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“Think of this more as setup for a long game. Kam has been pleased with the work you’re doing there and likes the idea of you remaining permanently in Jawhara and working with Talib and PJ. Keira might even fit into that equation.”
“Fit? Slade, are you playing matchmaker?” Brock asked. “I’m not sure if I should be furious 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 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 in?
Turning around, Brock headed back to the palace. First, however, he had a stop to make, because there was no way he could come back to Keira empty-handed.
* * *
It took Keira an hour to complete a tour of the palace on her own—it was like one huge hotel with long halls that did look similar from one to the next, which had her once again questioning what she saw. 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 Kale probably won’t leave the palace for the next several days. But they’re planning on doing some traveling 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 Shira. We’re going to stay on the sheikh and Erin. I’m her college friend, remember?”
Brock nodded. “Fair point. How is that going?”
"Not great.” Keira sipped her water before replying. “It’s hard to interact with her when she rarely leaves her quarters and when she does, she spends all her time in meetings. What happened? I was told she was active.”
“The sheikh had received some worrisome intel that there’s a high probability the insurgents from Sumari have found an ally within the El-Jawhara family and will try to infiltrate the palace again. With Erin’s pregnancy, I suspect that they’re both being cautious, but I’ve no idea if this is something they discussed or if Erin decided to reduce her visibility on her own.”
“Is the intel credible?”
Brock shrugged. “I’ve no idea but given what happened to Erin, the sheikh isn’t interested in waiting to see what happens and neither are we. So we’re treating it as credible until we know otherwise. If the rebels have set a target, history has shown that they don’t tend to back down, especially if they’re getting help from the inside.”
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 on their own, but that isn’t an option now with increased background checks. If there’s someone associated with the family helping them, I’m worried they’ll find another way in. We need to be on top of that, which means no more visits to areas difficult to guard like the refugee camp where she was originally taken from.”
“So I read. What was she doing in that camp? It’s the last place a woman like her should have been—way too much exposure, too many variables.”
