Her heart seemed to pause in her chest. Time grew elastic and slowed to a crawl.
The man had aged, of course, and his black hair was now mixed with white. But she would know his face anywhere. And if that were in doubt, she recognized the signet ring he wore on his right hand as he released the man he’d greeted and smoothed his gray tie.
Acacia put her head down and walked as fast as she could toward the elevator.
Behind her, Kurt hastened to keep pace.
Her heart thumped wildly, and the blood sang in her ears.
She resisted the urge to run but was careful to face the elevators, her back toward the man. She pressed the elevator button.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked in French.
“Nothing,” she lied. “Let’s go.”
When the elevators opened, she rushed in and kept her back to the atrium. She touched the hamsa pendant at her wrist and prayed with all her might the man hadn’t seen her.
When the doors closed, she sagged against the wall and covered her face with her hands.
“What just happened? Do I need to call the boss?” Kurt bent over her.
She lowered her hands. “No.”
He looked concerned. “Are you sick?”
“No.” She eyed the security camera in the top corner of the elevator. “I’m fine.”
When the elevator opened on their floor, she crossed the threshold and broke into a run. She hurled herself across the thick carpet to the suite and quickly swiped her key card.
Kurt followed.
Acacia pulled off her heels as she entered the hall and tossed them aside. She climbed the stairs to her room as fast as she could.
“What’s going on?” Kurt entered her room, just behind her.
Acacia didn’t turn around. “There are security cameras in the elevator and probably audio surveillance. You know that.”
She jogged into the massive dressing room that adjoined her bedroom.
Kurt stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?”
She picked up a pair of sensible, flat shoes and slipped them on. “I’m going to the airport and taking the first flight out. I don’t care where it goes.”
“I have to tell him.” Kurt’s voice was firm.
Her eyes flashed. “Tell him after I’m gone.”
Kurt frowned and disappeared from view.
She punched a security code into the dressing room safe and opened it. She grabbed her passports, her cash, and her burner cell phone and threw them into her handbag. There was no time to pack clothes.
Then she remembered the necklace.
It would take precious minutes to retrieve it. But Acacia wasn’t going to leave it behind.
She threw caution to the wind and flew across the hall into Nicholas’s room. She raced past the bed and into the bathroom. The lapis necklace was still where she’d placed it the night before.
She picked it up and quickly put it on. Her fingers shook as she tried several times to fasten it. Finally, the catch caught, and she was able to close it.
She ran back to her room and unplugged her laptop, then tossed it and its cord into a tote bag. She looked around anxiously for her cell phone. Then she realized it was in her jacket pocket.
She pulled out the phone and switched it off, in case someone tried to use it to track her. She didn’t have time to remove the SIM card. She’d have to do it at the airport.
Acacia swung her handbag over her shoulder and grabbed her tote bag.
“You’re leaving?” Nicholas’s voice came from behind her.
She whirled around. “Yes.”
“Were you going to tell me?” His tone barely concealed his anger.
She kept her head down and moved toward the door. “There isn’t time.”
He slammed the door shut behind him and stood in front of it, fists clenched.
“Why?”
“I have to go.” Her voice was pleading. “I’m in danger here.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “Not from me.”
She tried to move past him, but he blocked her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Her hands went to her hair and pulled. “I saw someone in the atrium.”
“Who?”
“Omar Zaid Hirzalla,” she whispered. “I have to get out of here.”
Nicholas took a step closer. “Who is he?”
“Nicholas, please!” she begged.
“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Frightened tears formed in her eyes. “He’s an arms dealer. He’s dangerous. Please, let me go.”
Nicholas looked stunned. “How do you know an arms dealer?”
She hesitated.
“Acacia.” He bowed his head and almost brought their noses together. “Tell me who this man is, right now.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Her gaze darted to the door. She was wasting precious time.
She looked back at Nicholas.
“He’s my father.”
Chapter Forty
NICHOLAS’S HEAD JERKED BACK. “Your father?”
“I need to get out of the hotel before he comes for me.”
Nicholas passed a hand over his mouth. “Then you aren’t leaving because of me?”
“Of course not.” She wiped a tear away. “But if you don’t get away from that door, I’m going to remove you.”
He lifted his hands. “Let me help you. Tell me what happened.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” She pushed past him and opened the door. “I saw my father. I don’t think he saw me, but if he did, he’ll come after me. He’ll find my mother. I need to go to the airport.”
“Slow down.” He caught her elbow. “Where’s your mother now?”
“Recife.”
“Are you sure it was your father?”
“I saw his face. And the ring he always wore.”
Nicholas led her into the hall. “You can call your mother on a secure line. I’ll arrange to move her to safety.”
“You can do that?” Acacia sniffled and wished she had a tissue.
He touched his lips to her forehead. “We’ll move her temporarily, until we decide what to do next.
“No matter who your father is, he won’t make a move inside the hotel. I’ll arrange for additional security. I’ll notify hotel security as well.”
Acacia pulled on his arm. “If you raise the alarm with the hotel, he’ll find out.”
Nicholas surveyed her tears. “I’ll speak with my security team, and we’ll come up with an alternative.”
As they approached the staircase, Acacia caught sight of Kurt.
His eyes were alert. He followed Nicholas and Acacia down the stairs and into the media room that had become a security hub.
As soon as Nicholas entered the room, Wen and Rick stood at attention. “Wen, I need a secure line. Acacia is going to call Brazil.”
Nicholas guided her to a low couch. He pulled her handbag and tote from her shoulders and placed them next to her.
He withdrew a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. Tenderly, he wiped her face.
“You need a drink.” He deposited the silk into her hand. “I’ll be right back.
“Rick, come with me.”
The bodyguard stepped forward, his eyes narrowed at Acacia. She ignored him, her mind racing.
Rick and Nicholas walked across the hall in the direction of the dining room. Acacia heard them talking, but couldn’t make out the words.
Kurt stood in the doorway and looked over his shoulder, as if determining Nicholas and Rick’s location. He approached the couch. “I had to tell him. I work for him.”
Acacia nodded and clutched the handkerchief.
Kurt crouched down in fro
nt of her. “I wouldn’t have let anyone get near you. My job is to keep you safe. Understand?”
“I understand,” she replied dully.
“But you have to disclose any and all threats to us. We can handle surprises, but we don’t like them. Neither does the boss.” Seeming satisfied, Kurt returned to his position in the doorway and watched for his employer’s return.
Wen handed her a phone and addressed her in English. “This line is secure. Do you know the number?”
She nodded. She dialed with trembling fingers.
When her mother answered, Acacia breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately, she switched to Portuguese. “Mãe? Where are you right now?”
“I’m in bed,” her mother answered, sounding sleepy. “What time is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. Listen, Mãe, you have to get up. I saw him.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What did you say?”
“Him, Mãe. I saw him. I don’t know if he saw me, but I can’t take that chance. You have to get up and pack a bag.”
Acacia heard the rustle of bedclothes.
“Where are you?” her mother asked.
Acacia shut her eyes tightly. “Dubai.”
“Dubai?” her mother shouted. “What are you doing in Dubai?”
“I’m here with a friend. We’ve arranged for someone to come and get you. They’ll take you to a safe place.”
“You stupid girl! You knew better than to go to that part of the world. Are you crazy? Now we have to start all over again.” Her mother swore.
Acacia stifled a sob. “I’m sorry, Mamãe.”
Nicholas stood over her and gestured to the phone.
Acacia handed it over.
“Mrs. Santos, this is Nicholas Cassirer.” He spoke in English.
Acacia overheard her mother replying in English.
“I’m Acacia’s boyfriend. Pack a bag and be ready to leave your apartment in less than an hour. I’m sending someone to get you. You can ask him for the password. The password is Santorini.” Nicholas’s eyes met Acacia’s.
She heard her mother haranguing Nicholas in a mixture of Portuguese and English.
“Mrs. Santos,” he interjected, “you need to get ready now. Take everything you value with you, including your passport. Call me at this number if there’s a problem.”
He waited for her acquiescence.
Acacia heard her mother agree tersely before hanging up.
Nicholas pulled the device from his ear and frowned. He handed it off to Wen before he retrieved a drink from a nearby table.
“You look like you need this.” He placed the glass in Acacia’s hands. “I’ll make another.”
She sipped the vodka and tonic gratefully as her mother’s curses echoed in her ears.
Acacia opened her eyes.
She looked up at the canopy that hung over Nicholas’s bed. Confused, she turned to her side; Nicholas watched her from a nearby armchair.
He’d removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of shirt. His expression was subdued, his eyes wary. “How are you feeling?”
“Disoriented.” She sat up and noticed she’d shed her green jacket, but was still in her dress and stockings. “What time is it?”
“It’s after five.”
“I’ve been asleep for two hours?”
“Yes.” He crossed over to the bed and sat next to her. “You were in shock. Your adrenaline crashed, and you fell asleep on the couch downstairs.”
“Maybe it was the vodka and tonic.” Acacia rubbed her head. “You didn’t give me something, did you?”
“Certainly not.” His temper flared. “I admit the drink was strong, but you needed it. You were shaking like a leaf.”
She lifted her head. “My mother.”
“She’s in a safe house in Manaus. She’s fine.”
“Can I speak to her?”
Nicholas frowned. “You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it. She isn’t in the best of moods at the moment.”
Acacia brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. Her mother blamed her for what had happened. She’d never forgive her.
“I put her life at risk by coming here,” she groaned.
“Nonsense. How could you have known he would be here?”
“We avoided this part of the world intentionally. I knew better.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Acacia picked at the sheets. “What about your meeting with Constantine’s contact? Did you go back?”
“Don’t worry about it. How do you feel?”
“Drained. Upset.” She brushed the sleep from her eyes.
“I need to tell you a few things.” Nicholas’s tone was grave. “Are you feeling up to it?”
She nodded.
“My team made inquiries, and you’re correct; the man you saw is Omar Zaid Hirzalla.”
A feeling of horror rose in Acacia’s chest. “Is he here now?”
“No. I’m told he left the airport in a private plane about an hour ago. Apparently, he’s flying to Morocco.” Nicholas pried her fingers from the sheet. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For shouting at you. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
His gaze dropped to their hands. “I thought you were leaving me.”
“I was trying to escape him.”
“Next time, let me help.”
She set her teeth. “There won’t be a next time. I don’t ever want to be that close to him again.”
Nicholas’s eyes lingered on hers before they lowered to the large, azure globes around her neck. “You weren’t wearing those at the meeting.”
“No.” Instinctively, her hand covered the necklace. Her hamsa pendant swung from her wrist.
“You stopped to take my gift with you?”
She changed the subject. “Were you able to reschedule your meeting?”
His expression tightened. He shook his head.
“Nicholas, I’m so sorry. Were you able to get any information at all?”
“We’d barely begun.”
“Oh, no.”
Nicholas lifted a shoulder. “In life there are detours.”
Acacia winced. Nicholas couldn’t hide his disappointment. It was evident in his eyes and on his face. “You gave up your chance to find your family’s paintings because Kurt told you I was leaving?”
Nicholas didn’t answer. The searing intensity of his gaze was its own response.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“When you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to tell me how a Brazilian concierge ended up related to a Jordanian arms dealer.”
Acacia leaned back against the pillows.
Nicholas was conflicted; that much was obvious. Clearly he was upset about what had happened to her. But there was a hint of censure in his voice she didn’t like.
“I don’t like things hanging over my head,” she said heatedly.
“Nor do I,” he challenged.
“Fine.” She fixed him with a defiant look. “The story is simple. I was born in Jordan to a Brazilian mother and a Jordanian father. My mother converted to Islam when she married my father.”
“I take it Acacia Santos isn’t your real name.”
“No. My name is Hanin. Hanin Hirzalla.”
“Hanin.” Nicholas pronounced her name as if it were a caress.
“It means longing or yearning in Arabic.”
“It suits you.”
She looked down at the sheets. Nicholas was from an old and prominent European Jewish family. She had been worried about how he’d react to the revelation that she was Muslim. But he seemed untroubled. And the way he pronounced her birth name…
“We lived in
Amman until I was ten, and then my mother took me and fled. I haven’t seen my father since.”
“If you hadn’t seen him in so many years, how did you recognize him?”
“I know what my father looks like. Besides, the man downstairs was wearing the same signet ring he always wore.”
“So you fled Jordan and went to Brazil?”
“That’s right.”
Nicholas smoothed the wrinkles from his suit trousers. “Why are you afraid of him?”
She lifted her hair and exposed her scar.
“That’s reason enough.” Nicholas’s eyes met hers. “Is there more?”
“He sent a man to Brazil to kidnap me when I was fifteen. But by that time, I had enough martial arts training to get away.”
Nicholas’s eyebrows shot up. “What happened?”
Acacia looked at the floor. “We were living in Rio. I was on my way home from school. Someone grabbed me and started speaking in Arabic about my father. He didn’t expect me to fight, so I surprised him.”
Nicholas chuckled. But when he saw Acacia’s expression, he sobered. “I’m sorry. It isn’t funny. But there’s something wondrous about the thought of you beating up a grown man when you were a teenager.”
“My mother and I had to leave everything behind and flee Rio for Recife. We had to change identities. Again.” Acacia tugged at her hair. “That isn’t the worst of it.”
“What is?” Nicholas whispered.
“My father sold bomb-making materials to the people who bombed Damascus in 1986. They killed civilians.”
Nicholas blinked. “That wasn’t in the dossier I was provided.”
“You have a dossier on him?”
“Once you gave me his name, I had Wen reach out to some allies. The dossier said your father is a wealthy Jordanian businessman who travels a lot, doing business all over the Near East and North Africa. It’s widely known he’s an arms dealer, but no one has been able to tie him to a specific terrorist attack or incursion.”
“Try the March 1986 bombing of Damascus. He admitted it to my mother, along with supplying materials for the April bombings.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “If you were ten years old in 1986, then you can’t be thirty-five.”
“We didn’t know about the bombings until years later, just before I turned ten. By that time, he was trading arms all over the region. He’d kept his activities secret from us, but my mother found out.