MONICA GAZED OUT THE WINDOW of her room into the early evening shadows. She fought sleep and her tummy growled. The best way to heal and climb out of the bed was to follow the doctor’s advice. He’d said she needed a week inside the house. Right. She’d sleep, move around a bit, eat, and work this case from her head and laptop.
Fatima walked in carrying a golden tray of fruit, a type of soup, and bread.
“You are an angel,” Monica whispered. “I’m embarrassed about how long it took in the shower. My tears. And your helping me into pajamas.”
She set the tray across Monica’s lap. “Humility builds inner strength.”
“I’ll not forget those words, and I’m grateful to be clean.”
“My sister and I cried with you.”
Yasmine entered the room. “Our brother, Mr. Davidson, and Ali would like a word with you. Fatima and I will wait in our rooms until they leave.”
In her pajamas. Sleepy. Weak. Under the influence of a sleeping pill. But she smelled better, and her hair was clean. She glanced at the food and picked up a date. “I’m ready.”
The men walked in stiffly and gathered at the foot of the bed. A rather comical procession.
“I’m not armed and dangerous,” she said.
“Neither have you lost your sense of humor.” Kord grinned, and her pulse sped.
“You look better than when you arrived.” Ali spoke in the gentle tone he used only for her.
“Thank you all for taking care of me. I’m a horrible patient.”
“We’re not surprised, Miss Alden,” the prince said. “High-level achievers have difficulty when situations slow them down.”
“I’ll try harder to be civil.” A cough rose in her chest, and it went on far too long. Drat, it hurt.
“The doctor gave us your instructions, and we have an antibiotic prescription to fill. I’ll talk to my sisters about a regimen to help you regain your energy.”
Her eyes moistened, and she warred against her emotions. “Prince Omar, I’m supposed to be protecting you, not allowing you to hover over me. Would you rather I be replaced?”
“Not at all. I’ve grown fond of you. We all have.” He looked at Kord. “I’ll leave you to speak with Miss Alden while Ali and I prepare ourselves for the hospital trip.”
“Is Princess Gharam okay?” If only she could crawl out of this bed and join them. But she had an idea, something she could accomplish while stuck recuperating.
“My mother is fair, but we’re not visiting her. Youssof Dagher is conscious, and I have questions for him. Mind the doctor, Miss Alden. That’s a royal order.”
Prince Omar and Ali left her and Kord alone. She wanted answers, but he pointed to her plate.
“Eat, and I’ll talk before you fall asleep.”
She blew out her frustration, so unladylike. When had she ever second-guessed appropriate behavior? “I hate taking meds.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She bit into a piece of warm bread. “I’m listening.”
“I recorded what little was said.” He reached for his phone. “Sending it to you now.”
She grasped the spoon for the soup. Her hands trembled like a decrepit old woman’s, and she quickly laid it down. Kord would not see her this way.
“Monica —” his voice was soft —“I can help you.”
She blinked. Despised herself. “No thanks.”
“I won’t tell anyone. You can depend on me, and you need nourishment.”
She peered into his brown eyes and almost agreed. Almost. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
He laughed. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Always.” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “You should be kissed every day. I’m heading out without my partner, and I don’t like it. So eat, sleep, and take your meds.”
“I appreciate your putting up with me.” For a moment she forgot about the burden of this mission weighing on them.
Many times she wished she’d never set eyes on Kord, but he kept crawling closer to her heart. Pushing away was the only thing within her control, but she welcomed him at the same time.
She believed in the power of God working in the world. But why hadn’t He stopped her before she made mistakes with Liam?
Before Monica fell asleep, she called Jeff. With her brain refusing to fire on all cylinders, she’d make more sense using the phone than typing meaningless words.
“How are you feeling?” Jeff said.
“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever asked. Or is it because I have a job to do?”
“Monica, they destroyed the mold with you. You always find a way to fight back, no matter what’s hit you.”
“Aren’t you glad?”
“Not when I hear you have double pneumonia. And I can’t relax or concentrate for worrying. You should be in the hospital.”
“Sorry and thanks. I’m okay. In bed at the Saud home. Taking meds, drinking liquids, and sleeping. The doctor brought in an IV bag and one of the princesses changes it.”
He sighed. “What can I do for you?”
“Rashid Dagher is in Saudi custody. His son Youssof won’t talk to Kord. Are the women in the family ready for their men to die?”
“They’ve been interrogated and said nothing.”
“By another woman?”
“Not a bad idea. We don’t have a woman on the ground there.”
“What about me?”
“You can’t travel in your condition.”
“I’m not suggesting that. I’d like to conduct a video interview with Rashid Dagher’s wife and daughters. Need to ask Prince Omar’s permission and request he arrange it.”
“And you feel confident in talking to these women?”
“We need answers before another person is killed.”
“Or gets pneumonia in all this cold rain.”
She smiled. “I’m working on it. Anyway, those women need a dose of reality.”
“Go for it, Monica.”