Sara shifted her sleeping son in her aching arms. She pushed back the soft dark curls that framed his face and repositioned him so that his weight lay across her, his head in the crook of her left arm. After Talib had given him back to her, in those moments of relief tinged with panic and despair, she’d seen what the future would be and she’d clung to her son. She would refuse to relinquish holding Everett to anyone, ever again. In the short time since Talib had found her, in all the chaos that had followed, he’d calmly made arrangements for an alternate place for her to stay and she hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger. The arrangements had been made swiftly, silently and efficiently. She wasn’t used to that. It was usually up to her, as a single parent, to do it all. Not now. The only thing she’d done was carry her son and she knew that she only had to ask and someone would do that, too. She wasn’t ready to relinquish Everett after everything that had happened. She knew that after all the craziness of the explosion and evacuation, holding Everett was more for her than him. He was over it and she knew that as soon as he awoke, he would rather be on the ground, exploring on his own terms.
From the moment the car pulled up to the new hotel, the Sahara Sunset, again, everything was done for her. Assad opened the door. The valet offered to take her bags. She refused. She didn’t have much. Her suitcase had been left behind at the Desert Sands Hotel, part of the evidence in the investigation.
Everett sniffed as if he was waking up and then settled against her shoulder with that familiar yet strange little sound. It almost sounded like an old man sighing. Sometimes her son seemed older than his years, and she wondered what he would be like as he grew up.
That thought made her more determined and her fright faded into the background as she entered the hotel lobby. Nothing could stop her. She’d come all this way. Now, the only challenge she had yet to face was herself. But she knew that fear could stop her despite the distance she traveled. One sign that Everett was safe without Talib’s protection and she’d turn and run back the way she’d come. But that was asking for a miracle, and for the last seven months there had been none offered through the long days, transient jobs and three states. Every one of those days had been a nightmare, highlighted by fear that any minute she’d be discovered. Now, she had little money and no place to live. More importantly, no place to hide—no options.
She shifted her purse.
“Can I take that, ma’am?” a man with threads of silver in his short, dark hair asked. He was wearing a djellaba with a gold belt around his waist. The traditional Moroccan garment had the insignia of the hotel on his shoulder. It seemed to be the uniform of many of the men employed by this hotel.
“No, I... Thank you. I have it,” she replied. Even though that was a lie. She barely had it, one bag was slipping but she refused to relinquish any of her belongings. There wasn’t much. Only her purse, the diaper bag and the bag with the essentials to get home or, alternatively, everything they would need if they had to run. It was an outrageous thought, but maybe not so much considering everything that had happened today.
She tried to stay focused and not be wowed by her surroundings, but it was impossible. Luxury enveloped her. The marble floors glinted across the massive lobby. The expanse of floor-to-ceiling glass circled the lobby and drew one’s eye outside to the emerald green lawn and glimmering pool. There were elegantly uniformed staff everywhere. But they remained on the periphery, quietly available, slipping in to assist as needed. A massive chandelier sparkled overhead. It was only a decoration at this hour of the day, as sunlight streamed across the marble and reflected off the dark ebony trim of the registration desk.
This hotel was definitely out of her league. It felt like all eyes were on her and it was apparent that they knew of her arrival. It was also clear that she was going nowhere without someone three steps behind her. Talib’s promise that she’d be safe had yet to be proven, but she was definitely feeling like she was well guarded.
She smiled and yet she felt more resigned than amused at the irony of staying in a place like this with her finances. She’d handed over the last of her retirement fund over three weeks ago and with nothing to meet Tad’s demands, she’d run again. It was the fourth time she’d run; Tad had found her the other two. And on the third, she’d been in Chicago. That time, the message arrived by telephone before she could even secure a way to make a living. She’d gotten the cheap, throw-away phone to keep in touch with her family and to keep her number and location hidden from him. And two days after she’d gotten it, Tad had called in the dead of night, somehow having found her number.
The lavishness of the lobby made her want to bolt. The only thing that gave her any confidence was the fact that Talib had arranged this. Security and protection was his forte, she had no doubt that they’d be safe. But that was only part of the reason that she was here.
“Mama,” Everett murmured in that sleepy, dream-time voice. He was only shifting from one sleep level to another and was more than likely not waking up. The trip had been too long and too much for him. It had been too much for both of them.
“I’m here, baby,” she whispered, humming the opening line of “My Favorite Things.” It was the song her grandmother sang to her as a child, taken from The Sound of Music. Her grandmother had sung it so many times to her. She’d sung it to Everett, in those first difficult months of being a new mother.
“Ma’am.” A slim man about her age and dressed in a black, gold-trimmed suit, slightly different from the other employees, came over to her. “Can I help, a stroller for the baby, a—”
“No, thanks,” she interrupted. She shifted Everett.
“Your room is ready. I’ll show you to it.”
Her room. Where would it be? How many floors up? Being higher up, farther from the street and possible danger, would make her feel safer. And yet, it was also more difficult to run to those same streets, to safety, should a threat lurk here, in this hotel. Hopefully it was high, but not too high.
Talib had said that they’d be safe. It was strange. After all this time and after everything that had happened, she believed him. He could keep her son safe. That knowledge had brought her across the ocean straight to him. But she knew she might have a better chance if she was upfront with him as quickly as possible. As things stood, he didn’t know what she needed to be safe from. Could he protect the boy he didn’t know from a threat that he didn’t know about? She doubted it. She could only hope that what the hotel’s security offered to its elite guests would be enough until she could tell Talib the truth. The truth she dreaded to reveal. The truth she had vowed to tell and the truth he so desperately needed to know.
She looked to her left, where a white-haired man stood lounging in a self-possessed kind of way. He was wearing an expensive-looking suit that had a look and cut that spoke of designer as opposed to off-the-rack. The look meshed with the confident way he stood, like he was used to being in charge. The woman beside him was at least twenty years younger. As Sara watched, she turned to speak briefly to one of the staff, who nodded and disappeared. As she turned back, the red sole of her Jimmy Choo stiletto was clear.
Those around her oozed wealth. They were people who lived lives that she could never imagine, opulent lives of privilege.
Her observations only served to make her feel even more out of place. She was sure that people were looking at her, at her simple, casual dress, like nothing anyone else in this lobby was wearing. She stood out. She didn’t fit. She felt like a gold digger and yet she wasn’t. This was about Everett, not about her.
Her thoughts shifted. She hadn’t expected to find Talib so soon. What had he been doing at the same hotel where they had registered for their first three nights? And the explosion... The thought of it made her shudder. What did it all mean?
The only thing she knew for sure was what Talib had told her, that she and her son were safe here. That, she believed. It was words like that, that had her traveling across an ocean to a world that had once frightened her because all she could see were the differences. It was Talib’s world, and it was this and other things that had driven them apart.
She was ushered into an elevator that was paneled in onyx. The walls were backlit so that the interior gleamed. This hotel was opulent in the extreme.
She shifted Everett and in the process hugged him tighter. He didn’t complain. That was what she’d been afraid of, him sensing her tension. Instead, he was still sound asleep, exhausted. She was, too. Almost too tired to contemplate everything that had happened since they’d arrived. It had all been overwhelming and she needed Talib more than she’d even known. And she was frightened, more frightened than she’d been on the flight over.
She watched as the floors ticked away. Seventh floor, eighth. It was at the ninth that the elevator doors opened. The corridor was wider and more open than the standard hotel. There wasn’t door after door, as there were in what she thought of as a normal hotel. They walked along a plush carpet edged in gleaming marble. Finally, they reached a door twice as wide as anything that she was accustomed to, and that shone from polish or just from the rich wood itself.
Inside, she was too overwhelmed to speak. Light flooded from a bank of windows in front of her. The ceiling soared at least twenty feet above her and the marble floor continued through the suite.
The bellhop showed her what was available and how to contact him. He took the most time going over the contents of a well-stocked bar, which, he assured her, had snacks appropriate for both her and her son. There was not just a minifridge, but a minikitchen set up to provide whatever she needed. Her mind flashed to Talib. She was both grateful and astonished that in the short time since her arrival, he’d made sure they had everything they needed. She noticed there was milk, juice and a small box of animal crackers—she had no idea where those could have been found, but they had.
As they finished the walk-through, she noted the large bathroom, the luxurious tub and the generous space so unlike any hotel room she’d ever stayed in. This wasn’t a room but a small suite of rooms.
“Wait,” she said as the man prepared to leave with a respectful bob in her direction. “I’ll tip...”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am, you take care of the little one. The tip is handled.”
“Handled?”
“Yes. If you need anything, you call me immediately.” He bowed. “Sheik Talib Al-Nassar wants me to remind you that you are safe here. You are to order supper up and not worry about the cost. He will cover it. Stay in your room.” He bowed again. “That is all.”
He shut the door. She sank onto the soft leather couch, her son by her side. The opulence was lost in the feeling of despair she felt. Her son would be safe, but Everett would no longer be hers, he would be his, Talib’s. Already, the process had started.
She closed her eyes. Everett was safe.
That was all that mattered.
* * *
TALIB HADN’T EXPECTED to be that long at the Desert Sands Hotel. But after going through the employee records with Ian, they were able to pinpoint one woman. Unfortunately, she was part-time and the address she listed turned out to belong to a cousin who hadn’t seen her in weeks. Despite that glitch, he had one of the office staff tracking her.
It was dark, suppertime had come and gone. Hours had passed since he’d put Sara in the car with Assad. He hadn’t had time to think of why she was here, and with a baby. None of it made sense to him, at least not the fact that she was here. She’d had a fear of traveling overseas. During the four months they’d been together and as his time in the States was waning, he’d half-jokingly said she should visit him here. She’d bluntly told him that that would never happen. She was quite comfortable never leaving the States or even Wyoming.
He stepped into the BMW, the earlier thrill of driving the incredible vehicle long gone. Around him Marrakech was lit up in its nighttime glory. It was a beautiful sight that inspired him every time he saw it. He never tired of it, yet tonight it didn’t wow him as usual—he could have been anywhere. He could only think of Sara and why she was here, of what it might mean. Sara and the boy and the mystery of what had brought her to Marrakech. As well as the unlikely coincidence of finding her in that hotel in the midst of a catastrophic event. None of it added up. The hotel, he could get that. Ian had been running a blowout promotional sale that many of the tourist companies, as well as independent travelers, had picked up on. Sara undoubtedly realized she wasn’t likely to get a better deal in the city, as far as location and convenience. That is, until the explosion.
In fact, he’d already checked. She’d gone through a travel agent, whose go-to hotel in the last two weeks had been the Desert Sands. There was a good chance that the hotel hadn’t been picked by Sara, she’d only agreed on a choice. Her being there was more than likely coincidental. But the question was—why was she here in Morocco?
And why now? The more cynical side of him considered that it might be about the money. Why else? And yet that had never been Sara. But that was years ago. She had a kid now and he had no doubt that had impacted her career. She needed money and he had a lot of it. That fact had tempted more than one woman he’d known. They’d wanted him for superficial reasons, for the good time he could show them, for his unlimited resources. But Sara had never been the type to use people. She hadn’t gone out with him for the money or the fine time he was capable of showing her. In fact, she’d begged off a number of times when he’d wanted to take her out for an exquisite dinner at an expensive restaurant. Instead she insisted on cooking for him at home, in her apartment. She’d refused to take anything but the smallest gifts from him, and even those she balked at. At the time, she’d seemed to truly be interested in him, in his company.
Was she capable of extortion or just plain begging for funds? Even if she was, she could have done that more easily than coming to Morocco. But that wasn’t the Sara he knew. The Sara he knew had been hardworking—determined to learn everything she could about the hotel industry and eventually open the bed-and-breakfast. She’d been passionate about that. But that was single Sara—unencumbered, sexually adventurous...fun. That wasn’t the Sara he’d seen now.
This Sara had a son and her priorities had changed. He’d gotten the search results back on her. She hadn’t held a job of any importance in quite a while. Something had radically changed. And the only one who had the answers was Sara.
It was time they talked about why she was really here.