"Are you sure you're all right?" Liza asked again, not certain what was going on, but wanting to be certain that her cousin was truly safe.
"Yes. But something did happen last night. Something awful."
"I knew it." Tears spilled from Liza's eyes and her hands started to tremble. "I knew something was terribly wrong. You were supposed to call me last night, and when I didn't hear from you…" Her voice trailed off.
"Liza, this is all bizarre. I don't know what the heck's going on." Emily glanced up at a heavyset man heading toward the phone booth. She'd have to make this quick. "Liza, listen to me. I don't have long to talk. I'm at a pay phone in Wyoming—"
"Wyoming? Emily, what are you doing in Wyoming?"
"Last night when I got home no one was home. The house was dark. I let myself in, then went upstairs. My bedroom door was partially closed."
"Why?" Liza frowned. "Your bedroom doors are never closed unless everyone's in for the night."
"Exactly. I pushed open the door just a bit to see in but not be seen." Emily took a deep breath, pressed a hand to her heart as if she could slow its suddenly raging beat. "Liza, there was a man in my bedroom, with a knife, waiting for me."
"Oh God, Emily. Oh God." Letting her head fall to her hand, Liza tried to stop the well of tears. "What did you do?"
"I ran, Liza. And hid in the alcove. You remember the alcove we used to play in as kids?"
"Sure."
"I hid in there for hours, until it was safe and I was sure the guy was gone." Rubbing her brow, Em nervously glanced around the parking lot. The heavyset trucker had stepped into the phone booth next to her. "When I was sure it was safe, I crept out and headed toward the highway. I hitched a ride and I'm in Wyoming. I had to leave, Liza. I didn't think it was safe to stay at home any longer."
"Emily, what is going on?" Liza swiped at her eyes and shook her head. "None of this makes any sense."
"I know. Why would someone send a ransom note to my dad when I haven't been kidnapped?"
Absently, Liza rubbed her sore throat again. "I don't know, Em."
Emily's mind whirled as she tried to put the pieces together. "It had to be someone who knew I didn't come home last night. Someone who felt I wouldn't be home for a while. Otherwise, they'd never have been able to feel comfortable sending that ransom note. I mean, it would be pretty hard to claim I've been kidnapped if I came sauntering in the house this morning." She twisted the phone cord, thinking.
"You think the ransom note and the guy who tried to kill you are connected?"
"Has to be," Emily concluded. "There's no other explanation. No one knows where I'm at, or that I've left California—except the guy who was chasing me. He knows I disappeared, so he told whoever he was working for, and they thought they'd make a quick buck off of it."
"What are you thinking, Emily?" Liza's eyes widened. "You don't think…your mother…"
Emily frowned. "Liza, listen to me, someone tried to kill me last night and I don't know why. Someone's sent a ransom note to my father, and I don't know why. Nothing has been the same in my life since the day of the accident. Meredith changed that day into someone neither of us knows. Other than you, who else knew I was going to a movie with friends last night? Who else knew that I'd be coming home to an empty house?"
"Oh God, Em, what are we going to do?"
"For now, I'm going to stay in Wyoming and out of sight. I want a chance to see if I can get to the bottom of this."
"Okay."
"Now Liza, listen to me. You and I are the only ones who suspect there's something seriously wrong with Meredith."
"Yeah, so?"
"So." Emily blew out a breath and chose her words carefully. "So if any of this has anything to do with the fact that we suspect there's something wrong with Meredith, that means you might be in danger as well. Please, please be careful."
A chill washed over Liza. "I will. I promise."
"Don't tell anyone where I am. For now, let them think I've been kidnapped. I'll get in touch with you when I can. I'm headed to Nettle Creek so I'll—" Emily frowned. "Liza, aren't you leaving on tour tomorrow?"
Liza sighed. She dreaded the grueling singing tour she was to face, thanks to her strict manager, her mother Cynthia. "Yes, but you know my schedule." She inhaled deeply, rubbing her throat again. "Oh, Emily, I'm so scared for you."
"Don't be." Emily forced the worry from her voice. "I'm fine, really. I figure I'll get a job in Nettle Creek, and an apartment, and see if I can do some digging from there. Please don't worry, Liza, I'll be fine."
"I hope so." Liza tried to think. "Do you want me to wire you some money?"
"Wait until I get an address you can send it to."
Liza sighed. "Okay. But please be careful and take care of yourself."
"I will. As soon as I can I'll let you know where I am."
"Okay, please. And, Em?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Emily smiled. "I love you, too, Liza. You be careful and take care of yourself, too. Good luck on the tour."
"Yeah, thanks." There wasn't much enthusiasm in her raspy voice. She sighed heavily. "I'm not looking forward to it and will be glad when it's behind me." She had to clear her throat again, fearing she was losing her voice. Her mother would be furious.
"Look, Liza, I gotta go. I'll be in touch." Quietly, Emily hung up the phone, then pressed her fingers to her burning eyes to stop the tears. Lifting her head, she touched the phone, said a prayer for her cousin, then stopped out of the phone booth and glanced around, looking for a ride that would take her into Nettle Creek, where hopefully, she'd be able to put the pieces of this puzzle together and find some safety.
And some answers.
Ten
Faith heard the commotion in her outer office, but didn't pay any attention to it. She was weary and exhausted from a sleepless night of crying.
After the scene with Ali last night in the parking lot, after he admitted she was not the kind of woman he could love, she'd lain awake all night, cursing herself for her sheer stupidity.
She'd allowed him to use her last night, to use her to deceive his parents, something she knew was wrong, and yet she'd let him persuade her with what seemed like logic at the time.
The man touched her, and she lost her head.
Shades of her mother, she thought with a sigh, feeling worse by the minute.
Sometime during the night she realized that she simply couldn't bear to see Ali again, to be in his presence, not knowing what she knew, not knowing what kind of man he was, and what kind of woman she became when she was with him.
Not knowing how he truly felt about her.
Or rather couldn't feel about her.
She refused to admit that somewhere along the line her feelings for Ali had changed into something she couldn't even bear to acknowledge.
So this morning, instead of going to the investment house to finish working on his system, she sent one of her best consultants. She didn't ever want to see Ali again if she didn't have to.
Instead, she'd come into the office to finish some much-needed paperwork, certain if she stayed busy, she could ease the ache in her heart.
She heard Martha's deep, booming voice and smiled to herself, confident her office manager could handle whatever problem had apparently cropped up.
Martha had been with her since the day she'd opened the office seven years ago, although Faith still wasn't certain who had hired whom.
At the time, she'd been advertising for almost a week and had had no responses. Martha had walked in, taken one look around at the chaos and announced it would do. She'd been with Faith ever since.
With the looks of Stalin, the bulldog determination of Churchill, and the cantankerousness of Patton, Martha could handle anything and anyone.
So Faith was more than surprised when her office door flew open and Martha stood there huffing like a peacock who'd just gotten its feathers plucked.
"Man's an imbecile. Dete
rmined as can be. He won't leave and he won't take no for an answer. But I'll handle him. Just don't you mind the commotion."
"Man?" Faith glanced up with a frown. "What man?"
"That man." Martha jerked a finger over her shoulder, moving back and forth in the doorway to block his path so he couldn't sneak past her. He was standing right behind her, breathing down her neck. "Doesn't understand I can't be letting in all kinds of riffraff."
"'Riffraff'." The man's deep, booming voice was laced with outrage.
Ali.
Faith heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh, then rubbed her weary eyes. She didn't want him here. "My good woman, do you have any idea to whom you are speaking?"
Faith rolled her eyes at his imperious, highfalutin tone. She was used to it by now, and simply ignored it. Martha, on the other hand, was a whole other kettle of fish.
If Ali had any brains at all, he wouldn't be using that tone of voice with Martha, who did not take kindly to anyone with an attitude or without an appointment.
"No, but I got me a feeling you're going to tell me who you are, aren't you?" Martha asked with a weary sigh, planting thick hands on her even thicker waist.
Ali's spine stiffened. "My good woman, I am Sheik Ali El-Etra, a member of the Kuwati royal family." Arrogant outrage sharpened every word, making Faith sigh once again. Anyone else would have been quaking in their shoes at that haughty tone. Not Martha.
She merely gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder. "Well, I'm sure you're rightly proud of yourself, but all that fancy stuff doesn't amount to a hill of beans here in this office. In this office, no one gets in to see Ms. Martin without an appointment. And you ain't got one, so you're not getting in and I don't give a fig's fart if you're the Queen Mum herself."
"My good woman—"
"Trust me, I ain't that good and I got four ex-husbands to attest to it."
Ali's temper simmered. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner. I can assure you I am not accustomed to such disrespect."
"Well then, maybe it's about time you got accustomed to it."
Frustrated, Ali closed his eyes and inhaled a slow, deep breath. He would not be beaten by this…woman. He had to see Faith.
He glanced at the woman who was almost as wide as the doorway. Intimidation hadn't worked; he certainly hoped charm would. He flashed her a brilliant smile, hoping she'd take pity on him.
"Martha, please, it is imperative that I see Ms. Martin." He was playing bob and weave with a woman the size of a Sherman tank. It was utterly outrageous, and beneath him to be reduced to such behavior. "It really is a matter of the utmost urgency. And I am a client," he reminded her.
"A client?" Martha narrowed her gaze on him. "If you were a client, I'd know about you, and I've never heard of you."
"El-Etra Investments."
She cocked her gray head, narrowing her gaze on him suspiciously. "Yeah, what about 'em?"
"I am the owner."
"You are not." She searched her memory. "Kadid something or other is the owner."
Ali bit back a smile. "On the contrary, Kadid is my assistant. He is the one who made all the arrangements to hire Ms. Martin, but I can assure you, I am indeed the owner."
Martha scowled at him. "You got a card or something on you?"
"Or something." Ali reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an elegant business card with his name, family crest and royal seal etched in gold.
"Guess anyone who can afford to have them fancy business cards printed up must be telling the truth." Martha glanced at Faith over her shoulder. "Okay, you got five minutes, and not a minute more. Ms. Martin's busy."
"As am I," he countered in annoyance. He had been up most of the night, worried about what he'd said to Faith, worried that perhaps she'd misinterpreted what he'd said, and more importantly, worried that he'd hurt her.
The look in her eyes last night, the crushing sadness when he'd admitted he could not love her had haunted him long into the night.
He'd hurt her, he realized now, and he never intended to, never meant for her to take his comments personally. But from the look on her face when she quietly got into her car and drove away, he knew she had.
Miserable, he'd vowed somehow to make it right this morning.
But when he'd arrived at the office this morning he'd found some young, pimply-faced…child working on his system. First he had panicked, then became enraged. He could not allow Faith to simply walk out of his life. Not like this.
"Thank you, Martha," he said with a relieved sigh as she stepped out of the doorway to let him pass. "I am grateful." With an elegant bow, he lifted her hand and kissed it.
"Quit your bowing," Martha said a scowl. "And don't be slobbering all over me. I got work to do." With an annoyed humph, she marched toward her own desk.
Faith didn't even bother to glance up when Ali walked in. She knew he was there. The air had changed; it had become charged with his potent male energy. "What do you want? I'm busy." Her tone was cold, clipped and all business.
"What do I want?" His voice shook with outrage. "I want to know why you are here in this office, instead of mine."
She continued working on the spreadsheet. "Someone is at your office. One of my best consultants. Peter is more than competent to complete the job." Now she did glance up at him for a brief moment. Her gaze was deliberately cold. "On time as we agreed. You have nothing to worry about."
"On the contrary, Faith. I have plenty to worry about, as do you."
Now her head came up and she glared at him, trying not to notice how tired he looked this morning. "What are you talking about?"
Trying to control himself, Ali planted his hands on her desk. "Listen to me very carefully, Faith. For whatever reason you decided not to return to my offices this morning. But my contract is with you. I agreed to hire you, personally because I was told you were the best. If I wanted a subordinate, I would have hired him. I have no intention of putting my business in the hands of someone who is not yet even old enough to vote."
"You're being ridiculous. Peter is twenty-six, graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard, and has an MS from Yale. He's one of the best computer consultants in the country."
"But he is not you, is he?"
"It doesn't matter, you don't need me. Peter can do the job."
"No, he cannot," Ali retorted just as firmly. "It is still my office, still my decision whom I allow into it. I have some highly classified financial information on that system, information about very wealthy individuals around the world. You certainly cannot expect me to entrust that kind of information to just anyone."
"You're being ridiculous, Ali."
"Perhaps. But that's my prerogative. I am the client, and the one paying the bills. And I believe you have a saying in America, 'the client is always right'?"
"The customer's always right," she corrected. Faith sighed. She knew they weren't really arguing about Peter's credentials or the security of his firm, but something far more personal.
"I'm too tired to argue with you, Ali." She pressed her fingers to her tired eyes for a moment, wishing they'd stop burning. "Just tell me what you want."
You, an inner voice whispered, but he ignored it. He could not, would not voice such a preposterous statement.
She looked exhausted, he realized, feeling his anger soften. As exhausted as he felt. There were dark shadows of fatigue under her eyes, which, this morning, looked oddly swollen, as if she'd been crying.
He felt an enormous flicker of guilt, and wondered if he'd been the cause of those tears.
At the moment, he wanted only to reach for her, to enfold her in his arms, to inhale her sweet scent, to feel her womanly curves pressed against him, to let his lips brush hers, to feel her heart beat next to his.
To comfort her, he told himself. Merely to comfort her.
He straightened, slipping his hands in his pockets, fearing he'd reach for her if he didn't. Right now he wanted to apologize and explain his comments last night.
&n
bsp; But he knew he could not. He would never be able to admit to her that he, Sheik Ali El-Etra feared falling in love. For a man to admit he feared something was to admit he was a coward. It was totally out of the realm of anything he'd ever learned in his life. Men did not admit fear. Ever. Especially a man in his position.
"What do I want, Faith?" He smiled slowly. "I want what I contracted for—your services. Yours, not someone else's."
"You can't have me." She feared she hadn't the defenses to deflect his charm, his appeal, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself again.
His eyes darkened. "That is the second time you have told me that I cannot have you, and I will tell you again, you are wrong, Faith. Very wrong. And on this, I suggest you don't push me, because I will push back. Hard."
"What are you talking about?"
He glanced at his watch. "If you are not in my offices at work on my system by noon today, I will instruct my attorneys to file a breach of contract suit against you and your firm. I will also instruct them to file an immediate injunction preventing you from personally working anywhere else until you have completed the work you were contracted for at El-Etra Investments."
Shock nearly stole her breath and she gripped the edge of her desk until her knuckles whitened.
"You can't be serious!" Just the thought of a lawsuit made her feel faint. If word got out that she'd been sued for breach of contract by a client, especially a client of Ali's magnitude, she'd lose all credibility in the business community.
"Ali," she whispered, her face pale, "you can't honestly be serious about this." Not even he would stoop so low.
Would he?
One dark brow arched. "Do you really want to test how serious I am, Faith?" Ali glanced at his watch again. "Noon, Faith. Be there. Or be prepared for the consequences."
* * *
It was almost five in the afternoon before Ali could get free to go down to the systems room to see Faith. He knew she'd returned to his offices, exactly five minutes before noon, because Kadid had informed him immediately.
Aware that something had happened between them, Kadid had discreetly been keeping an eye on Faith all afternoon, then reporting to Ali her progress and her mood.
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