Protecting His Princess (7 page)

Harris met Laila at the entrance to the main dining room as they had planned. Though he had hesitated about involving her, the CIA hadn’t been able to acquire the floor plan of Mikhail’s private quarters, and Laila gave him a cover if anyone spotted him. Though it was a stretch, Laila had slightly more reason to be in the emir’s private quarters than Harris did. Pretending to be lost would never work.

“Let’s position the simplest ones first,” Harris said. “Then we’ll try the difficult ones.” Even if they couldn’t get access to Mikhail’s private quarters, the CIA would have electronic eyes inside the compound.

Laila nodded. “It’s too bad you’re not a woman. Women are overlooked. You and I could walk around freely.”

He wouldn’t ask Laila to place the devices without accompanying her. He couldn’t put her at additional risk. Was she implying he should go undercover dressed like a woman? The idea didn’t thrill him, but he would do what he needed to do. “Wouldn’t my build give me away?”

Laila shrugged. “Might make someone think you’re a rather large woman, but generally, you’d be okay.”

“If we need to use that technique to get to the private locations, we will.” He’d call that option: last.

“You could dress like one of the servants. You know how people can be about housekeepers and staff. They don’t see them. We can blend into the background.”

Not a bad idea. He could dress as a butler or guard, though hiding his skin and hair color would be more difficult without something over his head and face. “Let’s see how many of these we can place without needing to dress in drag.”

The bugs were manufactured by a private contractor. If found, no one could tie them to America or the CIA. If the emir’s security team discovered a device, it might cause another search of the guest rooms or increased security. Harris was counting on the security staff being distracted by the influx of guests and missing the tiny bugs, the size of a number-two pencil eraser.

The easiest place to plant a device was the main dining room. It was near lunch, the room was busy and Laila explained the artwork along the wall as they circled the room. Harris removed the sticky tape on the back of the tiny device in his pocket and held it between his two fingers. He rested his hand on the railing between the doorway and the open seating area. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden bar and pressed the bug into place.

With a final push on the device to ensure it stuck, he took out his phone. A few finger presses later, he had the confirmation text message that the CIA was able to connect to the device.

The CIA now had surveillance inside the compound. They could watch the dining area twenty-four hours a day, and if Al-Adel stepped foot in that room, the screeners at the CIA would know. Even if he was wearing a disguise, their facial recognition software would peg him.

“Laila, how lovely to see you.”

Harris slipped his phone into his pocket and turned toward the sound of Laila’s name. An older woman accompanied by a serene-looking man approached, her arms outstretched.

Laila introduced Harris to her second cousin on her father’s side, Betha, and her husband, Abdul. Betha was obviously pregnant, though Harris didn’t mention it as he wasn’t sure of the protocol. As they spoke, Harris felt someone watching him. He turned. The man he’d seen the day before, the plain, unremarkable, possible CIA agent was looking in his direction. The man averted his gaze when Harris met his stare.

Perhaps the camera he’d installed had caught the man’s image, and Harris could have his resources search for the stranger’s identity.

Harris wanted to ask Laila if she knew the man, but asking her now would draw attention, and if the man was CIA, he’d want to stay unnoticed. The CIA liked their agendas to stay secret and their agents to work alone, and Harris was playing by their rules during this mission.

Laila and her cousin were finishing their conversation with an exchange of pleasantries. Harris nodded at them and let Laila lead them away.

“Do you see that man...” Harris let his voice drift off. The man who’d been watching them was gone.

“See who?” she asked. Her eyes were the most expressive he’d encountered. He could read her emotions in them: concern, curiosity and excitement.

Harris slipped another bug into place to give the CIA a 360-degree view of the room. “Twice now I’ve noticed a man watching us. I was curious if you knew him.”

“Next time he’s around, signal me,” Laila said. “Why don’t I show you the library? It’s where Mikhail sometimes entertains his male guests following a dinner.”

A great place to hide a bug. If Mikhail met with Al-Adel, he might use the library, or would Mikhail invite him into his private quarters? Harris hoped Mikhail would have at least some sense to keep boundaries between him and one of the most dangerous men in the world.

* * *

Laila had never been invited into the library. Her father had spent evenings there with Mikhail and Saafir, smoking the hookah, and talking politics and business.

Checking first that the hallway was empty, Laila opened the door to the library and she and Harris slipped inside. Laila closed the door quietly behind them. This early in the day, the room was vacant. The heavy maroon curtains were pulled away from the windows, allowing in the sunshine. The windows were high on the wall and opened, fans spinning to air out the tobacco smoke.

The room smelled of mint tobacco, a favorite flavor of her father’s. Years of smoking in this room made it impossible to get the smell out of the walls and carpets. Memories of him sprang to mind, and Laila’s heart clutched in her chest. It had been years, but some days the grief was as raw as the day he’d died.

On the far wall, a portrait of her father hung. His kind smile, his laughing eyes and his regal and distinguished look brought fresh sorrow to her heart. He had been a good man, and she could never have imagined how her life would change after he was gone. Her father had been a strong, unwavering presence in her life and without him, she, her mother and her brothers were missing the anchor that had grounded them.

Her father had never gotten through to Mikhail, but he had kept Mikhail’s ideas from tipping too extreme. Without her father as a counterbalance, Mikhail let his philosophies rule him.

Laila was aware she was alone with Harris. She took a deep breath and hid her sadness. She was helping Harris, and it wasn’t the time to get upset about her father.

Though she doubted the room was on the compound’s surveillance system, she kept her distance from Harris. Someone could walk in on them, and she wouldn’t put herself in a questionable position. She had put them at enough risk being together in the library. She struggled to recall what she knew about the books in their protective glass enclosures, some of them old historical texts and first editions of local writers. Telling Harris about the books was perfectly acceptable.

Harris circled the room, looking at the books and likely searching for the best place to secure another surveillance device.

He was facing away from her, and Laila let her gaze wander over him. His clothing was well tailored and fit his body, accenting his wide shoulders and lean hips, his pants sitting over his muscled backside and long legs. He walked with confidence, his stride strong and sure.

She wanted him to kiss her again. Last night had been exhilarating. Now that she’d kissed him, she needed another taste. Once hadn’t been enough. Was he thinking about it at all? Would she ever meet another man who made her feel the way he did?

In all her life, Harris was the first man who made her feel the crackling of lust and the heat of desire. Maybe it was the first time she’d allowed herself to feel something. Maybe he was the right man at the right time. Their relationship was fated to be brief. She could keep it light and fun, maybe share more kisses and manage to hold on to her heart.

“How do I open these cases?” Harris asked, pointing to one of the cabinets.

“Mikhail keeps the keys under his desk.” She strode across the room and felt under the middle desk drawer, pulling a key off a hook. “See something that interests you?” she asked.

She handed Harris the key, and he put it in the lock and twisted it. Lifting the glass door, he took a book with a navy cover and a rock on the front, a bright light shining behind it.

“What is that?” Laila asked. She’d never seen the book before.

“The rock and the light are signs the Holy Light Brotherhood uses,” Harris said.

“They are popular images in Qamsarian literature. If it is from the Holy Light Brotherhood, why would Mikhail keep it in here? This isn’t a secure location.”

Harris opened the front of the book. “I can’t read Arabic as quickly. Tell me what it says.”

Inside the pages were handwritten in ink, the book only half filled. She scanned the pages and didn’t recognize any of the handwriting. It wasn’t Mikhail’s. It looked like at least three separate people had written inside the book. “It’s a list of events and their dates, some of them natural disasters, some political milestones and some are names I don’t recognize.”

“Does it say anything about the Holy Light Brotherhood?” Harris asked.

Laila continued to skim. If someone caught her and Harris in this room snooping through Mikhail’s books, she had a lot of explaining to do. “I don’t see any reference to that.”

On the last page, a name caught her attention. “It has my brother’s name.” Surprise and sadness created a heavy mix of emotions.

“Mikhail’s?”

“No. Saafir. It says Saafir is to be welcomed into the light before Mikhail’s wedding.” Laila’s stomach dropped to her shoes. Not Saafir. He couldn’t be involved. Both of her brothers wouldn’t allow the Holy Light Brotherhood to draw them into their clutches. Mikhail had always been hungry for power, angry at the world and focused on getting his way. But Saafir was easygoing and cared about others. He was less concerned about pressing his agenda, which almost never had anything to do with personal gain, and was more focused on helping the people around him. For all the compassion Mikhail lacked, Saafir made up for it in spades.

“What does that mean?” Harris asked. “What makes him part of the Holy Light Brotherhood?”

Thinking aloud or did he need an answer? “I don’t know anything about the inner workings of that organization. Does he have to prove himself somehow? A show of loyalty?” A chill of disgust traced down her spine. She couldn’t picture Saafir and Mikhail working together, much less Saafir working with the Holy Light Brotherhood. Laila shook loose her thoughts. “Saafir wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Even as children, Mikhail had had a darker side to his personality. But not Saafir. He had a heart of gold. He wouldn’t get involved with terrorists. Not willingly and knowingly.

Harris took out his phone and snapped a few pictures of the pages of the book. He then set it back on the shelf. “I’ll see what I can do about getting more information on this. If they are planning something, we need to get in front of it and stop them,” Harris said. He moved toward Mikhail’s desk, slipped his hand under it, likely placing a bug.

Laila locked the cabinet and replaced the key under Mikhail’s desk. She followed Harris to the door and bumped into him when he stopped abruptly. She braced her hand on the door, and he grabbed her arm to steady her.

Heat shot from his touch up her arm and to her core. Their gazes met and held. Heat and excitement rushed into the space worry had occupied a moment before.

“Excuse me,” he said. He didn’t release her.

She didn’t want him to. Was she bold enough to pull him deeper inside the room, press him against the wall and kiss him? She’d seen it done in movies. Was she sexy enough to pull it off?

Harris’s survey drifted from her eyes to her lips, where it lingered a moment before plunging lower.

Her long dress suddenly felt too revealing. Barely any skin was showing, but his look devoured her as if she were stark naked in front of him.

“Laila,” he said. Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yes?” she asked. Her adrenaline was pumping, fueled by the danger of being discovered, fear for her brothers and the excitement of being alone with Harris.

Footsteps and voices sounded outside the library doors. Harris dropped his hand from her arm. He waited a moment, and then pulled open the door and moved out of the library. He gestured for her to follow. Laila didn’t recognize anyone in the group retreating down the hallway.

A blush darkened her cheeks, and Laila slowed her thoughts to calm her racing heart. They had remained on platonic ground except for an innocent touch. Not so innocent thoughts, but Harris didn’t know about those.

“Lead the way,” he said.

Laila reassured herself no one had seen her in the library with Harris, and no one was paying attention to them now. If anyone asked what she was doing with Harris, she’d been showing him around the compound to see the artwork and telling him about some of the historical artifacts that decorated the area.

Their next location was Mikhail’s living quarters. Mikhail had remodeled the compound after her father had died, closing off part of their family home for his private use. Located on the east side of the house, access from the main part of the compound was barred by a set of double doors. Entrance required authorized access via a fingerprint scanner and password.

Though Mikhail had changed the rooms, she knew another way inside. “We should take a walk outside. I can show you the gardens.”

“Sounds like fun,” Harris said. He was letting her take the lead. She knew what she was doing. Growing up as the emir’s daughter had its advantages.

They walked in silence to the northeast gardens. They weren’t alone. Guests and family members were enjoying the landscaped grounds. Tables were set in the shade, with carafes of coffee and pitchers of water on the tables.

“Security has to be getting more challenging with so many people,” Harris said under his breath to Laila.

“After the front gate checkpoint and dropping bugs in some guests’ rooms, I think Mikhail is hoping for the best.” Not that Laila believed her brother had gotten sloppy or that his people weren’t well trained, but with the influx of people, the security team would be forced to adopt a different set of rules and procedures.