Millions To Spare

Chapter Six

Julia had to practically run to catch up to Harrison as he crossed the winner’s circle. Her mind was scrambling over the DNA revelation. They had a serious clue here. And she might have a very serious story.

Harrison smiled broadly and held out his hand to Robbie. “Congratulations to Quest Stables.”

“Thank you,” Robbie responded, and Melanie waved to them from atop the horse.

Harrison casually reeled Robbie in, his tone going lower, but Julia could still make out the words. “I don’t mean to sound all cloak-and-dagger,” he said, “but keep smiling and pretend I’m congratulating you.”

Robbie smiled, and Julia smiled along with them.

“Millions to Spare and Leopold’s Legacy have the same sire. I don’t know who’s watching us together, so I’m going to back off now and walk away. You call Carter Phillips for the details.”

Robbie nodded, clapping a hand on Harrison’s shoulder. “Thank you very much,” he said, sincerity in his eyes.

Harrison gave a sharp nod and turned away.

Julia quickly fell into step beside him.

“That goes for you, too,” he growled down at her. “You need to stay away from me and go back to America.”

“I can help you investigate.”

He gave a snort of disbelief. “You couldn’t get a DNA swab without getting thrown in jail.”

While that might be true, she had a right to this story. She wanted to help the Prestons. She wanted to expose Millions to Spare’s killer. “I’ll stay out of your way,” she promised.

“That seems unlikely.”

“I want the story, Harrison.”

He stopped. “Julia, somebody out there was willing to kill my horse over all of this.”

“Maybe I can figure out who?”

“Go back to America.”

“But-”

“Seriously, Julia. Go home. I’ll call you right away if we find anything.” Then he stepped back. “Goodbye.”

A look passed between them, and she could have sworn it was longing. But he quickly turned away.

And then he was gone, and Melanie was beside her.

“How bizarre is that?” asked Melanie.

“Pretty bizarre,” said Julia.

Harrison sat down next to Brittany, and Julia found she couldn’t watch them together.

She forced herself to concentrate on the crowds and the horses and jubilant shouts instead. She nudged Melanie in the shoulder. “You won.”

Melanie beamed. “I did.”

Juggling her bag, her pen and her notebook out of the way, Julia pulled Melanie in for a hug. “You actually won. It was fabulous. And Harrison gave me a quote. And I’m going to file this article. If we’re lucky, some of the daily newspapers will pick it up.”

The smile faded from Melanie’s face. “What do you think is going on? How did a horse end up dead?”

Julia shook her head. “I have no idea. But I’m going to stay behind and find out.”

Melanie’s expression registered surprise. “You’re staying in Dubai?”

“I am. The clues are here.”

Harrison might object, but it wasn’t Harrison’s decision to make.

Melanie hesitated. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“The only person causing me any grief was Harrison. I think he’s over that now.”

Melanie gave a slow, considered nod. “Then keep the hotel room. Quest will pay.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Robbie and I have to travel with Something to Talk About. You’ll be helping the family out by staying here.”

“I’m also doing it for the story.” Julia wanted to be honest.

“I know you are.” Melanie squeezed Julia’s shoulders. “You deserve the story. Now, I have to head for the barns. The last thing we want to do is mess with Something to Talk About’s schedule.”

“He was a good boy today,” said Julia.

“He was a very good boy. My brother is over the moon.”

The following evening, it was easy for Harrison to see that Brittany was the consummate hostess.

It was four o’clock, and a few of the out-of-town guests were arriving early to the party. She cheerfully and easily greeted princes, generals and captains of industry. She laughed and chatted in several languages, introducing one guest to the other while keeping half an eye on the servers to make sure none of the guests were neglected.

Alex appeared at Harrison’s elbow. “The pipeline meeting is set for five o’clock.”

“Good.” Harrison kept his eyes on Brittany.

Alex was silent for a moment.

“So she’s the one?” he asked.

“She’s the one,” Harrison confirmed, more convinced than ever.

“Hmm.” There was something in Alex’s tone.

“What?”

“I’m not so sure.”

“What’s not to be sure? She’s perfect.”

“You think?”

Now what the hell did that mean?

Alex reacted to Harrison’s astonishment. “There seems to be an edge to her.”

“An edge? To Brittany?”

“Sarcasm, hostility.”

Harrison snorted in disbelief. “What have you been drinking? Look at her.”

“She does present well,” said Alex.

“I do believe you’re jealous.”

“Not.”

“Come to think of it, get your leering eyes off my future fiancée.”

“Believe me, Harrison. I haven’t the slightest attraction to your future fiancée.”

“Now I know you’re lying. Check out her eyes, her hair. Or look at those legs-long, toned, straight.”

“Are you talking about a wife or a broodmare?”

With a start, Harrison realized he had been thinking of her perfection as a mother, rather than imagining those straight legs wrapped around him.

It had to be his innate respect for her. That was the only explanation.

Then his mind involuntarily flashed to Julia. Seeing her in that bathing suit that left so little to the imagination, he could easily picture her legs wrapped around his waist. And when he conjured up that particular image, he didn’t feel respectful at all. He felt…

“Let’s get a drink,” he said to Alex.

Sitting in the back of a taxi as it pulled up to the Jumeirah Beach Hotel, Julia caught sight of Pamjeet the doorman trotting up to meet them.

There was something lurking in his dark eyes, and a funny feeling tripped along her spine.

They’d barely stopped, when he opened the back door, blocking her way out, leaning in to talk to her.

“You must not come in to the hotel,” he said in an earnest low tone, close to her ear.

“What-”

“Go now. The police were here.”

Everything inside Julia stilled as her memory flashed to the dismal jail conditions.

“What do I-”

“Do you have your passport?” He kept his voice low so the driver wouldn’t overhear.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“The airport,” he called to the driver, drawing back.

“Now?” Julia’s frightened eyes met Pamjeet’s.

He gave her a nod and slammed the door, turning back to his duties as if nothing untoward had happened.

The taxi pulled into traffic and sped toward the airport in the waning daylight.

Julia tried to wrap her head around what she’d just heard. The police were looking for her? Harrison’s bribe must not have worked as well as he’d thought.

She strained to see out the back window, checking for signs of pursuit. There was nothing but regular downtown traffic-sedans, delivery trucks and the occasional limousine.

Her luggage was still in the hotel room. She couldn’t really afford to replace all those clothes, not to mention her small jewelry collection. Still, anything was better than going back to jail.

She watched the skyscrapers whiz by as the driver expertly navigated his way through intersections and traffic circles on the way to the airport. She’d switched her plane ticket to the middle of next week. Would they let her change back? Would they have any available seats?

She could get on the first plane to anywhere, she supposed. What did it matter which route she took home? And what did it matter how long it took her to pay off the credit-card bill? The only thing that mattered was that she get out of the country.

After long, tense minutes in traffic, she breathed a sigh of relief as the planes and lighted hangars of the airport came into view next to the wide, divided highway. They were almost there.

“What time is your flight, ma’am?” came the driver’s voice.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “There seems to be a traffic delay. I hope it will not inconvenience you.”

She shifted to the middle of the backseat, sitting straight to look out the windshield at the main terminal building. So close, yet so far away.

“Can you tell what it is?”

He nodded to the road ahead. “A roadblock.”

“An accident?”

“I don’t believe so, ma’am. It’s a checkpoint. The police.”

“Is this common?”

“Not common.”

Uh-oh. “What are they checking for?”

“I do not know.”

It couldn’t be.

But her pulse started to pound in agitation.

She was running from the police, and they had a roadblock at the airport? Coincidence?

She tried to calm herself down. There was no way they’d call out the SWAT team for attempted horse theft. The mere thought was ridiculous. She was letting herself get freaked out over nothing.

She forced herself to sit back, swiping the beads of sweat from her forehead.

They’d be through the roadblock in a few minutes. She’d buy a ticket to, well, anywhere. And she’d be on her way out of UAE.

“Do you have your passport, ma’am?”

“Why?”

“The police will require identification.”

Julia’s heartbeat thickened. She inhaled, and she could swear she smelled the stale, gray dress from the prison. She saw the wriggling centipede, felt the sharp pressure on her bladder.

“Turn around,” she said to the driver.

“Pardon me, ma’am?”

“I…” She pretended to paw through her purse. “I forgot something. I need to go back.”

“To the hotel.”

“No! Not the hotel.” Think, think, think. Would the embassy help her? Could they help her? She didn’t dare risk it. “To Cadair Racing. It’s north, on Route Eleven. Past Ajman.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”

The driver signaled and painstakingly moved one lane to the right. But there he was trapped by a panel truck.

Julia trained her eyes on the road ahead, praying for some kind of exit.

There it was.

The driver jockeyed back and forth, trying to get around the truck in the snail-paced traffic.

She glanced at the flashing lights on the looming roadblock. She clenched her jaw, clenched her fists, willed a spot to open up in the right-hand lane.

Her driver signaled, and inched, and honked and nudged.

When he successfully switched to the exit lane, she could have shouted for joy.

Brittany was in her element.

She’d always known this was the life she wanted-interesting conversation, gracious service, elegant surroundings and breathtaking fashions from around the world. Helping her parents with parties had always been fun, but it was nothing compared to the rush of being the hostess herself.

She caught Harrison’s smile from across the room, and she could tell she was making him proud. She asked Ambassador Beauregard a question about his family, grateful yet again that her parents had sent her to school in France for two years. One of the Saudi princes came toward them, and Brittany drew him into conversation, introducing him to the ambassador and mentioning their mutual interest in impressionist painters.

Then she politely excused herself, having spotted the wife of a German diplomat standing alone near the terrace door.

“Very polished,” came a deep voice beside her.

She glanced behind her and came face-to-face with Alex Lindley. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure it was a compliment.”

She wasn’t going to let him mess with what was a near-perfect evening. “I’m going to take it as one anyway.” She kept walking.

“Want me to crack the facade?”

No chance of that. “You disappeared for a while.”

He smiled, voice laced with self-satisfaction. “You noticed?”

“No. I noticed that Harrison disappeared. You were more of a…” She timed a significant pause. “A byproduct.”

“That is a crack in that facade,” he said.

“Not at all. You don’t count since you’re not a guest. Something I can help you with?”

“You know that Harrison thinks you’re perfect?”

Brittany didn’t answer. There was really no need. She and Harrison enjoyed a great deal of mutual respect. It was why their relationship was going to work.

“So are you in love with him?”

She stopped, and drew an exasperated sigh. “You weren’t brought up around nice people, were you?”

“I spent many of my formative years with the U.S. navy.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Where you probably went to the finest schools money could buy.”

“Some of them,” she acknowledged.

“So what’s your excuse?”

“I need no excuse. I’m not being rude.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

No. She wasn’t. She was simply responding in kind to his provocation.

“Mr. Lindley,” she told him. “You can expect to get out of a social interaction that which you put in.”

“You’re turning me on.”

Brittany’s jaw dropped open. She was honestly speechless. Did Harrison have any idea what kind of a boor he had employed?

“I’m just saying,” Alex continued smoothly, leaning slightly forward, his eyes dancing with obvious delight, “if I’m getting out of this conversation what I’m putting in…”

Then, Harrison caught her eye.

He was heading toward them, looking none too happy.

“I believe your comeuppance is on its way,” she informed Alex.

“We’ve got a problem,” Harrison said to Alex.

They certainly did.

“What do you need?” asked Alex, his demeanor instantly changing.

“Julia’s at the front gate.”

That caught Brittany’s attention.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about Julia. There was something about the passion, no, the anger she inspired in Harrison that left Brittany feeling unsettled.

“I thought she left the country this morning,” said Alex.

“Apparently, she did not.”

“You want me to go down?”

Harrison looked around. His hand went to the back of his neck. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

Then he smiled courteously at Brittany, reaching down to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ve been fine,” said Brittany, determined not to be demanding, even though she would have appreciated a little more of Harrison’s attention.

“Thank you,” he said, with what seemed to be genuine gratitude.

She took comfort in his appreciation, then she and Alex watched him walk away.

They both stared in silence at the empty doorway as minutes ticked by. Brittany knew she should stay back and see to the guests, but curiosity was burning within her.

“I think we should go with him,” she finally ventured, hating the shimmer of what could possibly be jealousy, telling herself it would only take a minute.

“I agree,” said Alex, putting a hand on the small of her back and guiding her through the crowded hall. “He may need some help.”

The man named Nuri glared suspiciously at Julia while she waited in the small gatehouse. His mouth was set in a grim line, his dark eyes piercing beneath his blue turban. She tried not to squirm on the hard wooden chair, and kept her hands tightly folded in her lap.

She felt a whole lot less than welcome here, that was for sure. And she knew she was risking Harrison’s temper by showing up on his doorstep. But she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Even if that roadblock hadn’t been intended for her-which it likely wasn’t, given that she hadn’t murdered anyone or stolen a hundred million in gold bullion-her name was probably in the central police computer. All it would have taken was for an officer to type in the particulars of her passport, and, wham, she’d be right back in jail.

At least this way, there was a chance Harrison would help her. Even if Nuri looked as if he might do her in before she had a chance to talk to him.

The door swung open, and she reflexively straightened her spine.

“Where is she?” came Harrison’s gravelly voice.

Nuri pointed with his riding crop, and Harrison turned.

She struggled to gauge his mood. But everything about him was neutral. His tone, his expression, his posture. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I tried,” she answered honestly.

His eyes squinted down with skepticism. “How hard did you try?”

She knew she needed to come clean. If she’d learned anything about Harrison, it was that he liked the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Robbie and Melanie left this morning,” she began. “And then I tried to leave this afternoon.” All true. “But there was this roadblock. At the airport.”

He planted his butt against the edge of Nuri’s desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “And what are you leaving out?”

“Nothing.” That was truly how it had happened. There was no reason for him to know she’d voluntarily changed her ticket.

“They wouldn’t let you into the airport? Funny, my guests all arrived on time.”

Oh, right. She’d left out something important. But she was nervous. Nuri, especially, was making her nervous.

“The doorman at the hotel,” she quickly elaborated. “He said the police were looking for me. That’s why I was afraid of the roadblock at the airport.”

“Are you making this up as you go along?”

“No!”

Harrison straightened away from the desk and moved toward her, definite skepticism in his tone this time. “And why would the police be looking for you?”

She stood to lessen their height difference. She didn’t much like it when he loomed over her. Plus, this part was definitely not her fault.

“I don’t know why they were looking for me. I thought you-” She cut herself off, remembering Nuri. Then she dropped her voice to a hissing whisper. “I thought you took care of that little thing.”

“I did,” said Harrison. “What else did you do?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Yeah? Well, you seem to have a hard time believing anything I say.”

They stared at each other for a long minute.

Then, apparently, he got tired of having an audience, because he latched on to her arm. “Out here.”

She scrambled out the door with him, along a stone pathway that led over his lawn to a garden gazebo dotted with tables and lawn chairs.

Hands on her upper arms, he sat her down on a padded chair.

“Start from the beginning,” he demanded.

There was that height difference again.

“Sit,” she told him, gesturing to the next chair.

His lips compressed into a line.

“This feels like the Spanish Inquisition.”

“No, it doesn’t. And you came to me, remember?”

“Only because I had nowhere else to go.”

Then she could have kicked herself for the sarcastic tone. She was asking this man for help. The least she could do was be civil about it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re not the Spanish Inquisition.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what this is all about.” But then he did sit down.

Julia took a breath. She went through it from the beginning, all of it-changing her ticket, the doorman, the checkpoint, finally coming to Cadair.

At the end of the hurried explanation, he sat back and gazed across the palm-tree-dotted gardens.

Julia became aware of music coming from the palace. She glanced up and saw lights streaming from every window, flickering lanterns on the veranda and guests, many, many guests both outside and in. It was then that she realized Harrison looked even more formal than usual.

In fact, he was wearing a tux, with a ribboned medal of some kind pinned to his lapel.

“You’re having a party.” she stated.

He glanced over his shoulder at the palace. “I am.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That you interrupted my party?”

She nodded.

He coughed out a cold laugh. “I think that’s the least of our worries at the moment.”

“Is it a special party?”

He raised a brow. “Now who’s the Spanish Inquisition?”

“There must be three hundred people in there.”

“It’s the secretary-general’s reception for the United Nations International Economic Summit.”

She pasted her gaze on the glittering crowd, suddenly feeling as if she’d fallen into another dimension. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I am not kidding.”

She was so out of her league here. No wonder she and Harrison had a hard time understanding each other.

He cracked a grim half smile. “This part is the reason your arrival caused us so much grief. Had you only been a horse thief, my life would have been a whole lot simpler.”

She blinked her focus back to Harrison. “I don’t understand.” Was he sorry she hadn’t been after his horse?

“I thought you were a covert operative sent here to assassinate a Syrian diplomat.”

Julia had no response to that.

She honestly could not think of a single thing to say.

Wait a minute. Her heart sank. “You don’t think the police-”

“No, no.” Harrison vehemently shook his head. “Alex and I were the only ones who even thought of it.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“Yes, I can. Other than the guests and their own security staff, very few people even know about this party. Besides.” He paused. “If somebody else thought you were a spy, it wouldn’t be the police out looking for you.”

Julia swallowed.

She struggled to find her voice. “There was a roadblock.”

“That likely had nothing to do with you.” But then his expression turned contemplative. “You say they came to your hotel?”

It was her turn to nod. “Does that seem like a lot of trouble for a suspected horse thief?”

“I’m afraid so,” he agreed.

“You sure they don’t think I’m a spy?”

Footsteps clattered on the gazebo steps, and Julia’s heart wedged in her throat.

“There you are,” came Alex’s voice.

He came to a halt with Brittany by his side.

She was dressed in a metallic silver gown, full-length, with a gorgeous, flowing hemline around strappy sandals. The bodice was snug, while the neck was a wide band of exquisitely embroidered netting, decorating her shoulders and chest with gold, looped threads, and gold-and-silver beading.

Her hair was upswept, with a small jeweled comb, while enormous diamonds twinkled on her ears and at her right wrist. She looked as though she’d stepped off a Paris runway.

Julia’s pleated, gray skirt and matching bolero jacket felt staid and frumpy. Her canvas flats didn’t help the situation, either.

“Is everything okay?” asked Alex.

“Wouldn’t Ms. Nash prefer to come inside?” asked Brittany.

Julia looked at Harrison, uncertain what to tell the two.

“Julia’s hit a spot of trouble,” said Harrison.

Brittany’s expression instantly turned concerned. She sat down in the chair directly across from Julia. “Can I help?”

“What kind of trouble?” asked Alex, his hand wrapping around the metal crossbar of Brittany’s chair.

And then Julia remembered he was a lawyer. Would he be under any obligation to turn her in?

“For some reason the police are looking for her,” said Harrison.

“But you-” Alex cut himself off, his gaze taking a telltale flick toward the top of Brittany’s head.

“I’m sure it’s a simple mix-up,” said Harrison heartily. Julia guessed he was speaking for Brittany’s benefit. “But could you make a couple of discreet inquiries?”

“Of course,” said Alex.

“I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in the house,” said Brittany. “We can go in through the back. You don’t have to join the rest of the party.”

Her expression told Julia she wasn’t stupid. Harrison and Alex might not want to talk in front of her, but she got that they were hiding Julia from what might not be such a simple mix-up.

There was another clatter on the gazebo stairs, these footfalls light and fast.

All heads turned toward the sound.

It was Leila. She was panting, and her eyes were round in the dim light.

“The police,” she gasped. “They’re at the gate.”