Son Of The Sheikh. Ryshia Kennie

gleaming mahogany desk and black leather furniture, gave a solemn feel to the room. A vibrant painting full of color and reflecting the Atlas Mountains hung on the back wall and added a touch of color.

      “Nice digs,” Talib said in an attempt to be casual. In reality, it was the first opportunity that he’d had to see the finished office and what he considered the hub of his friend’s hotel.

      He sank into one of the leather chairs. He met his friend’s worried look and knew the one person who needed to know everything was Ian. After all, the woman involved was in his employ. He began to tell him everything that had transpired. Ian was not just the owner of this hotel and a good friend—Ian Hendrik had once worked for Nassar. He’d been part of their research team before ending that career path to become an entrepreneur, beginning with the purchase of this hotel.

      “So you think someone may have used the explosion as a smoke screen to kidnap the child?”

      “Possibly,” Talib said. “I’m not closing any doors right now.”

      “I’ll find out the identity of the maid,” Ian said. “Once we have that, maybe you’ll have some answers.”

      “None of it makes sense.”

      “You’re sure about that?” Ian asked.

      “What are you suggesting?” Talib scowled.

      “Someone tries to kidnap the child. I’d say they’re trying to get money from Sara or her family.”

      “I considered that possibility. But unless things have changed, Sara has no money.”

      “Her family?”

      “Same.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t come from money. The family fishing business has never been prosperous. It supports the family, her parents and her sisters’ families, but that’s about it.” He looked off into the distance, as if he could find the answer there. “I had the office do a quick search on the family and on Sara. She’s been underemployed for a while.” He frowned—that information was not in line with the ambitious, professional woman he knew. Something rang sour about all of this.

      “So the attempted snatching, just a crime of opportunity, black-market adoption?” Ian mused.

      “I don’t know.” Talib shook his head. “Seems a bit of a stretch. I suppose we can only be thankful that the maid got cold feet.”

      “We’ve got a half-dozen children registered under the age of ten.” Ian ran a hand through his hair.

      “Frightening,” Talib said. “We need to up your security, like yesterday.” He didn’t need to point out that his earlier advice hadn’t been followed. That the hotel had opened under Ian’s new management before all systems were in place.

      “You were right,” Ian agreed. “Whatever the reason behind this we can be thankful that no one was seriously injured. There was no irreparable damage done, except to my reputation. I’ll reimburse any of the guests who lost belongings. Meanwhile, I’ve done a check with my public relations people. It looks like other than being shaken up, the hotel guests, with the exception of a few, are more than happy to take advantage of my offer. A free full-spa experience and one-night free stay, and coverage of alternate rooms for tonight. Most are willing to come back for the remainder of their stay here.”

      “That’s generous,” Talib said.

      “You think? After scaring them to death with what looks like a terrorist attack.” He stood up, pushing back from the desk. “It’s the least I could do.”

      “Makes sense. You don’t want to lose any business. Although, you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose some.”

      “I don’t think it will affect business in the long term and that’s all that matters. That’s my priority. That, and making sure that this doesn’t happen again,” he said with a look at Talib.

      “When I’m finished, you’ll have security that will make the royal family jealous,” Talib said. “This time give me carte blanche and stand aside.”

      “You’re on,” Ian said. “I can’t have a repeat of this. I’ll have my assistant get the employee records together. Should be an hour, two at most.”

      Talib glanced at his watch. “I’ll check in with you later.”

      He stood up. His hand swept through his hair as if it was long enough to get in his face. Three years ago it had been. Three years ago he had experimented with a ponytail. Three years ago he’d experimented with a few things.

      He left with a quick shake of hands and his mind already moving forward to the piece that didn’t fit the puzzle—Sara and the boy.

      Why were they here—why now... Why at all?