His Stubborn Lover (4 page)

Heading out in his car, Brock took the back road into the city. He called Slade from a burner phone, one he hadn’t used before. A moving target was a harder one to follow, and he wanted to make sure this call wasn’t overheard. Two rings and Slade picked up.

“How’s Keira?” Slade asked, his voice raspy, as if he’d been up all night.

“You tell me,” Brock said. “Seems like you know a lot more about each of us than you ever told me.”

Slade gave a slow laugh. “It’s my job to know each member of my team. It’s what enables me to make the best use of their skills. Take Keira, for instance. She’s still got her walls up. She’s never quite gotten over her folks abandoning her. I think she’s worried it’ll happen again.”

“How’s that?”

“Think about it. She puts herself at fault for not being loveable enough to hang onto her parents. That’s how she feels. Now she’s in a situation where possible failure looms again. If she’s not good enough...” Slade let the words fade.

Glancing at the traffic, Brock changed lanes. “So she fails and she thinks we’ll dump her? That’s not going to happen.”

“Because you’re there to make sure she succeeds? Sounds like you’re getting in deep with her.”

Slade didn’t sound judgmental, but Brock winced anyway. “I’m here to watch her back. That’s why you sent me.”

“Is it? You’ve still got your walls up, too, Brock. Keeping people safe by keeping them back. Doesn’t always work.”

“Like you have to tell me that,” Brock said. He thought back to Tayra, his ex. They’d married straight out of high school and she’d stuck it out with him for six years. He could count on his fingers the number of days he’d actually been home.

She’d finally had enough on Brock’s last mission with the SEALs. He’d gotten her letter in South America. He hadn’t seen her since. Tayra had moved back to Oregon to live with her sister and had asked Brock to stay away. It’d been like a blow to him. He never wanted to put any woman into that tough spot again.

He certainly wasn’t going to do that to someone with Keira’s potential. But he also didn’t want her getting in over her head in this job. “Slade, just what angle are you working here? Do you trust Keira to run things, or do you want me taking over for her?”

“Think of this more as setup for a long game. I want you to think about staying on in Jawhara and working with Talib and PJ—which means you need to get to know them. Keira might even fit into that equation.”

“Fit? Slade, are you playing matchmaker?” Brock asked. “I’m not sure if I should be mad about that or just mildly upset.”

“Don’t waste the time you’ve got, Brock. Now get back to work. I’ll expect a report in a couple of days. And remember it’s not just about trusting Keira, you know. You should look to trusting yourself a little more, buddy.”

Brock hung up. He sat in his car, the air conditioner humming, blowing cool air on his face. He had a lot to think about—and all of it kept coming back to Keira. Did Slade trust her? What was this long game of his? Did Slade want a new division of the company set up here? It would make sense to have operations that could cover the Middle East—but what about that crack about Keira fitting?

Turning around, Brock headed back to the palace. First, however, he had a stop to make; because there was no way could he ever come back to Keira empty handed.

***

It took Keira a half an hour to complete a tour of the palace—it was like one huge hotel. By the time she found Brock, her temper had reached a low simmer. She’d gone up to her room to change into shorts, a sleeveless top, and sandals. Now, sweat stuck her shirt to her back, her feet had started to ache, and she had no trouble putting on a petulant pout.

She was here to perform a very important job, and she took that very seriously. It seemed to her like Brock was goofing off.

She found him tossing car keys to one of the guards in the courtyard. The car looked expensive and sporty—something convertible and sleek. Brock gave her a smile, as if he expected her to do some melting into his arms.

Arms crossed, she demanded, “Where have you been?”

“Think I’m cheating on you?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

She slapped his hand and stepped away from him. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. Why didn’t you tell me you were going into town?”

“Miss me?”

“Did you buy me anything?”

“Sweets for my sugar.” He offered her the bag of honey candy he’d bought on his drive back from the city.

She took it and put it down on a side table. “I’m on a diet.”

“I thought you were also hanging out with the other women today.” He linked his arm with hers and pulled her with him. He took her into a room lined with books and without windows.

Out of the sunlight, the air cooled. So did her temper. But she still had a role to play. She kept her pout in place and propped one hand on her hip. “Erin hasn’t stepped out of her room. PJ went to meet up with Talib. I’m bored!”

Brock flopped down on an overstuffed couch. He scooted over, making room for her. He’d worn trousers and an open-necked white shirt that gaped now to show the cords of his tanned neck. “Have a seat. The room’s clean. Talib sweeps it twice a day. So it’s the one room—other than the sheikh’s private apartment –that we know is totally secure.”

She shook her head and moved over to a decanter filled with what looked like lemon water. “Want a drink?”

He shook his head. “Shira and Khalil probably won’t leave the palace for the next several days. But they’re planning on doing some travelling at the end of the month, and you and I will go with them, along with several of their own bodyguards.”

She poured water into a cut crystal glass and turned to face him. The crystal bit into her finger—she loosened her hold. “No, we’re not going with them. PJ and Talib can keep an eye on Khalil and his gal. We’re going to stay on the sheikh and Erin.”

Brock nodded. “If that’s how you want to play it. Might be a good idea. There’s a high probability the insurgents from Sumari will try to infiltrate the palace again.”

“How do you know this?”

“History repeating itself. Rebels have set a target—they don’t tend to back down from that.”

Frowning, she came over to his side and sat down. “That’s not how they got Erin the first time.”

“Ah—you read the report. They did infiltrate the guards—I’m worried about a repeat of that. But Erin was taken at a refugee camp that’s not far from the main city.”

“So I read. What I’m wondering is what was she doing in the refugee camp? It’s the last place a woman like her should have been—way too much exposure, too many variables.”

“Yeah, well, Erin’s a humanitarian at heart. She saw an injustice and sought to right it. The insurgents took advantage of her soft heart.”

Swirling her water, Keira shook her head. “The sheikh must have been furious—with her and with his own guards.”

“That’s an understatement. No guy wants to feel like he failed to look out for his girl. Anyway, that’s what led to PJ setting up the tracking pendants. Shira is being given one similar to Erin’s today.”

“Nice of Slade to brief me on that tech.”

“Don’t bother asking Slade about anything like that. He’s not a detail man. The pendants are a Lawson special.”

“The surfer boys?” Keira asked. “Trent and Travis? I thought they were mostly here as eye-candy and to really take photos we might need later.”

Brock laughed. “That’s their best cover. They look like they ought to be the models on a photo shoot, not be the ones holding the cameras. But don’t underestimate those two. Slade trained them both, and started them young. They’re all smiles until the fighting starts. Also, a word of caution. Stay close to the palace. Don’t go out without company. Tensions are high enough that you might just become the next target.”

Keira frowned at him. “You really think I came down in last night’s rain, don’t you? Slade briefed me. The Sumari government has assured Sheikh Kamal that they dealt with the rebels…blah, blah, blah. Typical politicians. Plenty of double-speak, but there’s no way Sumari could have gotten all of the rebels. If they had, they’d be boasting about it, not trying to put a lid on things.” She stood. “Think I’ll grab a swim and some sun before dinner.”

Brock stood. “Dinner? What about lunch?”

She glanced back at him and handed him her glass of water. “Honey, I’m a model. That water was my lunch.”

***

Time by the pool gave Keira a chance to check out the perimeter security. Young guys, all of them—gardeners as well as more obvious guards—looked tense and alert. They were ready for anything coming at them from the outside. What if the threat really was from within?

She left the pool after an hour, headed to her room, and changed into a light-blue dress with long, sheer sleeves. She slipped on matching flats and checked the watch that Brock had given her. The damn thing kept terrible time, but it looked great, the diamonds flashing. She jigged her wrist to make the diamonds flash again.

Before heading downstairs, she sent PJ a quick text. “Who’s my maid?” PJ would understand the code—Keira wanted a list of the staff who worked here. She’d gotten a guest list, and that had included about six royal cousins. Royal pains, she’d guess. The sheikh had a large family, and most of them seemed happy to hang around, not doing much of anything. She wanted to know about the ones who weren’t so happy. Meaning she needed to get in on the gossip.

She headed for the kitchen. Maela Bint-Jamal had been with the family for decades—she basically ran the palace, supervising everything. If anyone knew the scoop on all of the guests, it would be Maela.

Keira stepped into the cavernous kitchen and glanced around. Three chefs seemed to be working on dinner, with two more cutting and prepping the food. The place looked like a zoo—well, okay, more like a commercial kitchen, given all the stainless steel and Aga ovens. Keira stepped out again and headed for the dining room. She found an older woman who had to be Maela in a server black suit, directing three young men in black shirts and pants on how to set the table.

Putting on her best smile, Keira stopped in the doorway. “Wow, looks like twenty for dinner.”

Maela turned a dark-eyed stare on Keira. Her face tightened and for an instant, Keira had the feeling she’d already met this woman—and had made an enemy. She shivered. The older woman’s face relaxed, and Keira could almost believe she’d imagined that instant of enmity.

Smiling, Maela said something to the young men and walked over to face Keira. “Dinner won’t be until eight. You might want to take a walk in the gardens until then.” She turned away, and Keira knew she’d been dismissed. So much for striking up a friendship.

Keira deliberately made her way to the library—not the gardens. She spent her time on her smart phone, doing additional background research on the country, its customs, and its uncertain relations with its neighbor in Sumari. It was the sort of stuff anyone might look up; so if anyone was tracking her smart phone, they’d think she was coming up with dinner conversation.

By the time a bell sounded to announce dinner, Keira’s stomach was growling and she was regretting not having eaten lunch. She rose and stepped from the library in time to see Brock coming downstairs. He’d dressed up in a suit and tie—and Keira almost forgot about food. Brock wore his suits like a second skin. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket. The dark blue of his suit set off his red-gold hair. A faint dusting of beard glowed gold on his cheeks.

He came to her and offered his arm. “Regretting not eating that candy?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

He took her into dinner. PJ was already here, but Talib wasn’t. “Duty,” PJ muttered, rolling her eyes. The other guest drifted in, including Shira and Khalil. Those two seemed to have eyes only for each other—they looked more like the newest newlyweds, Keira thought.

They also wouldn’t have noticed a threat if it came in riding a tiger. Keira decided she’d better double their security. The sheikh and Erin were the last to arrive. Scattered applause met them. Sheikh Kamal bowed, but it was Erin who just about glowed.

Hell, if every woman in this palace doesn’t know she’s pregnant, I’ll eat my Jimmy Choo’s,
Keira decided.

Erin ate next to nothing, but Keira tucked in as if she weren’t a model looking after her figure. A woman next to her watched her take thirds of something that smelled like lamb and mint, and Keira smiled. “I can always throw up later,” she said. The woman turned away, looking horrified. Keira felt eyes on her and turned to see Brock smile and lift his water glass to her.

The food was better than great—spicy with flavors Keira had never tasted before; she tried everything. She figured out the lamb, rice, and the chicken, but the side dishes stumped her. Most of them had vegetables—and fruits—chopped so finely it was impossible to tell what was in the mix. Some things had been blended or mashed. She tasted mint, garlic, and was that turmeric in one dish? She gave up trying to figure it out and just decided to stuff herself.

Conversation drifted to the price of oil, to a new shopping center opening, and then to political issues, and the rebels in Sumari. Keira glanced up and saw Erin’s face pale. The sheikh must have seen that, too, for he put his hand over Erin’s, rose, and excused them, asking everyone to please stay and enjoy the rest of the meal.