Friday. PPM headquarters in Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Samba paced the salon-turned-war-room. Men scrambled to clear the path.

“How do you lose the President?” His voice echoed off the walls.

No one answered because the last person who’d opened their mouth was nursing a broken nose. Samba didn’t have the slightest guilt over that. If they couldn’t produce answers, he didn’t want to hear excuses.

“Where are the patrols? What have they found?” He braced his hands on the table sitting in the middle of the room.

A map of Nouakchott was spread out, the corners held down by a variety of odds and ends. Someone had found plastic army figures and painted them. Black were individual foot patrols. Red were the busses. Orange were choke points. Blue were teams of men with access to vehicles. The white ones were the forces Zeina had provided. Samba didn’t trust them, their loyalty was to the highest bidder, not their cause, so he’d left them behind in the slums to hold the line.

“Is someone going to answer me?” He pushed up off the edge of the table and turned in a circle.

“Foot patrols have moved into the inner city, but they’re facing opposition.” One of the older, more grizzled men stepped forward.

Where the hell was Lemine? He’d be able to tell Samba names.

“The president was hit here.” The man leaned forward and tapped a cluster of army figures painted gold. “There are three avenues of escape. We know the car was left idling in the middle of the road, so they didn’t take this street. They must have gone on foot either here, or here.”

“We have patrols there, yes?” Samba stared at the streets. Most of them he’d never walked, only seen as he passed them by.

“No, the guard and army moved in fast, so our men scattered. There are men in the area asking questions, looking around, but they have to be careful.”

Samba muttered under his breath.

They’d hit someone, that much was clear by the blood reported in the car. One of the men claimed to have been the one to shoot directly into the presidential car at close range. If they believed him, and Samba was willing to, then the guard would need to take the president to a hospital, somewhere he could receive medical attention. If he was fine, he’d have addressed the media already, but he couldn’t if he was fighting for his life.

“What about the girl? Have we found her yet?” Samba walked to the end of the table and peered at a rock that had been placed over the house they believed the Davis girl to be at. A patrol had combed the area, but found only clusters of people hiding out in squalor.

“Not yet.”

“Fuck.” Samba pushed off the table. “Where the hell is Lemine?”

No one answered.

“Has no one seen him today?”

“No. I assumed he was doing your work today,” the man across the table from him said.

Samba glanced around the room, taking in who was there, what they were doing. Lemine should have been here. The only reason Samba hadn’t noticed sooner was because of the countdown to the strike on the presidential convoy.

This wasn’t right.

“Send some men to Lemine’s home. Check on him. Now.”

The one person who knew everything, where all the bodies were buried, the equipment stored, the people secretly loyal to their case—was missing.

Friday. Streets outside Mauricenter Hotel, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Jackie leaned her head against the back of the seat and twisted handfuls of her melahfa. She hoped the others made it okay. By her estimate, it was a good two miles or more from Lemine’s apartment to the hotel where Kyle’s—friend? Former co-worker? She still wasn’t positive she understood the connection, but whoever he was, he had booked a suite to help hide them.

Felix had parked the truck in a loading zone across the street from the side entrance to the building. It gave them a decent view of the traffic in and out of the hotel on two sides. So far, no one in uniforms were around, and there weren’t people loitering, watching the building, either.

“Anything?” She glanced at Felix, who didn’t seem to so much as blink.

“Not yet. They won’t use the comms unless they can help it. Comms mean speaking, which means broadcasting they aren’t from around here.”

“They’re taking alleys and small streets, right?”

“Yeah. They’ll circle around some blocks, backtrack, find a spot, and wait to see if anyone’s following. The way we figure it right now, the further they get from where we were and the closer to downtown, the less chance anyone’s going to be looking for them.”

“But this was the part of the city they found us in this morning.”

“They won’t expect us to double back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jackie, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” Felix finally glanced her way and smiled. It was uncanny how reassuring a simple look from him could be.

“Okay.” It sounded reasonable, but what did she know? “How long until they get here?”

“Stop worrying.” He reached over and pried her hands from her dress. He took one between his hands and massaged her knuckles, palm and fingers.

It was easy to tell her not to stress, hard to make happen. Especially given the news blast about the president that had gone out. Ever since the attack on the president’s convoy, no one had seen the man, or the guards tasked with his safety. For all they knew, the country could be shifting the reins of power and no one was the wiser yet. If that happened, and they woke up tomorrow morning under PPM or military rule, it would be a whole other experience getting out of the country.

Felix would get her out, one way or another. If she kept trusting him, if they could move fast, they’d make it. Somehow.

“Hey, Jackie?” He kept his hold on her hands, unsure if she’d try to smack him or not for this.

“Yeah?”

“I just—in the spirit of being truthful with you... Some of the guys think I’m trying to get close to you so you’re easier to...manage.”

“Oh. Are you?”

“No. If I was, last night would have gone differently.”

“Which part of last night?”

“All of it.”

“You don’t really seem like the manipulative type.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.” She chuckled and kept staring at the street.

“Jackie.” He tugged on her hand until she looked at him. “I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“I know and thank you for being honest. I just... Everything is so... How did it get this way so fast? When we got here, it was simple. Yeah, people seemed tense, but it wasn’t...different.”

“Tell me about why you came.” Felix twisted a little, her hand still in his. Oddly his palm wasn’t sweaty despite the temperature and their combined body heat. It was kind of nice, actually.

“It’s kind of long and complicated.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Okay.” She inhaled a deep breath and sorted through the strands. Where to start? “Couple things that are important to know. Slavery was abolished in the eighties but not made a crime until 2007. Most slaves trace back to Africans or black Moors who were captured or given as gifts. Slave owners are typically the lighter-skinned white Moors. The government takes the position that it’s over, done with, if you’re bringing it up or charging someone with it, then you’re a trouble maker, the West is influencing you, or the worldwide Jewish conspiracy is behind it.”

“Conspiracy?” Felix’s brows rose.

“One story at a time.” She shifted more to face him, too. “Slavery is deeply, deeply rooted in the country’s culture. One of our biggest roadblocks is that people believe they should be slaves and won’t leave their owners. Anyway, what brought me here. There was a man—a slave—given to a family as a present. His wife and child were left with their previous owner. That man—the slave—gets away, gets help by an organization. He wants to get his family—who he believes were being starved to death—out and safe. This organization can’t do anything for... a convoluted reason because of the judicial system so let’s just go with they couldn’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“They start contacting people, other organizations, trying to work legally, but this original owner is pretty much like Teflon when it comes to getting charges to stick to him. A...rival? Someone who isn’t opposed to slavery, but doesn’t like him, contacts a friend of mine that runs an aide group and tells them this guy’s going out of town for three weeks or more. House’ll be empty.”

“I am almost afraid of where this is going...”

“By the time we got here, because I had to nail down logistics and even at a break-neck pace that still took—five days? I think five days of planning and getting our documents in order. We arrived, went straight to the house and broke in. Yup. I break into houses. And I’d do it again. There were fourteen women and children in the slave quarters of the house, locked up, with no food, very little water and facilities that had clogged. Two died before we got there. Believe it or not, those are considered good conditions.”

Jackie sucked down a deep breath. Despite the time spent locked up in their make-shift, restaurant prison, the smell in the slave quarters had been worse. Nothing beat human decay. It was a smell that haunted her.

“We started treating people immediately. IVs for dehydration and all that jazz. Most of them are skin and bones—and we led them out of one captivity and into another. At least the other guys fed us once a day?” She hated that they’d left behind those twelve surviving people.

“Your team, where’s everyone from?”

“Oh, all over. Val’s from Colombia, the doctor-slash-surgeon is from France, one nurse is American, the other Canadian.”

“Wow. All you did was call and tell them there’s a group of people who’ll die if we don’t go get them?”

“Kind of.”

“How often do you do this sort of stuff?”

“Depends. On my own? This is the second time. If there hadn’t been pictures and ample evidence, I wouldn’t have signed on for this. I know my enthusiasm. I know how I can be, and the last thing I want to do is be that white girl who comes in to save the day. Most of the time if I hear of something like this I contact a local organization run by people who live in that country and ask, is there anything I can do to help? How can I help you help them? This time, it would have taken too long, and it was too difficult to work through the proper channels. I mean, I tried, but there’s so much pushback on the very real existence of slavery here that it wasn’t getting anywhere. And I left all those people in that restaurant yesterday.”

“You weren’t given a choice, and we couldn’t go back for them right now.” Felix squeezed her hand. “Duke has people headed to them. They’ve been without you for—what? Twelve hours? Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve done a lot.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“I just wish I could do more. I want a magic wand that makes everything okay. But that’s not going to happen, is it?” She chuckled at her ridiculous wish. The world was sometimes a hard, ugly place.

“Highly unlikely. Listening to you, I feel like I’ve done nothing with my life.”

“You rescue people for a living. You’re like a better version of Superman.”

“Better?” Felix snorted, his brows scrunching up.

“Yeah, I mean, Superman as a whole was pretty awesome, but he was too perfect. You guys are...real. You have stories, mistakes you made right, that sort of thing.”

“You’ve known me for twelve hours, and you think you’re an expert?”

“No.” She chuckled, a tiny bit of her writhed in guilt because while everyone else was making a harrowing trek across the city on foot, here she was in a comfortable truck staring at Felix’s mouth. Not to mention Lemine was handcuffed in the back.

“Jackie?” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Hm?”

“If you ever decide to spend some time in Seattle, would you want to go out?”

“For French fries? What about not getting close to me with ulterior motives in mind?”

“I was thinking something a bit more substantial than fries, but if that’s what you’re into I know a few places.” His smile widened, and he chuckled. “The rest can wait for later. You can always say no.”

“I’d like to go out, for fries or something else.”

His grin was contagious. God, when was the last time she’d gone on a date? When was the last time someone had asked her out?

Her last three boyfriends were people she’d met working on location, and nothing had lasted longer than a few months. It was hard to keep things going with someone who didn’t travel as much as she did or understand her priorities. She didn’t know if this thing with Felix was going anywhere, but the way he made her feel—all warm and fuzzy—was a welcome change.

Felix tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him. He leaned closer, his eyes on her mouth. She stopped breathing, couldn’t move, even her thoughts ceased. Everything in her focused on his parted lips, the stubble on his chin, how his hand tightened around hers.

She tilted her head back.

He stopped and blinked.

The bubble that had seemed to separate them from the rest of the world burst.

Felix tilted his head to the side and lifted his free hand, tapping his ear.

The comms.

Shit.

“Copy that,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“Are they here?” She let go of him and turned to study the hotel.

“Fucking great timing.” Felix chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, they should be coming around the corner now. Kyle’s going to leave the three outside, enter, check in under Duke’s name then give us the signal to come up.”

“Okay. Good.” Jackie shifted, her body too warm and far too aware of the man next to her.

“That’s probably Kyle there.” Felix pointed at a man in a pale colored daraa.

“I’m worried about how much you guys stick out walking down the street.” It was the way the men carried themselves, their tendency to take up twice their size in space.

“Hopefully we’re done walking.”

A sleek car pulled up to the rear entrance of the Mauricenter Hotel. Jackie leaned forward, searching the sidewalk for the others.

The rear door of the car opened, and a woman draped in an embroidered scarf in brilliant turquoise got out and turned, smoothing her clothing. The color was so bright and bold it was impossible to not look at her.

“I think we’ll let—”

“That’s Zeina Razqa.” Jackie pointed at the woman. Maybe if she hadn’t just seen Zeina at a fundraiser, not six weeks ago Jackie wouldn’t recognize her on sight. But she had. And Zeina was a woman determined to stand out.

“Where?” Felix sat forward, following where Jackie pointed.

“There. In the turquoise. Kyle just went inside.” Two people joined Zeina. Assistants maybe? It was hard to tell. “Does she know about us? Why is she here?”

“Those don’t look like bodyguards or PPM security. Think they’re here for you?” Felix asked.

Jackie grasped the door handle and pulled. They wanted answers, and the woman supposedly behind it all was right there.

“I’m going to—”

“Stop,” Felix snapped. He grasped her wrist and nearly pulled her across the cab into his lap. His gaze remained on the now two cars. “Kyle—abort. Zeina just arrived, and it looks like she’s going into the hotel to meet someone.”

A man got out of the second vehicle. He didn’t pause to look around. His suit was well-tailored and neat, but he might as well have been wearing a uniform. Someone called his name from the car, maybe the driver, and he glanced back.

“Oh...shit...” Jackie’s mouth went dry, tremors shook her body, and she wanted to crawl under the truck, dig a hole and stay there.

“Who is that? You recognize him.” Felix turned his attention on her. “Yes, Jackie recognizes someone else.”

“That’s Papis Taleb. His official title is the General of the Armed Forces of Mauritania. If he’s meeting with Zeina, who is funding the PPM soldiers, then...”

Felix repeated everything she said while she sat there letting it all sink in.

This wasn’t just a civil war. It was organized. Intentional. And if they could believe what Lemine told them, Jackie was right in the middle of it, whether she wanted to be or not. She was the leverage Zeina and her cronies needed to ensure no one supported the existing government.

“Felix, it’s time I got out of the country.” She hated saying those words, knowing she’d be leaving a team behind, but if Lemine was to be believed then her presence really did make this all worse. This was why Dad must have wanted her out of here. He’d known this was happening, and he wasn’t going to stop it. Or maybe he couldn’t. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention to his company or their work in a while, not unless she could twist a donation out of them.

“Here.” Felix passed his earpiece to her, the frown lines so deep they seemed to break his face.

She slid the device on.

“H-hello?” she said.

“Jackie, hey.” Kyle’s voice was muted, quiet. “I’m inside. I’ve got eyes on them.”

“You need to get out of there. We can’t stay here.”

“Correct. I’ve told Adam to find us a place nearby, but they’re starting to shut down this part of the city. I need your ears. I’m going to follow them up stairs and get my comm near them. I need you to stay close and listen to what they say, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Jackie glanced at Felix, who didn’t seem pleased with this turn of events. She couldn’t blame him. This was all pretty awful to her, too.

Friday. Streets outside Mauricenter Hotel, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Jackie leaned her head against the back of the seat and twisted handfuls of her melahfa. She hoped the others made it okay. By her estimate, it was a good two miles or more from Lemine’s apartment to the hotel where Kyle’s—friend? Former co-worker? She still wasn’t positive she understood the connection, but whoever he was, he had booked a suite to help hide them.

Felix had parked the truck in a loading zone across the street from the side entrance to the building. It gave them a decent view of the traffic in and out of the hotel on two sides. So far, no one in uniforms were around, and there weren’t people loitering, watching the building, either.

“Anything?” She glanced at Felix, who didn’t seem to so much as blink.

“Not yet. They won’t use the comms unless they can help it. Comms mean speaking, which means broadcasting they aren’t from around here.”

“They’re taking alleys and small streets, right?”

“Yeah. They’ll circle around some blocks, backtrack, find a spot, and wait to see if anyone’s following. The way we figure it right now, the further they get from where we were and the closer to downtown, the less chance anyone’s going to be looking for them.”

“But this was the part of the city they found us in this morning.”

“They won’t expect us to double back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jackie, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” Felix finally glanced her way and smiled. It was uncanny how reassuring a simple look from him could be.

“Okay.” It sounded reasonable, but what did she know? “How long until they get here?”

“Stop worrying.” He reached over and pried her hands from her dress. He took one between his hands and massaged her knuckles, palm and fingers.

It was easy to tell her not to stress, hard to make happen. Especially given the news blast about the president that had gone out. Ever since the attack on the president’s convoy, no one had seen the man, or the guards tasked with his safety. For all they knew, the country could be shifting the reins of power and no one was the wiser yet. If that happened, and they woke up tomorrow morning under PPM or military rule, it would be a whole other experience getting out of the country.

Felix would get her out, one way or another. If she kept trusting him, if they could move fast, they’d make it. Somehow.

“Hey, Jackie?” He kept his hold on her hands, unsure if she’d try to smack him or not for this.

“Yeah?”

“I just—in the spirit of being truthful with you... Some of the guys think I’m trying to get close to you so you’re easier to...manage.”

“Oh. Are you?”

“No. If I was, last night would have gone differently.”

“Which part of last night?”

“All of it.”

“You don’t really seem like the manipulative type.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.” She chuckled and kept staring at the street.

“Jackie.” He tugged on her hand until she looked at him. “I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“I know and thank you for being honest. I just... Everything is so... How did it get this way so fast? When we got here, it was simple. Yeah, people seemed tense, but it wasn’t...different.”

“Tell me about why you came.” Felix twisted a little, her hand still in his. Oddly his palm wasn’t sweaty despite the temperature and their combined body heat. It was kind of nice, actually.

“It’s kind of long and complicated.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Okay.” She inhaled a deep breath and sorted through the strands. Where to start? “Couple things that are important to know. Slavery was abolished in the eighties but not made a crime until 2007. Most slaves trace back to Africans or black Moors who were captured or given as gifts. Slave owners are typically the lighter-skinned white Moors. The government takes the position that it’s over, done with, if you’re bringing it up or charging someone with it, then you’re a trouble maker, the West is influencing you, or the worldwide Jewish conspiracy is behind it.”

“Conspiracy?” Felix’s brows rose.

“One story at a time.” She shifted more to face him, too. “Slavery is deeply, deeply rooted in the country’s culture. One of our biggest roadblocks is that people believe they should be slaves and won’t leave their owners. Anyway, what brought me here. There was a man—a slave—given to a family as a present. His wife and child were left with their previous owner. That man—the slave—gets away, gets help by an organization. He wants to get his family—who he believes were being starved to death—out and safe. This organization can’t do anything for... a convoluted reason because of the judicial system so let’s just go with they couldn’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“They start contacting people, other organizations, trying to work legally, but this original owner is pretty much like Teflon when it comes to getting charges to stick to him. A...rival? Someone who isn’t opposed to slavery, but doesn’t like him, contacts a friend of mine that runs an aide group and tells them this guy’s going out of town for three weeks or more. House’ll be empty.”

“I am almost afraid of where this is going...”

“By the time we got here, because I had to nail down logistics and even at a break-neck pace that still took—five days? I think five days of planning and getting our documents in order. We arrived, went straight to the house and broke in. Yup. I break into houses. And I’d do it again. There were fourteen women and children in the slave quarters of the house, locked up, with no food, very little water and facilities that had clogged. Two died before we got there. Believe it or not, those are considered good conditions.”

Jackie sucked down a deep breath. Despite the time spent locked up in their make-shift, restaurant prison, the smell in the slave quarters had been worse. Nothing beat human decay. It was a smell that haunted her.

“We started treating people immediately. IVs for dehydration and all that jazz. Most of them are skin and bones—and we led them out of one captivity and into another. At least the other guys fed us once a day?” She hated that they’d left behind those twelve surviving people.

“Your team, where’s everyone from?”

“Oh, all over. Val’s from Colombia, the doctor-slash-surgeon is from France, one nurse is American, the other Canadian.”

“Wow. All you did was call and tell them there’s a group of people who’ll die if we don’t go get them?”

“Kind of.”

“How often do you do this sort of stuff?”

“Depends. On my own? This is the second time. If there hadn’t been pictures and ample evidence, I wouldn’t have signed on for this. I know my enthusiasm. I know how I can be, and the last thing I want to do is be that white girl who comes in to save the day. Most of the time if I hear of something like this I contact a local organization run by people who live in that country and ask, is there anything I can do to help? How can I help you help them? This time, it would have taken too long, and it was too difficult to work through the proper channels. I mean, I tried, but there’s so much pushback on the very real existence of slavery here that it wasn’t getting anywhere. And I left all those people in that restaurant yesterday.”

“You weren’t given a choice, and we couldn’t go back for them right now.” Felix squeezed her hand. “Duke has people headed to them. They’ve been without you for—what? Twelve hours? Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve done a lot.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“I just wish I could do more. I want a magic wand that makes everything okay. But that’s not going to happen, is it?” She chuckled at her ridiculous wish. The world was sometimes a hard, ugly place.

“Highly unlikely. Listening to you, I feel like I’ve done nothing with my life.”

“You rescue people for a living. You’re like a better version of Superman.”

“Better?” Felix snorted, his brows scrunching up.

“Yeah, I mean, Superman as a whole was pretty awesome, but he was too perfect. You guys are...real. You have stories, mistakes you made right, that sort of thing.”

“You’ve known me for twelve hours, and you think you’re an expert?”

“No.” She chuckled, a tiny bit of her writhed in guilt because while everyone else was making a harrowing trek across the city on foot, here she was in a comfortable truck staring at Felix’s mouth. Not to mention Lemine was handcuffed in the back.

“Jackie?” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Hm?”

“If you ever decide to spend some time in Seattle, would you want to go out?”

“For French fries? What about not getting close to me with ulterior motives in mind?”

“I was thinking something a bit more substantial than fries, but if that’s what you’re into I know a few places.” His smile widened, and he chuckled. “The rest can wait for later. You can always say no.”

“I’d like to go out, for fries or something else.”

His grin was contagious. God, when was the last time she’d gone on a date? When was the last time someone had asked her out?

Her last three boyfriends were people she’d met working on location, and nothing had lasted longer than a few months. It was hard to keep things going with someone who didn’t travel as much as she did or understand her priorities. She didn’t know if this thing with Felix was going anywhere, but the way he made her feel—all warm and fuzzy—was a welcome change.

Felix tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him. He leaned closer, his eyes on her mouth. She stopped breathing, couldn’t move, even her thoughts ceased. Everything in her focused on his parted lips, the stubble on his chin, how his hand tightened around hers.

She tilted her head back.

He stopped and blinked.

The bubble that had seemed to separate them from the rest of the world burst.

Felix tilted his head to the side and lifted his free hand, tapping his ear.

The comms.

Shit.

“Copy that,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“Are they here?” She let go of him and turned to study the hotel.

“Fucking great timing.” Felix chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, they should be coming around the corner now. Kyle’s going to leave the three outside, enter, check in under Duke’s name then give us the signal to come up.”

“Okay. Good.” Jackie shifted, her body too warm and far too aware of the man next to her.

“That’s probably Kyle there.” Felix pointed at a man in a pale colored daraa.

“I’m worried about how much you guys stick out walking down the street.” It was the way the men carried themselves, their tendency to take up twice their size in space.

“Hopefully we’re done walking.”

A sleek car pulled up to the rear entrance of the Mauricenter Hotel. Jackie leaned forward, searching the sidewalk for the others.

The rear door of the car opened, and a woman draped in an embroidered scarf in brilliant turquoise got out and turned, smoothing her clothing. The color was so bright and bold it was impossible to not look at her.

“I think we’ll let—”

“That’s Zeina Razqa.” Jackie pointed at the woman. Maybe if she hadn’t just seen Zeina at a fundraiser, not six weeks ago Jackie wouldn’t recognize her on sight. But she had. And Zeina was a woman determined to stand out.

“Where?” Felix sat forward, following where Jackie pointed.

“There. In the turquoise. Kyle just went inside.” Two people joined Zeina. Assistants maybe? It was hard to tell. “Does she know about us? Why is she here?”

“Those don’t look like bodyguards or PPM security. Think they’re here for you?” Felix asked.

Jackie grasped the door handle and pulled. They wanted answers, and the woman supposedly behind it all was right there.

“I’m going to—”

“Stop,” Felix snapped. He grasped her wrist and nearly pulled her across the cab into his lap. His gaze remained on the now two cars. “Kyle—abort. Zeina just arrived, and it looks like she’s going into the hotel to meet someone.”

A man got out of the second vehicle. He didn’t pause to look around. His suit was well-tailored and neat, but he might as well have been wearing a uniform. Someone called his name from the car, maybe the driver, and he glanced back.

“Oh...shit...” Jackie’s mouth went dry, tremors shook her body, and she wanted to crawl under the truck, dig a hole and stay there.

“Who is that? You recognize him.” Felix turned his attention on her. “Yes, Jackie recognizes someone else.”

“That’s Papis Taleb. His official title is the General of the Armed Forces of Mauritania. If he’s meeting with Zeina, who is funding the PPM soldiers, then...”

Felix repeated everything she said while she sat there letting it all sink in.

This wasn’t just a civil war. It was organized. Intentional. And if they could believe what Lemine told them, Jackie was right in the middle of it, whether she wanted to be or not. She was the leverage Zeina and her cronies needed to ensure no one supported the existing government.

“Felix, it’s time I got out of the country.” She hated saying those words, knowing she’d be leaving a team behind, but if Lemine was to be believed then her presence really did make this all worse. This was why Dad must have wanted her out of here. He’d known this was happening, and he wasn’t going to stop it. Or maybe he couldn’t. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention to his company or their work in a while, not unless she could twist a donation out of them.

“Here.” Felix passed his earpiece to her, the frown lines so deep they seemed to break his face.

She slid the device on.

“H-hello?” she said.

“Jackie, hey.” Kyle’s voice was muted, quiet. “I’m inside. I’ve got eyes on them.”

“You need to get out of there. We can’t stay here.”

“Correct. I’ve told Adam to find us a place nearby, but they’re starting to shut down this part of the city. I need your ears. I’m going to follow them up stairs and get my comm near them. I need you to stay close and listen to what they say, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Jackie glanced at Felix, who didn’t seem pleased with this turn of events. She couldn’t blame him. This was all pretty awful to her, too.

Saturday. Mauricenter Hotel, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Zeina Razqa might as well be a God damn queen.

She didn’t want to run a country. She wanted a global empire of gold and luxury. Controlling the mines here was one step in going from niche designer to a household brand.

“This way, please?” The hotel employee gestured toward a private elevator.

Neither she nor Papis spoke. The things they had to say to each other were not for other ears. Oh, if Samba could see her now. She’d love to rub his nose in this. Papis had reached out to her, not him.

They were guided off the elevator and to a private dining suite on one of the upper floors. The glass wall gave them a view of the city, the spires of the mosque in the distance. She could give all of this to Papis. Did he know that?

The concierge left them in the hands of the wait staff, who presented them with a light lunch. The presumption to order for her irked Zeina, but not enough to begrudge the general his due.

“May we speak in private?” Those were the first words Papis said directly to her.

“We may.” She nodded at the man and woman she’d brought with her. One was her PA, the other a very talented craftsman. What they did wasn’t important. The show of wealth and power was. Most women of her class wouldn’t have the freedoms or liberties she did, and yet here she was, hardly thirty years old and about to make her choice of leader for this country.

“Such troubled times we live in.” Papis pinched the linen napkin between his fingers and shook it out. “Did you hear about the angry mob this morning?”

“Are we really going to speak in circles?” She narrowed her gaze. “I had hoped agreeing to this meal would put an end to the double talk.”

“One can never be too careful.” He stared at her with a cool expression.

“If you intend to waste my time, I’ll leave now.” She was a king maker, for God sakes.

“You are funding the PPM efforts to eliminate the president and put your chosen man in power.”

“That’s a very bold statement.”

“It’s a bold move. However, I will not support Samba Hamadi as president, dictator or otherwise.”

That was Zeina’s concern. Those in power didn’t share it well, and Samba wanted to leap to the head of the table when he wasn’t even granted a seat to begin with. She’d hoped that the war would weaken the hold people like Papis held on the reins of power, those of his equal would flee, and then there’d be no one left to stand in their way. Unfortunately, Papis wasn’t going anywhere.

“You want the gold mines the Americans use.” Papis continued to stare at her.

She hadn’t heard a question, so she didn’t respond to his statement.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Zeina didn’t like the emotionless mask staring back at her. Papis had other motives, things he wanted, and Zeina wasn’t going to let anyone, especially a man, clip her wings. She took a small sip from her water and set it down. Whatever he was about to say would not be what she wanted to hear.

“Continue to fund Samba’s efforts for another week. The military is loyal to me. The President was shot today and taken somewhere only the Presidential Guard knows. Give me a week to fend off Samba’s men while I find the president and eliminate him, then drop your support of Samba. I assume power. You get the gold mines and then we can pursue a more...familiar relationship.”

“A more familiar relationship?” Zeina’s mouth dried. It was no secret that Papis’ last wife has died. There’d been questions, which were swept under the table. Suffice to say, Zeina didn’t want to have any sort of close ties to the man.

“You’re an intelligent woman to have organized this, but a bit short sighted. Samba will never be president. With me to guide you, we would make a good team.”

The nerve of this man. She grit her teeth and held her tongue.

Zeina counted to five.

Nope.

Her blood boiled hot under her skin.

Papis was on the hunt for his next wife, whom he would no doubt out-live.

She’d seen men like him. They crushed bright stars under their heel. She would not be possessed by any man.

“I will consider your generous offer.” She pushed to her feet. “Sorry I can’t stay for the meal. I’ve got big plans for my day.”

Top of which was finding every bit of dirt on Papis Taleb and making him wish he’d never thought about her sex ever again. Samba might be a misogynistic bastard, but at least she knew what drove him. Papis would rue the day he set his sights on her.

Zeina strode through the door and nearly ran into one of the attendants waiting outside. His head was bowed, but his clothes were sweaty, the hem covered in sand.

“The Mauricenter used to be known for its staff.” She flicked her fingers, and the man scuttled out of her way.

Soon, if she had her way, more than just the help would treat her with respect, beginning with Papis Taleb.