Barbara Dunlop - Millions To Spare

“I…” Yes. She liked it. Did she love it was more to the point. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do. Then again, she’d never really done anything else.

“Sometimes it’s great,” she said to Alex. “Often it’s boring. Last week, I had lunch with the Royal Ornithological Society for a celebration of the yellow hooded oriole.”

Alex quirked a grin.

“They had slides, many, many slides on the various scientific theories of evolution and species habitat.”

“But you’re not an ornithologist.”

“I’m not an ornithologist.” Meaning a lot of it was less than thrilling from her perspective. “I’ve studied art, education, geography and politics,” she said.

“Training for the family job,” he guessed.

“Pretty much.”

“And the preschool thing?”

“I love children.”

“Really?” There was skepticism in his tone.

“You doubt me?”

“It sounds like training for a royal mother.”

She didn’t have the energy to lie. “I expected to get married and have children,” she admitted.

“To Harrison.”

She shifted in the floating tube, not wanting to open up that topic for Alex’s scrutiny. “Let’s talk about you.”

“You already know I’m a lawyer.”

“And a soldier, and a pilot. So what do you do for Harrison?”

“Honestly?” he laughed. “Mostly, I dress up, give speeches, write letters and travel.”

Brittany lifted her hands in mock amazement. “We have the same job.”

“Only, I suspect my speeches and letters are a lot nastier than yours.”

“That’s because you’re an inherently nastier person.”

“Where you’re good and kind and compassionate?”

“Exactly.”

“You are not.”

She matched his light tone. “Are you accusing me of lying, Mr. Lindley?”

He shifted closer. “You, Lady Livingston, are a seething, boiling, repressed cauldron of rebellion.”

“Against whom?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Your family-”

“I love my family.”

“The constraints of the upper class?”

“Those constraints come with a lot of perks.”

“Your duty?”

“I’ve never resented the obligations that come with privilege.”

“Then how about yourself?”

She stared at him in confusion.

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You can’t rebel against yourself.”

He nodded, straightening as they bobbed their way under another bridge. “That’s it. At the top of the first slide, you weren’t scared.”

“I was so.”

He shook his head. “There was something inappropriate and undignified about jumping into an inner tube and shrieking your messy way down a waterslide.”

“I was scared,” she insisted.

“You have a wall of propriety built up so high and so thick that you’re all but screaming to get out. But you won’t let yourself out.” He sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “You’re rebelling against you, Lady Livingston. And I really hope you win.”

“You have a psychology minor to go along with that law degree?”

“Common sense,” he replied.

“What you call a wall, I call etiquette.”

“You can’t practice good etiquette 24-7.”

“The world would be a better place if we did.”

His lids grew heavy and his eyes went soft. “Sometimes, Brittany, you gotta forget appearances and shriek your way down the waterslide.”

“I did.” She glanced away, trying hard not to react to the sensuality of that gaze. “There you go. I’m cured.”

Julia found herself reacting with amazement to the man who sat opposite her at the dinner table in the main house at Khandi Oasis. This friendly, open, accepting person couldn’t possibly be Nuri’s brother.

Ahmed had warmly welcomed them to his home, introduced his wife, Habeeba, and his three daughters.

While the outside of his house was plain and modest, bleached white like all of the buildings in the village, inside, Ahmed boasted all the amenities of the Western world. Led by the development in Dubai, he’d explained, the entire UAE was enjoying prosperity.

The colors were bright, the furnishings decidedly California in style, with light woods, rattan and many cushions, while a computer, DVD player and television were discreetly situated in one corner of the main room. The overall effect was cheerful and modern.

“No one has knowledge of the man with no nose,” said Ahmed, dipping his lamb kofta into a bowl of yogurt.

“He has a nose,” said Julia, and both men glanced at her. “It’s only the tip that’s missing.”

“They have no knowledge,” said Ahmed apologetically.

Julia glanced to Harrison, worried they’d mixed up the description.

“What about a phone?” asked Harrison. “It would be helpful to contact Alex Lindley.”

Ahmed said something in Arabic to his eldest daughter, and she slipped away from the table.

Harrison nodded his thanks.

“You say the police are involved?” asked Ahmed.

“Somebody designated Julia a person of significance.”

“So there are two parties looking for you,” said Ahmed.

“So it seems,” said Harrison.

Ahmed looked at Julia. “If you go to an airport, the border guards will stop you. If you run across the desert, the man with no nose might capture you.” He thoughtfully dipped another kofta in the yogurt. “I think…”

Julia waited, strangely comforted by the compassion in his eyes.

“While we determine a solution,” he told her decisively, “you should eat.”

She glanced down at her untouched pita bread and hummus.

Ahmed seemed like an intelligent man. And he didn’t seem overly concerned about the danger. Maybe it was just a matter of time until they came up with a solution.

In that case, eating made sense.

She lifted the triangle of bread, as Ahmed’s daughter Rania arrived with a satellite phone.

Rania handed it to Harrison, and he stood, taking a few steps away to stand in the entryway while he dialed.

“It’s not a secure line,” Ahmed warned, and Harrison nodded his understanding.

Julia took a sip of the spicy tea and forced down a bite of the thin bread while she waited.

“Alex?” Harrison began. “It’s me.”

Then he listened.

His eye squinted, and he glanced at Julia.

“No,” he said, and his glance veered away.

She took another bite of bread, and another sip of tea.

Whatever news the phone call brought, starving herself wouldn’t make it any better.

“Are you sure?” asked Harrison. “No name?”

Another silence, while the entire family watched and waited.

“No. You’re right. Thanks.” He shut off the phone.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door behind him.

Harrison spun, while Ahmed jumped to his feet.

He issued rapid-fire instructions in Arabic, and Habeeba quickly ushered Julia into a small, windowless bedroom.

Harrison was right behind her, and he closed the door, trapping them in the dark.

“What-”

“Shh,” he warned, listening at the door to the cresting voices in the other room. Julia couldn’t understand the words, but it was clear the speakers were agitated.

She stood stock-still, all her fears of arrest and jail rushing back. She refused to even acknowledge her fears of the man with no nose. The bites of pita bread sat like lead weights in her stomach.

Then, finally, the voices subsided, and the door to the bedroom cracked open.

“A sandstorm is coming,” said Ahmed.

The girls were moving from window to window, battening them down. Ahmed’s wife covered her head and left the house.

“Julia,” said Ahmed, “you are welcome to stay in the guesthouse with Harrison, of course. But, if you prefer, please stay here and sleep with my daughters.”

It was gracious of him to consider Julia’s virtue. Not that there was any virtue left to save. And, as she glanced from friendly, cherubic Ahmed to fierce, uncompromising Harrison, she knew where she wanted to be if No-nose showed up.

“Thank you,” she said to Ahmed with sincere appreciation, trying to frame an answer that wouldn’t offend Ahmed’s culture. “But Harrison has pledged to protect me. My family is counting on him.”

Ahmed nodded. “Very well.” Then he looked to Harrison. “You should return to the guesthouse before the storm hits.”

Harrison handed the phone back to Ahmed, thanking the man.

Then Julia and Harrison left the building, hustling along the dusty pathway to the little cottage.

“Your family is counting on me?” he joked.

“You’ve probably disappointed them already,” she told him, deciding she could be blasé about their earlier lovemaking. It wasn’t as though she was a quivering virgin. They’d been attracted to one another, and they’d had sex. It didn’t have to be the defining moment of their relationship.

“In some cultures, they’d have me shot.”

“In other cultures, they’d invite you to dinner.” Julia’s feet slowed to a halt, her eyes widening at a gap in the trees.

A thick, dark, roiling wave was pushing its way across the setting sun.

Harrison grabbed her hand. “Time to get inside.” He increased his pace, forcing her to struggle to keep up.

She couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder, amazed by the spectacle. The light disappeared, and the wind picked up, flecks of sand whipping through the air.

Harrison yanked open the cottage door, pushed her inside and secured it behind them.

“Check the windows,” he called.

She glanced around. The windows were all closed, but she went from one to the next, checking the latches, while airborne sand began battering the outside of the panes.

Then the wind suddenly turned from gusting to howling. The panes rattled in their frames, and she took a few steps backward.

“Will the place hold?” she asked.

“I expect so. This can’t be their first sandstorm.”

“How long will it last?”

“Hours, days. It’s impossible to tell.”

They had some time. It was a relief to have some time where they didn’t need to worry.

“And then what?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“What did Alex tell you?”

“That the police are still looking for you, and he can’t get an answer as to why.”

Julia lowered herself into a cushioned rattan chair. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither does Alex. But somebody with influence is out there looking for you, and they’re using the police to do it.” He sat down in an identical chair across from her. “And whoever it is is powerful enough to cover his tracks. Alex’s contacts couldn’t help us.”

“What about the no-nose guy?”

“It all has to be related somehow.”

“Which brings us back to Millions to Spare.” Julia still got a hitch in her heart when she thought about the horse. She hated that she might have inadvertently contributed to its death.

“What did you say to No-nose?”

She’d gone over the conversation a hundred times in her head. “Nothing. I tried to take a picture of Millions to Spare. The security guy stopped me. Then No-nose showed up, and I asked him the horse’s name. He thought I wanted to place a bet.”

“No, he acted like he thought you wanted to place a bet.”

Julia went cold. “You think he could have followed me to the trailer?”

Harrison nodded. “And watched you go in. And saw that you didn’t get out. Then came to Cadair.”

The next sentence was left unspoken.

No-nose had killed Millions to Spare.

“Did Alex have a plan?” asked Julia, standing by the window to watch the mesmerizing sand grains blow past. At least she knew No-nose wasn’t lurking out there in the brutal storm.

“Not so far,” said Harrison, crouching to browse through the small bank of cupboards in one corner of the twenty-by-twenty-foot room.

“Maybe I should turn myself in.” At the moment, No-nose seemed a lot more dangerous than the police. If she was in custody, the U.S. embassy might help her. Maybe Harrison could even help get her out of jail again. She truly didn’t want to take her chances with a man who was willing to kill a horse.

“Not until we find out what they want,” said Harrison, extracting a butcher knife and contemplating it.

Julia got the horrible feeling he was arming himself.

He straightened. “If the same person influencing the police also hired No-nose, he could be capable of anything. And the police might turn you over to him.”

Julia’s knees grew weak, and she reached out to steady herself on the back of a chair.

Harrison caught her movement. He set down the knife and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. She felt safe for a moment, but she knew it couldn’t last.

“We’ll come up with a plan,” he promised.

“Plans fail.”

“Are you going to get pessimistic on me?”