by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson
“What is it?”
He looked good in the crisp white button-down shirt and black trousers. Too good. He’d stand out, even just sitting in the truck making a phone call. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it before they’d approached the bar, but at least she’d thought of it now. “I have an idea.”
She waited while he opened the truck door. Then she leaned in. Stretching over the seat, she groped in a box, her fingers touching stiff felt.
She pulled out Russ’s new Stetson and handed it to Efraim. “Try it on.”
He fitted the cowboy hat on his head. The beige-silver color of the hat looked striking against his nearly black hair.
She shook her head. “And here I was hoping it would make you stand out less.”
He gave her a smile that made her bones feel soft.
She wanted him to kiss her again, to forget all about murder and fear and oil leases. She wanted to head back to the luxurious bed in his suite and stay there forever, wrapped in his arms.
She looked down at the gravel under her boots. “Okay, then, I’ll just be a few minutes. If I find Tanya, I’ll let you know.” She forced her feet to turn and carry her away from the pickup.
She retraced her steps across the parking lot, gravel crunching under her boots. She didn’t know what it was about that man, but just being near him made her feel as light-headed as if she’d downed a whole six-pack on her own. She needed to keep her head clear, not full of fantasies about a man who could never accept both of her worlds. A man who one of those worlds would never accept.
She stepped through the door and into a haze of smoke. The dance floor was packed with people, some dancing, some standing and watching the band, beers in their fists.
Callie checked her watch. Almost bar time. She didn’t have a lot of time to find a woman named Tanya in a crowd like this.
She scanned the room. If the man who shot Fahad was one of those cowboys wearing the homemade T-shirts, she doubted he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it. In the current atmosphere, he was certain to be hailed a hero. And as the cowboys raised their beers in a toast, she had to wonder what they were drinking to.
Maybe once she tracked down this Tanya, she could find someone to fill her in on the latest gossip.
“Cal. I was wondering where you hurried off to.”
She turned toward the familiar voice and met eyes as blue as her own. “Brent.” Her gaze only had to lower a little to read the iron-on letters on the shirt stretched across her big brother’s chest.
Chapter Nine
Callie thought she’d been upset by the ugly spectacle of the mob protest before. Now, looking up at her oldest brother, she felt more than a little sick. “How can you be a part of something like this, Brent? What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here with him?” Brent asked.
She let out an exasperated breath. He must have seen her with Efraim before they returned to the truck. “I work for the Office of Foreign Affairs.”
“You can’t tell me that’s business.”
“No, it’s also about finding a murderer.”
“Murderer? Suddenly protecting your own is murder?” He glared at her out of the corner of his eye and took a swig of beer. “That sheik, he and his friends are no good, Callie. You have to see that.”
“I see a brother I’d hoped was better than this.” She shot a look at the T-shirt.
“Give me a break. This was a peaceful town until they got here. No explosions. No murders. Your royal friends have turned Dumont into a war zone. We just want our town back, our peaceful way of life.”
“I’d love to believe that you want peace, but if that’s really the case, threatening and violence isn’t a way to get there.”
“Who’s threatening? Who’s committing violence?”
“Whoever set off that car bomb. Whoever shot Fahad Bahir.”
“What makes you think it was someone from Dumont?”
She would like to believe it wasn’t. She was desperate to believe that. But she couldn’t close her eyes and avoid what was right in front of her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there’s enough hate in the air around here to choke a horse.”
“If your royal pals don’t like that, they should go home. They’re in our country. They don’t belong here.”
“And it’s exactly that type of attitude that might lead someone to start shooting.”
“Are you accusing me of murder, little sis?”
Was she? She had to admit that of all her brothers, Brent was the one who was bitter. Brent was the one struggling to control his anger. Brent’s life had changed in the Middle East and it would never be the same again. But with all of Brent’s challenges, she still couldn’t accept the thought of him shooting Fahad in cold blood and attacking Efraim. Maybe she was just closing her eyes to reality, but she couldn’t believe her brother was a murderer. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because if I’d wanted these foreigners dead, not only would this Fahad be in the morgue, your friend in the truck would be with him.”
She’d always been able to handle Brent when they were growing up. She knew her brother was having trouble adjusting to the unexpected turn his life had taken. She knew he’d seen horrible things in Afghanistan, and those things had changed him. But she couldn’t stand here and listen to him talk of killing Efraim.
She pushed past him.
“Cal.”
She kept going, wading farther into the crowd. She needed to get away from Brent before she belted him. Before she lost all hope that the decent streak he used to possess had been killed right along with his military career.
A hand closed around her biceps. “Callie, stop.”
She wrenched her arm free from her brother’s grip and tried to keep pushing through the crowd.
“Where are you going?” He grabbed her again, this time his grip too strong to break. “Callie?”
She turned and looked up at her big brother. She’d always looked up to him, ever since she could remember. But after his threat, she had trouble doing so now. “I have things to take care of.”
“What things?”
She shook her head.
“Listen, I went too far back there.”
“Really? You think a death threat is too far?” All her life she’d been a peacemaker. God knew, she’d gained most of that experience making peace between Brent and Joe when they were growing up. But this day had been too long, too traumatic and too filled with hate and violence. She’d reached her limit. “The men at the Wind River Ranch and Resort are not our enemies.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re seeing things straight.”
“I know you’re not. What do you want, Brent? What does this crowd want? A lynching? Do they want to kill the outsider? Fear what they don’t understand? Destroy it? You’re better than that. We Americans, we’re all better than that.”
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, Callie.”
“No, I haven’t. But you haven’t seen what I’ve seen either. We can move beyond all this hate and fear. We can work together.”
“My sister the dreamer.” He gave her an apologetic quirk of the lips.
She wasn’t sure she still had the capacity to accept the apology. She turned away from him, ready to head into the crowd.
“Callie, wait.”
She paused. Brent was infuriating and bitter and impossible, but he was still her brother. “What?”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for a woman named Tanya.”
“Tanya? Tanya what?”
“I don’t know her last name.” She pulled the matchbook out of her jeans pocket and gave it to him.
He squinted at the writing in the dim light. “That would be Tanya Driscoll. Why are you looking for her?”
“You know her?”
“Not really. But Russ does.”
“Russ? How?”
“About two weeks ago, she gave him one of these.” He handed the matchbook back to her.
“And he called her?”
“You know Russ.”
She did. Out of all her good-looking brothers, Russ had the most luck with women. It had been that way since grade school. And he enjoyed it for all it was worth. “Two weeks ago? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. We were here for my birthday. Russ, Joe and me.”
“How many times did he go out with her?”
“I don’t know. Three, four times maybe. Why? What’s so interesting about this Tanya?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” And she didn’t like where her thoughts were leading. Three or four dates with the same woman was a lot for her little brother. “Did Russ really like her?”
“He sure talks about her enough.” Brent shrugged. “She’s hot.”
Apparently hot enough for both Russ and Fahad to want to spend time with her. And that worried Callie. Brent was a bitter, angry man besides being a natural hothead. Russ took after his oldest brother in every way, even hoping to follow in his military career footsteps until Brent’s injury had changed everyone’s plans. Now he had almost graduated from college and was adrift, with no future in mind except ranching and chasing women and, like Brent, always spoiling for a fight.
Could Russ…
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. She’d come into the Tumbledown Tavern to find Tanya, and that’s what she needed to do, not let her imagination run amok before she had a single fact.
“How about a peace offering? What can I get you, Cal?” Brent asked, motioning to the bartender by raising his empty glass.
“Nothing, thanks.” She scanned the crowd, then looked up at her brother. “On second thought, you can point out Tanya Driscoll.”
“Love to. Only she’s not here tonight.”
Callie let out a breath. Maybe it was just as well. It was late. She was bone-tired, the adrenaline of all they’d weathered today was finally wearing off. Maybe it was best to just drop Efraim off at the Wind River Ranch and Resort and go to bed.
For a second the image of the luxurious bed in Efraim’s room skipped into her mind. She pushed it away, trying not to think about how horrified her brother would be if he had the slightest idea what she’d just been picturing. “I’ll see you at home, then.”
“Wait, Callie. I said she’s not here, but I know where you can probably find her.”
AS SOON AS Callie’s cute little blue-jeaned butt had swayed across the parking lot, Efraim pulled out his cell phone. It would be morning in Saruk. He hoped Darek wouldn’t be attending a state function of some kind and unable to talk.
He pulled up Darek’s private cell number and hit Dial. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to stick around and give COIN a chance. It was Callie. Between her smile and his hormones, she could probably talk him into anything. He had to be careful where she was concerned.
Exactly why he needed another perspective.
“Efraim.” Darek’s voice sounded clear, as if he was sitting right there in the pickup. “Have you found Amir?”
“No. No sign of him yet.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you. But Amir is not the reason I called.” Darek had a clear head about political matters and had always been a good sounding board for Efraim. “Can you talk?”
“I have to leave in a few minutes. Until then, my time is yours.”
“You remember my cousin, Fahad Bahir?”
“He is in charge of security?”
Was. Efraim swallowed, his throat aching. “He was killed. Shot.” He didn’t go into the rest. Whether he was the target or Fahad, it didn’t matter. It would all be the same to Darek.
Darek’s heavy sigh shuddered over the phone. “Get out of there, Efraim.”
Exactly the reaction Efraim expected. “I can’t.”
“You can. We can come up with an agreement over the oil leases on our own. We don’t need the Americans.”
It wasn’t that easy and Darek knew it. “And if we cut the Americans out, who will the oil go through?”
“My father has contacts in Russia. We keep the oil here. In our hemisphere. You of all people should know we can’t trust the Americans.”
He did know. It was only when he was around Callie that he wanted to forget. “The Americans’ offer is more favorable to us. Stefan Lutece, Sebastian and Antoine, Amir, that’s why we are here. That’s why you should be here, too.”
“My father won’t have anything to do with the Americans. If your father still had the heart to understand what was going on, he wouldn’t either.”
Efraim knew he was right. After the disastrous treaty his father signed years ago, he’d distanced himself from negotiations of any kind. All but the ceremonial aspects of leading Nadar were Efraim’s responsibility now. A responsibility that most of the time felt like a yoke around his neck.
“Fahad called me.”
Darek’s words jolted through his body like an electric shock. “When?”
“Yesterday. He was concerned about you.”
“Concerned?” He thought of the argument they’d had before Efraim had Kateb trailer a horse out to the badlands for him. Before Fahad had followed him and gotten shot. “Why was he concerned?”
“He wanted me to talk some sense into you.”
Efraim gritted his teeth. “It was about searching for Amir, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“A woman. A blonde who works for the United States government. Fahad was concerned about her.”
The second surprise Darek had dealt him in the last minute. “Callie McGuire?”
“I know this is delicate. I’m sorry. I told him there was nothing to worry about. That you would never let a mere woman sway you from doing what you felt was right for your country, let alone an American woman who will profit more than anyone if this oil deal goes through.”
“What did Fahad say?” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. What good would it do? Fahad was dead. And Callie…he knew she wasn’t trying to manipulate him.
“Just that this woman was doing all she could to get close to you.”
He pressed back another surge of anger. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone talking about Callie this way. And about him, as if he was being led around like a dog.
“Whenever he turned around, he said she was there, trying to catch your eye.”
Efraim thought of Callie riding toward him on the BLM. He’d thought it was unusual she’d come after him. At least he had before he’d learned it was Stefan who had sent her. But not for a moment did he feel as though Callie was trying to manipulate him. No, she wouldn’t.
“He was concerned she would.”
“Would what?”
“Find her way into your bed. Take unfair advantage to see that this agreement of hers went through.”
He shook his head. He’d known Fahad had as many reservations about COIN as he had. No, probably more. But for him to insult Callie this way. It was good that Efraim hadn’t known about his call to Darek until now.
“There is no danger, Darek. If I choose to remain part of COIN, I will do so of my own free will.”
“That’s what I told Fahad. Who knows? Maybe he was jealous. He said she was quite beautiful. He always liked blondes.”
Efraim gritted his teeth at the thought of Fahad or any man coming on to Callie. “Yes, maybe that’s it.”
“May he have many blondes waiting for him in heaven,” Darek said. “I have to go, Efraim. Please call when Amir is found, if not before.”
“I will. And thank you, Darek.”
“For what?”
“For helping me gain some perspective, as always.” Efraim ended the call just as he caught sight of Callie striding toward the truck, blond hair fanning out behind her in the gentle night wind.
She climbed into the driver’s seat,
a small smile on her face.
A smile that gave Efraim a warm shiver.
Darek wasn’t right about Callie, but that didn’t mean Efraim didn’t have to be careful. Her effect on him seemed to grow with each minute they spent together. “You found this Tanya?”
“No, but I have a full name and a place to look.”
He returned her smile, although his felt like it lighted his whole face. He was ready to get some answers or at least narrow down the possibilities. “Then let’s go.”
Callie drove a few blocks out to the edge of town and turned into the parking lot of a late-night diner. “Tanya Driscoll works here. Brent says if she isn’t at the Tumbledown, she’s probably working.”
“Brent? Your brother?”
She nodded, but offered no more.
“He knows her?”
“He knows of her. Says she moved to town about two weeks ago.”
“Just before we arrived for the summit.”
“Right around the time we finalized the plans.”
The parking lot was less than half-full, late-night diners who left the bars early, no doubt. She swung the truck into an empty space and switched off the engine. “Not that we know the timing is related.”
“You think her arrival is just a coincidence?”
“I didn’t say that. I just think we need to know more before we jump to conclusions.”
“Then let’s hope Tanya can give us more.”
They got out of the pickup and made their way into the diner. A smattering of customers sat at the tables, chatting a little too loudly and smothering their night’s drinking with burgers and breakfast foods. Silverware rolled in paper napkins perched on empty tables, waiting for the night’s rush at closing time. In a town the size of Dumont, this must be the only twenty-four-hour diner, the place to go for the after-bar crowd.
Efraim and Callie stopped at the hostess stand and waited for a man wearing a crumpled dress shirt to look up from a laminated sheet mapping all the tables in the restaurant. Efraim peered at the sheet, taking in the black marker splitting the tables into two sections, the names scrawled in the middle of each.
“Excuse me,” Callie said. “We were wondering—”
