by Maggie Ryan
Charles’s beam of victory quickly faded as the auctioneer quickly said, “Twenty-three.” The Brit scowled, not attempting to hide his glance to the right, as if ready to accuse Maddox of increasing a bid for a horse he obviously knew he had set his hat for.
Maddox simply shrugged, both hands in his jean pockets as if the outcome didn’t matter to him in the least. It wasn’t until the auctioneer began to end the bidding that Charles whipped his paddle high into the air, keeping his eyes on Steele, as if waiting to catch him yanking his own from where it was tucked inside his jacket to force him to go even higher.
“Twenty-four,” Charles said, breaking the established protocol of remaining silent during the bidding.
“I now have a bid of twenty-five thousand,” the auctioneer said, without even appearing to have glanced at the crowd.
Charles sputtered. “Who the fuck is bidding against me?” His head swiveled about but all he could do was increase his bid when unable to catch the culprit. “Twenty-six,” he bit out.
The auctioneer’s call of, “Thirty thousand,” instantly countered his bid.
Maddox’s expression revealed nothing but he knew it was over before the auctioneer gave Charles a warning that he had only a few seconds to either up his offer or admit defeat.
“Sold. Thank you, gentlemen, that concludes today’s auction. Please see Mr. Basara to arrange payment and collect your bill of sale. Transport arrangements for all animals must be made before the end of the week.”
“Did you see who won?” Charles asked, defeat written across his face as Maddox gave another shrug. “Well, at least I didn’t lose to you. I thought you were here to play.”
Before Maddox could respond, Everett nodded towards a man attired in the flowing khandoura or dishdash, a white robe that covered him from his head to his ankles, and the ghoutra, or headscarf, held in place by a black agal. “Seems like that stallion won’t be leaving the desert.”
“Damn, we shouldn’t have to bid against locals,” Charles muttered. “I came all this way for nothing!”
“Hardly nothing, that stallion will make a fine breeder, and you bought three others,” Maddox said, somewhat placating the man as he smiled and nodded. Turning, Maddox extended his hand to Everett. “Congratulations on winning the white stallion. You have a good eye.” He meant what he said and also had to wonder what happened to the Russian who had disappeared within moments of the auction’s opening gavel. Walking away, he heard Everett assuring Charles that they’d spend the next few days enjoying other pleasures.
It was time to drop the pretense. Despite it being considered the Pearl of the Gulf, Maddox knew that barely concealed beneath Dubai’s supposedly tolerant surface, there remained a deep mistrust of foreigners, as well as corruption. It was time to learn why his father had consented to travel thousands of miles from the family ranch in Glenrock, Texas, to stand on the undulating sand of Dubai. It had taken less than an hour to spend over seventy grand, and that was just for the cost of the three horses they’d purchased. Of course, for a “small” additional fee, a private plane had been “suggested” to fly the animals to the states. Small and suggested evidently had different definitions across the world, but the Steeles would take advantage of the offer. Not only would the horses be safer traveling with an experienced pilot who understood their needs, but Maddox knew that the additional payment would help ease the journey, as authorities could become quite adamant that every piece of paper was in order, with every “i” dotted and every “t” crossed before the foreigners were allowed to take what many considered yet another treasure from their country.
A half-hour later, Maddox stepped outside, where the coming evening offered a slightly less oppressive heat. He had to hand it to their host. Mr. Fadil Nazar didn’t pinch pennies when it came to his guests. Of course, the man belonged to one of the wealthiest families in the United Arab Emirates, and had just added over a million dollars to his coffers. A dozen luxury cars, each spit-shined to sparkle under the lights were lined up in front of the house, each driver waiting silently as the guests began to move to the various vehicles.
“Want to share a ride? I’m staying at the Burj al Arab Jumeriah,” Charles said.
Of course you are, Maddox thought to himself, expecting nothing less from the man who obviously had no problem flaunting his wealth. But, to his thinking, spending nothing less than twenty-five hundred dollars per night was not only a waste of money… it just plain stupid.
“No, thank you,” Maddox said. “I’m heading to bed.”
“Ah, come on, it’s early yet. I’ll buy you a drink,” Charles wheedled and then grinned. “Ah, unless, of course, you’re not planning on finding that bed empty?”
Maddox just nodded his goodbye, leaving the inebriated man’s slurred inquiry as to where he was staying unanswered as he walked down the line of cars. Thanking the driver who opened the door of a black Phantom, he ducked inside, not the least bit surprised to find the back seat of the Rolls Royce already occupied.
“The JBR, please,” Drake said, giving the shortened name of the Sheraton Jumeirah Beach Resort. Charles might be staying at the “sail” hotel, but the Steeles weren’t interested in such ostentatious frills. Maddox could walk out of his room and take a stroll along the beach in relative privacy without thousands of tourists milling and gawking about. Settling back against the luxurious leather of the seat, he stretched his legs out as far as possible and said nothing as his father removed the white robe and headscarf to reveal himself dressed in similar clothing to his son. Placing the garments in his briefcase that held the bills of sales, he clicked it shut and gave Maddox a grin.
“Well done, son.”
“Back at you, Pops. I’m not sure what I enjoyed the most; securing some incredible stallions or watching Legeaux turn purple when you bested him,” Maddox said before turning his gaze out the window to watch the sand dunes gradually falling away as the car made its way into the city. Less than fifty years earlier, the dunes would have continued unimpeded down to the sea, but now, skyscrapers soared, malls beckoned with every imaginable item offered for sale, and cars vied for space, horns constantly blaring. The day’s heat kept most tourists inside the lavish hotels, malls, and restaurants where air conditioning blasted, or lying on the pristine beaches, basking in the sun mindless of the risk of skin cancer. With the growing twilight, tourists would pour out of the hotels to slip into bars and clubs and, if they were lucky, they’d only encounter native inhabitants willing to turn a blind eye to such activities in favor of the almighty dollar and the façade of modernity and tolerance.
The car turned onto Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Blvd and soon the fountains at the base of the tallest building in the world came into view. Maddox knew that if he opened his window, he’d hear music, the combination of notes and spray choreographed into a dance. The Burj Khalifa rose 163 stories into the air and attracted thousands of tourists every year. The traffic reminded him of that clogging the streets in cities such as Los Angeles or New York back home. Though neither his head nor his father’s seemed to swivel, their eyes roamed over the city that had sprung from the sands. Maddox knew that not a single thing was being missed… both men well acquainted with appearing disinterested while their eyes took notice of everything, their ears listened, and their minds filed every detail into neat little folders just waiting to be opened and perused when needed.
Once inside their suite, Maddox removed his Stetson, sending it sailing to land on his bed, calling out, “Pops, I’m gonna shower.”
“Make it quick,” Drake said. “We’ve got a lot to go over before we go to dinner.”
It took less than ten minutes to wash away what Maddox was willing to bet was five pounds of sand. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he swiped at the foggy mirror and grimaced. His eyes still felt gritty from a combination of sand, sun, and simple exhaustion. He hadn’t been lying. At thirty-three, he wasn’t as young as he’d been the last time he was in the godforsaken Middle Ea
st and he really could use a nap… say one about eight hours long. Still, as he shaved, he had to admit the conditions now far outshone those when he’d been a soldier. Not even officers had often enjoyed hot showers and soft beds. No, it wasn’t unusual to go for days without seeing enough water to dip a toe into and he’d learned to practically sleep where he stood… and only after looking for seemingly innocent objects that could explode at any moment.
Toweling his black hair dry, he left the bathroom to find his father had already completed his own shower and dressed in a fresh suit.
“You going somewhere?” Maddox asked, sitting down on a chair, giving a pointed look at the safe where Drake had just returned a piece of technology they called the bug zapper. “I thought we were going to talk.”
“We are, but then we are going to the Atlantis Palm Resort for a nice, relaxing dinner.”
Maddox groaned. “Don’t know how relaxing it can be with a bunch of gawking tourists. How about we just order room service?”
Drake shook his head. “Sorry, we’ve got additional reconnaissance to do before tomorrow.” As his son stood, dropped his towel and strode across the floor to his room, totally unconcerned with his nudity, Drake answered the door and accepted a tray from a hotel employee. By the time Maddox pulled on his pants and shirt, Drake had poured him a drink, the amber color drawing his son’s eye as he accepted the tumbler of whiskey.
“So, besides buying some incredible horses, why exactly are we here?” Maddox asked, dropping into one of the chairs before the window.
“Paying an old debt,” Drake said, standing before the same windows and looking out across the Persian Gulf.
Maddox met his father’s eyes in the reflection of the glass. “How old?”
“Twenty years,” Drake said.
Those two words were all it took for Maddox’s hand to pause in lifting the glass to his lips. After a moment, he pushed the memories of two decades aside and simply nodded, accepting that the older man knew exactly what he was doing and knowing that no matter what was asked, he’d obey without a moment’s hesitation. “Tell me,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
Drake took the adjacent chair and did just that.
Chapter 2
Looking out her bedroom window, Adira didn’t see the azure blue of the pool two stories beneath her, or the water spouting into the air from the lion’s head fountain. Nor did she see the vast desert sands just beyond the oasis in which her father’s home had been built… well, one of his homes. They split their time between this estate, where the horses were stabled, and the penthouse in Dubai. She wasn’t even aware of the tall walls that surrounded her family estate that were heavily manned by guards. Instead, as she finished getting ready for dinner, Adira tried to push back the darkness of once again feeling like a captive in her own home. The rare times she could escape watchful eyes were a true gift. Like today. Riding her prized horse through the dunes of the desert, with the air whipping against her face, gave her a rush that could never be explained in words, even by the greatest poet. It was a feeling one had to experience to truly understand; the sense of life and freedom such an act could give.
“You look so much like your mother,” her father said as he entered her room, snapping her out of her thoughts. “She was such a beautiful woman, as are you.”
Adira fastened the back of her diamond earring and turned from the window with a smile to greet her doting father. The man exuded power and class in his traditional white dishdash and headscarf, but always had a softness in his eyes when he looked at her.
“But please tell me you don’t plan on wearing that to dinner,” he added with a frown as his eyes scanned his daughter’s planned evening attire. The dress she wore was far from racy, in fact, it was quite conservative, with a soft pastel, flowered material that covered most of her body, including her ankles. “We are meeting with business associates, Adira. You know this.”
She sighed and struggled not to roll her eyes. “I’m aware of this, Father. But women my age do not always have to wear an abaya. Those days are fading.”
“It’s a matter of respect for our guests.”
“They are Russian, correct? So what do they care if I am dressed like a proper Arab woman?”
Her father crossed his arms against his chest and tried his best to give a stern look, but Adira could see right through it. Even though her father was one of the most feared men in the Middle East, he had nothing but a loving and gentle heart for her. “Why are you so headstrong?”
“I am nothing of the sort,” she said with a smile, balancing on one leg and then the other to put on her heels. “And even if I were, would you expect anything less? After all, look who is my father.”
Fadil chuckled. “Is that so? Well, your grandfather was not pleased with your little stunt on that horse of yours today. Showing off?”
Adira swallowed back the giggle building in the back of her throat. “Possibly.”
“If you continue to act reckless, he may take that horse away from you to teach you a lesson.”
“He will not, and you know it.”
“Adira…”
“Those men are just over-inflated wallets, and even larger egos. It’s good for them to see what they want, but cannot have,” she declared with satisfaction. It always gave her a sense of pride to show off her horse, Zephyr, knowing that he was by far the best stallion any of those men had ever seen, and was not, nor would he ever be, for sale. That horse had been hers from the moment of his birth and would always remain so.
“And that is what has your grandfather and I so concerned. Not once did you stop and consider that those men are not used to being told no. If something is not given freely, many of them will not hesitate to just take it. Your judgment sometimes worries us.” He sighed, walking across the antique Persian rug to sit down on the edge of her bed. “Maybe I have shielded you too much from the dangers of the world we live in.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see worry wash over her father’s face as he stared down at the intricate designs beneath his feet in contemplation. Did he really think her so naïve? Although her father had indeed kept her safe, provided whatever she needed and then some, he had not succeeded in truly shielding her from the harsh reality of the type of business he and her grandfather conducted. Yes, they bred and sold stallions. But that was very minor in comparison to the money laundering enterprise the Nazar family had run out of Dubai for decades.
She still remembered the day she overheard her grandfather on the phone order a man to be executed for betraying him. She was only eight and did everything she could for the next year to convince herself that she had heard him wrong—and had almost succeeded. But when she saw from afar, hidden behind a large column, her father pull out a pistol and shoot a man between his eyes, never flinching as the man crumpled to the ground in his own pool of blood, Adira knew there was so much more that lurked in the shadows of her home, and her childhood. It wasn’t that her father and grandfather were bad men. They just surrounded themselves with bad men, and they simply had to do what was necessary. Or at least that was the reasoning Adira told herself in order to chase away the nightmares that threatened to plague her during her entire upbringing.
“Your mother had such high hopes for you. She knew you would be special,” Fadil said, melancholy dripping off each of his words.
Adira walked over to where he sat and knelt before him, placing her hand on his knee. “And you did a wonderful job as my father.” She paused and smiled, making sure her eyes met his. “If I remember correctly, we have a celebration tomorrow night to honor what a wonderful job you did in raising me.”
He chuckled. “That was all you, my darling. You worked hard to earn your doctorate in psychology all on your own. I had nothing to do with it. I am so very proud to call you my daughter.” He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. “Enough of this heart to heart,” he said with a wink. “We don’t want to be late. I have reservations at the Atlantis Palm Resort
for 8:00.”
Adira groaned as she stood with a grimace. “Why must we always dine there?”
“Because our out-of-town guests enjoy the ambiance. Something about all the fish swimming around them as they carve into one. The sick irony of it, I suppose.” He laughed lightly as he made his way to the door.
Adira had grown to hate that restaurant with its larger than life aquarium acting as the backdrop, white tablecloths, the finest china and crystal, and pretentious diners all flashing their diamonds and jewels. Like any resort, tourists were all around. But these were not your typical tourists. No, these people had more money than they knew what do with. The popular underwater suites, which ran from five to fifteen thousand dollars a night, were not something the average middle-income family with two children could afford. So these tourists had high expectations, demanded, and floated about in a self-absorbed world. Everything about the resort ate at her soul, yet just like every other business meeting, she would attend with the most gracious of smiles and demeanor.
“Feeds into their egos even more,” she mumbled as she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a headscarf to at least cover her hair and meet her father halfway in his plea for tradition.
He noticed her small gesture and smiled warmly. “Thank you for understanding. You are so much like your mother in that way as well.” She took his arm and the two descended the winding staircase side by side, together and yet lost in their own thoughts.
The drive to the resort was not long but definitely eventful. The Nazar family were never permitted to go anywhere without security. And since she was Adira Nazar, daughter of Fadil and granddaughter of the infamous Hadi Nazar, freedom of solitude did not exist in her life. Several black SUVs led the way, as well as followed close behind. Strangers. There were always strangers all around. She had grown used to this fact and long ago gave up on trying to remember any of their names. The security detail seemed to rotate so often that, rather than getting attached to any of the men, she just tried to ignore that they were even there. It wasn’t always easy to do, especially as they walked into the lobby of the resort, escorted by several men scanning each and every inch of the place as they entered. There was no way not to draw attention to their presence, and if the resort’s guests didn’t already know who they were, it was just a matter of time until they would ask and find out. They were not famous like those American movie stars, but the Nazar family had more power in one small finger than all of the celebrities combined.
