Page 119 of High Treason
“I’ve done the same,” Kord said. “Prince Omar, give Monica a chance to interview the women. We’re looking for possibly another shooter or shooters from late last night. The real killer or killers just might show up at Youssof’s hospital door, and we’ll be ready to make an arrest.”
KORD THREW A SWEATY TOWELinto a bin at the workout room of the Saud mansion. He’d finished a five-mile run on the treadmill. His left arm protested from the flesh wound, and he couldn’t lift weights. Exercise stoked his mind to work harder on the criminal activities surrounding Prince Omar. Yet firing neurons hadn’t given him the answers he needed. Parvin Shah had died with answers, and Youssof Dagher’s family was condemned if he breathed a word of truth. Did Shah have a brother here in Houston or was Youssof lying?
His phone alerted him to a call—HPD. “Special Agent Davidson.”
The officer introduced himself as the one who’d reported a security cam picking up the license plate of a car that had left the area of the Coffee Gone Dark café. “Wanted to give you an update. Officers found the car abandoned in an alley three blocks from the incident. It was swept clean.”
Kord thanked him before laying his phone aside. Youssof hadn’tworked alone, and whoever else attacked him and Monica last night was still out there.
He’d hoped Prince Omar and Ali might scare Youssof into spilling his guts. But the young man’s brainwashing stopped him from exposing those who barked the orders. Kord walked into the workout room shower while his thoughts explored the who and why.
On the return trip from the hospital, the prince shared he’d be in Houston for at least three more weeks. Longer if his mother survived. With the attacks since the prince’s arrival, every day brought new problems, deadly ones. Enemies in the Middle East ridiculed the US and Saudi Arabia for not ending the assassination attempts, calling their investigative skills inferior and laying groundwork for the two countries to turn against each other.
“With the investigation showing progress, I’m postponing sending my sisters home,” the prince said. “Especially with my mother’s dwindling health.”
The wordindecisivecrossed Kord’s mind.
Prince Omar had arranged the video interview with Youssof’s mother and her two daughters for the following morning, evening in Riyadh.
Concern about Monica’s health, her perfectionism, and especially what he’d learned about Liam Fielder hit hard. People and mistakes went hand in hand, a part of the human DNA. He’d made his share. For Monica, he saw a woman hurting and unable to forgive herself. Choices and consequences balanced the scales and forced a person to grow stronger or slide downhill.
Kord asked himself if he wanted to help her crawl out of the misery hidden behind those blue eyes. His attraction to her took him down a road he wanted to avoid—the thought of family. While he feared the temptation of turning to alcohol when life overwhelmed him, he also promised himself it wouldn’t happen. He’d never tastedthe stuff. Never intended to. The picture of a falling-down drunk out of control and making a fool of himself wasn’t worth it.
He was hunting for the purpose of life. Like discovering the motivation of a criminal, he craved a reason to crawl out of bed each morning. One day, he wouldn’t have this job, and he didn’t want to be still searching, investing his self-worth in his work. God had become more real as he explored who or what set the standards for right and wrong. But he was plagued with confusion. The injustices in this world warred against the possibility of a loving God. He wanted to understand the origin of creation, and what it meant for him.
How many times had he deliberated the meaning of life? If all he had to look forward to was a cold grave, wouldn’t it be better to have faith in a God who claimed life eternal?
Dealing with his feelings for Monica meant exploring why he wanted what he swore he didn’t, a battle of his heart. Liam played a huge role as the fiancé who’d used her and spit her out. Yet Kord sensed her hurt went deeper than Liam—something else added mortar around her heart. Kord saw the guarded look that went beyond betrayal—a primal fear. He wanted to help even if he didn’t understand the depth of why. For sure she wasn’t aware of what he sensed or she’d unload her S&W on him.
He wanted to help her end the turmoil. Then he had to stop debating the reality of God. Stop putting it off.
God, if You’re real, show me. I want to find meaning in my life. If it’s not You, I don’t know where to look.
At 7:30 p.m. Monica woke, groggy but stronger. Then reality choked her. The doctor had insisted the IVs be in place through Tuesday, and he stated it would be Friday or Saturday before shefelt better. Not Thursday for the rodeo event. What a wrench in her protection detail.
No matter, she’d manage her responsibilities without the doctor’s permission.
All the think time with no action hammered at her typical pace. Parvin Shah and Youssof Dagher ... Neither appeared to have the aptitude to pull off the assassination. What had been determined after the second interview with Youssof?
She loathed lying in bed as an invalid. A knock sounded at the door in the common area. She heard Fatima and Prince Omar. A moment later, Kord stood alone in the doorway to her room.
“The prince is having coffee with his sisters, so we can talk.”
“I could use the company.”
“The company or me?” He grinned.
She treasured the sparkle in his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to damage your ego.”
“Let’s start with the latest updates.”
She’d like to capture his smile and bring it out on rainy days. “Same thing.”
He moved into the room and pulled a chair to her bed. “How’s the coughing?”
“Manageable.”
He pointed to the meds on her nightstand. “Do you need—?”
