THE MOMENT PRINCE OMAR entered the room, Monica sensed his presence, an essence of confidence and authority. He moved to his mother’s bed, and Monica and Kord stepped back with Consul General al-Fakeeh and three bodyguards. Princess Gharam’s eyes glistened in pure adoration for her son, and the sight gave Monica pause to observe the power of love. Since the beginning of time, families had shared a bond that stepped beyond the boundaries of culture to a special place in their hearts.
Monica waited for Kord to act. He excused himself from the room, and she followed. Two additional bodyguards were posted outside the door, and a third stood near the elevator. Kord chose seating where they could keep an eye on anyone exiting the elevator or moving toward Princess Gharam’s room.
“You put on a good show.” His tone cut like a razor.
What had crawled under his skin and laid eggs? “Excuse me? A show?”
He glared at her. “Your statement about praying for Princess Gharam. Were your words supposed to put you into the inner circle? I heard you speak the God thing to the prince and the janitor. But trust me, Prince Omar’s God and the janitor’s aren’t the same.”
Was he grieving Zain’s death, tired, or an atheist who’d just confirmed his new partner placed God in the center of her life? He could deal with it. “You’re mad because I told a sick woman I’d pray for her. I have been and will continue to pray for her healing, not to Allah but the Judeo-Christian God. If you have a problem with my faith, that’s your issue, not mine.”
“Am I talking to a God-fearing Texas gal?”
“Is this a stumbling block for you?”
“Only if the God thing gets in the way of job performance.”
She longed to laugh, yet how regrettable he didn’t know the God who ruled the universe. “Faith just might be in your best interests considering what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”
His features tightened. “Let me get this straight. A shooter has a weapon aimed at you, and you’re going to ask him to prayerfully think before pulling the trigger?”
“Take another look at my résumé.” She pointed to the phone in his hand while a rush of memories punched her hard. “I can hold my own in a firefight. We had this discussion earlier. Nothing stands in the way of my job performance.” She wished she believed her own words.
His scowl seemed permanent while he scrolled through his phone. Ignoring him, she calculated how many steps from the elevator door to Princess Gharam’s room and how fast she could intercept a potential shooter. Although her legs were short, she had the marathon-running gene, a trait she shared with her four brothers that was handed down from a dad who played pro ball for the Yankees.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Kord continue to read. She might have exaggerated her qualifications, but she had a few accomplishments under her belt.
“Monica.”
She turned to him.
“I owe you an apology. Originally I skimmed your résumé. I’ve been a jerk. Again.”
“No problem. I’m good. Try explaining it to God since He’s the one you’ve offended.”
He groaned.
“I’ll give you a little slack. We have two murders hovering over us, and your friend Zain is one of them.”
“That doesn’t justify my actions.”
“Right. I gave you a break.” She couldn’t resist a grin. “Next time is another matter.”
“For the record, I’m a proponent of only sure things.”
“Me too. Has the prince released his intel?”
“Still waiting. While we have a little time, let’s look at the security footage. The sound of the elevator will alert us to anyone.” Kord bored his attention into his phone while she did the same to hers.
She logged on to the secure site and found where she’d left off.
“Take a look at 9:35 a.m.,” Kord said.
“I looked at this earlier.” She found the footage. “The man rotated his body in the opposite direction whenever cameras could have captured his face. The only thing he couldn’t avoid was his height.” She paused the screen and studied it. “I’d say approximately five-six or -seven like the young man at Paramount High School said. The killer is scary skilled. Before it’s over, I want to find out who trained him. And where.”
“Right. None of the footage gives us the ability to run him through facial recognition software.” He stretched his neck.
Her mind spun back to who could be behind the attempted assassination. Suspicion crept into her processing. While she’d assumed a member of the prince’s entourage was responsible for the deaths, what about Americans who were upset with Prince Omar’s visit? Those who thought they were doing the world a service? She’d check backgrounds on every person she could think of before she and Kord compared notes.
No more murder cases with her name on them.