“I, uh, think so? I don’t know.”
“Can you leave the phone?”
Ivy cringed. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Let’s go.”
Killam, like many others working undercover in this part of the world, had long suspected the Saud royals of funding terrorism. Only, they were too good to get caught. Even now, it wasn’t Jabir partaking in the moving of funds. It was Yousef.
The lights overhead flickered, but the servers remained up.
Ivy packed up the terminal, tucking her phone and the cord into the side of the system as far back as it would go.
“Okay,” she said.
Killam nodded and went to the door. He pressed his ear to it, but the humming of dozens of computer fans was too loud. He cracked the door and stared out into total darkness.
They’d have to get up to the first floor, out of Jabby’s wing and upstairs to his own room. It wasn’t that far to go, but under these circumstances it was.
“Shouldn’t the power be on?” Ivy whispered.
He’d tried to not think about that. Darkness worked in their favor.
Killam squeezed his phone and using the screen’s light picked his way up the stairs.
Were those voices? Or was he imagining that?
He took the final step into the onetime closet.
Light shone from under the door.
Fuck.
Ivy saw it, too, and flattened herself to the wall on the opposite side, behind the door.
The light passed, as did the voices.
If they went out now, they’d have to take out however many guards were out there and deal with the bodies.
Killam drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it go.
They had to act carefully. He’d already rushed into something. That couldn’t happen again.
The minutes drew out.
The lights flickered again and stayed on for half a second before going out again.
“We have to go,” Ivy whispered.
Killam grimaced in the darkness.
She wasn’t wrong.
He grabbed the doorknob and twisted. Carefully he swung the door open a tiny bit. Just enough to glimpse the hallway.
Light slashed across the hall as a figure walked toward them. Killam locked eyes with the man.
Fuck.
Killam reacted first. He threw the closet door open and burst out. The guard sucked in a breath, but before he could say anything Killam hit him in the gut, ramming the guy backwards. The light clattered to the floor and they went down hard, Killam on top of the guy. But that only lasted for a second. The guard had a good forty pounds on him. He hooked his leg around Killam’s and rolled them, driving a fist into Killam’s head as they went. He braced himself for another blow, only the sick crunch of bone wasn’t his.
The big man slumped sideways.
Ivy stood over him, holding the heavy-duty flashlight like a baton.
“You okay?” She glanced over her shoulder. “We need to get him in the closet.”
Killam didn’t bother responding. His head spun, but he was still functional.
Together they dragged the unconscious man’s body into the closet. She must have hit him for all she was worth to knock him out that hard.
Killam used the guy’s tie to secure his hands behind his back while Ivy stripped him of key cards, his phone, keys and a sidearm. She used Killam’s knife to cut some of the lining off her skirt and they made that into a gag.
It was the best they could do.
“Come on.” Killam glanced up at the lights. “We need to get out of this part of the house. I don’t know why the lights aren’t up, but I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“Me neither.”
They crossed to the doors leading out of the wing. Killam cracked one open, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. He heard people, though. Plenty of whooping and yelling.
“Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “Walk a few feet behind me.”
Perhaps someone wouldn’t think they were together if they had a little separation between them?
It was worth trying.
Killam edged toward the corner and peered around. There were no guards in sight, but plenty of shapes moved about in the shadows. He remained close to the wall, in the darkest shadows, and started for the stairs.
Two guards passed the end of the hall, but they were headed somewhere fast.
Killam couldn’t hardly believe they made it to the stairs unseen and unmolested. He glanced over his shoulder. Ivy was still ten or so feet behind him, but the mangled white dress made her stick out. He climbed a few stairs and waited, keeping an eye on her.
Ivy gave up creeping and hustled to the stairs. He turned and took them two at a time.
A man and woman stood on the landing making out.
Killam kept going.
The second floor was loud with doors open and people milling around, some calling down to the first floor. He reached back and took Ivy’s hand, pulling her faster. She kept up with him as they rose to the third floor. Doors were shut here and there were only two groups leaning over the banister to peer below.
As they made the final climb to the fourth floor, the lights flickered.
A cheer went up.
The lights grew brighter, almost painful.
There wasn’t a person in sight.
He sprinted, staying close to the windows and out of sight from the party below. Ivy kept pace with him. He yanked the key to his room out of his pocket, unlocked it and they rushed in. His sensor beeped, registering his phone.
Killam locked the door, but it gave him no peace.
“Duffle in the closet,” he said.
Ivy didn’t hesitate.
Damn, but she was amazing.
He really hadn’t given her enough credit. Not in the beginning and not now. But she shouldn’t have to go it alone.
Killam pushed that out of his mind, pulled out the larger duffle from under the bed and started throwing the last odds and ends into the bag.
“What’s the plan? What do we do?” Ivy asked from the closet.
“We get a car, mine or someone else’s, and get out of here.”
“I don’t have a passport,” she reminded him.
He knew that.
They couldn’t go to Riyadh. Even if he got her a fake one just to get them out of the country, he doubted they’d make it on a plane.
“Qatar,” he said.
It was quite a drive, but they could make it. He could have documents waiting for them and be on the first flight possible. Maybe even early tomorrow morning if he drove fast enough.
Okay, that was likely pushing it, but noon made sense.
“How’s this?” Ivy gestured to herself.
She’d packed smart. Dark, long skirt. A sort of loose, peasant top. If he could get her a niqab to put on over it she’d blend in as much as possible.
“That’ll have to do. Shoes?”
She lifted the hem of her skirt to reveal sneakers and ankle length leggings.
“We take the servant’s stair down to the kitchens. Hopefully things there are as chaotic as they are out here. We can slip out back that way. Stay close to me, but be ready to back off, okay?”
Ivy nodded. “Okay.”
Killam took her bag, put it inside his and zipped it up. He took one last look around the room, satisfied he had everything they needed.
No, he wasn’t getting to kill Jabby, but he was getting Ivy out of here.
They left his room. The fourth floor was still empty. Below, it was louder. Someone had turned the stereo on, but it wouldn’t be long before everything fell apart.
He led Ivy to the narrow staircase that served the house staff. They went fast, descending into the noisy lower levels before pausing on the first floor landing.
Two uniformed staff bustled in, then out of the kitchen, neither spotting them in the shadows.
They were going to do this.
When that guard was
found, everything would change. But for now, they were pulling this off.
Killam took Ivy’s hand and they slipped out of the kitchen through a hall that cut through the place where the servant’s wing joined the house. It let onto a gravel path that butted up against the hedges blocking the women’s yard.
The moment the door shut behind them, he drew an easier breath.
They’d almost made it.
“Come on.” He tugged her forward and they jogged down the path toward the delivery area.
Any moment they could run into someone. The wrong people could spot them. There were cameras out here, away from the party areas.
Killam saw a few shadows moving with purpose ahead of them, but none paid them any mind.
They slowed as they reached the service lot where staff parked their cars and trucks made their deliveries.
He pulled Ivy into the shadows as his gaze fell on a blue truck.
The water delivery guy.
A different man stood in front of the van talking to Zak.
Beyond them, guards strode around, guns out, looking to be on high alert.
One was even stationed outside the garage where Killam’s cars were.
He’d known he wasn’t going to make it off the property with any of the cars. It still stung. A few of those were real and very expensive. He was going to hear about this later.
Tonight all he cared about was getting Ivy out alive.
“We need to go,” she whispered.
“Not yet.” He pulled her over to crouch behind the pump shack.
Zak threw up his arms and said something, pointing his finger in the man’s face. The man shrugged and replied. Zak whirled around and stalked off.
Killam needed a way out.
He glanced around.
The guards were looking for a threat from the bushes or the road.
This might be their only chance.
Killam left the bag and darted forward.
The water delivery driver never saw him coming.
Killam pushed the guy up against the van and pressed his gun against the man’s head.
“Do you understand English?” he asked in a cold voice.
“Yeah. Yes.” The guy held his hands up, phone between his fingers.
Killam took the phone and pocketed it. “You’re going to give us a ride out of here.”
And along the way Killam intended to find out just what the cousins were up to.
TUESDAY. JABIR AL SAUD’S Home. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
Zak frowned at the darkened house. The sudden hush intensified the surrounding silence. At least out on the patio. He could hear the confused voices of the other guests melding together into a dull roar.
What the fuck just happened?
Where was Jabir’s generator?
Dots of light sprang up as people began using their cell phones as flashlights. Another set of doors to the dining hall opened and people trickled out.
Yousef must be losing his shit right about now.
Zak smirked and turned back down the path.
He wasn’t going in that house until the power was back on. Too many bodies, not enough air. Not his idea of a fun time.
Fucking Killam.
Zak kicked a rock on the path.
That asshole. What right did he have to interfere last night? Where did he get off being one of that idiot Jabir’s closest friends?
Zak reached the end of the path.
That was odd. Muhammad was gone. The kid had agreed to wait around, see if Yousef ponied up with the last of the money. Zak would be sweating things if he didn’t have the deal locked down. It wasn’t like he could move the equipment if he paid tonight. They were still working the logistics out.
Zak took a few steps and looked around the gravel lot more.
Was it his imagination, or was there more security out and about now?
Odd.
His phone vibrated against his thigh.
He pulled it out, glanced at the display.
Great. More texts from Nasar. Why did the man have to go off and get smart now? Someone was going to have to handle the man. He’d just about outlived his usefulness. Zak pushed Nasar from mind and clicked answer on his cousin’s call.
“Miran. What’s going on?” Zak thrust his other hand into his pocket and turned to amble back to the house.
“Where are you?” Miran asked.
“Outside. Why?”
“Get in here. Something happened.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Zak hung up and lengthened his stride.
Most of the guests appeared to have found their way out to the pool area. He had to push through a few clusters of drunken party goers, but eventually he stepped inside the main room of the house.
Miran wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Zak struck off down the hall toward Jabir’s wing. If anything of note was happening, it would likely be there.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness by degrees. Several security personnel had flashlights out and there was a cluster in front of Jabir’s wing.
Miran stood off to one side, just out of the halo of light created by three men’s flashlights.
“What’s going on?” Zak whispered as he reached his cousin.
“I might be wrong...” Miran stared intently at a short guard speaking softly to the others. “I think Killam just ran out of here with one of the women.”
Zak snorted.
That did not surprise him in the least.
Americans and their hero complexes.
Good riddance.
“Think he caused the blackout just to run off with a girl? Any idea which one?”
“No, but if I had to guess? That blonde.”
“The one Jabir was all over today?”
Miran nodded.
Zak chuckled. Killam could have the leftovers. Zak didn’t think any woman would be worth the fall from grace, but he had different priorities. Killam’s departure left open a door of opportunity, and Zak was going to step through.
13.
Wednesday. Saudi Arabia.
Ivy wasn’t sure what woke her. Maybe it was the crick in her neck or the hard, cold surface she was lying on, or the sunlight streaming through the window, or...
A sharp, male voice said something. His words were muffled, but the tone made her come instantly awake.
She sat up, blinking the sand and sleep from her eyes.
She was still in the back of the small van. Her pillow was the bag of things Piers had packed for their wild flight out of Prince Jabir’s private compound. The van was stopped. She squinted out the front windows at a lonely stretch of road with nothing in sight for miles except a car on the horizon. The sun was barely up.
How long had she been asleep? How had she fallen asleep?
She’d had to bundle herself up back here when they left so she wouldn’t be seen. Even now, she had to stay out of sight until they got her some kind of head covering. Piers had crouched behind the driver’s seat with a gun aimed at the back of their captive’s head. She remembered not even daring to breathe.
The adrenaline. Her head had pounded with it.
She must have been more worn out than she realized.
Where was Piers and their unwilling friend?
She got to her knees and grabbed the handle on the back of the van. Carefully, she cracked the door.
Piers glanced at her, then back at the young man she hardly recognized from last night.
His baseball cap was gone, revealing a rounded, cherubic face and a petulant scowl.
“What were you doing for Zak? Hm?” Piers demanded.
The young man threw his hands up and sighed dramatically. “He’s boss. I do whatever he need me to do. That’s how it works.”
Was this guy even in his twenties? What were the chances they were dealing with a kid? A kid wrapped up in something way above his paygrade.
Piers planted his hands on his hips. “Look, kid, we’ll do this a
ll day.”
“I know nothing.”
“You know something. What’s happening in DC next week? What do you do for Zak? Give me specifics.”
The kid glanced over his shoulder, no doubt noting that they were pretty much alone out here.
Piers leaned forward. Just a little. “Muhammad...”
“Fine,” Muhammad spat. “Something is happening. I didn’t know DC until now. This moment. Zak doesn’t tell that much. I run messages for Zak.”
“To who?”
“Everyone.”
“Be more specific.”
Muhammad rattled off some names. They blurred together for Ivy. Her grasp of written Arabic was better than hearing it. Sometimes she just had to see the word written out for it to make sense.
“Shit. God damn it,” Piers growled. He turned a bit and dragged a hand over his face. His gaze landed on her. “You should stay out of sight.”
“Then get in the van,” she replied. She needed to hear what Muhammad was saying, too.
He glanced at their captive. “You heard her.”
Muhammad rolled his eyes and trudged around to the driver’s side while Piers got into the passenger’s seat. Ivy settled on the floor cross legged just behind their seats where she could hear.
She wanted to know the significance of the names Muhammad had listed off, but she also didn’t want to appear ignorant in front of him.
“Your boss is communicating with all the major terrorist players.” Piers turned his head and stared at Muhammad’s profile. “Why the fuck are you working for him?”
Muhammad shrugged. “He pays well. He takes care of us.”
“Mother fucker,” Piers muttered.
He was really running through the list of expletives there.
“What do you know about next week?” Ivy asked.
Muhammad didn’t look at her or acknowledge that she’d spoken.
Piers rubbed his fingers together. “Answer the lady or you aren’t going to like how this goes.”
“Nothing. Zak has me going back and forth, passing messages to people. They need money to move things. Buy things. Pay people off. There’s also an issue with his man in America. I don’t know what. Don’t ask me. I just know something’s wrong.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Nasar. I’m not supposed to know it.”
Necessary Risk Page 18
