“How much is he paying you?” she asked. Idle conversation. Whatever it was, it was more than she could match. Not that it mattered now.

He laughed. “Enough. I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but this client pays enough.”

Was Karim safe? Of course, he was. No one was out to hurt him. What would he hear of this, what would he know? Would he hear anything at all?

They were speeding along a two-lane highway. She recognized neither the road nor the landscape. In fact, there was something distinctly off-kilter about the whole scene. The desert itself didn’t look right—not the sand, nor the scraggly plants. And now ahead, there were houses. Big, American-style ranch houses. Even in the oil enclave, there had been no such houses in al-Remal. Could it have changed so much?

In the mirror, she caught the driver’s eyes. A hint of a smile. Something familiar … It couldn’t be. But he would be older, and—

“Jabr? Jabr!”

“At your service, Highness.’’

“What are you—?” She turned to the red-haired man. “What is this? Where are we?”

“The right side of the tracks, Princess. Palm Springs, California. We’re just coming in the back way.”

“Jabr, you tell me, please—what are we doing here? I’m afraid.”

The amusement in his eyes turned instantly to concern. “But don’t you know, Highness? We’re bringing you to your brother.”

“Malik? He’s here?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Jabr demanded of the redhead. “Hey, I’ve got orders. I work for him same as you.”

Jabr muttered a few words in Arabic that Jenna had no intention of translating. Evidently, there was no love lost between the two men—but that hardly concerned her at the moment.

“Malik’s here?” she repeated. She felt light-headed. The whole thing had the surrealistic aura of a dream.

“That’s his humble abode straight ahead,” said the red-haired man, nodding toward an enormous contemporary wood-and-glass house. They pulled through a gate and up a long drive.

A short, roly-poly man, obviously Remali, hurried down the steps to meet them.

“Oh, this is crazy,” said Jenna. “Farid? Is that you, Farid?” She was out of the car, hugging her cousin for all she was worth.

“You’ve brought the wrong woman,” Farid scolded Jabr and the redhead. “Far too young. Besides, Amira was beautiful, but nothing like this.” “Liar! My God, this is too much. Where is Malik?”

“So soon you wish to leave me for your tiresome brother? Very well. This way.”

He escorted her into the house. “In there, Little Cousin. Surprise him—he doesn’t know you’re here yet.”

The door he indicated led to a large room opening onto a vast patio and swimming pool.