The car came to a stop and the Steeles waited until their traveling companions exited before following.

“Isn’t this just incredible?” Julie Jenkins asked, practically bouncing as she clung to her husband’s arm.

The young couple had introduced themselves on the shuttle from the JBR as the Jenkins, newlyweds from New York. They were on their honeymoon financed by his success on Wall Street. Drake had accepted the stockbroker’s business card and wished them the best while Maddox wished the husband, Robert—but call me Bob—had taken the time to do a bit of basic research on the culture of the country they were visiting. Mrs. Jenkins was wearing a skin tight sheath that clung to her every curve, thin spaghetti straps barely managing to hold the bodice from falling to reveal a very generous décolletage. The hem came to rest several inches above her knees. Hell, there was more fabric in the towel he’d used to dry off after his shower than was on this young woman’s body. Still, he managed to hold his tongue until she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against Bob’s, whose hand dropped to cup a well-rounded ass cheek just as an employee beckoned for the couple to walk towards the waiting helicopter, his expression turning downright chilly with disapproval.

Any public displays of affection were severely frowned upon even in this supposedly tolerant city. Maddox knew the chances of ever seeing the couple again were slim but he sure as shit didn’t want to turn on the news and discover they’d not be sharing a conjugal bed for months.

When his father pointed out the window, drawing Julie’s interest, Maddox leaned forward to address Bob. “Your wife is a beautiful woman and it would be a shame to see that changed. You aren’t in Kansas—”

“We’re from New York,” Bob interrupted.

Maddox bit back a sigh. “If you want to get back to the Big Apple, I highly recommend you stop in the gift shop once we land and purchase your wife a present. Say a nice scarf that she could use as a shawl?”

“Why? As you said, Julie is a beauty and I like to show her off. Besides, we’re not Arabs.”

Good God, really? For some hotshot broker, the guy had about as much common sense as a horny teenager. “Do you have a phone?”

Bob nodded and pulled out the latest iPhone, passing it over. It took less than a minute for Maddox to pull up Google and a list of travel tips that any fool should have looked at before deciding to honeymoon in a middle-eastern country. Finding the story about a British couple who had been all over the news… the pair imprisoned for a month for nothing more than simply giving what would be considered anywhere else in the world as nothing more than a chaste kiss in public, he passed the phone back to Bob.

Maddox sat back as the rotors began to turn and the helicopter lifted from its pad. It seemed a bit ridiculous, as the ride out to the island would be short, their destination having been visible from the moment they’d arrived at the helipad. Still, Dubai was a city known for its extravagance, drawing the rich and famous from every corner of the world despite the laws that just waited beneath the surface, threatening to entrap uneducated idiots like the Jenkins. Within minutes, they were landing on top of the resort and a very different bride exited the helicopter. Julie even refused the hand offered to help her disembark, the newlyweds hurrying away without a single glance at the Steeles.

“What did you say to him?” Drake asked.

“Just showed the fool how to use his phone for more than checking the stock market.”

“For a hard ass, you sure have some tender moments,” Drake teased.

“You’ve taught us that a man takes care of what is his,” Maddox said as they exited the elevator after it had dropped them beneath the sea. Thick panes of glass formed the walls, the abundant sea life filling his vision had him sighing. “What are the chances there’s a nice thick steak in this joint?”

“I recall also teaching you to how to figure the odds, so you tell me,” Drake said as they stepped towards the maître d.

“Fish it is,” Maddox said, ignoring his father’s chuckle as he followed him to a table tucked in a corner. He knew part of his father’s banter was to relieve the intensity of their discussion less than an hour earlier. Though Maddox now understood the seriousness of their true agenda, he compartmentalized the information, filing it away for now. There were still a great deal of details to collect and analyze and that required his full concentration. After placing their order for appetizers, he sat back in his chair, using the dim lighting to shield him as he slowly scanned the crowded restaurant.

Every person at every table was scrutinized, most easily dismissed as nothing more than diners enjoying a very expensive evening out. However, the very air of the room seemed to stir as what could only be considered an entourage stood at the entrance, dark eyes doing their own scanning before stepping into the room and dispersing around it. Maddox knew that most of the room’s occupants wouldn’t notice, their attention being on the incredible, ever changing sea life that darted about behind the glass as they searched for Nemo. He tuned out the oohs and ahhs uttered as a large shark swam into view, its gills fluttering, its tail slowly moving back and forth. There were far more dangerous land sharks, and he had a feeling he was in the presence of several.

After a moment, he saw Fadil Nazar enter the doorway, a young woman at his side. Standing behind, their very coloring in sharp contrast with their Arab host, stood several blond men, one being the man Maddox had seen at the auction. His eyes followed the group across the room and watched as they were escorted to their table. The woman was the sole female in the group which, in itself, was a bit odd and yet he instantly recognized her. Adira Nazar, Fadil’s daughter and obvious hostess at this evening’s dinner. Not only did he recognize her from the photo his father had pulled up on the internet, he realized that his earlier claim had been correct. This woman could stand among a hundred, covered from head to toe, and yet those eyes were the same ones he’d seen briefly turned his way, the tilt of her head as she uttered a laugh from the back of a magnificent stallion at the exact same angle it was now as she slid into her chair.

A tray of oysters artfully arranged on a bed of crushed ice and seaweed was placed before him. Picking up a wedge of lemon and squirting it over the shellfish, he lifted one to his mouth, his actions mimicked by his father. While he ate another, he noticed the woman wasn’t even looking at the menu or her guests. Instead, she appeared to be staring at the glass wall. Surely she’d been here before, and yet they’d finished the dozen oysters before she seemed to give a small nod and relax a bit into her chair. Interesting, and yet he wasn’t sure exactly why. There was just something about her that seemed to draw him in… her eyes had been wide, her gaze unblinking… reminding him of the many deer he’d seen stepping out onto the roads in Texas and suddenly becoming frozen by the oncoming headlights of his truck. Seeing the shark turning to traverse back the way it had come, he grinned. It could be that Adira was a bit afraid of the fact that she and dozens of others were basically buried under tons of water, relying on engineering to keep the walls from cracking, turning the diners into dinner.

“You gotta admit it’s a beauty.”

“Yes, she is,” Maddox said, turning his attention away from the Nazars’ table.

Drake chuckled, tapping his knife against the rim of his son’s plate, causing Maddox to drop his eyes to the food. An entire fish, head to tail, sat on a bed of rice, steam pouring from thin slits sliced into its skin. “And the fish ain’t bad looking either,” Drake said, cutting into his entrée, the aroma instantly wafting up to tantalize a diner with its exotic spices.

Maddox, feeling a bit unsettled that the waiter had approached without him even noticing, took his first bite. Hell, it might not be steak, but he had to admit the chef had a magical touch. The baked sea bream was tender and flaky, each bite offering the perfect balance of spice, only improved when dipped in the accompanying garlic aioli. The men ate in comfortable silence, speaking only to compliment the food or thank a waiter for his attentiveness in refilling their glasses. After enjoying an elaborate concoction of chocolate and raspberries, liberally sprinkled with flakes of gold leaf to make the astronomical price seem worthwhile, Drake lifted his eyes to find Adira staring at him. Her eyes were no longer like those of a frightened doe, instead, her head was again tilted slightly, her gaze intense as if she were attempting to solve a puzzle. Though he knew most Arab women would remain respectfully silent during what had to be a business meeting, he wasn’t about to take the chance that Adira might make a comment about the man seated across the restaurant. Tucking his napkin beneath the rim of his plate, he said, “I’ll meet you on the roof.”

Taking a path that would keep him in the shadows, his lips twitched when his eyes settled on the Jenkins. Evidently Bob had taken—if not his, his trusty iPhone’s—information seriously, as Julie’s blonde hair was now not only covered by a dark brown pashmina shawl, but a hand clutched the edges closed at her breasts, ensuring not a single glance of her ample endowment would reveal an inch of bare skin.

Drake opened the hotel safe and removed a laptop and the bug zapper. As his son took the computer to the table in their suite, Drake flipped a switch on the small box, moving slowly about the room. Though they’d swept for any electronic equipment, or “bugs” after returning from the auction, before they’d uttered a single word about the reason for being in Dubai, Drake would sweep again, neither man willing to take a chance that their room hadn’t had uninvited visitors in their absence. While his dad finished his circuit, Maddox pulled off his belt and unhooked the large gold buckle. It was a bit ostentatious but even that served a purpose. People might ask about the design and congratulate him on his success of the rodeo circuit, but so far, no one had ever suspected that it served a far more important role. Slipping a tiny disc from the miniature camera hidden in the design, he placed it next to the one his father had handed over that had been in his lapel pin. A third disc that had been concealed in the band of Maddox’s Stetson joined the pile. Opening a port in his laptop, he waited until Drake gave him a thumbs up before inserting the first disc.

While they waited for the pictures they’d taken throughout the day to upload, Maddox exchanging one disc for another, they sipped from cups of coffee they’d ordered from room service. When the bar at the bottom of his screen scrolled to the right, he ejected the last disc, nodding at his father.

Drake pulled out his phone and dialed. It was almost midnight and though there was a nine-hour time difference between Dubai and Texas, he knew his call wouldn’t be awakening anyone on the ranch.

“Hey, good to hear from you,” the man on the other end greeted.

“Good to hear your voice, son,” Drake said. “Grab your brother. Maddox has some information he needs to send.”

“Sure, give me a minute,” Anson Steele said. It was more like five before his voice again came over the line. “What’s up?”

“We’re sending over a file. We need you to identify the men in the photos.”

“Men, not stallions?” This voice belonged to Stryder, the youngest Steele brother. “So you were right? That invitation was for more than the auction?”

“Yes,” Drake said with a sigh. “We’re about to launch the biggest operation we’ve ever attempted. Seems like Hadi Nazar had a different agenda than his son. It will take all of us to pull this off… if it can be pulled off at all.”

“I’m ready, shoot them over.” Though Anson’s tone was unconcerned, Maddox knew his brother would be at the computer, accepting the files, ready to run each photo through facial recognition software. Pressing a button, he sent the file, and while his father filled them in on the recent events, he could picture both his younger brothers thousands of miles away. They would have stepped behind a concealed door and walked down a tunnel before entering what the family called their operations center. The room wasn’t located in any part of the ranch house… it was part of a natural cavern system within the Chisos Mountains.

He again thought about the debt his father was repaying. Though aware of his father’s voice as he talked to his sons, Maddox slipped back in time until he was a twelve-year-old boy on the cusp of becoming a teenager. His world changed a month before he reached that milestone in his life. It had only been by the grace of God and the intervention of a certain faction that had allowed both he and his father time to escape the fire that took the lives of his mother, his little sister, and the two agents tasked with the responsibility of protecting their family.

That day had set him on a path that skirted the edge of legality. Yes, the Steele family bred stallions but, like the Nazars, beneath the surface, they ran a completely different operation. For two decades, first solely his father and then joined by his sons, provided a service for clients the government would at the very least frown upon and, at the most, arrest. Their clients were powerful, wealthy, and yes, corrupt. They would never be considered angels. Though the Steeles did have a line in the sand none would cross, they didn’t give a damn what your nationality was, what religion you practiced, or what business you were in. But they firmly believed that innocents should not be forced to pay with their lives for the sins of their fathers. That day had taught him that the only people he could truly rely on were his family—all sharing in the love of horses and willingly accepting the burden of providing what their own government failed to do. Protection for those drawn into the world without their knowledge or consensual choice.

A sharp whistle drew his attention back to the present. “Since when are the Russians into horses?” Anson asked.

“They’re not,” Maddox said. “But they are in Dubai and must be brokering some sort of deal with Fadil Nazar. Got any names yet?”

“Just one, Vasily Poplov. His picture is here several times. Standing next to that Brit snob, Legeaux, and again in some aquarium. I’m not getting any hits on the others yet. I’ll have to hack my way into additional sites and that might take a while.”

“So what do you think Poplov’s agenda is?” Stryder asked.

“Not sure,” Drake said. “Fadil assures me it is nothing to be concerned about… just some business deal. But Hadi doesn’t agree and my gut’s telling me something is definitely off. Hadi contacted us—the Black Stallions—because he wants his family protected.”

“Protected how?” Stryder asked.

“Removed from Dubai,” Drake said. “Might be that some refuse to come but Hadi has a definite list of those who will be coming home with us, including his granddaughter.”

“How many?” Anson asked.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we know,” Drake said. “We’re meeting Fadil tomorrow night on his yacht. Look, I’m turning the phone over to your brother. He’s got a list of equipment he needs you to arrange delivery on.”

Maddox took the phone and recited the list he’d been considering since his father had told him of the operation. “Got all that?” he asked when he finished.

“Yeah, got it,” Stryder said. “I’ll contact Keith Westwood. He’s gonna bitch about the timing and jack up the price…”

“Money’s not an issue,” Maddox said, knowing his father would agree. “Hey, little brother, don’t forget the batteries this time. There isn’t a CVS on every corner over here. Night vision goggles and cameras aren’t going to do me any good if they won’t fucking turn on.”

“Shit, that only happened once,” Stryder griped but then added, “you can count on me. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Maddox said. “Anson, send any intel you find to the phone.”

“Will do. Have you considered all the ways this can go south? Are you sure you don’t want us to fly over to help?”

“No, there’s already going to be a lot of people. It’ll be like trying to hide a fucking parade.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, you two can,” Stryder assured them, “even if you are just an army grunt.”

Maddox chuckled, used to the teasing from his brothers. “Says the jarhead who can’t remember batteries.” He could hear Anson chuckling as he handed the phone back to Drake, who thanked his sons and rang off after promising to call with more details of the operation when they worked them out.

“Night, Pops,” his younger sons said in unison.

“Goodnight, boys.”

After he hung up, Maddox cleared the history on his laptop and returned it and the scanner to the safe. His father said goodnight and went into his room, looking tired from the long day. Maddox stripped off his clothes and slid between the sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, he knew that Anson was right. This could be the biggest FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—operation in the Steele family history and yet, he’d do everything he could, rely upon the training he’d received while he was both at the military academy at West Point and later training as a Ranger, both of which had been extensive and paid for by the very government that had so failed his family. He figured he’d repaid that particular debt with several tours, serving in both Iraq and Afghanistan, keeping it a secret that he found it rather ironic that the very people he was fighting had reared the man who had risked his own future for his all those years ago.

Twenty years might have passed, but one thing remained crystal clear. Neither he nor his father would be here today if it hadn’t been for the Nazar family. It was not only a debt of thanks owed, it was a debt of honor, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure it was paid in full.

The boat Drake had rented pulled away from a small dock on Dubai Creek. It was as far from ostentatious as a piece of coal was from a brilliant diamond. Dented, scratched, and peeling paint ensured any eyes would skim over it and yet, beneath the rust and planks was every piece of equipment and dozens of batteries that Maddox had requested the night before. His old army buddy Keith had come through, not only with the equipment but with assurance that he’d stand by, ready to help if needed. As they puttered down the creek which had been dredged to accommodate large vessels, Maddox rigged a fishing pole with a heavy test line and a big treble hook.

“To your right,” Drake said, though he didn’t turn his head.

Standing, Maddox turned, leaning forward to place the rod in a holder while looking up. He gave a soft whistle at the sight of the yacht, the name Adira painted on the hull near the stern. A dozen of their present vessels could easily fit inside and still leave room for plenty of people to stroll about the many decks. Though boarding it was his ultimate destination, he stretched, turned again and rigged another fishing line. It would be hours before he’d need to get ready. Until then, they’d fish, moving from spot to spot as if trying to improve their luck while waiting for the mooring lines to be slipped from the cleats on the dock and the Adira to pull away from its berth to drop anchor out on the Persian Gulf for a night of celebration in honor of the boat’s namesake.

Ignoring the ripped fabric, Maddox took a seat on a thinly cushioned bench, propping his feet on an overturned bucket. This was the hard part, waiting for nightfall… well, that and trying not to turn as red as a boiled lobster under the ungodly sun. Reaching into another bucket, this one filled with ice, he popped the tab on a can of Coke. Not his usual beverage while out fishing, but he wouldn’t consume any alcohol until his feet were propped on the railing of the porch that wrapped around the ranch house back home. Tipping his head back to swallow the sweet drink, he couldn’t help but compare his own home to Adira’s. Separated by over eight thousand miles, Dubai and Texas had a lot in common. Her palatial home was surrounded by the Hajar Mountains while his sprawling ranch house was nestled up against the Chisos Mountains. She rode her stallion across the sands of the Arabian Desert, he and his family rode theirs across the Chihuahuan Desert. Yes, they came from different cultures, had different religions, had a different native language, and yet a part of him was glad that when she and her relatives landed in America, at least a bit of their surroundings would remind them of home.