Free Saving Brigit by Francis Drake Page B

Williams as soon as possible?”
    “I ask. Goodbye.” The woman hung up, leaving Thia with dead air.
    “Well, goodbye to you, too.” She dropped the cell back in her purse. When she looked up, she saw a gorgeous man watching her from a few yards away. He was well-built, with olive skin and thick lashes. He dressed like a tourist with loose slacks and untucked shirt, but had a cloth wrapped around his head like pictures of Middle Eastern men she’d seen on the news.
    She broke eye contact and sent a quick glance around the area, looking for someone holding a sign with her name. No one but the dark-skinned man seemed to be paying her any attention. Surreptitiously, she cast him another glimpse. He was gone.
    The luggage ramp started up. Thia stepped closer to the carousel. Two or three minutes later, her suitcase came down the shoot. Thia reached for it, but a dark hand slid around her and plucked it off the ramp as though it weighed nothing. She whirled, trying to grab her bag at the same time. Her mouth fell open as she recognized the same man who had been watching her earlier. She looked up into irises of black. He wore no smile or gave a word of welcome.
    “Mrs. Williams, I’m Rashid Salid. Michael Jackson asked me to be your guide during your time in Islamabad.” With his free hand, he took her elbow and steered her toward the doors.
    “Oh.” She struggled to keep up. “I thought you’d let me know you were here.”
    The man had a stride Derek would appreciate. They burst out the door. He cast a quick look both ways and hurried her across the throughway toward a parking building. Horns blared and tires squealed, but nothing slowed him.
    “Please. I’m having a hard time keeping up.”
    “Sorry.” But his pace didn’t abate. “I didn’t stand around advertising I was waiting for you because I wanted to see how people behaved around you. It’s a habit to be aware of not only the person I’m with but those around her.” His English was near flawless, his accent light, almost musical.
    “You can’t think anyone would be following
me
.”
    “Why not? You’re here because an American woman was kidnapped. In this part of the world, it’s better to be wary of your surroundings.”
    Thia felt as though he’d slapped her. She’d come here for July and her niece, but hadn’t given any consideration that she might be in any danger herself. Instead of worrying her, his words added an extra layer of excitement. After all, she wasn’t here alone. Michael had ensured she had a companion anyone would hesitate to confront. The man was tall and broad-shouldered and moved with the confidence of someone who knew he could take care of himself.
    She might have commented further if she could talk and maintain a sprint, so she decided to hold off any more questions.
    He stopped behind a battered, two-door compact with a nondescript, light color. In almost one movement, he opened the trunk, placed her suitcase inside, and slammed the lid. “Go ahead and get in,” he said.
    After watching to be sure no one followed her and then rushing to the parking building at the speed of an eagle chasing a field mouse, he hadn’t even locked the door?
    “It’s better to have a car unlocked if you think you might be in a hurry to leave,” he explained as though reading her mind.
    Derek was a great detective, and he did lots of work for the government, but he had never acted so clandestine. Thia had no doubt he paid as much attention to their surroundings and her safety as this man Rashid, but he made his actions invisible.
    The drive into town was accomplished at a normal speed, which is to say, either at a snail’s pace or that of an F-15, depending on traffic.
    “Mrs. Williams—“
    “Thia, please.”
    “Okay, Thia, whom did you call at the airport, if you do not mind my asking?”
    “I should have told you right away. I had the phone number Brigit gave her parents. I called and left a message for that bastard Omar to