CHAPTER 14
Enver Uzan listened closely to Nazir, who had been employed at Kitra before being fired. They sat in a tent in the slums near Bachir’s tent. Nazir was a young, restless Sudanese, sweat dripping off his dark temples, his eyes red and bloodshot. Like many child soldiers in western Sudan, he’d become addicted to heroin and cocaine, the drugs of choice given to them before they went in to kill their enemies. That way, the young boys using the AK-47s fired without feeling or social conscience. It also made them bold and risk-taking; they didn’t care if they received wounds or were killed themselves. Earlier, he’d seen Nazir’s forearms as he pushed up the sleeves of his white robe: a number of nicks and scars, and at least two holes indicating bullet wounds from his past.
Bachir, who was crazy as far as Uzan was concerned, had loudly boasted that he could produce one of his soldiers who had worked at Kitra. But it would cost Uzan many Sudanese pounds. The mercenary was interested in the layout of the charity, and having access to an employee who had worked there and seen it firsthand was worth the price. Besides, his employer, Zakir Sharan, was a billionaire. He could afford to lay out one thousand pounds to speak to Nazir.
Quickly, Nazir drew Kitra with a stick on the red ground between them, then proceeded to show Uzan everything. Because Kitra was so far out in the middle of the grasslands and built strategically on a small hill, it posed a number of problems for Uzan to approach it without being spotted. Studying the layout, he rubbed his neatly groomed black beard. The place was huge—much larger than he’d anticipated.
“What of security?” he demanded of Nazir.
Nazir’s eyes widened. “Captain Ayman Taban has soldiers who protect Kitra.”
Uzan had heard Taban’s name. As a member of the upper ranks of al-Qaeda, he knew the players in all the countries of the Middle East and Africa. “He retired and works there now?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir, he does.”
Scowling, Uzan’s mouth tightened. “Are sentries posted in Kitra?”
“Yes, and he has three jeeps going around outside the seven-foot red clay wall too, twenty-four hours a day.”
That made things even worse for Uzan. “Are there any nearby villages?”
“Yes, one that is two miles south of Kitra. And then there are several more. Some as far away as twenty-five miles from the charity.”
“Do they visit Kitra?”
Nodding, Nazir said, “From the nearest village, which has a very large herd of cattle, the women bring butter to Kitra. They exchange the butter for clothes that are sewn there or for money.”
“But it’s always women?”
“Yes.”
“Are there camel caravans that pass nearby?”
“Sometimes, yes.” Nazir brightened and sat up from where he crouched opposite Uzan. “By the time they have crossed the desert from the east, they need water. There are huge water troughs that Kitra keeps filled for all animals, but they are located outside the north wall.”
“Are these caravans allowed to use them?”
“Yes. Sometimes, the master of the caravan will go inside Kitra and bargain for other things, such as the fabric and material used by the women who sew for the charity. They trade fresh dates for the material.”
“Are these men allowed to walk freely around Kitra when they enter to bargain?”
“No, they are always escorted by at least one armed soldier, usually two. They are not allowed to move freely within Kitra.”
Uzan scowled more deeply. “Do the people who run this charity ever go outside its walls?” If he couldn’t get in, maybe he could arrange an attack against a group of them outside those big iron gates.
“Yes,” Nazir said. “Kitra has its own medical doctor and staff—a doctor and three nurses. They have an optician for people who need glasses and eye examinations. There is also a dentist and two assistants. They often go by hafla, visiting surrounding villages, giving medical aid, vaccinations, and dental and eye care for the people. Several times a year, foreign doctors come in and volunteer their services to the villages as well.”
Uzan unrolled a map, placing it down on the rug laid over the hard-packed dirt in front of him. He stared in the half-light provided by the open tent flap, studying the area surrounding Kitra. “Do they have a schedule when they do this?”
“Oh, at least once every month, two or three haflas bearing volunteer doctors and nurses from around the world are driven out to a faraway village, sahib.”
“What about Teren Lambert? Does she ever go with them?”
“Yes, often she accompanies them, because she speaks Arabic and many of the local village dialects. She is the doctors’ interpreter and translator. Her job is very important and she is always going on these rounds.”
“Who else interprets for these groups?”
“Only she. It is part of her duties as an administrator to get volunteers from around the world to come into Kitra for a week to help Sudanese villagers. She maintains a monthly record of such visits by foreigners.”
That looked promising to Uzan. “So, she does this monthly?”
“When I was there, she left many times each month for such duties.”
“I need a schedule.”
Nazir wiped his sweaty face with his large hand. “Then you need to send a man to the villages south of Kitra to find out when the next medical team is going out for a visit. News is often passed by word of mouth to nearby villages and all the people walk to the location where they’ll be cared for by the medical team.”
Uzan wished he had a good hacker with him so he could get him to break into Kitra’s servers to snoop around. He would call Sharan about the possibility. If not successful, he was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. “You know these villages, Nazir?”
“Yes, sahib, I do. I would often go along with them to collect medical garbage so it wouldn’t be left behind in a village and spread disease.”
Grunting, Uzan said, “Then get going. How long will it take you?”
“Do you want the earliest visit by the medical people? Or should I go to all villages and find out their summer schedule?”
“Find one that has the summer schedule and then see me.” He’d need time to buy a group of mercenaries who weren’t drugged up to their eyeballs. Uzan entertained kidnapping Teren Lambert. It appeared, under the circumstances, the easiest route to creating serious disruption to Kitra and to Delos. He stared over at the soldier. “And take no drugs. I want you clearheaded. I’ll give you a satellite phone and teach you how to use it. When you arrive at a village that has Kitra’s full visiting schedule, you’ll call me. I’ll write the information down on this map. Once you get me all the information, then I can form my plan. You’ll be paid in full after you get me that intel.”
Instantly, Nazir was on his sandaled feet. “Yes, sahib.”
*
Teren’s stomach was knotted and rolled as they completed their somber meeting for the supervisors at Kitra. No one was smiling now that Ayman and Nolan had finished giving them their briefing. Teren had sat next to Farida, who would reach over and pat her hand every once in a while, attuned to her being upset because she had been targeted by Sharan. Who wouldn’t be? Teren wondered. It wasn’t every day she was put on a hit list by a major al-Qaeda organization. There had also been a Skype session with Wyatt Lockwood, who had updated everyone from Artemis. They were sending over two drones that would be kept inside Kitra. Plus, two ex–Air Force drone pilots would be arriving with the pilotless aircraft. They would live within the walls of Kitra. That made Teren feel better. Those eyes in the sky could see for many miles, trolling along at twenty-thousand feet, unseen and unheard by those below. They would provide real-time intel for such things as Sudanese Army maneuvers, camel caravans, or anyone driving on the road to Kitra.
Sometimes, during the briefing, she’d felt Nolan’s gaze on her and looked up to see him watching her. Each time, she felt that warm cloak of protection surrounding her. Teren had argued with Wyatt that she should leave Kitra to keep it safe and no longer be a target of Sharan. Wyatt had quickly punctured her argument, saying it was the charity at large that was under potential attack. And that the entire American, Turkish, and Greek families who owned Delos were also targets, not just Kitra.
She was only a “secondary target,” which didn’t make her feel any better.
It was near lunchtime when they broke to go back to their offices. Farida and Hadii surrounded her, hugged her, kissed her cheeks, and told her that they loved her and would protect her. It brought tears to Teren’s eyes as she hugged them back. When she’d turned, Nolan was waiting at the door to the conference room. She managed a weak smile as she walked around the table and approached him.
“Why don’t we have lunch at the duplex?” he said, cupping her elbow, leading her out onto the busy hall. “I think you need some quiet time.”
She fell into step with him. “That obvious, huh?”
“You’re pale, Teren.” And then he said more gently, “You have every reason to feel the way you do.”
“Yeah, I feel like one of those rabbits we see every morning out there when we jog. They’re defenseless, too.” She felt his fingers tighten a little more around her elbow, and she wanted to be close to him because he fed her courage, chasing some of her fear away.
“Starting tonight, I want to show you some self-defense moves so you can protect yourself if you are attacked.”
“Okay, that sounds positive. But do you think that will happen?” She risked a look up at his impassive expression. Throughout the briefing, Nolan had worn his game face. She could tell nothing of what he was feeling. She was glad it came off as soon as they walked together.
“Being prepared is nine-tenths of surviving, Teren.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, frowning.
“You already know how to use a pistol because Ayman taught you, and he’s had you get out on that small shooting range outside Kitra every couple of weeks to keep your aim sharp.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But honestly, Nolan? I could never fire a pistol at anyone with the intent of hurting them. I just don’t have it in me. I told Ayman that too, but he insisted I learn.”
Nolan pushed open the main door that led out to the shady courtyard. “Don’t you think you could pull a trigger if you saw a man coming at you with the intent to kidnap or harm you?”
Her stomach rolled big-time as they walked down the red tile sidewalk. Around her, many of the employees were coming out for lunch, looking forward to eating at the picnic tables beneath the shade of the trees. “I-I don’t know, Nolan.”
He decided to change the topic. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure her, leading her toward her duplex. Overhead, a few puffy clouds were gathering. Nolan wished it would thunderstorm in the afternoon, cutting the unbearable heat and cooling off the burning grasslands surrounding Kitra.
Halting at her door, he opened it for her. Teren suddenly stiffened and jerked out of his grasp. He heard her gulp and give him an anxious look, her hand over her mouth as she tore past him, running down the hall toward the bathroom.
For a second, Nolan was stunned. He suddenly realized that it was Teren’s sensitive-stomach issue. Cursing, he quickly shut the door, locked it, and cleared the place. Then he hurried down the hall toward where she’d disappeared.
He heard her retching and walked into her large bathroom. He felt sick himself as he saw her kneeling in front of the toilet, gripping it as she dry-heaved.
He knew she’d feel embarrassed by him seeing her like this. Grabbing a glass of water and dampening a nearby cloth, he walked over, crouching down, his arm light around her waist. He saw the abject misery in her features, the darkness in her eyes. Shakily, she took the water, drank a little, and spat into the bowl. She did it three times before returning the glass to him.
Leaning up, he flushed the toilet. And then he handed her the damp cloth.
“Here,” he urged. “Wipe your nose and mouth.” Helplessness clawed at Nolan. He could see the terror in her eyes as she straightened, wiping the cloth against her face with trembling fingers.
He released her waist and gently smoothed her tee against her hunched shoulders. She was shaking uncontrollably.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly.
“Don’t be,” he said gruffly. He took the cloth and handed her the glass. “Rinse your mouth out one more time.” Her fingers were chilled as she wrapped her hands around it, giving him a look of apology. Her face glistened with perspiration. He ached to take away her pain, her fear, stilling his hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her. When Teren was finished, he took the cup, setting it on a nearby counter. “Feel like getting up yet?”
“Just let me kneel here for a moment.” She put her face in her hands and hung her head.
“Take your time,” Nolan said calmly. He moved his hand across her hair, smoothing it away from her face. “It’s going to be all right, Teren,” he rasped, sliding his arm around her shoulders, urging her to lean against his body for support. He pressed a kiss to her hair, wanting to will away all the terror he felt around her.
Once more, Teren had pushed all her feelings deep down inside her until they welled up in the form of vomiting. Was this something she’d done as a child, too? Now he felt her lean into him, entrusting herself to him.
“Think you’re going to have another round?”
With a shake of her head, she muttered, “No…I get so weak afterward. I-it takes me a few minutes to gather myself. I’m so sorry, Nolan…I didn’t want you to see me like this. It’s humiliating…”
The strangled emotions in her voice tore his heart open. “Hey,” he growled. “No apologies. Remember, when we’re scared, the body reacts. It’s just what it does, Teren. There’s no shame in it, sweetheart. I’m the one who should be apologizing, anyway. I pushed you over the edge.” He saw her hands fall away and she barely looked up at him.
“I was already there,” she admitted hoarsely. “Help me stand, Nolan, please? I want to get out of here.”
He gave her a faint smile. “I’ll do better than that. Hold on.” In one smooth, unbroken motion, he lifted Teren into his arms, walking her out of the bathroom and taking her down the hall to her bedroom. He nudged the door open with the toe of his boot and then gently placed her on the bed.
Teren had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wearily resting her forehead against his neck as he carried her down the hall. She trusted him, and his heart soared with that knowledge.
“Why don’t you rest for a while?” He sat her down, their hips brushing against one another. He’d brought up a pale pink knitted blanket that she had on the end of her bed. Tucking it in around her to her waist, he watched her skin become less pale. What Teren needed was to be fussed over, and Nolan was more than willing to give that to her.
“Th-thanks,” she whispered. She pushed some of her hair away from her face, fingers trembling. “I can’t stay here long, Nolan. I have to be back at work in an hour.”
He shook his head and said, “I’ll let Farida know you need to take the afternoon off, Teren. She’ll understand. And I won’t tell her why. She knows you’re upset about this. Anyone would be, so just rest. Promise?”
Closing her eyes, Teren said hollowly, “Okay…yes, call her? I can do what I need to do this afternoon from my computer here in my home office. There are a lot of things that need to be done by the end of the day, Nolan.”
He patted her hip. “I’ll call her. Now, go to sleep for a while. I don’t think you got a lot of sleep last night, did you?”
Sighing, Teren grimaced. “No…not a lot. This is just weighing on me…”
He forced himself to rise, because what Nolan really wanted to do was curve her beside him, hold her, and allow her to feel the protection she desperately needed, but to do that would be a foolish move on his part. Teren was already vulnerable, and he knew he couldn’t resist loving her if she were in his arms.
“Understandable,” he agreed gently. “I’ll crack the door, but I’ll be around. I’m not leaving you alone here. And I’ll let Farida know you’re working from home this afternoon. If you need me, I’ll be out in your living room.”
Teren closed her eyes and moved to her side, tucking her face against the pillow, exhausted. Very soon, she spiraled into a deep, healing sleep, knowing Nolan was nearby, protecting her.
*
Every once in a while, Nolan would quietly check in on Teren. She was sleeping soundly, having pulled the pink blanket over her shoulders. What concerned him was the fact that she’d gone into a fetal position of protection, knees drawn up to her torso. It showed him just how frightened she was. The body never lied. A person could lie, but the body always told the truth. Those nonverbal reactions spoke volumes.
He had called Farida hours earlier. It was three p.m., and Nolan was going to let Teren sleep as long as she wanted. Fear physically drained people—he had seen it dozens of times while on the job. It was shock robbing the body instead of supporting it. And Ayman’s unflinching report of what was going on made every supervisor in that room upset as they tried to deal with their own stunned reactions.
He imagined Teren felt like a piece of raw meat thrown out on a sidewalk with no way to protect herself in that meeting.
At four p.m. Nolan peeked into her bedroom and saw her slowly open her eyes, lying on her back, the blanket across her lower body.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he teased, easing into the room. “How are you feeling?”
Yawning, her hand against her mouth, Teren mumbled, “I just woke up…”
Nolan eased his bulk onto the edge of the bed, their hips barely touching. He saw how drowsy her eyes looked. Her hair was mussed and he slid a few strands away from her left eye. “You needed the sleep.”
“I had nightmares last night,” she admitted thickly, slowly pulling herself up and leaning back against the headboard. “I woke myself up screaming in one of them.”
“I didn’t hear you.” Teren’s shoulders were slumped, and she looked more like a child waking up than an adult. Coming out of sleep was when a person had no shields in place. Nolan hungrily absorbed Teren’s drowsy state, seeing no fear in her eyes. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek. “You’re not pale anymore, either. That’s good.”
Her skin was soft and firm beneath his fingertips. Her lips parted. She was pure innocence to Nolan in that moment, reacting positively to his touch, a rosy glow coming to her cheeks. It was a sign that she enjoyed it.
Something deep within Teren broke the moment Nolan slid his hand along her cheek. It was from her past. Maybe shame. Guilt? She wasn’t sure. Lifting her chin, she looked directly into his eyes, saw the desire for her in their depths, felt it warmly embracing her. Without thinking, she followed her heart for once and leaned toward him, framing his face with her hands and leaning up…up to meet and slide against his mouth. She moved beyond her fear, beyond that age-old shame, because her heart blossomed fiercely beneath Nolan’s care and tenderness toward her. All she wanted—and all she needed—was to kiss him, to give back to him a small token for what he’d given unselfishly to her this past week.
Nolan froze for a split second but then swept her hard against him, hungrily taking her mouth like a man starved for sustenance—for her. She drowned in the strength of his lips caressing hers. Eager to feel him closer, just as hungry as he was, she melted into his embrace, pressed against him, their hearts thundering in wild unison. Teren lost herself in his male warmth, that beautiful mouth of his teasing, cajoling, and pleasuring her until a moan rose within her, flames licking down to her nipples, her lower body clenching, which screamed to be satisfied and touched by no one else but him.
Drifting in the heat of his mouth sliding provocatively against hers, nudging open her lips, inviting her to match him, she surrendered herself to Nolan completely, giving herself to him, even her ravaged heart.
Losing herself in his scent—the sweetness of the grasslands, the dried sweat on his skin, and that aphrodisiac that was only Nolan—made her thighs clench as he moved his fingers through her hair, caressing her scalp, wild licks of electricity skittering across it. His breathing grew shallow and she opened up more to him, brushing shyly against his tongue. Teren heard him groan and the vibration rippled through her body, tightening her nipples to an almost painful degree. It had been so long since she’d wanted to be touched. Now there wasn’t a place on her body where she didn’t want Nolan’s exploring hands.
He tore his mouth from hers, his eyes slits, burning with want of her. “Teren—”
“No, I want you,” she pleaded huskily, sliding her hand across his rough bearded jaw, holding his gaze. “I need you…” She saw his gaze soften, felt a powerful wave of emotions crashing against her. “You want me. I know you do. Nothing’s ever felt so right to me, Nolan…”
Teren had never begged to be loved by a man. She saw the hesitation in his eyes and tasted him on her lips, wanting to kiss him into oblivion, her fingers moving across his nape, seeing the pleasure come to his eyes as he studied her intently.
“I don’t have any condoms on me, Teren.”
His voice was thick with desire. She shook her head. “It’s the right time of month for me, Nolan. I’m clean, sexually speaking. You?”
“Same here, I’m clean.” He grazed her hair. “You’re sure, Teren?”
“Very sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than you.” She fought back hot tears. Nolan moved her soul. He didn’t know it, but he held her heart in his large, callused hands. There was so much she’d withheld from him. Teren wanted to change that, now and in the future. She saw so much in Nolan’s expression: desire, torrid heat, hesitancy. Reaching up, she allowed her fingers to drift down from his jaw, across his neck to his shoulder. “I won’t break,” she whispered, trying to lighten the worry she saw in his expression. “It’s been two years since I was with a man, so we need to go slow.”
His features softened more.
“We will,” he promised her thickly. “You just need to tell me if you’re uncomfortable or you don’t like something I do, Teren. This is about us loving one another. It’s not a one-way street. All right?”
“Yes,” she whispered, easing away from him, pushing the blanket aside. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans. The fabric stretched across his chest, and she allowed herself to salivate as she got on her knees and opened her hands, spreading them across Nolan’s taut body, closing her eyes, absorbing him into her in every possible way. And he wasn’t idle, either, pulling up the edge on her tee. In moments, he had removed the material, revealing her white cotton bra.
The instant his large, roughened palms enclosed her breasts, she whimpered, her fingers stilling on his chest. And then his thumbs caressed the tight peaks thrusting outward against the fabric and she uttered a serrated cry, the sharp electric shocks like small earthquakes rolling down through her.
Her mind disappeared. That was the only way to describe it. His hands were now commanding her body, his lips now caressing her neck, trailing a path of different, wild sensations throughout her. Teren had never experienced foreplay like this. The men she had known were always in a hurry, wanting to get into her, satisfy themselves. But Nolan was taking his time, teasing her with small nips, a lick, and then a lingering kiss across her throat, moving on to her prominent collarbones. Soft sounds left her lips, and her breathing changed, becoming more chaotic as he eased the hooks free, pulling off her bra.