Stranded with My Stepbrother Chapter 73

-Jacey-

When I woke up, Ibrahim was not in bed, and that gave me an infinite sense of relief.

I sat up, holding the sheet up over my chest just in case he was still in the room.

A low chuckle emanated from the office. “It’s adorable that you think you’re going to get away with that. Go ahead and go shower. Then we have work to do,” Ibrahim said.

With an angry blush, I yanked the sheet free of the mattress and wore it around me to the bathroom. Ibrahim’s laughter followed behind me.

I slammed the door shut then took stock of what was to be had in the bathroom. There was a robe, but it was so big it was clearly for Ibrahim. There was not another robe for me. No surprise there.

In the shower, there were all manner of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners on a built-in ledge. It was a modern zero level entry tile shower bigger than most walk-in closets, with shower heads and jets and handles galore.

I just went for the simple waterfall function and washed with something that smelled like vanilla. Then I stepped out, dried off, brushed my hair, and marched back into the bedroom in a towel.

“Not the rules, Jacey,” Ibrahim said absently.

I wondered how he could even see me without turning around, then I caught the edge of his screen and saw there was a camera feed there of the bedroom and bathroom. Of course.

Muttering under my breath, I tossed the towel back in the bathroom and padded stark naked into the office.

“Better,” he said, finally looking up. He did a slow once-over of my assets then waved a hand in the direction of my desk. “I e-mailed you a list of tasks. It should take you until this afternoon. Then, we’re going into Cordoba.”

“We’re… going into the city?” I gaped, completely thrown. “And… I thought you said my e-mail wouldn’t work?”

“We have an internal network. Your e-mail won’t e-mail outside of the network,” he clarified. “And yes, we’re going into the city. So I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

Screw that. The second we got into the city, I was going to create such a ruckus that it’d bring all of Interpol down on us and this place. I just smiled and nodded, though. He didn’t need to know my plans.

“And if you’re thinking of making a fuss once we get there, please keep in mind I can snap your neck like a twig in seconds, and it’s a Moorish city. There are all kinds of twists and turns and alleys I can drag you down to shut you up,” he said in an offhanded sort of way.

Damn.

I decided I’d take in the lay of the land once we got there and then make a plan. I went to my desk and sat down, getting everything up and running before opening the e-mail he’d sent me. He was right. This was going to take me well into the afternoon to finish.

While working, Ibrahim was very professional. He dipped in and out of the office, presumably going to see the sheik, while servants brought me food and I remained at my desk.

The last time he returned, Ibrahim brought a T-shirt, underwear, jeans, and flat sandals with him. “I can’t very well bring you into town naked,” he explained.

It felt like I’d just had seven Christmases at once, and I ran to grab the clothes.

He ‘accidentally’ brushed my nipple again when handing them over then started getting changed himself into something more casual than I’d ever seen him wear.

I got dressed in record time, a little miffed that he hadn’t brought a bra, but I wasn’t about to complain. At least, in this warm weather, I wasn’t going to start nipping out. I hoped.

Two minutes later, we were in a black sedan with a driver I’d come to recognize. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror at me and giving little smiles until Ibrahim grunted a warning. Then he kept his eyes on the road.

We were dropped off on a cobblestone street. Ibrahim put an arm around me, and it was like a vice, though to those passing by, we likely looked like just another happy couple on a romantic getaway. Maybe with the woman having a bout of motion sickness.

“Smile a little. Take in the sights,” he said, putting his mouth right by my ear. “It might be the only opportunity you get to see this part of the world.”

I forced a smile that was probably more of a grimace and began looking around me, taking in the streets that disappeared around corners, the whitewashed walls, and window boxes.

Ibrahim brought me to a place labeled ‘La Mezquita.’ “This is the largest mosque in Spain,” he said proudly. “Of course, it’s a conglomeration of cultures. It was built on a site already being used for another religion’s purposes—probably pagan—then the Catholic Church took it over later and built a chapel right in the middle. But I think you’ll find it impressive.”

I was prepared to turn up my nose at whatever he was about to show me as we walked inside with the rest of the tourists, but unfortunately, I was actually impressed. Awestricken, really.

There were what looked like miles and miles of Arabic arches, striped orange and white, held up by columns. Every corridor of them seemed to disappear before you could see the end of it.

Ibrahim explained the differences in the columns, saying, like many cultures do, the Moors cannibalized Greek and Roman architecture for columns to use within the mosque, as well as making some of their own.

I felt like I had my own personal tour guide. It was so overwhelming, I almost forgot I was a prisoner.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“Making a deal,” he replied. “It’s a good place for it. All kinds of corners and columns to hide around.”

“Huh.” I looked around as we went by some side chapels the Church had built once It had taken over the mosque, complete with barred gates that could be closed and locked if necessary. That was more of a reminder of my prison situation. “So, then, why am I here?”

He just smiled slightly and steered me into one chapel that had a painting of Christ on the cross at the back of it. There was one other person inside, kneeling at the kneeler.

Ibrahim forced me to kneel down next to him. “Max,” he said.

“Ibrahim,” Max replied. “I see you brought the goods.”

I looked around, trying to see what Ibrahim had brought. Then I realized ‘the goods’ was me. “Oh fuck,” I groaned.

“Now, now, Jacey, you’re in a holy space,” Ibrahim admonished me while Max chuckled.

I pressed my forehead to the wooden bar of the kneeler and let out a cry of frustration. “What about the sheik?” I asked.

“I’ve decided it would be best for me to go my own way,” Ibrahim said. “As such, I thought I’d get myself a little seed money for my own operations. And you are just so deliciously valuable these days, Jacey.” He sighed. “So terribly unfortunate I didn’t get to sample you, but the deal was clearly laid out that I couldn’t, or I’d be giving you away at a hefty discount.”

I looked over at Max. He looked every inch an American tourist, even holding a baseball cap in his hand as he was not allowed to wear it in the holy space. “So, who the he-heck are you, and where am I going now?”

Max smiled and stood, taking me by the arm as he took out his phone.

Ibrahim had his in his hand already.

Each phone let out a tiny beep, and Ibrahim tucked his back in his pocket. “Nice doing business with you,” he said.

“Likewise,” Max replied. “Good luck. Catch you later.”

“I very much doubt that, but we’ll see how it goes.” Ibrahim dropped a kiss on the top of my head, smelled my hair, then walked out of the chapel.

“So?” I prompted Max again.

“You know, this is the Chapel of the Souls of Purgatory,” he mused aloud. “It makes me think of you and Caleb.”

I stiffened. “You know Caleb?”

“Not yet. But I’m going to,” he replied.

That was some comfort, at least. “So, we’re going to be together again.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Very soon.”

Okay. I could survive whatever hell was next for us as long as Caleb was there. “Go ahead and take me to him,” I acquiesced.

He smiled and gestured for me to walk ahead of him out of the chapel and back into La Mezquita proper. Then he guided me out of the mosque (the place was so big I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d gotten lost) and out onto the street.

We walked back to where another nondescript black sedan was waiting to pick us up.

“Um,” I asked nervously as I got in the back. “Who do I have to thank for getting me away from the sheik and bringing me back to Caleb?”

Max didn’t reply until the door closed behind him, and all the tinted windows were up. As we got underway, he reached under the Hawaiian shirt he had over a T-shirt and fished for something. I could see the handle of a gun in a shoulder strap.

I swallowed.

Then he produced a leather wallet. “Here,” he said, handing it to me.

I flipped it open and saw, it was not a wallet, but a badge! “Seriously?!” I all but shrieked with excitement. “I was going to scream my head off to see if I could get the attention of the police, and I was just thinking of Interpol when we came to Cordoba, but this is so much better!”

Max, the CIA agent, grinned at me. “Sorry to cut your vacation short, but I thought you might just want to go home.”

“Yeah, I’d love to!” Then I bit my lip. “But I’m not… I mean, aside from the United States, I’m not sure where home is anymore.”

“Well, it’s WitSec again. I’m not sure where they’re putting you up this time, but it’ll go much better than the last time,” he assured me. “They found the mole in the FBI who ratted you out and got your agent killed.”

Poor Darren. I hoped they fried the bastard who caused his death. “Good. I hope they send him to the gas chamber or something.”

He laughed. “Who said he was going to make it to trial?”

“Even better,” I said grimly. “So, we’re flying back to Minnesota?”

“No. I can’t actually tell you where we’re going, but you might recognize it when we get there. You might not,” he responded. “I’m not even sure you’ll be staying where I’m taking you for the hand-off. Probably not. They’re quite interested in making sure you two make it to trial. Then Interpol wants a piece so back to Europe at some point. This could take years.”

“Years?” I sighed.

“Years. The wheels of justice move slowly, especially when people like Masterson and the sheik pay people off to make them grind to a halt.” He didn’t look happy about that. “It’s really frustrating as an agent of the law to see all your hard work gumming up like that.”

I nodded, understanding. “I really want to get them both now. And that squad of assassins who had me.”

“The Triumvirate,” he said. “When we catch them, and we will catch them, we’ll probably call you back as a witness again. They had you and not Caleb, right?”

“Right,” I confirmed.

“I’ll make note of that in my mission report. I’m glad this all hasn’t scared you off being a witness.” He gave me an impressed look.

I folded my arms over my chest. “If anything, it’s just pissed me off more and made me more eager to stick it to them. All of them.”

“Good,” he said. “Because there are at least sixteen different agencies all over the face of the globe hoping you can do just that.”