Millions To Spare

by Barbara Dunlop

  Julia waited, strangely comforted by the compassion in his eyes.

  “While we determine a solution,” he told her decisively, “you should eat.”

  She glanced down at her untouched pita bread and hummus.

  Ahmed seemed like an intelligent man. And he didn’t seem overly concerned about the danger. Maybe it was just a matter of time until they came up with a solution.

  In that case, eating made sense.

  She lifted the triangle of bread, as Ahmed’s daughter Rania arrived with a satellite phone.

  Rania handed it to Harrison, and he stood, taking a few steps away to stand in the entryway while he dialed.

  “It’s not a secure line,” Ahmed warned, and Harrison nodded his understanding.

  Julia took a sip of the spicy tea and forced down a bite of the thin bread while she waited.

  “Alex?” Harrison began. “It’s me.”

  Then he listened.

  His eye squinted, and he glanced at Julia.

  “No,” he said, and his glance veered away.

  She took another bite of bread, and another sip of tea.

  Whatever news the phone call brought, starving herself wouldn’t make it any better.

  “Are you sure?” asked Harrison. “No name?”

  Another silence, while the entire family watched and waited.

  “No. You’re right. Thanks.” He shut off the phone.

  Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door behind him.

  Harrison spun, while Ahmed jumped to his feet.

  He issued rapid-fire instructions in Arabic, and Habeeba quickly ushered Julia into a small, windowless bedroom.

  Harrison was right behind her, and he closed the door, trapping them in the dark.

  “What-”

  “Shh,” he warned, listening at the door to the cresting voices in the other room. Julia couldn’t understand the words, but it was clear the speakers were agitated.

  She stood stock-still, all her fears of arrest and jail rushing back. She refused to even acknowledge her fears of the man with no nose. The bites of pita bread sat like lead weights in her stomach.

  Then, finally, the voices subsided, and the door to the bedroom cracked open.

  “A sandstorm is coming,” said Ahmed.

  The girls were moving from window to window, battening them down. Ahmed’s wife covered her head and left the house.

  “Julia,” said Ahmed, “you are welcome to stay in the guesthouse with Harrison, of course. But, if you prefer, please stay here and sleep with my daughters.”

  It was gracious of him to consider Julia’s virtue. Not that there was any virtue left to save. And, as she glanced from friendly, cherubic Ahmed to fierce, uncompromising Harrison, she knew where she wanted to be if No-nose showed up.

  “Thank you,” she said to Ahmed with sincere appreciation, trying to frame an answer that wouldn’t offend Ahmed’s culture. “But Harrison has pledged to protect me. My family is counting on him.”

  Ahmed nodded. “Very well.” Then he looked to Harrison. “You should return to the guesthouse before the storm hits.”

  Harrison handed the phone back to Ahmed, thanking the man.

  Then Julia and Harrison left the building, hustling along the dusty pathway to the little cottage.

  “Your family is counting on me?” he joked.

  “You’ve probably disappointed them already,” she told him, deciding she could be blasé about their earlier lovemaking. It wasn’t as though she was a quivering virgin. They’d been attracted to one another, and they’d had sex. It didn’t have to be the defining moment of their relationship.

  “In some cultures, they’d have me shot.”

  “In other cultures, they’d invite you to dinner.” Julia’s feet slowed to a halt, her eyes widening at a gap in the trees.

  A thick, dark, roiling wave was pushing its way across the setting sun.

  Harrison grabbed her hand. “Time to get inside.” He increased his pace, forcing her to struggle to keep up.

  She couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder, amazed by the spectacle. The light disappeared, and the wind picked up, flecks of sand whipping through the air.

  Harrison yanked open the cottage door, pushed her inside and secured it behind them.

  “Check the windows,” he called.

  She glanced around. The windows were all closed, but she went from one to the next, checking the latches, while airborne sand began battering the outside of the panes.

  Then the wind suddenly turned from gusting to howling. The panes rattled in their frames, and she took a few steps backward.

  “Will the place hold?” she asked.

  “I expect so. This can’t be their first sandstorm.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “Hours, days. It’s impossible to tell.”

  They had some time. It was a relief to have some time where they didn’t need to worry.

  “And then what?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  He didn’t answer immediately.

  “What did Alex tell you?”

  “That the police are still looking for you, and he can’t get an answer as to why.”

  Julia lowered herself into a cushioned rattan chair. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither does Alex. But somebody with influence is out there looking for you, and they’re using the police to do it.” He sat down in an identical chair across from her. “And whoever it is is powerful enough to cover his tracks. Alex’s contacts couldn’t help us.”

  “What about the no-nose guy?”

  “It all has to be related somehow.”

  “Which brings us back to Millions to Spare.” Julia still got a hitch in her heart when she thought about the horse. She hated that she might have inadvertently contributed to its death.

  “What did you say to No-nose?”

  She’d gone over the conversation a hundred times in her head. “Nothing. I tried to take a picture of Millions to Spare. The security guy stopped me. Then No-nose showed up, and I asked him the horse’s name. He thought I wanted to place a bet.”

  “No, he acted like he thought you wanted to place a bet.”

  Julia went cold. “You think he could have followed me to the trailer?”

  Harrison nodded. “And watched you go in. And saw that you didn’t get out. Then came to Cadair.”

  The next sentence was left unspoken.

  No-nose had killed Millions to Spare.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Did Alex have a plan?” asked Julia, standing by the window to watch the mesmerizing sand grains blow past. At least she knew No-nose wasn’t lurking out there in the brutal storm.

  “Not so far,” said Harrison, crouching to browse through the small bank of cupboards in one corner of the twenty-by-twenty-foot room.

  “Maybe I should turn myself in.” At the moment, No-nose seemed a lot more dangerous than the police. If she was in custody, the U.S. embassy might help her. Maybe Harrison could even help get her out of jail again. She truly didn’t want to take her chances with a man who was willing to kill a horse.

  “Not until we find out what they want,” said Harrison, extracting a butcher knife and contemplating it.

  Julia got the horrible feeling he was arming himself.

  He straightened. “If the same person influencing the police also hired No-nose, he could be capable of anything. And the police might turn you over to him.”

  Julia’s knees grew weak, and she reached out to steady herself on the back of a chair.

  Harrison caught her movement. He set down the knife and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. She felt safe for a moment, but she knew it couldn’t last.

  “We’ll come up with a plan,” he promised.

  “Plans fail.”

  “Are you going to get pessimistic on me?”

  “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist. There are crazy men out there gunning for me-”

  “And there’s a sane
one in here protecting you.”

  A lump formed in Julia’s throat, and she couldn’t speak.

  His arms tightened around her, and she rested her cheek against his broad chest, closing her eyes for a moment.

  He gently kissed the top of her head.

  “I know you’re scared,” he said. “But we have a very long list of options that we haven’t even tried yet.”

  Part of her wanted to ask what the options were. Another part was afraid they were laughably weak. Maybe it was better to pretend Harrison had a long list of rational courses of action that would save her. Denial might not be such a bad thing in this case.

  “We should sleep,” he said.

  “I know.” They’d been up virtually all night, and she was dead tired. “You should sleep, too.”

  “There’s only one bed,” he pointed out.

  She glanced at the colorful jumble of blankets and pillows. “It seems a little silly for me to go all Victorian on you now.”

  He kissed her hair again and pulled back to smile. “There are things about you I like very much, Julia Nash.”

  “There are things about you I like very much, too.” Specifically, at the moment, she liked that he felt like a barrier between her and the world.

  He turned off the light above the cupboards.

  Ahmed had thoughtfully provided Julia with a plain, white cotton nightgown, so she slipped into the tiny bathroom to wash up and change.

  When she came out, a single light glowed next to the bed, the sand was invisible where it rattled against the dark windows, and the ceiling fan turned lazily above.

  As she padded across the room to the small bed, she could feel Harrison’s gaze on her. But without looking in his direction, she lay down, tucked her head against a pillow and pulled up a single, thin sheet.

  She heard him cross the room.

  A rustle as he discarded his clothes.

  She assumed-hoped-he slept in his boxers as he lifted the sheet to join her.

  The bed was too small to stay away from each other. And, after a minute or so of hopeless attempts to find a politically correct position to sleep in, Harrison wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her, spoon style, against his body.

  It seemed to her that she should argue. But then, she felt safe and comfortable in his arms, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t already touched every inch of each other that could possibly be touched. So, instead of putting up a fight, she relaxed against him.

  He rested his chin against her hair, and his hand grew warm where it splayed across her belly. She could have easily turned in his arms, easily kissed him, touched him, made love with him all over again.

  “Can we talk about Brittany?” she braved.

  He drew a breath. “I really don’t know what to say about Brittany.”

  “I feel like the other woman.”

  “I’m not with Brittany yet.”

  Yet being the operative word. But Julia didn’t say that out loud.

  “You’re before Brittany,” said Harrison with conviction. “Not at the same time as Brittany.”

  He was obviously trying to make both of them feel better. On one level, it worked. On another, it made Julia sad. Harrison had a destiny with Brittany. He was simply biding his time with Julia.

  Her chest tightened in pain. Then she told herself to buck up. She and Harrison had been thrown together in an artificial situation. Their emotions were magnified. Neither of them was even thinking clearly.

  When it was over, they’d go back to their regular lives, and this would all be a fond, or maybe a frightening memory-depending on how things turned out.

  But, for now, she had to focus on the moment. And, at the moment, Harrison was helping her. He said he had options, and she was going to believe him.

  And that was all that mattered.

  With Julia sleeping in his arms, Harrison tried to conceive a plan to get her safely out of UAE. Unfortunately, her warm skin, her sweet scent and especially her soft bottom pressing against him were more than a little distracting.

  The storm had settled into a steady hum outside. They were safe for now, but as soon as the storm passed, they ran the risk of being discovered.

  He redoubled his efforts to focus on something other than his desire to make love with her all over again.

  He could rent a helicopter. But even if the police hadn’t put the airlines on alert, they ran the risk of being shot down if they tried to cross the border without clearance. Same problem with driving across a border; they could easily run into a patrol. And, even if they made it into Oman or Saudi Arabia, they might find more trouble there than they’d left behind.

  He could take her south to the coastal town of Ruwais, find a boat of some kind and make the short crossing to Qatar. He turned that approach over in his mind. It was probably their best bet. But he’d have to get her there. And he didn’t dare make arrangements over the airwaves. They’d have to take their chances on finding a willing captain once they got to the town.

  Mind made up, he realized he needed to sleep. It might be his last chance for a while. He’d ask Ahmed for a gun in the morning, pack as much fuel and water as the Jeep would carry, and make a run down the back roads of the desert past the dead zone.

  He gathered Julia close, wrapping his body protectively around her as his eyes fluttered closed.

  He woke up with a start, arms automatically tightening around her. The storm had passed, and the village was eerily quiet.

  And then he heard it.

  The sound of a diesel truck.

  Carefully extracting his arm from beneath her, and his leg from where he’d thrown it over her hip in the night, he slipped out of bed. He crossed to the window, and cautiously peeked out. The engine sound grew louder as the driver geared down, and Harrison realized it had to be a semi. Probably not a threat then.

  A tanker truck came into view on the main road of the oasis, then it passed behind a building and kept going. Harrison took a precautionary glance around the village before returning to the bed.

  Julia’s eyes were open and wary.

  “Everything okay?” she whispered.

  Harrison nodded. “But we should get moving.”

  She pulled herself into a sitting position. “Where are we going?”

  “Ruwais. It’s a small town in the south. We can get a boat to Qatar.”

  “What about the border?”

  “It’ll look like we’re taking a day trip when we leave. To the authorities in Qatar, we’ll look like a couple of Western tourists.”

  Julia smiled, and the glow of gratitude in her eyes did something to his stomach.

  “Get dressed,” he advised, hoping she’d do it quickly, before he said or did something really stupid. “I’m going to pack a few things in the Jeep.”

  She scooted out of bed, and he had to force himself to drag his gaze from the thin cotton that molded itself to her body as she moved. She was naked under there, and he remembered exactly what a sweet sight that was.

  “Do you need any help?” she asked on her way to the bathroom.

  “Ahmed will have breakfast for us. Could you pack it up? Then we can eat on the road.”

  She nodded, pausing with the door half-closed. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” And he meant it.

  As the door clicked shut behind her, he realized just how much he was willing to do for her, and how often he was willing to do it.

  He pulled on the loose, cotton pants and shirt Ahmed had provided, then slipped his feet into the sturdy sandals. No point heading out into the desert in his wingtips.

  He waited until Julia was ready, then he escorted her to the main house, watching carefully around them as he went.

  Ahmed was up, as was the rest of the family. And, as Harrison had predicted, a breakfast of fruit, breads, cheese and strong coffee was laid out on the table.

  Harrison gratefully accepted a cup of the coffee, then asked Ahmed if he had a weapon available.


  Ahmed drew him aside.

  “You’ll need more than a handgun,” he said in a low tone, glancing toward the women.

  “Do you know something?” asked Harrison, turning his back, but feeling Julia’s stare on him.

  “The man with no nose.”

  Harrison raised his eyebrows.

  “He is Muwaffaq. And he has connections.”

  Organized crime? “To whom?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Harrison clenched his jaw. This was definitely a bigger problem than he’d expected. “Do you have any idea what he wants?”

  Ahmed shook his head.

  “Harrison?” Julia appeared at his elbow.

  Ahmed looked startled by the interruption. He might be a thoroughly modern Arab man, but he was still an Arab man, unused to women as complete equals.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’re just about ready to go,” said Harrison, deciding there was no advantage in worrying her any further.

  “Go?” asked Ahmed.

  “To Ruwais,” said Harrison. “We’ll get a boat from there.”

  “To Ruwais?” Ahmed gave Harrison a look that clearly questioned his sanity.

  “We’ll take extra fuel,” said Harrison.

  “You can’t cross the desert.”

  Harrison gave Ahmed a hard look.

  “Why not?” asked Julia.

  “Muwaffaq is raising a mob to chase you.”

  Julia’s face blanched. “Muwaffaq?”

  “No-nose,” Harrison admitted, rebuking Ahmed with his eyes. Ruwais might be a risky move, but it was still the best move.

  “A mob?”

  “You’re not helping,” Harrison told Ahmed.

  “You can’t leave,” said Ahmed.

  “Well, we can’t stay,” said Harrison. “How long do you think it’ll take desert telegraph to let him know we’re here?”

  Ahmed’s gaze darted from Harrison to Julia and back again. “There is another way,” he said.

  Julia looked eager.

  Harrison was listening.

  “We arrange a new passport for her.”

  “Oh, no,” said Julia with a shake of her head. “I’m not traveling through the Middle East on a forged passport. That’s a real crime.”