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The man in the suit lifted a dark eyebrow. “You deny giving eight thousand dollars to a Mr. Massad?”
“That was…was for back taxes and maintenance fines on a property my mother owns.”
The man in the bad suit frowned as if he had heard better lies. “You’ll will come with us and surrender your passport.”
The uniformed officer took her arm. She held back against his pull. “What about a phone call? A lawyer? Will you at least let Adilan Adjalane know about this?”
The man shrugged. “He no doubt knows. After all, Sheikh Malid Adjalane brought this bribery to our attention. Now, do you come peacefully?”
***
Right after breakfast, Adilan’s cell phone rang. He saw Thomas Jenkins’ number on the caller ID and answered, saying, “I thought you were still on vacation?”
Jenkins did not sound amused by the joke. “That doesn’t mean dead or disconnected. I take it you haven’t heard about Michelle Reynolds’ arrest yet?”
Adilan stilled, his hand tightening
around his phone. “I will handle this from here.” He hung up and headed for the garage and the fastest sports car at the palace.
In the drive, he found Malid just starting to get into his chauffeur-driven limo. Adilan lunged for him, catching him from behind, swinging him around and pushing him up against the side of the limo. He wrapped one hand around his brother’s silk tie. “What have you done?”
Malid stiffened and his eyes darkened. “You should thank me. I stopped you from being an idiot—much as our father was. I know how you have been spending your days and nights. Be easy, brother, Michelle Reynolds will be tried and fined, and it will be sad she must sell her mother’s land to regain her freedom. She will go home wiser about trusting the wrong person.”
“I will have your hide,” Adilan said, grinding out the words.
Malid smiled. “Will you? And what will you tell Father then? Think better, brother. You would have Father know how you spend your days and nights with this American woman? How hard you work, not to return his land, but to do her bidding? What do you think that will do to a weak, old man when he hears of your love for the daughter of the woman who betrayed him?”
Mouth hanging open, Adilan stared at Malid. Love? He wanted to deny the emotion, to say this was…was passion only. He couldn’t. His face flushed hot, and still the lie—the denial—would not come to his lips. He shoved Malid aside. “You bastard.”
Malid straightened his tie. “No, I am my father’s son. You may be the one who repeats Father’s mistakes, but I am the one who avenges the wrong done our family. I will have back what is ours. Now go say good-bye to your little American.”
Drawing back his fist, Adilan grabbed Malid again by his coat lapels. But Nassir came out of the palace and stepped between them. “Why are you two brawling again, this time like street thugs?”
Adilan lowered his fist and let go. Smoothing his suit, Malid stepped back. Adilan glanced at Nassir, then stabbed a finger at Malid. “Keep him away from me.”
Turning, Adilan strode toward the garage. Malid called out after him, “We don’t need to be swayed by emotions right now. We need to be a strong family.”
Adilan slammed into the garage and headed to the red Tesla. He got in and forced himself to take a breath. But Malid’s words haunted him.
He had to face the fact that he had been hiding Michelle from his father—and now he had to choose. Michelle or his father.
Malid was right. His father wouldn’t be happy to hear how Adilan had been spending his time—had been helping Michelle. Father would see Adilan as weak. He might even fly into a rage that would lead to a fatal apoplexy.
But how could Adilan leave Michelle to an unfair fate?
He saw now that he had been putting off this moment, hoping it never would come. Now he not only had to make a choice, he had to do something to save Michelle. Even if it meant she would never speak to him again.
Chapter 16
Adilan called in a few favors—big ones. Then he drove to the prison where Michelle was being held, a squat building on the edge of the city with tall fences and gates. He gave his name at the gate and was waved through. Inside, the guards met him and made themselves scarce. One escorted him through the halls, glanced around, shut off the security cameras and showed Adilan through the gates and into the back cells.
The place was stuffy, sterile, and not as bad as Adilan had feared it would be. But it stank of misery. Michelle sat on a cot in a bare cell with only a hole for a toilet. She had her back against the wall and her knees to her chest. She looked up at Adilan, her face expressionless.
He gestured to the door and the guard opened it. “Michelle, I am taking you out.”
She looked at him and at the guard. “I’m released? They’re dropping the charges?”
“Come, we must go,” Adilan said.
