Sanctuary: Delos Series, Book 9 Read online

  “Yes, they are paranoid in the slums. They trust no one but their own gangs.”

  He knew Teren usually went to bed between nine and ten p.m. because she was up at four thirty every morning. “Why don’t you get a bath to help you relax?”

  “Good idea,” she grumped, releasing his hand. Teren gave him a softened look. “I worry about you too, Nolan.”

  “I know you do, but I’m the one you should worry about least, okay? And don’t let that wild imagination of yours take flight. We’ve got everything handled.” He wanted to sound confident for her sake and saw some of the tension ease from her face.

  Rolling her eyes, Teren managed a sliver of a sour smile. “Guilty as charged. I’ll try not to. That bath sounds like a good idea.”

  Nolan watched her walk down the hall toward her bedroom. Growling to himself, he wished Ayman would call him. His gut told him it was probably a war games group. Ayman had been neutral about it, but Nolan had a hunch he was actually very concerned. However, until Nolan heard from him, he wasn’t going to let his imagination take over. His world was hard facts and logic, backed up with a helluva lot of experience.

  *

  Teren padded out on her bare feet into her living room, expecting to find Nolan there, but he was gone. She toweled off her damp hair, moving to the opened inner door.

  “Nolan? Are you in there?” she called. Teren searched the empty living room and kitchen.

  “Yeah, I’m here…”

  She saw him come out of the other end of the duplex, having been in the bedroom. He was naked from the waist up, a towel around his hips and one across his shoulders. His hair was wet, and his flesh gleamed from the shower he’d just taken as he padded toward her. Swallowing, she stopped dead still, her heart rate soaring. Nolan was so powerful-looking without clothing. His chest was sprinkled with dark hair, emphasizing the deep muscling, and accentuating the lithe movement of his upper body. He wasn’t bulky but taut and hard. And he was simply beautiful to Teren.

  Forcing herself to look at his eyes, she asked, “I’m sorry…did Ayman call you yet?”

  Nolan came to a stop about six feet away from Teren. He’d seen her eyes widen and he felt her appreciation of his body. “Yes. It was a training exercise, was all.” He held on to the ends of the white towel around his shoulders. “You can sleep well tonight, Teren.”

  “That’s such good news!” she whispered, her hand against her throat. There was a dangerous sensation around Nolan and the dark blue of his gaze was locked with hers. She felt so much, unable to sort it all out. Uppermost, he was so sexy that male charisma dripped off him, and she could feel her lower body reacting instantly to her view of him half-clothed. “I’m heading to bed,” she said, her voice a little strained. “Is it all right if I go jogging tomorrow at five a.m.? Will you come with me?”

  He nodded. “Sure, I’ll always be at your side any time you’re outside Kitra’s gate, Teren. That won’t change for the duration of the PSD. Get some sleep. You’ve had a pretty rough day.”

  She gave him a warm look. “It was tough on you too, Nolan. Thank you for sharing with me. It means a lot.” Teren turned away, knowing that if she didn’t, she might step forward and do something bold and crazy: ask Nolan to take her to bed and love her. So turning, she hurried away to prevent herself from issuing, either verbally or with her body, such a life-changing invitation.

  Musing, Nolan watched Teren move away from him. She wore a pair of loose lavender cotton pajama bottoms with a sleeveless tee of the same color. With her hair half-dry, the towel over one shoulder, she looked fetching. He hadn’t meant to be half-naked, but when she’d called for him, it had sounded urgent. Pushing his fingers through his wet hair, Nolan turned and headed to the bathroom.

  *

  The morning air was slightly cool. Teren jogged with Nolan along the berm of the asphalt highway. It was quiet except for their running shoes slapping the dry, hard clay soil. She spotted a few rabbits hopping around, seeking out the tough green bushes that thrived in the hot Sudanese desert to hide within. Off in the distance, she heard a pack of hyenas yipping but couldn’t see them. There were what she called “knobs of hills” here and there across the otherwise pancake-flat grasslands. They were two hundred or so feet tall, rising like bumps out of the sea-level surface.

  Having Nolan moving fluidly at her shoulder, his Glock in a holster at his side, made her feel safer. There was no one around at this time of early morning. Traffic to and from Kitra usually started at ten a.m. and was finished by three p.m. on weekdays. Teren expected to find no traffic on the ribbon of highway and she saw none. She’d slept hard last night, her last thoughts settling on Nolan and how sexy he’d looked in that towel draped around his waist. Her dreams had been torrid: they were finally in bed together doing things she’d never imagined participating in. These dreams were a first for her and left her shaken and yearning for relief.

  She couldn’t look into his eyes this morning and not remember he’d lost the woman he loved, as well as their unborn baby. She saw him in a whole new light and could feel the last of her walls crumbling around her heart.

  “Two point five miles,” Nolan told her now, starting to slow down to make the turn back to Kitra.

  “Wow, it didn’t seem like it,” she said, breathing easily as she turned around on the highway.

  “You were lost deep in thought,” he teased, joining her on the other side of the highway.

  Teren laughed a little. “Yeah, I nosedived, didn’t I?”

  “You’re a techie. You’re used to putting a hundred percent focus on whatever you’re doing.”

  She slid him a glance as they picked up the pace once more. “You do the same thing.”

  “Guilty,” Nolan admitted with a boyish grin.

  There was a new, vibrant energy throbbing invisibly between them. The intimacy was there, just waiting. Nolan had entrusted her with the most horrific event of his life. He had so much courage that, in her eyes and heart, he was a modern-day warrior with morals and values from long ago. Not everyone held themselves to a higher standard, but Nolan did. He also treated her as an equal, if not putting her on a pedestal at times, and that was so refreshing.

  “Farida has never had this kind of threat to Kitra…not that I know of,” she said to him. “I wonder how she’ll take the report from you and Ayman this morning.”

  “From what Wyatt told me at Artemis before I came out here, Teren, he’d had a number of serious events reported by Farida and Ayman. She probably kept that intel to herself for a lot of good reasons. I don’t think this potential intrusion is going to catch her off guard. It’s not going to make anyone’s day, but Farida strikes me as a very solid leader who’s pretty much unflappable.”

  “I think you’re right. I’m glad Artemis is working so closely with us.”

  “They’re just coming online, but their whole focus is on keeping their locations, the people they serve, and the staff, protected.”

  “And I had to be the poster child they cut their teeth on,” she grumped, shaking her head, frowning.

  “Two years ago there was an attack on another Delos charity down in La Fortuna, Costa Rica,” he told her as he looked at his watch, marking the time. “Two teachers were murdered and their school was burned to the ground. A third woman, Lia Cassidy, the administrator, escaped into the jungle and lived to tell us about it. But then the drug lord, who was pissed at them for hiding his mistress from him, took out a hit on Lia as well. That’s when the Culver family kicked into gear. They hired a security contractor like me to protect her. His name is Cav Jordan. And then Dilara and Robert Culver, who own Delos, flew down there to start the rebuilding of the school and hiring new teachers. They fought back by bringing in a security team to allow the construction of the new facility to be completed. The happy ending was that the drug lord was put out of business and the children of that town are thriving with the school nearby.”

  “I didn’t know any of this,” she murmu
red, worried. “What happened?”

  “They eventually captured the drug lord who instigated the murders and the burning of their school. Lia, the woman who survived because of her security contractor, now works at Artemis in Alexandria. So does Cav. They’re happily married and working in different departments at the security company. They have a little one-year-old girl, Sophia.”

  “I love happy endings,” Teren said, seeing the gates of Kitra in the distance. Looking at her watch, she said, “Cool-down time.”

  In more ways than one, Nolan thought as he cut his stride and watched her ponytail settle between her shoulders. He enjoyed seeing Teren in skimpy jogging clothes; her blue shorts and white sleeveless tee left little to his imagination. His hand itched to explore every part of her lovely, gleaming body, but he sent his desire packing, reminding himself that patience paid off—for all concerned. He just hoped that a time for loving would come sooner than later…

  CHAPTER 14

  Enver Uzan listened closely to Nazir, who had been employed at Kitra before being fired. They sat in a tent in the slums near Bachir’s tent. Nazir was a young, restless Sudanese, sweat dripping off his dark temples, his eyes red and bloodshot. Like many child soldiers in western Sudan, he’d become addicted to heroin and cocaine, the drugs of choice given to them before they went in to kill their enemies. That way, the young boys using the AK-47s fired without feeling or social conscience. It also made them bold and risk-taking; they didn’t care if they received wounds or were killed themselves. Earlier, he’d seen Nazir’s forearms as he pushed up the sleeves of his white robe: a number of nicks and scars, and at least two holes indicating bullet wounds from his past.

  Bachir, who was crazy as far as Uzan was concerned, had loudly boasted that he could produce one of his soldiers who had worked at Kitra. But it would cost Uzan many Sudanese pounds. The mercenary was interested in the layout of the charity, and having access to an employee who had worked there and seen it firsthand was worth the price. Besides, his employer, Zakir Sharan, was a billionaire. He could afford to lay out one thousand pounds to speak to Nazir.

  Quickly, Nazir drew Kitra with a stick on the red ground between them, then proceeded to show Uzan everything. Because Kitra was so far out in the middle of the grasslands and built strategically on a small hill, it posed a number of problems for Uzan to approach it without being spotted. Studying the layout, he rubbed his neatly groomed black beard. The place was huge—much larger than he’d anticipated.

  “What of security?” he demanded of Nazir.

  Nazir’s eyes widened. “Captain Ayman Taban has soldiers who protect Kitra.”

  Uzan had heard Taban’s name. As a member of the upper ranks of al-Qaeda, he knew the players in all the countries of the Middle East and Africa. “He retired and works there now?” he demanded.

  “Yes, sir, he does.”

  Scowling, Uzan’s mouth tightened. “Are sentries posted in Kitra?”

  “Yes, and he has three jeeps going around outside the seven-foot red clay wall too, twenty-four hours a day.”

  That made things even worse for Uzan. “Are there any nearby villages?”

  “Yes, one that is two miles south of Kitra. And then there are several more. Some as far away as twenty-five miles from the charity.”

  “Do they visit Kitra?”

  Nodding, Nazir said, “From the nearest village, which has a very large herd of cattle, the women bring butter to Kitra. They exchange the butter for clothes that are sewn there or for money.”

  “But it’s always women?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there camel caravans that pass nearby?”

  “Sometimes, yes.” Nazir brightened and sat up from where he crouched opposite Uzan. “By the time they have crossed the desert from the east, they need water. There are huge water troughs that Kitra keeps filled for all animals, but they are located outside the north wall.”

  “Are these caravans allowed to use them?”

  “Yes. Sometimes, the master of the caravan will go inside Kitra and bargain for other things, such as the fabric and material used by the women who sew for the charity. They trade fresh dates for the material.”

  “Are these men allowed to walk freely around Kitra when they enter to bargain?”

  “No, they are always escorted by at least one armed soldier, usually two. They are not allowed to move freely within Kitra.”

  Uzan scowled more deeply. “Do the people who run this charity ever go outside its walls?” If he couldn’t get in, maybe he could arrange an attack against a group of them outside those big iron gates.

  “Yes,” Nazir said. “Kitra has its own medical doctor and staff—a doctor and three nurses. They have an optician for people who need glasses and eye examinations. There is also a dentist and two assistants. They often go by hafla, visiting surrounding villages, giving medical aid, vaccinations, and dental and eye care for the people. Several times a year, foreign doctors come in and volunteer their services to the villages as well.”

  Uzan unrolled a map, placing it down on the rug laid over the hard-packed dirt in front of him. He stared in the half-light provided by the open tent flap, studying the area surrounding Kitra. “Do they have a schedule when they do this?”

  “Oh, at least once every month, two or three haflas bearing volunteer doctors and nurses from around the world are driven out to a faraway village, sahib.”

  “What about Teren Lambert? Does she ever go with them?”

  “Yes, often she accompanies them, because she speaks Arabic and many of the local village dialects. She is the doctors’ interpreter and translator. Her job is very important and she is always going on these rounds.”

  “Who else interprets for these groups?”

  “Only she. It is part of her duties as an administrator to get volunteers from around the world to come into Kitra for a week to help Sudanese villagers. She maintains a monthly record of such visits by foreigners.”

  That looked promising to Uzan. “So, she does this monthly?”

  “When I was there, she left many times each month for such duties.”

  “I need a schedule.”

  Nazir wiped his sweaty face with his large hand. “Then you need to send a man to the villages south of Kitra to find out when the next medical team is going out for a visit. News is often passed by word of mouth to nearby villages and all the people walk to the location where they’ll be cared for by the medical team.”

  Uzan wished he had a good hacker with him so he could get him to break into Kitra’s servers to snoop around. He would call Sharan about the possibility. If not successful, he was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. “You know these villages, Nazir?”

  “Yes, sahib, I do. I would often go along with them to collect medical garbage so it wouldn’t be left behind in a village and spread disease.”

  Grunting, Uzan said, “Then get going. How long will it take you?”

  “Do you want the earliest visit by the medical people? Or should I go to all villages and find out their summer schedule?”

  “Find one that has the summer schedule and then see me.” He’d need time to buy a group of mercenaries who weren’t drugged up to their eyeballs. Uzan entertained kidnapping Teren Lambert. It appeared, under the circumstances, the easiest route to creating serious disruption to Kitra and to Delos. He stared over at the soldier. “And take no drugs. I want you clearheaded. I’ll give you a satellite phone and teach you how to use it. When you arrive at a village that has Kitra’s full visiting schedule, you’ll call me. I’ll write the information down on this map. Once you get me all the information, then I can form my plan. You’ll be paid in full after you get me that intel.”

  Instantly, Nazir was on his sandaled feet. “Yes, sahib.”

  *

  Teren’s stomach was knotted and rolled as they completed their somber meeting for the supervisors at Kitra. No one was smiling now that Ayman and Nolan had finished giving them their briefing. Tere
n had sat next to Farida, who would reach over and pat her hand every once in a while, attuned to her being upset because she had been targeted by Sharan. Who wouldn’t be? Teren wondered. It wasn’t every day she was put on a hit list by a major al-Qaeda organization. There had also been a Skype session with Wyatt Lockwood, who had updated everyone from Artemis. They were sending over two drones that would be kept inside Kitra. Plus, two ex–Air Force drone pilots would be arriving with the pilotless aircraft. They would live within the walls of Kitra. That made Teren feel better. Those eyes in the sky could see for many miles, trolling along at twenty-thousand feet, unseen and unheard by those below. They would provide real-time intel for such things as Sudanese Army maneuvers, camel caravans, or anyone driving on the road to Kitra.

  Sometimes, during the briefing, she’d felt Nolan’s gaze on her and looked up to see him watching her. Each time, she felt that warm cloak of protection surrounding her. Teren had argued with Wyatt that she should leave Kitra to keep it safe and no longer be a target of Sharan. Wyatt had quickly punctured her argument, saying it was the charity at large that was under potential attack. And that the entire American, Turkish, and Greek families who owned Delos were also targets, not just Kitra.

  She was only a “secondary target,” which didn’t make her feel any better.

  It was near lunchtime when they broke to go back to their offices. Farida and Hadii surrounded her, hugged her, kissed her cheeks, and told her that they loved her and would protect her. It brought tears to Teren’s eyes as she hugged them back. When she’d turned, Nolan was waiting at the door to the conference room. She managed a weak smile as she walked around the table and approached him.

  “Why don’t we have lunch at the duplex?” he said, cupping her elbow, leading her out onto the busy hall. “I think you need some quiet time.”

  She fell into step with him. “That obvious, huh?”