Exhausted, she plopped down on the bed next to her suitcase. She really should get some sleep. It wasn’t that late. She glanced at the clock radio on the table by the bed. Nine-fifteen. But she hadn’t slept well the night before and she needed to be fresh in the morning. Starting tomorrow she had to be in tip-top condition. No distractions, fatigue included. She thought about the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed, but the hangover and dulled senses the morning after weren’t worth it. She’d just have to try getting some sleep the old-fashioned way.
Shouting in the room next door made her jump. She pressed her hand to her chest and stared at the wall that separated her room from the one next door. A man’s voice sounded angry, a woman’s pleading. Whatever was going on, nothing about it conveyed pleasantness.
Maybe she should call the desk and complain. Like that would do any good. The desk clerks she’d encountered so far looked about as interested in their work as fence posts.
A loud crash accompanied by the sound of breaking pottery, the table lamp, she surmised, launched her into action. She’d just reached for the phone when a rap on her door paralyzed her.
It wouldn’t be the people next door since she could still hear them shouting. It was too late for someone from the Equalizers to be dropping by… wasn’t it?
Standing there in the middle of the room wouldn’t answer the question. She moved quietly to the door and checked the peephole.
Spencer Anders waited on the other side.
She had to admit, considering the ruckus next door, she was relieved to see him. After sliding the chain free of its catch, she opened the door.
It wasn’t until she came face-to-face with him that the possibility that he’d arrived bearing bad news formulated in her sleep-deprived head.
“Have our plans changed?” She tried to steel herself for what might be coming, but there wasn’t any way to adequately prepare. She wasn’t sure she could handle bad news. Not now, after she’d gotten this close. She was packed, the tickets had been purchased.
“May I come in?”
In her experience when a person avoided answering a direct question then there was a problem. Her heart started to pound in anticipation of the worst.
“Sure.” She managed to back up and open the door wider. “Is there a problem?”
He closed the door behind him, leaving her with nothing to hold onto. Whether it was the look on her face or the trembling that had started along her limbs, he appeared to comprehend her mounting hysteria.
“There’s no problem. We’re right on schedule.”
She might have exhaled some of the tension just then if the ranting in the other room hadn’t chosen that exact moment to explode all over again.
“Excuse me.”
Spencer Anders pivoted, opened the door and walked back outside.
Confused, Willow followed as far as the door.
He turned and held up a hand for her to stop. “Stay there.”
As ordered, she didn’t move. Several seconds passed before she realized that she didn’t have to stand here like this just because he said so. By then his banging on the door next to hers had silenced the shouting in the other room and startled her so that she couldn’t think to move anyway.
What was he doing?
The neighboring door burst open. “What the hell do you want?” the man towering in the open doorway demanded.
“I’d like to speak with the lady in the room,” Anders said, his tone utterly calm and oddly genial.
“She’s busy right now,” the lanky, mean-looking guy glaring at Anders snapped. “Unless you’re a cop, I’d advise you to get lost.”
Sobbing from inside the room made Willow’s chest tighten.
“I’d like to do that, buddy,” Anders offered, “but you see, I have a problem with jerks like you.”
His next move happened so fast Willow would have missed it entirely if she hadn’t been watching so closely. He slammed the guy square in the jaw with his fist. The jerk dropped to the floor without so much as a grunt. “You okay, ma’am?”
Willow blinked, and in that fraction of a second, Anders was attending to the woman who’d rushed past the fallen jerk and straight into her savior’s arms. By the time the cops had arrived, Anders had ordered Willow back into the room and closed the door.
She peeked past the curtains and watched him comfort the woman as the police took away her boyfriend or John or whatever he was. Nearly a half hour later the cops, as well as the jerk and the woman were gone.
Willow jumped away from the window when Anders knocked on her door even though she’d watched him walk right up and rap his knuckles there.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said as soon as he’d stepped back into her room.
Her brain kept telling her to say that she understood, but her lips wouldn’t form the words.
That intense gray gaze settled on hers once more. “I wanted to give you one last chance to change your mind about going with me to Kuwait. I’m not sure you fully comprehend the magnitude of the danger we may very well encounter.”
She should have anticipated that he would attempt to dissuade her again, but somehow she hadn’t.
“I’m going, Mr. Anders. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”
She stared right back at him with all the defiance she could muster in her current state of teetering between total exhaustion and absolute confusion as to what she’d just witnessed with the couple next door. Unfortunately, her body betrayed her and attempted to tremble beneath his continued visual assessment. Dammit, she should be stronger than that.
“In that case, I won’t waste my time or yours.” He reached for the door once more. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ms. Harris. Try to get some sleep.”
Then he left. No more questions or warnings, nothing. He just walked right out as if her answer had been all he needed to move forward.
Willow locked the door and slid the chain back into place. She measured how he’d stepped in to rescue the woman next door against how easily he’d accepted her answer and gone on his way.
A paradox, she decided. One she wasn’t sure she possessed the wherewithal to decipher.
Whatever he was or wasn’t, she sincerely hoped he could follow through with his promise to get her son back. She needed him to be able to do that.
Right or wrong, her son was all that mattered to her just now.
Call it mother’s intuition, but every instinct was screaming at her that time was running out fast. Very fast.
Chapter Five
Wednesday, February 23
Aboard a flight to Kuwait
Spencer watched Willow Harris sleep. She had fought the need for hours before finally surrendering. Then she’d curled up in the window seat next to him. He was glad she’d given in. This might be her last chance to get any decent sleep until the mission was over.
Another hour and they would land at the airport in Kuwait City. He’d spent most of the travel time asking questions about the way she’d met al-Shimmari. The story went like