IN KORD’S CAR, Monica fought sleep when normally adrenaline raced sky-high. In the shadows, she felt her forehead. Rats. She did have a fever, and the throb in her head, along with the sore throat and pain when she breathed, indicated a cold on steroids. She’d tried to push aside the symptoms for nearly a week.
“Can’t we follow up on Dagher at the hospital?” she said. “Forget what SAC Thomas said?”
“Our role is protection. One look at you, and the nurses would have a bed ready.”
She moaned, couldn’t help herself. The cloud in her head messed up her thinking.
“Shall we visit the ER?” Kord said.
“Now you’re talking. I want to talk to —”
“Not Youssof Dagher, but you.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Right. I’ll see about an FBI doctor meeting us at the Saud home.”
“There’s no cure for the common cold.”
“Let the doctor decide that.”
Best change the subject. “I hate what happened to Lori’s shop.”
“She has insurance, right?”
“Yes. But she’s going to lose business for a few days. I’ll make sure she receives a cash deposit into her bank account.”
“You’re such a clandestine operative.”
Closing her eyes for just a moment, she drifted off to sleep.
Kord requested a doctor for Monica and alerted Ali to what he feared was bronchitis or worse. “Her whole body shakes when she coughs.”
“Should she be in the hospital?”
“She’d shoot both of us.”
He rumbled his laughter. “I’ll be on the lookout for the doctor and meet you at the back.”
Kord and Ali had it bad for the same woman. Nearing the mansion, he received a call from HPD with an update on the first vehicle that had left the scene.
“A security cam picked up license plates of a car leaving the area shortly before officers arrived,” the HPD officer said. “We’re on it now.”
When Kord turned off the engine at the rear of the home, she didn’t move. Ali hurried from the garage with an umbrella and met him on the passenger side of the car. Kord opened the door. “Monica, we’re here.”
Not a sound.
He scooped up her body, feeling the heat radiating through her wet clothes. Ali held the umbrella over her, and they rushed inside.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled.
“Putting you to bed,” Kord said.
“Bad pickup line.”
“Miss Alden,” Ali said, “the prince has informed his sisters of your arrival.”
She didn’t seem to hear.
Kord carried her through the rear of the home and up the stairs to her room. Blonde hair lay across his arms, tickling him. He wanted to stare into her face but chose against it considering Ali walked with him. When he thought about how the two had nearly been killed tonight, how they were perfect targets inside the lit café, yet neither of them had been wounded . . . what a coincidence.
Could it have been God? But He hadn’t helped her see Liam’s deception.
At the door leading into the women’s quarters, Ali knocked and the prince opened it. Fatima and Yasmine were nowhere to be seen, most likely in their rooms until the men left.
Prince Omar pointed to a room where Kord laid her on a bed.
“My sisters will sit with her,” the prince said.
“Good.” They left the room and learned FBI medical help had arrived.
While the doctor tended to Monica, Ali and Kord sat with Prince Omar in his office.
“Before we discuss what happened tonight,” the prince said, “I’m thinking about sending my sisters home. This is far too dangerous for them.”
Kord inwardly sighed relief. “Good.”
“I’ll not make arrangements until I think this through and we have more details. My father has assured me he’ll protect them. It’s telling our mother that concerns me. I’m afraid she’ll give up.” He paused before speaking again. “Tell me what you found at the coffee shop and about the attack.”
Kord shared what they’d seen on the Coffee Gone Dark footage and what happened when Youssof Dagher opened fire on them outside the café. He also relayed what he had learned about how Dagher had entered the US. “The FBI is digging into how he gained access here, possibly through Mexico or under an assumed name.”
“Do you want to know how Saudi Arabia would handle a border problem?”
“I already know.”
“Is Dagher alive?” the prince said.
“Critical. He suffered third-degree burns over 50 percent of his body. I’ll be notified of any changes in his condition.”
“He didn’t suffer enough. Rashid Dagher is in custody and being questioned. Do you know where he was staying?”
“No, Amir. We haven’t learned that yet.”
“How long will it take?”
“A few hours. We want answers too, and my patience is wearing thin.”
Prince Omar released a deep sigh. “This has all of us short-tempered.”
“In addition to the Dagher men’s family ties to Malik, Monica and I are working on a separate link tying them all to Parvin Shah. Intel is scouring for footage all over the world as well as reaching out to informants while monitoring online presences.”
“Earlier, I sent word to have Malik questioned again. The people around me always meet with rigid security, but that doesn’t mean one or more of them isn’t an enemy.”
Kord received a call from the FBI doctor and tapped Speaker.
“Agent Davidson, Miss Alden has double pneumonia. She claimed to have had cold-like symptoms for the last week, and being exposed to the recent weather hasn’t helped. I recommended hospitalization, but she opposed it. I’ve prescribed antibiotics. With Prince Omar’s permission, I’d like to have some IV equipment and meds delivered with instructions on how to change the bag. ASAP.”
“Fatima could do this,” the prince said.
“I’ll need to report her condition to SAC Thomas.”
The prince held up his hand to signal Kord. “She stays here, and she doesn’t need to be replaced.”
“If she doesn’t get any worse, I can check on her here,” the doctor said. “Can I meet you in the foyer with further instructions?”