“It appears she took a liking to the waiter, Mohammed, who I haven’t been able to contact.”
Lucy let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Waiter? Oh no, that’s not possible. She likes the high life.”
“I doubt very much that Mohammed would have been able to take her away unless she’d been willing. There’s no indication from my friends that she wasn’t willing.”
She groaned. “She couldn’t have been willing. Why the hell would she leave the life she’d been living—that held everything she’d always wanted—and disappear into the desert with some, some gypsy servant, waiter, whatever?”
“They are not gypsies,” he said patiently. “They are an ancient people with honorable ways. Just because you do not know of them, do not suppose they are without value.”
“I’m sorry,” she rubbed her eyes. “I’m just so scared. How much further?”
“We are going to the mountains directly ahead, at the end of this road.”
“I can’t see how you can make out a road here. It all looks the same.”
“Just as well you’re not driving then.”
He shifted his glance—as stony and arid as the landscape surrounding them—back to the road ahead. Lucy turned away feeling sick to her stomach, not only with apprehension over Maia but with how her intimacy with Razeen had turned into suspicion and distrust.
Hours past and Lucy watched a group of buzzards circling high overhead. Life was hard in the desert. She couldn’t imagine her glamorous sister here. Razeen was wrong. He had to be.
“We’ll stop for the night shortly.”
“No, please. We must get to Maia tonight. Can’t we keep going?”
“It’s too far. We started out too late. We’ll pitch our tents in the next oasis tonight and leave at first light. Then, tomorrow we will reach our destination. If she’s there, we’ll find her.”
“But if she’s not?”
“Then I’ll continue to make enquiries until I know where she is—inside and outside of Sitra.”
“Thank you.” Razeen might be angry with her, he might be barely civil but she knew his sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to give up on her search for Maia. Inside she grieved for what might have been but she was just thankful he was helping her.
“Tell me about her, anything that could help,” Razeen continued.
“Maia had—has—everything she ever wanted: a great career as a model, wealth, fun. She loved life and loved living it to the full.”
“Perhaps having everything she ever wanted wasn’t enough.”
“You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know what our life was like.”
“Then tell me.”
She was silent for a few moments. “It was hard for me but it was harder for Maia. Mum died when Maia was sixteen. Dad came back and wanted us to go and live with him but she wouldn’t go. She told him to get out like he’d done when we were young. She wouldn’t have anything to do with him. She left school, got a job and paid the bills and looked after me.” Lucy swallowed and took a deep breath. She’d told few people about her past but now she had no choice. “It wasn’t always easy for her. I had a mind of my own, my own issues, my own problems. But she always cared for me. Did what she could. And then, stuff happened, I left school and we made a pact: to never compromise, to lead a different life to the one our mother led. Maia was wonderful to me, always. She is…”
Lucy couldn’t go on. The tears threatened and the last thing she wanted was to breakdown in front of Razeen. She stared out the window until her eyes burned, trying to hide her emotion from Razeen but his hand covered her own fisted hand and squeezed it.
“We will find her.”
Lucy pulled her free hand to her mouth to try to stifle the sobs that hitched in her throat while leaving her other hand in the warm grip of Razeen. She felt as if she were disintegrating. After being independent for so long, being strong through everything, to have the man beside her give her comfort, brought the tears to the surface.
“Don’t cry, Lucy. All will be well.”
“I never cry,” she sobbed, somehow managing to prevent the tears from flowing. “I don’t cry. That’s weak. I’m not weak.”
“Even the strong cry sometimes.”
It was as if his words triggered all the fear that had been tied in a knot in the pit of her stomach for so long and when she opened her mouth to speak only a wail, a cry of despair, filled the car.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The oasis was filled with the eerie sound of the rabab being played by one of his men. The man was singing of loss and longing and Razeen felt his emotion with every pass of the bow across the single string. Razeen shifted his back against the thick trunk of the date palm and gazed across the darting flames of the fire at Lucy, her plate of food untouched before her. If she’d been surprised at his reaction to her revelation, then he’d been more surprised. His affair with Lucy was meant to have been a no-ties fling, on both sides; a short interlude before his life changed course. Then why had her lack of trust in him, thrown him so completely?