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.
Keira glanced at Brock. He nodded and rose to follow the sheikh and Erin. Keira watched them go, and she looked around the table for reactions—but everyone seemed more focused on the dessert being served—something iced with honey.
Standing, Keira excused herself. She headed to the nearest bathroom, entered, and then cracked open the door. No one followed Brock, or the sheikh, or Erin. Coming out, she saw a flash of black disappear down the hallway, headed toward the kitchen. One of the servers? Dammit, she really needed to know about the help.
Dinner broke up, and Keira cornered PJ on the terrace. “Well?”
PJ smiled. “Take a look under your pillow later. Got you everything, but we’ve already been over it—twice. Maybe you’ll find something new.”
Keira stayed at dinner until her face had just about frozen into a stiff smile. If anyone here harbored any ill will against Erin or the sheikh, they needed to switch careers and head for Hollywood and a few Oscars. These people talked about fashions, oil prices again, and not too much more. She had the impression most of them were about as deep as the reflecting pool in the courtyard—but she was putting on the same kind of act. She didn’t want to write them off, but she’d downgraded every guest to low on her hit list.
Upstairs, she headed to her room and pulled out the folder PJ had left for her. She’d just opened it up when Brock slipped into her room. She stared at him, eyebrows lifted.
He stared back. “We need to talk.”
She leaned back against the plush headboard on her bed. “Isn’t that supposed to be the girl’s line?”
Chapter 9
Brock rolled his eyes. He slipped off his jacket, draped it over the back of a chair, and then pulled off his tie.
“Make yourself at home.” Keira waved at the room.
He slipped off his shoes. “I plan to.”
She gave him a wary stare. He came over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re going to blow our cover if we don’t get a little cozier.”
He saw that instant line of tension around her mouth. “You’ve heard something?”
He shook his head. “Talib told me we’re acting more like an old married couple than like a guy who can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend. A place like this—where everyone knows everyone—means gossip, and we’re becoming a topic.”
“Sounds like your problem.” She had her shoes on still, so he pulled them off and pulled her feet into his lap. He could feel the stiffness in her. “What are you doing?” she asked, dropping each word like they were ice cubes.
“Your feet are cold. Don’t you like this?”
She tried to pull back, but he kept hold of her ankles. She had to relax. She also huffed out a breath. “Just because we have a cover…and…and a…pull—”
“A pull? Jeeze, Keira, don’t go all mushy on me.”
Keira looked him in the eye. “That doesn’t mean we have to act on anything.”
“Yeah, but we have to act. Talib’s right. We’re going to spook the target and he’s going to go to ground.”
“I think it’s a her we’re looking for.”
“Anyone could have been under that hijab the other night.”
Keira cocked her head to the side. “No. I saw her hands. I saw how she moved. It’s a woman. And she knows Erin’s pregnant.”
“You know this how? And that means what?”
Keira shook her head. “I’m not sure. But I’m beginning to think this doesn’t have anything to do with the rebels.”
He stared at her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She frowned, bit her lower lip, and he told her, “Keira, trust your instincts. Let them take you to the right place. Your best asset is your gut feeling.”
“Is that how you do things?” She asked.