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The second man, who wore a similar uniform to the first, looked at Willow and said, “Madam, you will need to come with me.”
Chapter Six
Willow knew what it was to be afraid. She’d been afraid many times in the past year, but not once had she been as terrified as she was at that moment.
“Is something wrong?”
She looked from the customs officer waiting for her to follow him to the man next to her who’d asked the question, his tone clearly impatient.
“Whatever the problem,” Anders added firmly, “you’ll need to explain it to me as well as my wife.”
Willow held her breath, prayed there was merely a misunderstanding.
“There is no problem, sir,” the officer assured him. “We select individuals at random for questioning. This is a security measure that is perfectly legal and of only minor inconvenience, I assure you.”
Anders nodded. “Fine, but I insist on being present. Do you have a law against that?”
“No, sir. This way, please.”
The wave of relief that rushed over her made Willow sway ever so slightly. She did not want to do this alone.
Anders placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her in the direction the officer had already taken. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “this won’t take long.”
Her entire being gravitated toward him and the protection he offered. It had been so long since anyone had protected her in any way. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed someone to take care of her until that moment.
The interview room was small. It reminded Willow of the rooms where suspects were taken in the television cop shows. Anders sat next to her at the small table. The officer took a seat on the opposite side.
“You stated that you are in Kuwait on business.” This the officer said to Anders.
“Yes,” Anders responded. “I’m an international Realtor. I have a client who is interested in office space here. I’ve contacted a local agent.” He reached into his pocket and removed a business card and offered it to the officer. “He’ll be showing me a couple of spaces later this morning. I’m sure he’ll be happy to verify that for you if you find it necessary to call.”
It was the middle of the night. Willow didn’t know who Anders’s contact was, but surely he was in bed.
“Have you been to Kuwait before?”
There was no doubt as to whom this question was directed. The officer’s gaze bored straight into hers.
“No.” She tried to swallow the emotion tightening in her throat. “This is my first visit.” Anders had instructed her on what she should say if the subject came up. She hadn’t expected it to come up only minutes after her arrival in the country.
“You’ve been here before.”
That too-familiar fear paralyzed her for two beats before the officer turned his attention to Anders.
“Have you not?” he pressed.
“Yes,” Anders confirmed. “Several times.”
Another uniformed man entered the room. He deposited Willow’s purse and carry-on bag onto the table. He placed Anders’s briefcase there as well.
The officer handed both passports to Anders. “I hope your visit is productive and enjoyable.”
Willow’s heart rate didn’t return to normal until they had exited the terminal and picked up the rental car. As much as she wanted to close her eyes and block the memories bombarding her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore the details of the place she had called home for three years or the incident that had just occurred, reminding her that this was not America.
“Are you okay?”
She inhaled deeply and let the breath out to clear her head. “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need him feeling sorry for her. She needed to be strong. She needed to focus on getting her son back. The memories, the fear, all of it would do nothing but distract her.
After a few miles of silence, he said, “Just so you know, that little intimidation episode back there might have had more to do with me than some random selection.”
The lights of Kuwait City in the distance held her attention for a moment before she turned to the driver. “Why do you say that?”
“I’m ex-military. I was in and out of this territory dozens of times. My name might have triggered a security check.”
“If you knew that was a possibility, why didn’t you use an alias?” Spencer Anders appeared far too smart to make a misstep that glaringly obvious.
“I wanted them to associate you with me. Any suspicions will be on me, not you.”
“Oh.” Wow. Another one of his protective measures. She couldn’t help being surprised all over again at having someone take steps to shelter her. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say more so Willow opted not to. Instead she focused on surveying the city. The lights were gorgeous, but she knew from experience that the true beauty of Kuwait City could only be seen by day. A heady mix of market bazaars and gleaming skyscrapers along a glistening coast. The mosques and souks and other sandy traces of bygone Bedouin days awaited the wanderings of tourists. No matter how much emotional stress she’d endured here she knew that beyond the glitzy opulence lay a deep sense of traditional values and warm Arabic hospitality.
She had loved this city with its diversity of people and richness of culture. It was only the man who’d brought her here that she despised. They wouldn’t pass his residence en route to the hotel. Like the other wealthy residents, his massive villa lay in the Suilhibikat area closer to the heart of the city. Kuwait boasted the wealthiest population in the world; thankfully most were kind and generous people.
The situation Willow found herself in now was her own mistake. If she hadn’t let love blind her four years ago she might have taken the time to consider the laws that could possibly come into play in her future. But she hadn’t dreamed things would go wrong and that the child she hadn’t known she would have would become a pawn in the ugly battle.
REGISTERING at the hotel at 2:00 a.m. took little time since there wasn’t a line of arriving patrons. Spencer tipped the bellhop generously and closed the door behind him. When he turned around he found Willow standing in the middle of the room staring at the bed.
“There’s only one bed.”
True. “Remember, we’re traveling as husband and wife. Our cover needs to appear realistic.”
His reminder didn’t erase the frown from her face, but she did seem to relax fractionally.
“It’s a big bed,” he added with a sweep of his hand to indicate the king-size width.
The frown eased into more of a neutral line. “It is big.”
At least that was settled.
“Did you want to use the shower first?” After the long hours of travel, he was definitely ready for a shower.
She waved him off. “You go ahead. I’ll…” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “… unpack a few things.”
At past two in the morning he wasn’t about to argue. He waited until he’d gotten inside the bathroom with the door closed before he stripped. It felt good to peel off the clothes wrinkled by too many hours sitting on a plane or in an airport.
He turned on the water and gathered the complimentary soap and shampoo and a towel before climbing beneath the hot spray. Closing his eyes, he just stood there for a couple of minutes and let his body absorb the heavenly heat.
When he’d managed to prod his brain back into action he started the cleansing routine, but a part of his mind kept going back to those tension-filled minutes at the airport.
There was every reason for Willow to be apprehensive about running into her ex-husband or someone he knew. He understood that her previous investigator had given her additional reason to believe her ex might be dangerous. But al-Shimmari hadn’t killed her when he had the chance. He could have located her at any time during the past few months if harming her had been his intention. Not that Spencer was giving him any credit at all. He wasn’t. The guy was on a federal watch list. He was most likely damned dangerous to the world at large, but not necessarily to any one particular individual, like his ex-wife.
Apprehension and anxiety Spencer had expected. Absolute terror he had not. The idea that being recognized had scared her that badly made him wonder if there was more she wasn’t telling him. Had something happened between her and her ex that she hadn’t divulged? Had she seen or heard something that gave her reason to suspect he might want to harm her if she returned?
That still didn’t explain why al-Shimmari hadn’t simply tracked her down and taken care of her if she had seen or heard something he didn’t want her to know.
She’d been more forthcoming those last couple of hours on the plane than she had been since they’d met. Maybe she would reveal more as she came to trust that he truly was on her side. He understood that she had been let down many times before coming to him. Her trust wouldn’t be easily gained. Unfortunately, time was their enemy.
When he’d pulled on fresh boxers and jeans he cleaned up after himself. He found Willow sleeping soundly on the far edge of the bed. She’d slipped off her shoes, but otherwise she was fully dressed. He pulled the cover up around her and then climbed into bed on the other side, as close to the edge as possible.
A big part of gaining her trust would include respecting her feelings. He sensed that no one had worried about her feelings in a long time. From what he could see so far, she was so accustomed to being alone that she was startled when he came to her rescue in any capacity.
No one should ever feel that alone.
He remembered what she’d said on the plane about being alone. That was the part that bothered him the most. It wasn’t right. Not right at all.
He pushed away the thoughts. Ordered himself to sleep. Tomorrow, later today actually, he would need to make contact with his “real-estate” connection. There were things he needed. Things he couldn’t have brought along in his luggage or in his carry-on bag.
Whether Khaled al-Shimmari was actually connected with one or more terrorist cells, whether he was capable of murder or not, Spencer had every intention of approaching this situation as if he and his security personnel were lethal as well as hostile.
Being fully armed would be his first step.
Thursday, February 24
WILLOW INHALED deeply. Her lungs filled with warm air, her senses vibrated with the scent of something earthy and delicious. She wanted to open her eyes, but that place between asleep and awake wouldn’t let her go. It felt so good. She hadn’t slept this well in so very long.
She snuggled deeper into the covers, hugged her pillow more closely.
Warm… smooth… hard.
Willow’s mind shifted toward the awake zone. Slowly, she opened her eyes and let the room around her move into focus.
Hotel.
Kuwait.
Spencer Anders.
The sound of her breath catching echoed in the room.
“Morning.”
The deep, thick sound of his voice vibrated up from his chest. She knew this because her cheek was pressed to that smooth, warm flesh. She felt the rumble.
Her initial thought was to roll away from him as quickly as possible, but his arm was around her, draped along the length of her back.
She couldn’t lie here like this. What would he think?
“Good morning.” She scooted away from his inviting body, noting thankfully that he lifted his arm out of her way without any awkwardness. Now if she could only unwrap herself from the cover she would make a mad dash for the bathroom.
But that wasn’t going to be easy. Somehow she’d wound herself in the sheets all the way from her edge of the bed until she’d nestled against his muscled torso. The room was cool. Maybe her body had instinctively sought out the heat. And then generated a little of its own, she admittedly self-consciously.
Enough of this. She had to get up.
As if he’d picked up on her discomfort, he dropped his feet to the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. But not before she’d gotten a full view of that broad chest and those sculpted abs. Even his back looked strong and toned.
She put her hands over her face and groaned.
He had to think she was totally pathetic.
Not that she cared what he thought of her personally. She drew her hands away from her face and glared at the ceiling. None of this was personal. She had hired him to get her son back. He didn’t have to like her or even respect her. He only had to do what she’d paid him to do.
If only she could maintain that sense of logic.
Kicking off the twisted covers, she managed to scramble out of bed. Her clothes were as twisted as the covers, so she righted them before sifting through her suitcase to pick out something to wear today.
Khaki slacks and a white long-sleeved pullover and sneakers.
The bathroom door opened and he emerged.
She hurried past him, careful not to make eye contact, and closed herself in the bathroom. A shower would help. She was a little off-kilter this morning. Jet lag. She just needed to regain her bearings and she’d be fine.
Truth was she hadn’t woken up with a man next to her in nearly a year. Waking up next to a man to whom she wasn’t married was even more unusual.
But that was her hang-up. She had plenty.
Spencer ordered room service and made a quick call to his contact. They would meet in an hour at one of the available commercial properties in the city. Touring a couple of office buildings would confirm his cover. If anyone had decided to keep an eye on him, this would back up Spencer’s reasons for visiting the peaceful state of Kuwait. Meetings with a couple of random agents in the city wouldn’t hurt.
When the light rap came at the door, he checked the peephole and established that it was room service. He opened the door and watched as the waiter rolled the cart into the room. He signed the check and locked the door once the waiter had gone.
The coffee smelled great. He needed caffeine. Lots of it. Though he doubted any amount of caffeine would erase the feel of Willow nestled snugly against him. The heat from her body had awakened urges he’d thought long dead. Not so, evidently. Too bad the timing was seriously off.
HE’D HAD his second cup of coffee by the time she reappeared dressed for the day.
“There’s fruit and sweet rolls.” Since he couldn’t be sure what Willow would like, he’d gone with the safest bet. “And coffee.”
She dove into the fruit before having her first cup of coffee.
Watching her eat so ravenously reminded him that she’d skipped dinner on the plane last night. He’d assumed she was too upset to eat. She was bent on making up for it now it seemed. Her lips closed around a strawberry and he couldn’t help but stare.
He now knew something personal about Willow Harris the woman, not Willow Harris the ex-wife and mother. She loved strawberries. The way she closed her eyes and relished the burst of flavor on her tongue spoke volumes about just how much she loved the lush red berries.
She opened her eyes and her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes.”
He sipped his coffee and tried to act nonchalantly. “I’m the same way about coffee.”
She’d left her hair down. Even in the plain white pullover and khakis she looked soft and feminine, elegant somehow. Maybe it was because she was so tiny and her clothes, though conservative, fit so well. At five-two, she couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds. And even though he recognized that her clothes weren’t designer, more like bargain super center, they looked tailor-made for her figure.
Like her, he’d dressed casually. Jeans and a pullover sweater with a casual sports jacket. Though the temperature was probably in the mid-sixties, it could drop unexpectedly. Especially if it rained. No matter what the weather did, the jacket would serve another purpose as well. Weapons were illegal in this country. Carrying one required certain precautions on his part, concealment being top priority.
