“Why didn’t you tell me this was your first time, Kathleen?” he said eventually.
For a long while, she didn’t reply. It was as if she was choosing not to make it real by talking about it, as if she didn’t want to invite back harsh reality. Or think about where they might go from here.
“I don’t know,” she whispered finally. And surprisingly the response hurt Sayeed. Something deep down wanted it to be about him. But how could it be? She didn’t even know who he was.
She looked up at him and smiled, but her eyes were sad. “I…think I dreamt about you before.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I mean, this is as true as my dream will ever come. I…just needed to grab on to it. Don’t ask me why.”
“What dream?” Deeply curious now, Sayeed thought about the words in her diary—Kathleen had confessed to dreaming about the desert, but she’d also written she’d never have had the courage to come and walk these sands, ironically, had Jennie not disappeared here.
She pulled the sheet higher over her chest, a little self-conscious now. “It doesn’t matter what dream.”
It did matter, more than Sayeed understood why.
He realized, also, how much he’d slipped out of his under cover persona, how much power his captive—this compassionate, beautiful woman—held over him. Not once while making love had Sayeed thought about his cover identity. And the man who lay holding Kathleen in his arms right now was him, Rashid Al Barrah, banished prince of the Maghreb. Somehow this woman had reached inside him and touched the truth, and she didn’t even know it.
He moved a strand of hair back from her face. “How old are you, Kathleen?”
He knew she was twenty-five. He’d seen that from her journal.
Her features tightened. She wrapped the sheet more tightly around her body and got out of bed. She went to the table and poured water from the jug into a mug. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her cheeks glowing. She looked so damn sexy Sayeed wanted to take her all over again. But something inside her had switched. And Sayeed could see their magical moment was over, gone.
“Kathleen?”
She turned to face him. “It’s irrelevant, Sayeed.”
“It’s not irr—”
“It is! You’re just asking because you can’t figure out why I’ve never slept with a guy.”
He got out of bed, came over to her, raised his hand to touch her. But she backed off and his hand fell limp to his side. “It’s just that you are so beautiful, Kathleen. So desirable. You’re brave, compassionate, intelligent. You’ve shown you will do anything for those you love—you’re everything a man could want.”
She laughed, softly, a little derisively. “What kind of man? Not the kind I’m looking for. Not the kind I’ve ever dated. What I thought I wanted doesn’t exist, Sayeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m old-fashioned—there, I said it. I’m an idealist, a romantic. I wanted a guy who’d stick around for the long haul, not a one-night stand. I wanted someone with the same values as mine, someone I could build a life, a family, a home with. That’s why I waited. Guess I gave up.” Her voice held a tone of resignation, and her eyes were empty. She drank her water.
He watched her, wishing he’d made her happy, that sex had been better for her. That he hadn’t been a compromise. That he wasn’t a one-night stand.
“The sex, it wasn’t what you expected, was it?”
She looked at him in surprise. “God, no. I—” She blushed. “It was everything.” She hesitated. “And more”
“Then tell me why you gave up.”
“You’ll laugh.” There was no mirth in her eyes.
“Try me, Kathleen,” he said.
She moistened her lips and inhaled deeply, as if debating whether to spill. Then she shrugged. “I’m probably never going to get out of this camp alive, Sayeed. Maybe I just wanted to make love before I died.”
He laughed dryly. “You’ve just managed to make me feel used, Kathleen.” He reached for a towel, wrapping it around his waist. “Guess I had it coming, being this end of a one-night stand for a change.”
“You see, I rest my case. Most guys—especially ones that look like you—don’t commit to a woman like me when they can bed anyone they choose, anytime they like. Why would they?”
“You don’t know anything about me, Kathleen.”
This time she laughed.
Sayeed swore to himself. He was digging a hole here, opening himself up, but something had changed in him. Not only did he want to keep this woman safe, he felt a need to tell her who he was, to come clean about why he was here. He wanted to share his secret with the woman he’d shared his body with.
And he was beginning to think she was exactly the kind of woman he might want to spend his life with, make a family with, build a home with. A real one.
And it struck him that if he followed through and killed Bakkar and Marwan, he might not be able to do that.
Not only had Kathleen assumed equal importance to his mission, she was making Sayeed question the very goal that had driven him back to this desert—his duty as a Sun Clan prince to avenge a heinous crime. Sayeed suddenly felt as if he’d come to a strange crossroads, and oddly, he felt lost.
“What makes you think you won’t find a man with the same values as you, Kathleen?”
She finished her water, set the mug down. And he could see pain in her eyes. “Maybe they think they have the same values, Sayeed. Maybe at some point both partners actually do think they want the whole monogamous, long-term commitment thing, to build a family and grow old together. Then comes the crap life throws at you—and the bickering starts, and the affairs….” Her voice faded.
“Your parents really hurt you.”
“They should never have been parents.” Bitterness laced her words. In her eyes, there was a sudden hardness.
And he felt even more responsible. Sayeed suddenly wanted to show Kathleen that her dream was possible. He wanted to show her he had the same values. And it shocked him. Because it was true—he really did want a real family, a home. One woman in his life, someone he could grow old with.
He’d buried it away and she’d forced it out of him, changing him in some fundamental way by just being Kathleen. And now it was all going to clash head-on with his mission because the powers that be would still see her and her sister as necessary collateral damage. While he, on the other hand, selfishly wanted to keep her safe for the future. For himself.
But before he could think another thought, a curt command sounded outside the tent. Kathleen’s gaze shot to the door, fear in her eyes.
Sayeed hurriedly grabbed some clothes.
“Get dressed,” he said curtly. “Take one of my robes.”
Kathleen pulled on one of Sayeed’s large robes, tying it at the waist with cord as she listened to the urgent whispers in Arabic right outside the tent wall. Sayeed was talking to another man whose voice she hadn’t heard before.
“The volunteers are all at the castle,” the man said. “It’s going down at 1900 hours tonight. Bakkar wants you up at the lab when it does.”
“Why?” whispered Sayeed.
“Because he wants you to kill Dr. Flaherty when she’s done injecting the volunteers.”
Kathleen’s mouth went bone dry. Chills, sweat prickled over her body.
He knew!
Sayeed knew exactly where Jennie was.
Hands shaking, she leaned closer to the canvas, not wanting to miss a single word.
“Why must I do it?” Sayeed hissed. “I was going to stay down here, leave with Bakkar and his men.”
“Bakkar let you keep the sister. He said this is how you will repay him. I suspect this is his way of ensuring your loyalty, and he wants you to do it in the lab as soon as she’s completed the last injection.”
Rage pounded into Kathleen. But she didn’t dare move lest they hear her.
“No,” said Sayeed. He sounded angry. “Dr. Flaherty must live
until we are sure the plan is working. If we kill her too soon, we won’t know for sure if the Ebola Botou is truly airborne, and we’ll have no one to help us do another batch. Let her inject the volunteers, then I will take her into the desert while the volunteers travel to their destinations. When innocent civilians start dying around the world, when people realize we’ve just unleashed the biggest biological suicide attack on the western world to date—then I will take her life.”
Kathleen’s heart turned to cold stone. Never in her life had she hated a man more than she detested Sayeed Ali right now. And beyond hatred she felt stupid, used.
There was silence outside the tent. A cough. Then the man said. “Come, you must tell Bakkar this yourself.”
Footsteps crunched in sand, then grew faint.
Kathleen slid slowly to the ground, held her knees. Mortified. Sayeed was a terrorist. He’d lied about Jennie. She was captive in that castle, and she was going to die.
Kathleen began to shake. They must have abducted Jennie from the hotel in Burkina Faso because she had the skill to turn the Ebola Botou virus into a biological, human time bomb. Jennie had once told Kathleen how frightening it would be if something like Ebola Botou became airborne, and she’d said it could be done. That’s why these bastards must have specifically targeted her.
And that’s why Bakkar had ordered his men to come to Kathleen’s camp and kill her, in case she’d led people to uncover this plot.
Blood drained from her head. She’d slept with the man who was going to kill her sister along with thousands of innocent civilians around the world.
Kathleen launched to her feet, panic slicing through her, sweat breaking out over her body. She had to help Jennie. And she had to warn someone about the imminent biological attack.
But she didn’t have much time—she’d heard the man say it was going to go down tonight at 1900 hours…. Oh, she could not believe this was happening.
Focus, Kathleen. Think. You’ve got to leave before Sayeed comes back. Take what you need from his tent and go….
She found the pair of shoes he’d given her earlier, and she pulled on a pair of his cotton pants, rolling the waistband over several times to make the legs shorter. She tightened the large robe over the top and quickly wrapped her head in a piece of turban cloth, leaving only her eyes showing through a slit. She’d need water out in the desert. Kathleen glanced at the jug on the table, wondering how she could carry some, but stilled as she heard footsteps crunching in sand outside.
She spun round.
The tent flap opened.
Kathleen froze like a deer in headlights.
Sayeed slowly stepped inside, allowing the tent flap to fall closed behind him. “Where are you going?”
She grabbed the hilt of the letter opener off the desk, waved it in front of her. “Don’t you dare come near me.”
“Kathleen, what’s going on?” He kept coming toward her as he spoke. He held his hand out. “Give me the letter opener, Kathleen.”
Her heart raced. “I swear, I’ll kill you, you bastard.”
“Look, just put that down, will you, and tell me what’s going on.”
“Did you tell Bakkar you’re going to kill my sister tonight or later out in the desert?”
He stalled, shock on his face. “You speak the language,” he said very quietly in Arabic. “I should have guessed it from your diary, seen it as a possibility.”
“Back away from the entrance,” she replied in the dialect.
He took a step closer, blocking her exit. “Kathleen, don’t do this—”
“I mean it.” Her hands started trembling. “I will kill you.”
He held up both hands. “Look, I won’t hurt you, Kathleen—I promise.”
“Like you promised you had no idea where Jennie was before you slept with me!”
He had the audacity to look hurt, then anger growled into his features. “You wanted me, Kathleen. I tried to stop several times.”
Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I…I wanted something that was a lie… It…it’s always like that. I am such a goddamn fool.”
He reached for the letter opener in her hands, but she barreled at him with full force. The dull blade sank into his side. He froze in shock, glanced down at the blade sticking out of him.
Horror gushed through Kathleen.
She hesitated, then she turned and fled out of the tent into the dark dawn, running as fast as she could to where she’d seen the horses corralled.
Chapter 8
Sayeed doubled over in pain. Slowly, he slid the blade out of his flesh. He lifted his robes as he stumbled over to the first aid kit, quickly stanching the blood and checking out the damage. The blade hadn’t gone deep, thank God. It had deflected off his leather belt, traveling along the outer edge of his waist, seemingly missing any major organ or arteries. But it made for a lot of blood. He plugged the wound with wadding from the first aid kit and plastered adhesive tape tightly over the top. He took a handgun from the drawer on his desk, a spare magazine, and then he slipped out into the darkness. He had to find Kathleen fast, before someone else did, or she was dead.
Kathleen rode quietly along the shadowed cliff edges, under rocks that jutted out above her head. Dawn had not yet broken, but the sky had lightened just enough for her to see where she was going—she might manage to avoid the sentries she’d spotted along the cliff face when Sayeed brought her through the canyon the first time.
She tried to remember where she’d first seen the trail zigzagging up to the castle ruins on the ridge. Her intention was to go up there, try to find Jennie. She didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t ride out into the desert. She had no water, no direction—she’d die before she managed to find help or alert anyone. So she focused on trying to get to her sister. It’s all she could think to do right now.
Scanning the ground with his flashlight, Sayeed saw Kathleen’s footprints heading from his tent toward the stables. He switched off his light and ran in a crouch toward the horses.
There was a quiet air of industry in the rest of the compound—instructions had been given to decamp and be cleared out by tomorrow morning. By then, the biological attack was supposed to be well under way, and the Moors were going to lay low in respective hiding places for several months. This was good. In the unusual flurry of early morning activity Sayeed had a fair chance of bringing Kathleen back into camp unnoticed. But once the sun came up, all bets were off.
When he reached the stables, Sayeed panned his light over the horses. They were edgy, one whinnying. The sand outside the gate had been recently disturbed.
He opened the gate, quietly entered the corral and selected his favorite gelding. Once he’d led his horse outside the gate, Sayeed mounted and headed at a clip for the canyon. He’d seen the way Kathleen had been looking up at the castle ruins and the switchback trail when he’d first brought her through the canyon. He was betting she’d go there if she’d overheard everything said outside his tent.
As he rode, his admiration for Kathleen deepened. She was not trained, not equipped for this. Yet, she’d played him. She’d had the guts to stab him and get away. But if those sentries didn’t kill her now, the Sahara certainly would.
Dawn bled violent pinks and purples into the sky. With relief Kathleen could see the twisting trail up to the castle ruins ahead. She’d made it through the canyon and past the sentries without being spotted before the sun came over the ridge.
She kicked her horse into a gallop, aiming for the trail.
Then suddenly she heard the sound of hooves bearing down behind her. Shock smashed through her. She rode harder but not well—bouncing about all over the horse. Kathleen became so focused on just holding on, staying alive, not falling, that she didn’t even dare look behind her.
The hooves sounded louder, faster, closing in.
Terror clawed through her. The sky grew brighter, the air hotter. She rode harder, sweat dripping down between her breasts and under her turban.
<
br /> The hooves were right behind her now. Her horse foamed at the mouth, then it stumbled. She went over its head, landing hard on the sand.
Her pursuer swung off his horse and came down right on top of her. She tried to get up, run. But he wrestled her back into the sand, her turban coming off in the process, grains of sand grinding into the side of her face as he pressed her down.
She tried to scream, but he killed the sound by clamping his hand hard over her mouth.
His body was big, hard. Hot. She felt his heart beat against her rib cage. The sound of her own blood beat a loud tattoo in her eardrums. Sand burned her eyes, gritted in her teeth, got up her nose.
“Quiet,” he hissed in her ear.
Sayeed.
“Do not scream, or they will come and kill you, do you understand this?” He spoke in Arabic.
She nodded, tears of pain mixing with hard grains of sand, rocks pressing into her side.
Sayeed eased off her a little and removed his hand from her mouth. Her face was bloodless, her eyes hostile. She was shaking like a leaf. Sand covered her face, her clothes.
But she didn’t try to run, and he helped her up into a sitting position. Her attention shot straight to his waist, where she’d stabbed him, then back to his face. He knew he looked like crap. He knew he’d lost a fair bit of blood in the exertion of the chase. But it was not remorse he read in her eyes—it was pure hatred.
“You bastard!” she spat at him. “You knew where Jennie was all the time. You made me believe in you—you promised me.”
“Kathleen, I know it looks bad, but you’ve got to believe me, I’m on your side.”
“You’re a terrorist!”
The sun’s rays hit the opposite cliff. The clock was ticking. He had to get back.
“Kathleen, please, just listen to me—”
“Why should I?” she said, her eyes red, burning. “You used me, Sayeed. You…you had sex with me when you were intending to kill my sister. You…” Her voice hitched. She struggled for focus. “You knew how very deeply important Jennie is to me, and…and I can’t believe I’m so goddamn stupid.” She broke down, exhausted, crying into her hands.
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