Bought And Paid For: The Sheikh's Kidnapped Lover Page 7

  “Sanctuary could mean headquarters…” Balal said, standing up straight and starting to pace back and forth across the kitchen floor. “The words are related.”

  Jenna shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what they were talking about,” she said. “But there were only three men in the room. Maybe they didn't want the others to be privy to their conversation.”

  “Perhaps these three were in the inner circle,” he said, and a smile spread across his face. “Good. Good. Okay, so what else did you hear?”

  “I still don't really understand,” she said again. “They mentioned the city square, and green, and big.”

  Balal scratched his chin again. “Big and green. Well, there is a hotel in the city called the Emerald Lion. Maybe they were talking about that?”

  “But why would they pick such a busy place?” Jenna asked. “Wouldn't they want something less crowded? More secret?”

  “You're right,” Balal agreed, “Unless they wanted to hide in plain sight…”

  His voice trailed off, and he stared out of the window as if he had seen something in the distance. His hand slowly fell to his side, and he looked horrified.

  “What?” Jenna asked. “What is it?”

  Balal came to his senses, and when he did, he turned around and slammed his hands against the counter in anger.

  Jenna flinched, her breath coming fast and heavy. What set him off? Did I say something wrong?

  “Hiding in plain sight…” he murmured. He smiled, but it was tight and pained. He shook his head. “Oh, why didn't I see this before?”

  “What?” Jenna said again, watching him hesitantly.

  “I’m such an idiot, a ridiculous man,” Balal continued, running his hand through his hair.

  He looked at her, and she saw that his face had become very pale.

  “I think I know who the mob boss is…and where he is, too.

  “Really?” Jenna asked, not sure if she had heard him right.

  Balal seemed to be in pain. He nodded, both of his hands flat on the counter. “I should have figured this,” he sighed, fixing his gaze on something on the counter that she could not see.

  “Let's start with the easy part,” Balal said, seeming to rouse himself. He opened the bottle of bourbon again and splashed some more in his glass, filling it more than he had initially.

  He really is troubled, Jenna realized. She resigned herself to sitting and waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “The location they were talking about is surely an old war bunker hidden deep below the city.”

  Jenna felt her eyes grow wide.

  “It was built during the war, as a way to protect the royal family. It’s a huge site, almost like a city in and of itself. There is enough room for almost three hundred people inside, and what’s ironic is that hardly anyone remembers it exists.”

  He sighed, and his shoulders sagged.

  “They were talking about big and green because the bunker is beneath a large copper fountain in the very center of Yordan. The Emerald Lion is nearby, which was clever of them, but it is literally hidden in plain sight. No one would think to look there, when so many people pass by it on a daily basis. That park is so large, and one of the most visited parks in the city, but it is mostly concrete and trees. There isn't much green left there.”

  Balal took a deep drink from his glass and then stood up straight, still not meeting her eye.

  “I…” he began, and then sighed.

  “How did you know about this place? Because of your family?”

  Balal winced, and Jenna immediately regretted saying anything.

  “That was part of it,” Balal replied slowly. He swirled his drink, the side of the glass shining with condensation. “My father told me about it when I was young. He…”

  Balal finally looked at her, and Jenna almost gasped. There was such sadness in his eyes that it was tugging at her heart. She wanted to take his hand, to make the sadness go away, but stopped in her tracks when Balal sighed and turned away from the counter.

  “I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts,” Balal said. “Why don't you go get yourself into some clean clothes and when you come back out, then…then I'll tell you what I know.”

  Jenna hesitated. The idea of a shower did sound inviting, since the dust from the desert and vents had mixed with her sweat and formed a pasty, crackling coating on her skin. But something in his expression held her to her chair.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

  Balal nodded, but pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

  “Yes, but I need to make a few phone calls. Meet me back out here. I'll order us something to eat.”

  “No need,” came a voice from around the corner.

  They turned, and Adina appeared with a feather duster in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.

  “I make something quick. Spaghetti?” she asked, looking pointedly at Jenna.

  Jenna shrugged her shoulders. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Good,” Adina said as she came into the kitchen and immediately began by filling a copper pot with water.

  Balal sighed, finished his drink, and placed the tumbler in the sink behind him.

  “I should be done in a half hour. See you then?”

  Jenna swallowed, anxiety creeping in. “Sure,” she said, and got up from her seat.

  Balal disappeared, and when Jenna walked down the hallway, she saw no sign of him. She looked for another moment or two, listening for his voice, before she reached down and pulled her shoes off.

  There was immediate relief to freeing her feet, and she wiggled her toes in the squishy carpet of the hallway. She forced herself to walk to her room. It was dark outside of the window; the city was going to sleep.

  She stepped into her room and closed the door before disrobing. She didn't want to get dust and dirt all over the pristine room, so she held her clothes in a wad in her hands, looking around for a place to put them. When she didn't find one, she carried them into the bathroom with her and dumped them in the sink. She rinsed everything by hand, taking her time to get all of the tan and rust color out.

  When she felt satisfied that she wasn't leaving Adina with a disgusting pile of clothes, she hopped in the shower. She almost laughed when she saw the dark orange color swirling around the drain.

  The hot water was a wondrous relief for her body, but her mind was fixated on Balal. What was troubling him so much? Why was he so reluctant to tell her?

  She knew that she didn't know him very well, but she knew enough about people to know that his revelation, whatever it was, had caused him to respond with anger and fear. It had to have been a major realization, but she didn't have any idea what it might be.

  When she stepped out of the shower, she considered filling the tub again, but decided against it. She dressed in a comfortable pair of stretchy pants and a soft, green V-neck, then made her way back out into the hallway, padding quietly along. She heard Balal's voice at the end of the hall and walked into the living room to find him on the couch, Adina standing beside him, a dish towel in her hands.

  They both looked up at her, and Adina smiled a mischievous smile, patted Balal on the arm, and then wandered back into the kitchen. Balal looked up at Jenna, perhaps a little abashed, and gestured to the chair beside him. She happily curled up in it.

  “All right,” he said, and he sighed, apparently more relaxed now. “I think a shower was just what I needed. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” Jenna replied, and she curled her knees up to her chest.

  Balal reached over to the small table between them, where she saw a pretty blue teapot with two small teacups beside it.

  He lifted the pot and filled the cups, passing one to her.

  “Sugar?”

  “Yes, please,” Jenna said, and he offered her a small bowl with sugar cubes.

  She felt like he was delaying the conversation, doing everything he could to not continue what he’d been sa
ying earlier.

  She put two cubes in and stirred it with the small spoon he offered. The tea smelled heavenly, floral and sweet.

  “So…” Jenna began, watching his face closely. “What's going on?”

  The Sheikh's face fell, as if he had hoped that she had forgotten about the entire thing.

  He let out a soft sigh, holding his teacup gently between both of his hands.

  “Where should I start?”

  “How about at the beginning?”

  Balal inhaled sharply and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “The beginning…well, in order to understand anything I am about to tell you, you have to know this: the mob boss we are looking for…” He exhaled heavily. “I think he is my brother, Ahmad.”

  Jenna nearly dropped her teacup.

  “Your brother?” she repeated.

  Balal nodded. “Estranged brother. We haven't spoken in three years…” He scratched his head, frowning. “Let me do as you suggested; I'll start at the beginning.”

  He offered to refill Jenna's teacup, but she gave him a look, telling him that she knew he was trying to avoid the situation.

  “If you don't want to talk about this…” she began, but he shook his head firmly.

  “No, I do. Okay.”

  He shifted one of his legs over the other, and Jenna nestled deeper into the armchair, ready to listen. She told herself that she wouldn’t ask questions until he was completely finished. She knew she was prone to interrupting, but this was going to be hard enough for him as it was.

  “Three years ago, our parents were killed in a plane crash. They were flying to Paris, celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, when they ran into a storm…”

  He trailed off, glancing up at a picture on the mantelpiece, and Jenna noticed it for the first time. It was Balal, without a beard, standing beside a younger man and an older couple. Him, his parents, and Ahmad.

  She looked back at him, but he was still looking at the picture.

  “It was such a tragedy. So unexpected.”

  He sniffed, and Jenna wondered if he was trying to hold back tears. But he cleared his throat and shifted on the couch.

  “About three weeks after the accident, the will was read to us. My brother was only twenty at the time, and I was twenty-three. My brother had not spoken to me since their deaths, though we had been drifting apart prior to that. He had started hanging out with the wrong kinds of people, going to the shady parts of the city.

  “The afternoon we had the will read, I offered to pick Ahmad up from his apartment downtown, but he refused, saying he wouldn't be caught dead owing me a favor. I was already so upset that I let it go. My father's attorney invited us both to sit down when we arrived. Ahmad, the arrogant fool, refused, and I couldn’t understand this level of disrespect. I've come to wonder if he was just so overcome with grief that he had forgotten how to behave like a normal human being for a time, but that doesn’t excuse it. Nor what came after.”

  Balal pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily.

  “The will said that I was to inherit everything—all of our parents’ fortune—but it was only to be that way until Ahmad turned twenty-one, at which time, he would receive his half of the inheritance. I was to be put in charge of it until then. Well, you can imagine that Ahmad did not take that very well.”

  The Sheikh grimaced.

  “He actually threw one of the chairs at the attorney's desk, like a child. He stormed out, swearing that he would get his money. Anyway, I was too busy grieving to worry too much about him. He was acting like himself, after all. That was nothing new.”

  He swallowed, and a smile passed over his face, but it was a humorless one.

  “This is where the truth might surprise you, Jenna, for I have not always been as benevolent as I might appear to be now. You see, before my parents died, I was working on starting my business, the oil company I now run. The startup costs were of course huge, but I knew that if I had just a small injection of cash, I could make it a success. One must sometimes spend money to make money, yes? So, when my parents passed away, I suddenly had all of this money, and…”

  He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, still cradling the small teacup in his hands. He ran his finger along the lip of the cup.

  “I took all of it, every cent, and put it right into investments in the company. I gave it the boost it needed, knowing that I would easily be able to make back the money I owed Ahmad before he turned twenty-one. But then he found out what I’d done…”

  Balal huffed, but pushed on.

  “He broke into my home one night and smashed a glass sculpture my mother and father had bought for me when I turned twenty-one. It had been of a heron, arched and ready for flight. I loved that piece. My father had said that it was how he had seen me, always ready, heading for greatness. When I saw that heron shattered on my living room floor, well, it shook me to my core, just like Ahmad knew it would.”

  He looked up into Jenna’s face, and she was surprised to see how pale he was.

  “He was sending me a sign, and I read it loud and clear.”

  Jenna let out a breath she didn't know she’d been holding, and shuddered as Balal went on.

  “He left a note, stating that he never wanted to see me again; that he never wanted to have anything to do with our family again. And I…I wished that he had still been there. I would have rather fought with him, screamed at each other until we went hoarse, than him just disappear like that.”

  He took in a deep, shaky breath and sat back on the couch, setting his half-empty teacup on the little table beside him.

  “The situation tormented me for a long time afterwards. I felt like I had shamed the family. I had lost my parents, and then I had dishonored them by losing Ahmad too. I was responsible for him in their absence, and I acted selfishly, even if I had thought only of the eventual outcome. I cannot deny that I did the wrong thing. But my decisions did not excuse his behavior, and I fell into bitterness and anger. I spent all of my time and energy on my company, growing it, and it flourished under my hand. By the time Ahmad's twenty-first birthday came along, I had easily tripled the money that I owed him, and so, I tried to reach out to him.”

  Balal shook his head again.

  “But I couldn't contact him. The address he had been living at now housed someone else, and he had changed his phone number. I tried to contact his friends, but none of them would tell me anything. I knew some were telling me the truth when they said they hadn't talked to him in almost a year, but others…I think they were lying for him. I spent months looking through what I felt was every crack in the city until I finally realized it was futile. It was obvious that he didn't want to be found. Until, one day…

  “I got a phone call from one of my old contacts—he was on the police force, but worked undercover. He had heard that a man matching Ahmad's description had been meeting with some of the higher-up characters in the city’s mob scene. Apparently, he had moved up the ladder quickly, making friends with all of the right people, or rather, the wrong people. He had protection, and my friend apologized to me, saying that it would be almost impossible to contact him without someone getting hurt.”

  Balal rolled his shoulders, and Jenna saw his jaw clench.

  “I started to worry that maybe I had lost my little brother for good. If the underground had swallowed him whole, then what I could do to save him? It was like chasing a ghost, always rounding a corner, but never finding where he was hiding. It was infuriating.”

  The Sheikh rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “It still is infuriating.”

  He tried to smile at her, but it was obvious to Jenna that telling that story had drained him. She wondered if he had ever told it before.

  “And the bunker…” he murmured, looking out of the window at the twinkling city lights. “That bunker was a special place to Ahmad and I when we were kids. Our father took us there one day, to that very park, to the very fountain the bunke
r rests beneath.

  “He told us all about it, having been a historian himself, and of course, as young boys, Ahmad and I fell in love with the idea of a hidden fortress below the ground. It was a secret place, and full of mystery. We played soldiers a lot as kids, and almost always, our base was that secret, unknown bunker in our heads. I found pictures that Ahmad had drawn of it, or at least of the way he thought it looked. I think he was more fascinated by it than I was, because now, if he has chosen that place as his hideout…”

  Balal trailed off.

  “I almost can't believe it, to be honest. But it has to be Ahmad who’s in charge. No one else would think of that place. He idolized it, and so he chose to resurrect it and make it the center of his operation.”

  Jenna watched him closely.

  “It's strange how everything comes full circle, isn't it?” Balal asked, mostly to himself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jenna looked deep into his eyes, drinking in the vulnerability and the heartache she could see there. She felt her heart wrench for him, for his situation. How could someone endure something like this? Total estrangement from their only sibling, as well as the deaths of both their parents, all in such a short time? It was unimaginable.

  It made Jenna grateful for her parents, even if she thought they were a touch overbearing sometimes. She would rather them be around than not, and that was no question about that.

  The Sheikh’s hand rested on the side of the couch, his other hand still rubbing his forehead. Jenna leaned forward, and she slid her hand on top of his. He seemed startled, for he looked at her immediately, his eyes wide, deep pools of emotion.

  “Thank you,” Jenna whispered softly. “For sharing your story with me.”

  Balal studied her face for a moment, and for the first time since meeting him, she felt as if he were in awe of her. He seemed almost shy, the way he searched her face. She felt her cheeks blush, but she didn't look away.

  “I am so sorry about your parents,” she began. “I am sure they were wonderful people, since they raised you to be as wonderful as you are.”