Son Of The Sheikh
HEIR TO A FORTUNESomeone is threating to expose Sara Elliott’s secret. After draining her bank account, she flees to Morocco to face the one man she fears, the only man who can truly protect her son. Sheik Talib Al-Nassar has money and power beyond compare, but nothing could prepare him for seeing his ex, especially in his homeland. Though suspicious of this reunion, he would do anything to shield her and her little boy from further danger. Welcoming them to his family compound, Talib’s shelter has a price of its own. Like Sara’s blackmailer, he desires only one thing: the truth about her son…
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Heir to a Fortune
Someone is threatening to expose Sara Elliottâs secret. After draining her bank account, she flees to Morocco to face the one man she fears, the only man who can truly protect her son. Sheik Talib Al-Nassar has money and power beyond compare, but nothing could prepare him for seeing his ex, especially in his homeland. Though suspicious of this reunion, he would do anything to shield her and her little boy from further danger. He welcomes them to his family compound, but Talibâs shelter has a price of its own. Like Saraâs blackmailer, he desires only one thing: the truth about her sonâ¦
Desert Justice
âIâve lost my son.â
She gasped for air. Tried to think straight, tried to remain calm, but it was all impossible. âHeâs two. Please.â She bit back hysteria. âHelp me.â
âMaâam, Iâm sure heâs been found and taken outside. Go outside and wait.â
âWait?â It was the second time sheâd heard it and this time she could take no more. âMy son is missing!â She clenched her fists, driving her recently home-manicured nails into the palms of her hands. A sharp pain ran up her arms. It grounded her, temporarily dispelled the blinding panic.
Her hands shook and her head pounded. She wouldnât give up. Coming to Marrakech had been a decision made in desperation. For it was here, in the land of the sheiks, where she searched for the lifeline that would protect her heart. Only one man could save her son and keep them both safe.
She needed to find Sheik Talib Al-Nassar. But first she had to find Everett. He was her heart, and without him, there was nothing.
RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist for the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that thereâs never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit www.ryshiakennie.com.
When I was a toddler, you read endlessly to me and then
wondered why I became a bookworm. I suppose that makes you partially responsible for the writer I am. You taught me how to read and you also taught me self-reliance. If it can be bought, it can be made. From soup to wedding veils. For my mother, who reminds me every day that nothing is impossible. Quit just isnât in her vocabulary. To you, Mom.
Contents
Marrakech, Morocco
Tuesday 4:00 a.m.
He slipped out of the back entrance of the Desert Sands Hotel and disappeared into the darkness. And, although he didnât move far away, he looked back only once, and with a self-satisfied smile. He had been in the hotel for a little over twenty minutes. It had all been too easy. He had come in through the unlocked fire exit where security cameras hadnât been installed. He didnât glance at the man at the front desk, for he knew that he had also been paid both for his assistance and his silence.
Neither of them would be here for the outcome. They only knew their parts, nothing more. He waited for the one other player in this game. She arrived exactly thirty minutes later, on schedule, as was her habit. Despite her initial reluctance, a doubling of the original sum was all that was required.
He glanced at his watch. It was five oâclock. He had ten hours before the second act.
He vanished into the narrow and twisted corridors of the Medina, where he had lived the majority of his life and where the plan had incubated. It was here where he would wait for his finale and then others would take charge. He was only a pawn in a much bigger game.
The signs of a new day merged into late morning and then followed into early afternoon. It wasnât until the day drifted close to midafternoon that the man from the Medina returned. And then he waited. There was no need to enter the hotel. Everything he needed would be brought to him, as planned.
* * *
THE FIRST SIGN of trouble went unnoticed by anyone in the lobby of the Desert Sands Hotel. The day began like any other, full of promise for business and tourists alike. The hotel was abuzz with the imminent arrival of a busload of tourists that would soon mesh with the energy of the guests already there. Times were changing and new ideas were being implemented. The hotel was under new ownership and so far, the change had been flawless. Everything was going as beautifully as the clear September day that held such promise for those eager to explore the city. Marrakech was full of places to discover, secrets waiting to be found. The city had an exotic history that was steeped in the depths of the Medina. There, the hustle and bustle in the souks, the numerous and varied shops with the merchants peddling their wares, added excitement and mystery, as had been the tradition for centuries. It was the place tourists came to spend good money and be part of that rich history. It was a special place, an exciting place. For most, it was very different from what they were familiar with. For others, it was a place of businessâa place where commerce was at the center. For there was money here as well as history. There were other things, too, like poverty and crime, that lurked in the narrow alleys where he waited.
