Nothing else. Surprisingly, there was an ashtray filled with ashes and cigarette butts on the center of the table. No one smoked at a refinery! Not even here, where the air was dank and damp.

  Hassan continued his search, uninterrupted. There was no sign of a more stringent guard below ground, no sign of the prince he searched for. He crossed a catwalk to the opposite side of the building, descended the stairs, and continued his search. When he found a locked door, his heart leaped into his throat.

  This was a flimsier lock than the one on the outer door, and he had no problem getting past it with the tool he wore on his belt. The door swung open on a disassembled lab. No lights shone here, as they had elsewhere.

  He was no spy, no trained investigator, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he flicked on his flashlight and stepped into the lab, closing the door behind him. At the opposite end of small room, the beam from his flashlight arced across a wooden crate. Hassan dropped to his heels before the crate, and lifted the lid.

  Guns. A crate full of Colt Commandos, a short barrelled version of the standard M16 rifle. There were not enough weapons here to supply an army, but there were definitely enough to arm a faction of terrorists. And who knew what other small rooms might house crates such as this one? He wouldn't have time to search them all. Not tonight.

  But this crate was enough to confirm the suspicions that had triggered this mission. El-Malak. The Ghost. Somehow Hassan knew the man had been here. Rashid's information had been right. Someone was using Elena's refinery as a front for the Brothers.

  He was to call Rashid tomorrow night. At that time he would tell his brother what he'd found and ask what was to happen next. Hassan knew he wasn't done. This crate of weapons was just an indication that the Brothers were here. He still had no idea if they knew of the prince's whereabouts.

  In the back of his mind, Hassan heard the strains of the last song he and Elena had danced to, tonight. He saw the light in her eyes and the innocence of her smile. He knew, in his heart, that whoever was using this refinery did so without her knowledge. A part of him wanted to go to her now and tell her everything. Why he was really here and what he had found.

  If he had kissed her good-night, she might have invited him up to her condo. He had specifically not kissed her, knowing what might happen if he did, knowing that they danced too near an edge neither of them could afford to cross.

  His feelings for her were unexpected. A complication. He couldn't afford to come clean, and he certainly couldn't follow his instincts. He wouldn't make love to her, not like this. Not while he was spying on her. Later, when this investigation was over and Elena's name was cleared and he could tell her everything, then he would have her. Then he would do much more than kiss her good-night.

  He returned the lid to the crate and made his way toward the door. The hall was deserted. He'd been here long enough, he knew. His suspicions were confirmed, and his time was up. Luck only lasted so long. He headed for the stairs to the catwalk, making his way to the door on the opposite side of the building. As he reached the catwalk, he heard an unexpected sound—voices of men approaching from the opposite ground floor hallway. It was enough to stop him in his tracks and send him low, s
o that he lay belly down on the catwalk, looking through the metal grating to the floor below.

  "When will we see some real action?" one man asked.

  "Soon." The second man's voice was calmer, a notch lower.

  The two men stepped into the dimly lit open area below, where they were surrounded by piping and working pumps.

  "I did not come to America to work at a refinery." The first man, who had a harsher voice than the second, sounded frustrated.

  Hassan wanted to see their faces. He had to see. Moving soundlessly, he shifted so he could see through the widest opening in the grating. One of the men put a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match. For an instant, Hassan saw their faces clearly. They were both Arab, probably Malounian. One was short, the other tall. These were not men he had met, but then he had not worked on this shift, and even if he had.. .apparently the water treatment facility had its own crew.

  "You won't be here long," the smoking man said. "I have it on good authority that soon we will have a true battle to fight for our noble cause."

  "Why do we wait?" the smaller man asked.

  "Money," the smoking man growled. "We wait for money."

  "Soldiers do not think of such mundane matters."

  "Well, someone has to, unless you want to wage war with rocks."

  They talked a few minutes longer, the tall man tossed his cigarette to the floor and stepped on the glowing butt, and they headed for the door.

  Even after they had departed and no sound of their voices traveled to him, Hassan remained very still for a while. The two men might be in the opposite hallway, running a quick security check. When he was sure they were gone, he made his way across the catwalk and into the hallway. He didn't stop to inspect the pump rooms, not this time, but hurried silently to the exit. The guard was nowhere to be seen, so Hassan headed for the dark shadows of the nearest warehouse.

  Shielded by the warehouse, he took a moment to catch his breath. Just a moment, and then he was moving again. As he jogged toward the break in the fence, his heart began to race. A battle soon, the one man had said. How soon? Neither of those men were El-Malak, but they were definitely a part of the faction. Tomorrow night, perhaps the next, he would request an official tour of the water treatment building. If he could get names for these men.. .it would be a start. Not a grand one, but a definite start.

  When he called Rashid tomorrow night, he would have something useful to report.

  Chapter 7

  Buying the small ranch had been the best thing she'd ever done, of that Elena was certain. Her weekends here, getting away when things were running smoothly at the refinery, had added something special to her life. A touch of peace, perhaps. A life beyond Rahman Oil. Usually she stayed for the weekend, but since she'd invited Hassan she'd make it a day trip this time.

  The ranch house itself wasn't much to look at. A rambling white-frame structure more than fifty years old, it always needed some kind of repairs. Wilson and May Carlton had run the ranch for the previous owner, and had agreed to stay on when Elena bought the place. Wilson took care of those repairs and the horses, and May kept the house clean and cooked whenever Elena or her father used the ranch house. They had their own smaller cottage beyond the stables.

  Spring was a great time to come here, Elena thought with a smile as Hassan brought his truck to a stop. Flowers bloomed profusely around the long, deep front porch. On a day like today, with the sun shining and the flowers blooming, who wanted to think about business? Yeah, she needed this place.

  They stepped from the truck and walked not to the front door but around the house and toward the stables. She was dressed for riding and so was Hassan, both of them in jeans and lightweight long-sleeved shirts and riding boots.

  "It's very nice," Hassan said. He'd been quieter than usual this morning, almost pensive. She had a feeling his time here was growing short. Maybe he didn't like that knowledge any more than she did.

  "I love it here," she said, taking a deep breath. "It's quiet. Peaceful. Almost like stepping back a hundred years." Beyond the stables the hills rolled, low and green and dotted with wildflowers. The Carlton cottage, a newer structure than the main house, was painted a pale yellow. It was a ways beyond the stables, blending into the scenery as if it had always been there. Less than a mile away and over those hills, a winding, narrow river separated her property from a neighbor's. Many an afternoon, she'd ridden alone to the river, sat on the bank, and done nothing but stare at the water and dream of what might be. Of what might have been. Daydreaming was such a luxury for her. There was no time for it during the week.

  Wilson was waiting for them at the stables, a wide smile on his sun-leathered, wrinkled face. With a phone call, she had prepared the Carltons for the fact that she was bringing a guest with her today, so he didn't gape. He very well might have, since in two years she had only brought Kitty with her, a few times. There had been no male guests, except the ones her father brought when he used the ranch.

  "Good morning, Miss Elena," Wilson said, walking forward with his slight limp and narrowed right eye.

  "Good morning, Wilson." Since the man was eyeing Hassan suspiciously, she introduced them.

  Wilson, who stood better than a head shorter than Hassan, offered his hand, and the men exchanged a quick greeting. The older man quickly sized up the foreigner who stood so much taller than he did, and in his usual way found approval and offered a smile.

  "Didn't know what time you'd be here," Wilson said as he stepped past them and headed around the stables. Out back, a corralled area gave the three horses Elena had acquired room to graze and run. A section of fence running down the middle separated the two geldings she'd had for a while from the stallion Wilson had recently acquired for her.

  On seeing the horses, Hassan smiled. "Beautiful animals."

  "Smokestack is mine," she said, stepping up on the bottom rail of the fence and pointing to the gray. "You can ride Buttermilk." The gentle gelding was named for his color.

  Hassan glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. "You expect me to ride an animal named Buttermilk?" he teased.

  "Unless you brought your own horse."

  His eyes shifted to the black stallion in the separate corral. "What about that one?"

  "Lightning," she said. "He's new, and no one's been able to ride him, yet. Wilson said he was spirited, but we're about to decide that he's a bit too spirited. Can't even get a saddle on him."

  Hassan's intense gaze remained on the animal, the black stallion with the thin streak of white shooting down his nose. "You do not put a saddle on an animal like this one," he said softly. He stepped down the fence line, moving closer to the restless stallion.

  To Elena's heart-stopping surprise, Hassan stepped onto and then over the fence, and dropped down into the corral. She started to call him back, but didn't. He liked to live dangerously, and he wouldn't come back because she ordered him to. Hassan Kamal lived on the edge, and he did not take orders from anyone.

  Elena moved closer, keeping one hand on the fence and her eyes on Hassan. She herself had been unable to get close to Lightning. Buying the stallion had been an unusually impulsive decision, one she was afraid she might regret. She would have been better off with another gelding, maybe a mare. But the stallion was so beautiful. Wilson had spent weeks getting acquainted with the animal, and still their relationship was iffy. She kept expecting the stallion to get spooked and run from Hassan, and as he moved closer she began to worry that Lightning might actually attack with his hooves. But Hassan walked toward the horse slowly, and Lightning didn't move. Finally, Elena realized that Hassan talked to the horse as he approached, his voice low.

  She stepped down the fence until she was as close as she could be, with the fence between them. Still, she couldn't hear. Feeling brave, Elena climbed over the fence herself, and moved a little closer. She heard the words Hassan spoke, but could not decipher them. He spoke in Arabic, the words low and deep and hypnotic.

  Lightning calmed
visibly, Hassan continued to talk, and when the two met the animal lowered his head. Elena held her breath as Hassan reached out and stroked Lightning's nose, raking his knuckle down the white streak for which the animal was named.

  When Hassan saw Elena standing there, a few feet away, he turned and smiled. When he walked toward her, Lightning followed.

  "What on earth did you say to make him behave this way?" Elena asked, amazed.

  ' "When God created the horse, he said to the magnificent creature, "All the treasures of the earth lie between thine eyes," '." Hassan continued to move steadily toward her. ' "Thou shalt cast mine enemies between thy hooves, but thou shalt carry my friends on thy back. This shall be the seat from which prayers rise unto me. Thou shalt find happiness all over the earth, and thou shalt be favored above all other creatures, for to thee shall acrue the love of the master of the earth!" ' Hassan reached her and stopped, perhaps a foot away. Perhaps less. The horse remained directly behind him. ' "Thou shall fly without wings and conquer without sword."

  "That's from the Koran," she said.

  "Yes, it is."

  "Listening to you talking to Lightning, I almost wish I had learned Arabic." And then she would have known what he'd whispered to her on the dance floor, last night. She didn't dare ask.

  Hassan smiled. "Perhaps one day I can teach you."

  It was a nice thought, but she knew Hassan wouldn't be here much longer. He definitely wouldn't be around long enough to teach her Arabic. Or anything else.

  * * *

  Elena raced her gray gelding across the countryside, her hair flying back from her face, her body perfectly relaxed and in tune with the animal beneath her. She had obviously been riding for years, perhaps all her life, as Hassan had. What a picture she made as her horse galloped along beside Lightning.

  Hassan had to hold the stallion back. The beast within the horse wanted to break free, to run wild. And he had a feeling that when this beast ran, it flew like the wind.