Desire In The Desert. Ryshia Kennie

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СКАЧАТЬ out of her bag, the soft smell of coconut wafting around her.

      If she’d been a man he wouldn’t have worried about her comfort. Another reason why she shouldn’t be here.

      The masonry wall that surrounded the compound stretched out in front of them. They’d retraced their way on foot to the entrance of the compound, stopping seventy-five feet outside of it to a spot where Emir had been told his sister had been taken. Behind them, it was dusty and flat, a field that stretched into nothingness. Behind that, a public road ran about three hundred feet perpendicular to where they were. It was close enough that, had there been any traffic, the noise would have been disturbing. Ahead of them, rows of palm trees announced the entrance to the Al-Nassar compound.

      “They took her with little fight,” Kate said minutes later.

      “How do you know that?” he asked. It wasn’t something anyone else had seen. In fact, with one man dead and another in the hospital, it seemed rather a ludicrous pronouncement. A movement behind him had him turning around. On the public road, a thin, sun-bronzed man in T-shirt and faded jeans peddled past on a bike that pulled a small cart. Around them Marrakech spread out on both sides, the city seeming to glow as a result of the rich red clay that defined many if its buildings, whether the towers of a mosque or the walls of the city.

      “Do you have the kidnappers’ original message?” she asked.

      “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

      “Trust me,” she said, holding out her hand.

      He pulled his phone from his pocket, punched in a code and handed it to her.

      She took the phone, listened and then hit Replay immediately after it ended.

      “What do you think?”

      “The voice isn’t distinctive. It’s male, but beyond that there’s nothing. Midrange. No accent of any sort. Odd.”

      “Exactly what I thought,” he said.

      “Too bad we couldn’t listen to the second. Compare.”

      “They were different. I’m sure of it,” he said. Unfortunately there’d been no time to record that message.

      She handed the phone to him.

      “They used a knife,” she said. She didn’t wait for him to answer for they both knew that had been in the report. “Interesting choice of weapon. Silent, but it also takes surprise or strength, ideally both, to be effective. At least to do it quietly with little struggle.”

      “It was dark, past midnight. She was almost home and her security was taken by surprise.”

      “Will he make it?” she asked, referring to the man who was now in the hospital.

      “I went to see him. He’s critical.” His fist clenched. “Ahmed was a good man—is,” he amended. “He tried to help, to stop them. That’s what I assume from how it all ended. He wouldn’t have done otherwise.” The thought of one of his employees so close to death was gut-wrenching. There wasn’t anything about this case that wasn’t. He cleared his throat. “And then he tried to help me, give me information...but he’s in such rough shape.”

      Emir’s voice was tight even to his own ears and he could still feel the pain of seeing someone he’d known for years struggling to live and yet still wanting to help. “Ahmed would do anything for Tara.” He took a breath as if controlled breathing would somehow change how he felt. “It will kill her to find out what has happened to him.” He stopped for a moment, trying to regain control of his emotions.

      “He said something?” She looked at him with eyes alight at this new piece of information. “That wasn’t in the report. You spoke to him after,” she said, confirming what was already clear. “What did he say?”

      He knew that she was anxious for a clue that would get this investigation on the road. They both were.

      “He said ‘desert’ and then, the irony of it all is that the next words weren’t clear, but it sounded like a name—Davar. I don’t know what Ahmed was trying to tell me. He coded almost immediately after.” He clenched his fists, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, his mind back to that hospital room. “They were working on him when I left.”

      If what he’d heard and what he now suspected was right, the desert was where they needed to go. But the Sahara was a big place—it was like saying they were going to Europe.

      “Emir.”

      Her voice was like a caress and he took a step away. His jaw tightened and he fought not to send her home then and there.

      “I’ve never heard of it as a place. I imagine you ran a check of local surnames?”

      “Nothing,” he said. “Maybe I heard wrong. He was half mouthing—could barely speak.” He shook his head.

      “It will be sunset soon. We can’t be heading out, not in the dark and with no idea where we’re going.”

      “Agreed.” But she didn’t move. Instead she stood there, considering. “Was it a name—place name, I mean? And if so could it have been something close—not exactly what you heard?”

      “I don’t know. There hasn’t been much time to examine the possibilities.”

      “You had to pick me up and then there was the small shoot-out,” she said.

      “Exactly,” he said with a slight smile. “Thanks.”

      “For what?” She frowned.

      “For at least an attempt at humor. Oddly, it helps.” There was more that helped, but he feared it also distracted—her lithe figure for one...and most of all her sharp intelligence and quick wit. He was still going to tear a strip off Adam, but he felt slightly more confident than he had an hour ago.

      “Can I see her quarters?”

      “There was nothing—”

      She cut him off. “Trust me.”

      * * *

      “THIS WAY,” he said.

      Kate noticed that he didn’t temper his pace. At six-one, he was only three inches taller than her, yet his legs covered distances quickly.

      She strode beside him, thankful for long legs that sometimes made finding jeans a challenge. This time, they were a gift that allowed her to keep up as they headed toward the sprawling mansion that was a mix of old and new. The size and opulence was like nothing she’d seen in the working-class neighborhood of Detroit where, except for the stint in the Middle East, she’d grown up, or like Jackson, Wyoming, where she now lived. Her gaze swept the area, focusing on security details, potential breaches, rather than the opulence of the building and the grounds.

      “There are sensors on the wall that monitor activity inside and out.”

      His arm swept the five-acre square where as far as she could see, a cream-colored masonry fence surrounded the complex’s grounds.

      “The СКАЧАТЬ