Talib ran a hand through his hair.
In a suite beside Sara’s, his work had only begun. He’d just ended a call from Barb Almay, who headed office research in both their home office and their Wyoming branch. She’d traced Sara’s movements from the past several months. He wondered what resources the boyfriend had hired here and where he’d gotten the funds to do so. From everything Sara had told him, the man had no funds. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking about what he did know. A trace on Sara’s accounts had made it clear that she’d been telling the truth. Her last withdrawal was enough to get a flight here. After that, she was living on fumes. She had no money to give to anyone. But it was clear the amounts she had told him had been the amounts withdrawn, at the time she’d said, the last over two months ago and then she’d run. It was exactly as she’d told him, the states she’d fled to, the mindless menial jobs, all of it. He felt rather low to be doing this, but he didn’t have a choice. The stakes were too high. He would not jeopardize either his son’s life or Sara’s for her feelings. She might feel compromised or, more than likely, angry when she found out, but that was the risk he needed to take.
He ran through the facts. There were too few of them and nothing was making any sense. From everything he knew, Tad Rossi had never entered Morocco. Someone within Morocco had to be involved. Someone with expertise, as they’d been able to rig the explosion in the hotel and almost carry off the kidnapping of his son. He had to get to the heart of who was running this toxic little scheme.
His thoughts were interrupted by a banging on his door and a woman’s voice.
Sara.
He strode to the door, opened it and looked down at her slight frame almost completely hidden by the blanket that was draped over her shoulders and around their son. She was struggling with the weight of the boy. He took the sleeping toddler from her arms.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
“Tell you what?”
If anyone hadn’t been told anything, if anyone had the right to be angry, it was him. He said nothing, just watched her as she pushed past him, leaving the door hanging open. He closed it and followed her, baffled at how the anger he had been feeling had suddenly shifted to her and, more intriguingly, seemed justified. He was in an emotional sandpit. Instinctively, he lay the boy down on a beige leather couch that sat on the reverse wall of the one in her suite.
“Someone tried to steal Everett, kidnap him?” Her voice was high, almost on the edge of hysteria. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
His mind went back to those moments in the hotel. It was something they needed to discuss, but he wanted to have a clearer idea as to how it all fit before they did.
“Who told you?”
“That’s not important, not right now.”
She had a point. He’d felt wrong and justified at the same time about keeping the information from her. “I wasn’t sure what had been going on. Until I did, there was no point saying anything that might get you unnecessarily upset.”
“Unnecessarily upset,” she said slowly, drawing out each syllable. “And you think that it wasn’t wise that I knew as soon as possible so I could be more aware—prepared.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. It was a fact that he’d struggled with and was only justified because he felt he could keep them safe here. But maybe knowing the truth would help her accept the boundaries necessary to keep them safe. Her suite within this hotel was the boundary.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing to a chair.
She ignored his instruction and sat down on the edge of the couch by their son.
And then he told her everything he’d seen in the lobby of the Desert Sands Hotel. When only twelve hours ago fate had thrown them together and meeting his son meant that he had to save him first.
He came over to her, kneeled down in front of her and took her hands, squeezing them. “Sara.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head, pulling her hands free. “This isn’t about us.”
Us.
That had all been so long ago and in the end, so regretful.
There were times in their romance that he’d acted more playboy than responsible lover. He had never denied that, but a relationship hadn’t been what he wanted, no matter his feelings for Sara. He’d toyed with her and for that he was sorry. But none of what he had done justified what she had done.
“I get a call regularly at three fifteen in the morning,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “It’s always been Tad on the other end. But not this time. The voice was robotic, like something generated by a computer maybe, but the tone, the message—all of it was the same.”
Talib shook his head. “What’s the significance of three fifteen?”
“It was the time that Everett was born.”
In the early hours of the morning she’d given birth to his son. Regret ran through him, not of the boy’s existence, but of so many other things that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He looked at her, her slight build, her peaches-and-cream complexion and the honesty and hope mixed with fear that shone from her eyes. And in that moment he hoped it hadn’t been difficult. He didn’t want to think of it much more than that, for any consideration to those facts brought a tsunami of emotion that was overwhelming.
“What does he say?”
“It’s rather the same each time,” she said.
“Tell me,” he said shortly. He didn’t know what she believed but what he knew was that they didn’t have much time. It sounded to him like her ex-boyfriend had just lost control and tipped the scales in favor of an unknown entity who was here in Marrakech. At least that was his best guess. How it had all come together was unknown. The unknown needed to be removed. For, it was the unknown that got people killed and the unknown that was his job to clear up as quickly as possible.
“He called to remind me that I owe him and that I’ll lose my son if I don’t come through. But like I told you, what he wants now, I can’t give him.” She shook her head.
“Until now,” he said.
She didn’t look at him at first, and when she did her eyes were full of such anguish that it almost broke his resolve. Despite the betrayal he still felt, he had an overwhelming need to protect her and now it was loaded with a surprising emotion, one that he couldn’t quite identify. He pulled her up, taking her into his arms, feeling her soft curves against him. He’d thought once that letting her go had been a mistake, now he knew that it had been more than that. But so much had happened, so many life-altering things that she had gone through without him. Regret was beginning to overshadow his anger. Neither emotion was relevant or productive to attaining the one goal he needed to focus on—keeping their son safe. He ran a comforting hand along her shoulder before releasing her and stepping away.
“There’s a lot of hurt in the past for both of us.”
She looked up at him with surprise.
He offered her a smile that held more regret than humor. “I know, that’s not what the old Talib would say. But I’m three years older and hopefully three years wiser. I hurt you...”
“It was a long time ago.”
“It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, what happened was monumental and now we have him.” He had her hands, squeezing them as if that would reestablish a connection or help either of them understand what had broken between them.
She pulled away from him and he realized his mistake immediately. He’d used the word we. In her mind Everett was her son, he knew that and it was a point that he’d never concede. He might have missed out on over two years, but now Everett was as much his son as hers and he planned to make up for lost time. But all that was something they would hash out later.
“We,” he said firmly, despite his thoughts. “He’s my son and it will be a while before I forgive you, if I ever can,” he warned. “But going forward I’m an equal parent.”
“Equal,” she repeated and there was a smile that was almost relief.
He didn’t understand it. He’d just told her that he was in her life whether she wanted him to be or not.
A strand of hair flipped across her face. He reached with one finger to push it back and she jerked away from him.
“Sara!” He took her shoulders, squeezing them. She cringed and took another step away.
He frowned, dropping his hands and feeling outrage and shock at the same time. She was acting like a woman who had experienced physical violence at the hands of a man. That wasn’t the Sara he knew, either. “Did someone...did he lay a hand on you?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Sara, tell me. Please.”
“Once. We broke up after that. But I would have, even if it hadn’t happened.”
He didn’t curse despite choice words that mixed with the rage and boiled hot and furious, wanting, needing an outlet. He was only thankful that the man was an ocean away from him, for at this moment he would have killed him.
“He threatened you,” he said thickly. “He laid a hand on you. I’ll kill...” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Not literally, but I’d make it painful for him to function properly for a good long time.”
“Thank you for that,” she said softly. “But no, Talib. Don’t ever. It could ruin your life.”
“I won’t murder the son of a—”
“Donkey,” she suggested with a wry smile.
“Thank you,” he said with a grin that was only half-sincere. Unless opportunity arrives during the investigation, he thought, but it was a thought she didn’t need to know about. “One thing is sure,” he said through tight lips. “He’ll never touch either of you again.”
“Be careful,” she said softly. “He’ll get what he deserves, legally.”
“How did you meet him?” Even now, after hearing his name, he had no desire to say it.
“Tad was from Morocco, like you,” she said, not sensing his withdrawal. “I went to a travel show on Morocco.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” she said softly, glancing over at Everett. “I wanted Everett to know his heritage.”
“You wanted to keep the baby in touch with his roots?”
“Don’t look so surprised. He was living in America but eventually he needed to know his heritage. I was looking for safe options.”
“Safe?”
“Never mind, Talib. It seems a long time ago. Anyway, I met him there.”
“So there’s a good chance he has family, friends, at the least, an acquaintance here,” he said thoughtfully. The scene played out in his mind. His son in the arms of the maid, her words. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Sara. She’d given him all she could. It was clear that she knew little of her former boyfriend’s connections. All of it was stressing her, he could see it in the taut lips that had once been full and the new line in her once smooth brow.
She handed him a piece of paper. “I’ve written down everything that’s happened, anything of any significance that might help you end this.”
He scanned her notes. Some of the information was new, none of it earth-shattering enough to provide any clear clues or motive. He looked up, met her eyes and was hit by truths that disturbed him.
She had few funds and everything she had was going into their son. That was clear in the weight she’d lost and the hollows under her eyes.
He would protect them with his life. The burden wouldn’t be shared. It would become his. Only once before had they had a case that had threatened those he loved. It involved his sister, Tara, and had happened almost a year ago. But this wasn’t the same, he didn’t love Sara, but his son... His thoughts dropped off. He didn’t know what he felt. He’d never felt so conflicted, so emotionally off-kilter.
She shook her head, her mind clearly going back over their discussion. “I can’t believe that Tad would do this—hire someone to kidnap him, if he even found the funds. I just can’t believe it.”
“I don’t think it was a kidnapping as you’re thinking of it. Not that that makes this any better.”
“I don’t understand. They were in the process of—”
“Kidnapping.” He shook his head. “No. Making a child disappear for a few hours. Making a point. I’ve seen it done before. The other option, that is if Tad hasn’t left American soil, is that the incident isn’t related. That it was a crime of opportunity, nothing else.”
“Thank goodness you were there.” Relief softened her features. “You saved him. Thank you. You’ve already done so much, you’ve been investigating...” Her voice trailed off and she bit her trembling lower lip.
“I have my research team on it. In the meantime, we can protect you better at the family compound.”
“No!” She shook her head. “I won’t go there,” she said with a note of finality.
He’d heard that tone before and knew that she was prepared to stand her ground. In her position, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same. The family compound was ideal but he’d known it was a long shot for her to agree to go. The compound was also the heart of his family. While it wasn’t true, he knew that she’d feel like she’d given up her last bit of autonomy. But that was Sara, fiercely independent. He’d offered the option and hoped but he’d prepared for her refusal by securing her suite here.
“Sara.” He went to her, taking her face in his hands, looking into her troubled eyes. He only wanted to comfort her. Instead he bent down and tasted the softness of her lips. As he remembered the passion of their romance, he claimed her with all the emotion that ran conflicted through him.
Her hands were on his shoulders and she pushed him gently back, brought him to reality.
“I’m sorry, I...”
“It won’t happen again,” she said softly. “Promise me.”
“No need,” he said as he turned away from her.