“T,” Emir said as soon as Talib answered his phone. “There’s trouble at the compound.”
“Damn, I’m nowhere near.” Talib’s jaw tightened. Emir was out of town. Because he was handling a code red case on his own Emir had compensated by continuing to field office calls. This call had come from their administrative and research backbone. If this hadn’t been a code red, he would have taken on that duty in Emir’s absence.
“The alarm just came in,” Emir said. They had the security alarms feeding directly to the office. There, staff would immediately relay necessary information to Emir and any other relevant agents. It was a relay system that took mere seconds. Security was top priority. It was their livelihood and a service they sold. Their reputation hinged on the fact that it was as tight as it could be. But no security was airtight.
His grip on the phone tightened until he was threatening to break the plastic.
“The power’s out, T. It went out exactly forty seconds ago. It appears there was a break in the line just outside the main fence, cutting off the entire compound. The generators should be cutting in immediately, but...”
“Even a few second delay is enough to breach the security,” Talib said. This was unbelievable. They had considered every angle except this. “I’m five minutes away. Get the guardhouse on alert. Get them to secure...”
“I tried. There’s no answer,” Emir replied. “Drive like a sane man, T.”
They were the last words Talib heard. He’d disconnected and was testing the limits of the BMW as he navigated the obstacle course of cars. He needed to get onto the freeway and make time. Five minutes away. It had to be less. He had to make it in four, three even. A truck pulled out in front of him.
He laid on the horn and the driver seemed to take that as a challenge and slowed slightly as a car passed him on either side, preventing him from pulling out. Finally, in what seemed like minutes but was only seconds, he was able to pull out and pass. He didn’t bother giving the driver a look, a blast of the horn, anything. His concentration was solely on the road and on getting to the compound. And in all that time his mind could only think of Sara as he’d last seen her and Everett.
He had a son. He’d had little time with him and the fates couldn’t be so cruel. Wouldn’t be that cruel that he would lose him now. He’d get there on time or he’d die trying.
* * *
SARA WOKE WITH a start. She’d been napping like the very old or the very young, having fallen into a sleep that was deep and uninterrupted by dreams. The kind of sleep that had you waking up foggy, wondering where you were and how long you’d slept.
But something had awakened her. The book she’d been reading and that had slipped into her lap while she slept fell to the floor. She picked it up and set it on the small table beside the couch. She was still, listening, wondering what it was that had awakened her. There was no sound from down the hall, where Everett slept. But she knew it hadn’t been him. It had been something else.
“Is anyone there?” she called, wondering if one of the servants had come to check on them or even if Talib had come back.
Silence.
Yet something wasn’t right. She could feel the change in the air, like it was real and tangible when in fact there was nothing. She couldn’t take any chances, especially considering all that had happened. Her instincts were on alert. Something was wrong. She couldn’t see or hear it, but she could sense it.
She tiptoed to Everett’s room and opened the door to peek in. The room he was in had no window. He was sound asleep. He was safe. Still, something wasn’t right.
She went back to the main area. Again she heard something, a whisper of sound against the window. It was closed, but she knew something was off and she didn’t like that she couldn’t identify what it was.
It had to be one of the servants. She was just being paranoid, but despite how logical and safe that sounded, she was unable to convince herself. Her heart pounded as her imagination amplified the danger. She was backing up, putting herself between whatever her imagination was conjuring and her son.
“Hello?” She had to fight to keep the quaver out of her voice.
She knotted her fists and scanned the room, grabbing a tennis racket from a shelf at the bottom of the bookcase. It was out of place, something she’d meant to put back and another thing that had been rearranged by her busy son.
Everett.
She began to move more determinedly backward, toward his room, her eye remaining on the door. Should she call out? It was probably nothing. But the longer this went on, the more real it seemed to become.
Silence reigned. The seconds ticked by. She barely breathed but the sounds she heard just a few moments ago didn’t repeat. It had been her imagination. She blew out a sigh of relief but still stood where she was, just in case.
Bushes rustled just outside the terrace doors.
She wanted to rush to Everett and yet something told her that would be the wrong thing to do. She was basing the thought purely on instinct. And other than the tennis racket, she was defenseless. But the logical side of her mind told her there were at least twenty-five people in this compound at any given time. The sheer numbers, never mind the security that was in place, made her feel safe.
It was nothing. She was being ridiculous. She looked over to where there was a call pad to page one of the servants or the guardhouse. It was usually lit up. She went to pick it up—nothing. It was dead. She grabbed her phone. She’d call the main number for the guardhouse. They might think she was crazy but she didn’t care. Everett’s safety was her main concern.
She had the phone in one hand and the racket under one arm when someone grabbed her around her neck and she was yanked back. The phone clattered to the tiles. Whoever it was, he was male, his arm thick and hairy. His hand was over her mouth and she was dragged through the apartment and down the hall that ran on the other side and away from Everett’s room. She didn’t scream, not wanting to awaken him, grateful that the danger was moving farther away from her son.
“Your boyfriend is a fool.” The man’s breath was like the rancid smell of rotted fish guts on her parents’ dock. Something hard knocked against her temple. She could only assume that it was a gun.
She almost choked but instinct told her that would only enrage him. It took all her willpower not to.
“But then he always was, even when we were children.”
He took his hand away from her mouth. “Who are you?” She struggled to regain some control, to stand up straight and take some of the pressure off the painful tugging of her hair that was caught beneath his arm, making her eyes water. Between that and his foul breath and the fear racing through her, she couldn’t think. She needed to think, to get herself out of this jam and keep Everett safe.
The apartment was so large and initially, with Everett she liked to be close to him, and not being so had disconcerted her. Now she was glad for the distance. Everett couldn’t hear what was going on, he wouldn’t cry and bring attention to his presence.
But the moment she thought that, she heard him call her.
No, no, no, sweetheart. Ev, please no. Her head hurt as she tried to send the thoughts to her son. But she knew it was useless, she wasn’t psychic and neither was her son.
“Your boy?” he asked almost pleasantly and went on without her answer. “Let’s go get him,” he said.
Instinct told her to play coy, to buy time. “Who?”
“Al-Nassar’s heir.”
“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”
“Your kid.” He yanked her head back painfully by her hair and her eyes watered.
“He belongs to me.”
“Tad said otherwise,” he said. “I don’t have time for this. Move.” He pushed forward, not releasing his grip on her and making her stumble. “Give me the boy and I’ll let you go.”
Never, she thought. Play along, her sane, less panicked side told her. Buy time.
She heard scraping, what sounded like the murmur of voices—she wasn’t sure. It was too faint. Maybe it was only her imagination. The door was old and heavy, the construction of the entire mansion such that sounds didn’t travel well through closed doors.
Then she did what she told herself would only enrage him, but she needed to do something, because maybe in some way it would buy her some time.
She dug her nails into his hand and the grip around her neck only tightened and she choked.
In another hallway, yards away from her, Everett wailed.
She had to think. It was on her. She needed to get them out of this and she had no idea how.