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As he swore, the first image that came into his mind was Rylie’s. Completely naked and lingering under the shower with him. Hell. Perhaps no plan would be good enough to rid him of his passion.
“Rylie, you asked me to wake you while it was still early. I’ve made a pot of tea.”
Marie Claire’s lilting voice caused Rylie to lift her scratchy eyelids and rouse herself from a fitful morning’s dream. She managed to sit up and put her feet on the rose-patterned carpet, but her T-shirt was wet with sweat. Her bones were still stiff from tossing and turning. Her mind still reeling from another night of seeing fire and smoke in her dreams.
Yawning, she glanced toward the rain oozing down a windowpane. Unlike Texas gully-washers, the wetness here seemed damp and depressing without being cleansing. Only enough mist and fog to frizz the hair and muddy the boots.
“Did you get enough rest?” Marie Claire sat in the one other chair in the room and began pouring them both cups of fragrant tea. “I’m not sure my sofa is comfortable. No one has ever stayed the night on it before and it’s too short for someone of your height.”
“The sofa was fine.” Rylie lied to her old college roommate as she reached for her tea cup. “I appreciate your hospitality. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t invited me to stay.”
Marie Claire gave her an I-know-you-and-you-would’ve-found-a-way look before blowing on her own steaming cup and glancing at Rylie over the rim. “I was searching the Internet for info on the Kadir family this morning. You seem convinced that they’re the bad guys and I can’t quite figure out why. I wanted to know more about them.”
Rylie felt the muscles in her face soften. Her dear friend had given up free time to help with Rylie’s important mission.
“I could’ve told you most of their background information if you’d asked. Between the original lawyers for our business merger and my own private investigators, I’m sure I know everything worth knowing about the Kadirs.”
Sitting back in her chair, Marie Claire’s lips pursed, making her look like a pixie with a secret. “Oh really? Then will you tell me more about the Kadir–Taj Zabbar family feud? Start all the way back in the fifteen hundreds, okay?”
A sudden swallow of hot tea burned Rylie’s tongue and left her sputtering. “What feud? And who are the Taj Zabbar?”
“The reason I was asking is because I couldn’t find an explanation for the feud online.” Marie Claire shrugged a freckled shoulder. “Just a mention of the Taj Zabbar holding their grudge for a long time. I do know a little about the Taj Zabbar clan, though. They live in a desolate place in the Middle East called Zabbaran. For centuries their territory was ruled by neighboring countries. One neighbor, Kasht, took over their land about a hundred years ago. The Taj Zabbar mounted a couple of rebellions along the way, but they never could break free.
“Then about two years ago, the Taj Zabbar managed to liberate themselves from Kasht, shaking off their oppressors with help from the world community.” Marie Claire took a sip of tea before raising her eyebrows. “Now it seems the Taj Zabbar family is suddenly rich. An ocean of oil has been discovered under their land.”
Dang. Marie Claire had sprung this new twist on her without warning. Rylie took pride in her information-gathering ability and had thought she’d been prepared.
Well … looked like maybe not so much. She’d apparently missed something important. An ancient feud and gushers of money made it sound as if the Kadir–Taj Zabbar situation could be potentially dangerous to not only Hunt Drilling but the rest of the world.
Still Rylie couldn’t put all the pieces together. She was still missing something. Why? What was behind the feud, and could it have something to do with an explosion as far away as Texas?
Chapter 3 (#ulink_dc3daef7-0855-5292-b2dd-599e16ac9a35)
Looking over the busy club at masses of people, Darin caught a glimpse of wild auburn hair in a far corner. Meeting Rylie here had sounded like a good idea yesterday. But now that it was happy hour and the place was packed with young professionals, he wasn’t so sure.
He made his way through the boisterous bodies, still wondering if tonight’s meeting was smart. It was possible his brother had been right last night. Despite his erotic dreams of her, Rylie Hunt could be in the employ of the Taj Zabbar, and talking to her might be dangerous. After all, he was a businessman. What did he really know about covert operations?
He knew one thing for sure: Rylie was who she said she was. He’d found pictures on the Internet of Red Hunt’s daughter in accounts of the explosion. But was she also a gorgeous and deadly spy? He couldn’t know that for certain unless he talked to her.
He’d asked around about her this morning and checked with others back at his office. He now knew that she’d spent weeks in the hospital after the explosion. Since her release, she’d also taken a few altruistic business steps above and beyond what Darin considered reasonable.
Admirable? Perhaps. Foolhardy? Very likely.
Did that necessarily mean she was not also involved with the Taj Zabbar? He had to coerce her into opening up to him in order to find out.
Her table was located in an alcove and seemed relatively quiet. As he arrived, she glanced over at him and froze. Even in the inadequate lighting, he noted that her pupils were dilated and her expression frazzled. Her face was a deathly shade of gray that seemed more pronounced in proximity to her black denim jacket and jeans. Her lips tensed and she crossed her arms tightly against her chest. Shrunken in on herself, she looked like a housefly suddenly caught up in a sticky web and docilely expecting the spider.
His heart thumped once and went out to her. If she was as innocent as she appeared, Rylie Hunt had no reason to fear a Kadir.
He simply could not put the picture she made sitting there, her whole body trembling, together in his mind with a Taj Zabbar spy.
When he got closer, two bloodred spots appeared on her cheeks and tears backed up in her eyes. For a moment Darin’s only thoughts were of calming her by taking her in his arms. Instead, he slid into the lone empty chair at her table with his back to the corner.
But it was all he could do not to reach out and cover her quivering hands with his own.
“Hello,” she said in a shaky voice. “I wondered if you would really show up.”
“I’m here.” He nodded at the waiter to get his attention and ordered himself a sparkling water and Rylie a glass of pinot grigio, hoping the lighter drink would calm her nerves without sending her into some alcoholic stupor.
After the waiter acknowledged the order and left, all was quiet at their table and Darin took a moment to look around the club. Rylie had put them in the best possible spot for quiet conversation. No one around them was paying any attention.
A couple of young lovebirds at the closest table, who might have been near enough to hear what was being said, were kissing and whispering with their foreheads touching together and their hands touching every where else. Impervious to all around them. Darin was almost jealous of the way they blocked out the world. His relationships were never so intense.
Bringing himself back to his immediate surroundings, Darin felt confident enough that he and Rylie were isolated in the middle of a crowd. They could talk freely.
“Why?” Her voice was a bit stronger, a bit lower than yesterday.
Shaking his head at the out-of-place question, he was beginning to wonder if that explosion had affected her mind.
“Why are you here?” she blurted before he could say anything. “I wouldn’t think a Kadir would be willing to talk to a Hunt.”
Surprised by the question, but interested in where she was going with this line, he chuckled and gave her a polite nod. “Now it’s my turn to ask—why not? You don’t have plans to do me harm, do you?”
She didn’t answer, but before the lull in the conversation dragged into an embarrassing void, her wine and his water arrived. Her lack of a response, to both his question and his companionable attitude, did nothing to fill him with confidence. He had expected either a lie or an accusation. She confused him with a simple blank stare.
Rylie took a sip of wine and kept on staring at him. He felt as though he were a rat being studied in a scientific experiment, and he wasn’t crazy about the idea. Being too closely scrutinized had to be bad for covert operations. The longer she stared, the more he wondered if she was, in fact, working for the Taj Zabbar.
A spark appeared in her eyes. But before Darin could figure out if that spark meant a change of mood or something more dangerous, she asked, “Would you mind telling me about the Kadir and Taj Zabbar feud?”
In the middle of lifting his water to his lips, Darin choked, spilling the drink down the front of his button-down shirt.
“What did you say?” he sputtered. “Who told you anything about the Taj Zabbar?”
Leaning in toward him, she hurriedly dabbed at his chest with a paper napkin. Tiny smile lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. It was the first easy expression he’d seen on her face and the casualness of it made her glow. How beautiful would she be if she ever actually laughed?
He couldn’t imagine, but the mere idea made him want to see for himself.
Before Darin could give her an automatic grin, he ordered up the covert operative inside him and brushed her hands away. “Forget the shirt. The water will dry. Tell me what you know about the Taj Zabbar.”
“All I know is what a friend read on the Internet.” She sat back in her chair and looked as though she was poised to run. “The Taj Zabbar is in control of their own country again after nearly five hundred years of being oppressed by neighbors. And they apparently hate the Kadir family for some reason, but I can’t find out why.”
When he said nothing, she continued, “I do know the Kadirs weren’t the ones who enslaved them. You folks don’t even have your own country, do you? Why would they carry a grudge against your family?”
Under her shower of questions, Darin felt his jaw and shoulders tightening. He tried to relax. Beyond the obvious lust, what was it about her that so intrigued him?
If this was some kind of game, he would play along until he was satisfied she wasn’t working for the enemy.
“I suppose I can tell you the family legends of the Taj Zabbar feud. But then I have a question or two for you. Do you promise to answer truthfully?”
“Why should I?”
“Because otherwise this conversation is over. I have business matters that need attention.”
Her lip jutted out and her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Maybe. But I reserve the right not to answer.”
She frustrated him beyond belief. “We’ll see about that.” He tried to find some emotion he could pin down in her eyes, but all he found was hunger.
“Wait a second.” He lifted a hand, palm out. “I’ve decided there is one more condition. I’m going to order something for you to eat and I want you to eat every bite—or else no more conversation.”
Her mouth gaped open. “What is with you and the compulsion to feed me?”
“It’s just your tough luck that you picked this Kadir to harass. I won’t be responsible for you collapsing from hunger while you’re with me. And you look like you could be blown over by a light breeze. Is it a deal?”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Do you think this place serves salads?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t I look like I need to diet?”
Nearly done chowing down on the huge bowl of pasta and seafood Darin had insisted she order, Rylie was trying to calm her racing mind. For the last thirty minutes, Darin had been almost overly polite. Talking casually about the chill in the air or the newly budded spring blossoms on the trees seemed bizarre. The evening was starting to feel like a date, except that his eyes kept darting around the room as if he were expecting someone else to show up.
Somehow over the last twenty-four hours, Rylie’s anger toward the Kadirs—or at least toward this Kadir—seemed to have subsided. She tried to dredge up a chunk of that old hatred, but all she came up with was curiosity.
She dropped her fork and blotted her mouth with a napkin. “Done. Will you—please—tell me the story of the feud now?”
“It isn’t a true feud. Feuds take two parties. The Kadirs have not held a grudge against the Taj Zabbar—in the past.”
The way he added that last part was curious. She made a mental note to ask about it later. But in the meantime, Darin sat back in his chair and sipped his sparkling water as if he was done talking. Like hell.
When she glared at him and fisted her hands on the table, he lifted the corners of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “All right. I guess I did promise. There’s an old legend about the family’s first encounter with the Taj Zabbar—over five centuries ago. Is that what you want?”
“To start.”
“Yes, well. For nearly a thousand years the Kadir clan have been nomads and traders. Originally we traveled the Spice Route in ten-mile-long caravans, staying for a time with the various peoples we met along the way. Our clan never claimed any lands as our own but would rely on the kindness of those who would allow us to pitch our tents on their land.”
Rylie leaned back in her chair and listened to him speak in that dreamy voice of his. As he spoke, she thought about the Arabian Nights tales. His hushed words tied her in a web of romance, destiny and mystic promise. Visions of sandstorms and camels and dark sheiks riding across dunes on horseback swam in her mind.
“At around sixteen hundred AD,” he went on, “the Kadir caravan arrived in a new territory. A land of vast, isolated deserts and rough mountain terrain. A land with easily accessible coastlines for commerce. The Kadirs found the territory was inhabited by a fierce warrior tribe called the Taj Zabbar.”
Darin was finally getting down to the legend. “The Kadirs have always come and gone in peace, no matter where they’ve traveled.” Shooting a quick glance around at the thinning crowds in the bar, he continued. “But the Taj Zabbar wanted no trade and no peace. Our people were preparing to move on when the caravan was attacked. Taj Zabbar warriors robbed, raped and murdered many of our people before the Kadirs could mount a defense.”
He’d stopped talking and a faraway look appeared in his eyes. Rylie wondered if the magic of the legend was affecting him the same way it did her.
“Don’t stop now. What happened next?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” He suddenly looked annoyed and Rylie was about to ask why when he said, “Do you see anyone watching us?”
She pivoted in her chair and checked around the bar.
“Nope. Why?”
His lips narrowed into a grimace. “Nothing. It’s just.
“Never mind. Where was I?”
“Your ancestors defending themselves against attack.”
She couldn’t quite name the expression in his eyes, but in a moment he began his story once more.
“The Kadirs successfully defended themselves. But by then the caravan was destroyed. It would’ve been impossible for them to move on in the shape they were in. They were compelled to settle down where they were for long enough to repopulate their herds of camels and horses and to construct new tents. A second generation of our people had been born before the caravan was ready to travel again.”
“Wow. So, like, years, then? What about the Taj Zabbar during that time?”
“Yes, it was many years. And the Taj Zabbar continued their raids on our people.” Darin’s voice dropped to a near whisper and she was forced to lean forward to hear what he was saying. “Finally, in desperation, the Kadir elders decided they had no choice but to fight back. They rounded up as many of the Taj Zabbar as they could, executing the worst of the murderers and dispersing the rest.”
Rylie felt a whiff of air on the back of her neck at that moment and looked around to see if someone had opened a door behind her. She found the bar crowds had thinned considerably, and the door was firmly shut against the night air. She could barely believe she’d been so entranced by the story that she hadn’t even noticed the time.
Darin kept talking and she whipped her head back to hear what he was saying. “After the Kadir clan left their territory for good, the Taj Zabbar rulers and warriors had been so decimated that they couldn’t defend themselves. Their neighbors swarmed over their lands and enslaved what was left of the tribe.” Darin shook his head at his own words, which seemed a little strange to her.
“The Taj Zabbar never forgot or forgave the Kadirs, I suppose.”
“No. Not for the following five hundred years.”
“But it’s over now, isn’t it?” she demanded. “I mean, the Taj Zabbar finally got their territory back a couple of years ago. All the problems between your clans were long ago.”
“Not exactly.”
She thought about what he’d said at the start of his story…. Our first encounter with the Taj Zabbar—
“Something else has happened since? What?”
Darin raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s my turn to ask the questions.”
“But …”
“Uh-uh.” His face lit up like he’d been given a special present. “A promise is a promise.”
He was right about that. She believed in honoring a promise, too.
But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she grumbled. “What do want to know?”
Taking his time, Darin raised his glass and swallowed the last of his wine. “First, I would like an explanation of why you threw that accusation around last night about me causing the explosion?”
Struck, as if by his hand across her face, Rylie drew in a breath. “I didn’t mean you exactly. I was talking about …”
“My family?” he suggested. “But even that doesn’t make any sense. My uncle was killed in the explosion the same as your father. Thinking logically, why would the Kadirs kill a member of their family and cost their own company untold amounts of trouble and aggravation?”
“I …” It did sound ridiculous now hearing him say it. How would she explain herself?
The ugly truth was all she had to offer, but she vowed to take the punishing embarrassment that came with it like her father’s daughter should. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I guess. Maybe I thought the explosion was some sort of suicide bombing.”
“Terrorism? You thought we.” He stopped talking and the strangest look crossed his face.
