Protecting His Princess (10 page)

“She’s a good judge of character, but she’s not objective. I’m not ruling anything out. What about our primary objective? Anything more on that?” Harris asked. As far as he knew, Al-Adel hadn’t been seen on the premises. Perhaps intel had picked up his movements elsewhere in the country.

“With the devices in place, we’re checking the video consistently. We haven’t given up on the idea that he’ll show.”

“Intel doesn’t have anything more recent on his movements?” Harris asked.

“Nothing in two weeks. He’s been quiet. Nothing on the wires and nothing from our assets,” Devon said. He shifted in his chair. “Let me level with you. This is your first CIA mission. It’s easy to get overwhelmed. Some think you might not pull this off. That you’re too softhearted to use whatever means necessary to get the information.”

Harris squashed the urge to disagree immediately. He had a reputation within the Bureau for working well with victims and witnesses, for being good at sympathizing. He could do his job and be human about it. “I know what the situation calls for, and I know what is and isn’t appropriate.”

Devon ran his palm over his jawline and appeared skeptical. “When you’re deep undercover, it’s easy to forget. I’ve seen Laila. She’s a beautiful woman. I don’t want you to make a mistake with her that will damage your reputation. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Guy meets a pretty asset, starts to have feelings for her and then when it’s time to get the intel or uncover a rat, they hesitate in order to protect the pretty asset.”

Laila’s face sprang to mind. Laila was a charming woman. He didn’t bother denying it. He was attracted to her. What man wouldn’t be? Her innocence was refreshing, and her intelligence intriguing. “She and I are working well together. Our cover hasn’t been blown, and part of that is because we make a believable couple. I have no reason to suspect Laila is involved with Al-Adel or the Holy Light Brotherhood. But if anything turns up that she’s involved, I won’t protect her. I know what my job is.” He spoke the words with confidence. Laila hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t involved with Al-Adel.

“Just don’t make your affair with her too believable and get sucked in,” Devon said.

“I won’t. I’ve got this under control,” Harris said. He’d learned his lesson. Relationships and covert operations didn’t mix. Yet his reaction to her name told him that his control was precarious and could easily slip from his grasp.

* * *

Laila hadn’t spent time with her dear cousins in too long. The henna ceremony was a wonderful place for the women in her family to get together, gossip and catch up on their lives. Men were excluded from the treatment area since hands and feet were bared.

More than one woman her age was pregnant, some with their third or fourth child. They were making their arranged marriages work. Had she been too hasty in writing off the idea of an arranged marriage? In many ways it was simpler. Fewer emotions were involved, less confusion, not so many decisions. And less room for errors, like errors involving kissing a man she had no future with.

Before coming to America, Laila had wanted to be married to someone her family approved of. Now she wanted both that and to marry someone who made her feel the way Harris did. Exhilarated. Hot. Achy. Alive.

Aisha’s hands and feet were being decorated, and several other henna artists were working on the bride’s and groom’s families.

Laila waited for her turn, sitting between her mother and her cousin Betha. Betha, six months pregnant, was glowing with happiness and excitement. She was also the biggest gossip in the family, and Laila knew she was about to get an earful.

“Laila, tell me about this German man who’s courting you,” Betha said, leaning close but not lowering her voice.

Laila could have sworn every ear within ten feet perked at Betha’s words.

With her mother’s eyes and a dozen ears pinned on her, Laila struggled to remember her lies. She took a deep breath and felt her cheeks heating. She hadn’t expected the blunt question. Lying when put on the spot was harder than Laila had imagined.

“Oh, she’s blushing! She’s in love,” Betha said, clapping Laila on the back and giving her a hug.

Laila glanced at her mother. Iba’s face didn’t give away much of a reaction. What was her mother thinking? Was she disappointed? She’d been polite to Harris when they’d had breakfast that morning and had seemed pleased by his gift. Was she worried her daughter was making a mistake? Laila wished she could tell her mother the truth. She reassured herself it was only a matter of time. When she and Harris came clean, her mother would understand why she had lied, and why she had brought Harris to Qamsar. If Mikhail was working with Al-Adel, he needed to be stopped. Finding a terrorist and protecting her country was worth causing her mother some worry about Harris.

“We met at the coffeehouse near my school,” Laila said. How could she change the subject? Didn’t they have wedding things to discuss?

“Did he ask you on a date? What did you tell him?” Betha asked.

Part of her interest was probably in the cultural differences, and how she and Harris were handling them. Mentioning in front of everyone that her relationship beliefs were evolving and changing didn’t seem smart at the moment. “I told him the truth. I had a different idea about dating than he did, and if he wanted to see me, he needed to be serious about courting me, and he had to speak to my uncle and meet my family.”

“He didn’t turn away and run?” Betha said. “I knew I would marry Abdul from the time I was five years old, and until the day before our wedding, he still broke out in a sweat whenever he saw me.”

The women laughed. Good. Maybe they would talk about something else. Share their stories of commitment-phobic men.

“If he was willing to come to the emir’s wedding and meet your family, he must be serious about you,” Betha said.

Darn. Not as easy as she’d hoped. “He wants the same things I do. A family and a stable home.” Laila glanced at her mother. Still showing no reaction, she was watching and listening. “His family owns a shipping company in Germany, and that could be a match Mikhail approves of. It could help the country to have access to quality import and export services.”

Iba stroked Laila’s head. “That’s my daughter, thinking like a businessman.”

“But she’s right, Aunt Iba,” Betha said. “The emir likes to have business ties within the family. That could win him over. You know, since Harris isn’t Muslim.” Count on Betha to speak the honest answer.

“Yet,” Laila said. “He’s converting.” She felt as if she’d spoken the lie a hundred times since arriving in Qamsar. Why couldn’t she just tell the truth? She didn’t care what Harris believed in, as long as he believed in her.

The women around them nodded their approval.

“What does Noor think of this?” Betha asked. “He thought he would claim his bride when you returned home. Imagine when you showed up with another man!”

Laila repressed the shudder than went through her. She’d worried Mikhail would think to pair her with Noor, and hearing it confirmed, she felt as if she’d dodged a bullet. Not only was Noor one of Mikhail’s best friends, he was a mean little troll to the women in his life. He was even nasty to his own mother. “I haven’t seen Noor or spoken to him since I arrived. Harris hasn’t spoken to Mikhail yet, so we’ll see. I’m waiting for him to speak with my family before I start making plans for the future.” It hurt to speak the words, hurt knowing she wouldn’t have a future with Harris or anyone else, until she was settled in America and could figure out what to do.

Laila wanted to move the conversation along to other topics. She lowered her voice, keeping the conversation as close to her and Betha as possible. “I think it’s more scandalous that an American is being held for spying. How ridiculous! Spying on what? Someone’s wedding?” Laila laughed, pretending to be unaware of Mikhail’s association with a suspected terrorist. Was the rumor mill churning with information?

“I heard the Americans sent a spy to look into the guests at the wedding. They are looking for a wanted criminal,” Betha said in a near whisper.

She had it partly true. “With the security Mikhail has on this place? He’s not letting any criminals sneak inside and ruin his wedding,” Laila said, trying to prod her cousin for more information.

“What if the person the Americans are looking for is an invited guest?” Betha asked, leaning close, her eyes glimmering with excitement.

She had more to tell. Laila needed to get it out of her without raising flags she was digging too deeply for information about topics she shouldn’t care about. “Powerful people associate with other powerful people,” Laila said. “If some of the men in attendance are of interest to America, I don’t find that surprising.”

“I heard that the spy wasn’t executed because Aisha didn’t want it to mar her wedding week. But as soon as the ceremony and celebration end, Mikhail won’t wait,” Betha said.

Aisha glanced in their direction at the sound of her name, casting them a curious look. If she had been closer and already not engaged in a conversation with other friends, she might have given her opinion on the matter. Had she heard what they were discussing or just her name?

Laila’s heartbeat escalated. If Mikhail was planning to kill the American spy, they only had a few days to find and release him. “Mikhail might try to get information first. Find out if he knows anything useful,” Laila said.

“No, Mikhail probably wants him dead before he can slip away and deliver information back to America,” Betha said.

Implying the jailed American had discovered something that Mikhail didn’t want to get out. Laila and Harris had overheard Mikhail talking to someone in his office, perhaps someone in Al-Adel’s inner circle. What else had Mikhail done? Maybe he’d gotten in over his head, and the American spy had discovered a secret the emir wanted silenced.

“I wouldn’t want to spend the last of my days in the Cinder Block,” Betha said.

The Cinder Block, the nickname for one of the most dangerous locked-down prisons in Qamsar, was located outside the compound walls and guarded twenty-four hours a day by the emir’s private guards. The facility held political prisoners and traitors. Few survived inside and most disappeared without a trial or explanation.

“What does Mikhail think the American spy knows?” Laila asked.

Aisha turned to face them again, a frown across her face. It was enough to make it clear she had heard at least part of their conversation, and she didn’t like what they were discussing.

Iba gave Laila and Betha a stern look. “This is not polite conversation for ladies to have. Please, this is a wedding celebration. Let’s speak of happy things.”

Laila let her mother turn the conversation to a new boutique that had opened near the souk that carried fine linen, light as air and beautiful.

If Mikhail was planning to execute the American after his wedding, they only had a few days to get to him. How would anyone get inside the Cinder Block and free the American spy?

* * *

Laila admired the henna on her hands and feet. The artists had done a beautiful job, the lines and designs intricate. She opened her closet to select an outfit for dinner. A knock sounded on her door, and before she could answer it, it opened, and one of the emir’s housekeepers stepped inside the room. Laila grabbed a dress off the rack and held it over her bare feet.

The housekeeper averted her eyes to the ceiling. “The emir wishes to see you.”

Fear and panic flailed in her stomach. Had she asked Betha too many questions about the imprisoned American? Or had Mikhail realized she and Harris had been in his private quarters? Her heart beat faster, and her mouth felt dry.

“May I ask why?” she asked, stalling for time. Could she get a message to Harris? She didn’t want to join the American spy in the Cinder Block. If no one knew where she was, she might never be found.

“The emir does not explain himself to me.”

“Very well,” Laila said, adjusting her head scarf. “Please give me a moment to finish dressing.” She didn’t wait for the woman to agree. She slipped into the bathroom and put on a pair of shoes. Maybe this wasn’t a personal audience with him. Maybe Mikhail was calling together the family to discuss the details of his wedding. Laila pulled her phone from her pocket and sent Harris a text:
Called to meeting with Mikhail.
Without more information she didn’t have anything to add.

At least if she didn’t return, Harris would know the last person she had seen. Though she felt guilty for thinking of her brother as a villain, she had always thought Mikhail had a dark side, and what she was learning about him made her nervous.

After checking her attire in the mirror, she exited the bathroom. “I’m ready.”

With her knees trembling, she followed the housekeeper to the library. Panic had sweat breaking out on her lower back. She’d never been invited into the library before. Had Mikhail found the device they’d hidden inside? Would he ask her about it? She was a terrible liar and would break under pressure.

“Sister, please sit,” Mikhail said, gesturing to the leather couch across from the chair where he was seated. Mikhail waved a hand to dismiss the housekeeper. They were alone.

Laila waited for him to continue. It wasn’t her place to speak. She tried to interpret his posture and expression. Was he angry? Enraged?

“I had a conversation with Abdul a few minutes ago,” Mikhail said.

Abdul, Betha’s husband. Laila worked hard not to squirm and to keep her hands from shaking. If she showed fear, Mikhail would pounce and exploit that fear. What had Betha told her husband? Laila replayed the conversation looking for places where she might have made a misstep or pressed too hard.

“He mentioned your friend from Germany works in the import-export business.”

Laila nodded. “Yes, his family runs a shipping company.” She could have said more, but she wanted to know where the conversation was leading.

Mikhail gestured to his computer. “I looked him up online. The company is internationally known and has a superb reputation. They ship to almost every country in the world.”