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He might have fought the system, but why? It functioned for the benefit of all. He had skills and a lethal edge his brother lacked. This was a game for the strong, and when Abraham showed signs of weakness, it was Bakr’s duty to step in. For the greater good.
Looking out over the hard glitter of New York City, he still couldn’t understand the shock and disgust in response to his own brand of innovation. They had both been trained up from birth for their respective roles. If his brother had been able to manage his weak nerves, they would have been partners for years to come.
It hadn’t been pleasant to dispose of his brother, but it had been a necessity.
Bakr shook off the melancholy. None of that mattered now. He was in charge, he held the company and family fortunes in his hands. They would thank him soon enough.
He paused as he passed the chess set and, knowing he’d be back soon enough, decided to leave it here. The queen who mattered most would soon tell him everything. Before, during, or possibly after he destroyed all she held dear. But she would tell him.
Returning to his desk, he drafted one more email but saved it rather than hitting send. It wouldn’t be complete without a current picture.
Calling for a cab, he prepared for one last errand in the city. He could almost hear her weeping as he showed her his checkmate move.
Chapter 13
Evaspenttherestof the day and into the evening working through the old files and ignoring the tingle on her lips whenever her thoughts strayed to the man in the other room. When this was over, she’d address her feelings. Right now, she had to track down Bakr before he hurt someone else from her old team.
She believed Abe’s story, believed both brothers thought she knew something, but she had yet to turn up anything in the transcription to verify it. She did mental run throughs of every stage of the rescue, wondering what she’d missed then, what her mistakes would reveal now.
The flash drive was burning a hole in her pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it on the FBI equipment. Keeping them in the loop was one thing—defined in her mind as intel she knew before handing it to someone else. At this point, opening that drive might be spoon feeding them information they would jump on prematurely.
If Abraham had made some sketchy decisions in the course of doing business, Bakr was ten times worse. She’d suspected him of the kidnapping two years ago because it fit his MO of violent, deceitful behavior.
Now Abraham was a client and she would protect his privacy to the best of her ability. He might operate in the gray area, but the Army wouldn’t have tried to assist him without good reason.
She could search the records, replay the night in her mind, but without the context of the flash drive information, she’d never understand what she was looking for. To the best of her recollection, Abe’s son hadn’t said anything during the rescue that shed light on the current circumstance.
“Come on.” Pushing her hands into her hair, she forced herself to think about what she did know. “There’s a connection.”
She did an online search for poetry and literature regarding family, honor, and heart, and nothing in the search prompted anything in her memory. She would have to take a look at the flash drive.
“You want dinner in here?” Carson stood in the doorway, a plate in his hand.
Her stomach rumbled while she debated the wisdom of eating with him here or in the kitchen. Both were too domestic for her peace of mind. “Here’s fine,” she said as an idea struck. “We can shop for a new cookie jar for Ruth.”
“You don’t have more important things to do?”
“Important is relative. I’m banging my head against the proverbial wall here. I could use the distraction.”
With a shrug, Carson handed her a plate with a thick wedge of lasagna, salad greens, and a slice of warm garlic toast. “Smells heavenly.”
“Wish I could take credit, but I just pulled it out of the freezer.”
When he returned with a plate of his own and a glass of water for each of them, she opened a browser window and started poking around at holiday websites while they ate.
“The woman is a genius,” she said with a sigh.
“The cookie jar was full of snickerdoodles.”
“That puts our trouble into perspective. I used to sneak those for breakfast when I was a kid.”
“Good choice,” he said with a chuckle.
She liked that she could make him laugh, especially after the day they’d had. “Oh, yeah. I only really got away with it when I came home from college.”
“Right. Like you can’t get away with anything whenever you want.”
“What’s that mean?”
