Free Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2) by Lauren Hawkeye, Suzanne Rock

judge others and believing you are always right in your assessment.” He waved his hand in front of his torso. “You think that I’m a terrorist. That I would kill people for some vague ideas.”
    “Not vague. You hate Americans.”
    He nodded. “This is what I mean. You believe that I hate Americans—no, all Westerners, because of my race. You judge me even before you know my story.”
    She lifted her chin. “I’m not the only one who thinks that you did all of the bombings. The police—“
    “The police are looking for a scapegoat. The reality is that they have no more of an idea of who is doing this than I do.” He took a small step forward. “Think about it, Liv. I had a meeting with Ethan Black at Black Towers from ten until noon. Both Ethan and the building’s security cameras could confirm that. How could I possibly have time to plant three bombs in three different locations if I spent half the morning in a business meeting?”
    Liv worked her jaw, but no sound came out. Damn it, the man had a point. “That doesn’t explain the bomb at Black Towers, or what you were doing between the end of your meeting and when it was discovered shortly before one.”
    He let out a long breath and slumped his shoulders. “If you must know, I got a quick lunch at the Tower Coffee Shop. I was about to leave when I ran into you. I was on my way to the gym. It’s just around the corner and I missed my morning workout because of my meeting, when I saw you spill your drink everywhere and came over to help.”
    “If you’re so innocent, then why won’t you just go to the police to clear your name?”
    “You know why,” he said. “Those officers will think like you, assume I am guilty without looking at the facts. They would throw me in jail and ask questions later.”
    She stepped forward and placed her hand on his chest. “Then let me go to the police. I could explain—“
    He placed his hand over hers on his chest, stopping her words. “If you go to the police, they will do the same to you.” He curled his fingers around hers. “Haven’t you been listening? They are looking for a scapegoat. Even now, the police have changed their opinion of what happened. No longer are you my unwilling hostage, but my very willing accomplice.”
    She pulled her hand from his grasp. “No.”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “That’s impossible.” She sidestepped him and made her way back to the television, but the news program had already moved on, talking about how easy it was for people to look up how to make a bomb on the internet nowadays.
    “Here. Follow me.” Nayo lead her back into the kitchen, where he had set up a small laptop on the island.
    “I’ve been following the investigation on the internet.” He opened a new browser and brought up article after article on the bomb threats around Los Angeles. “Here it is.” He pointed to a small paragraph at the end of one of the articles.
    “Wow,” she said, reading the contents. “How could they think that I could be a part of this? This is my country. My people.” She took the laptop and turned it to face her. “Let me see.” She scrolled through articles as Nayo went back to the stove. Within minutes he had piles of eggs, pancakes, and bacon—turkey bacon, he had explained—and two glasses of orange juice.
    “How did you get all of this food?” she asked as she filled up her plate.
    “Cole had his security team stock the fridge with breakfast food for us before we arrived.” He scanned around the room. “This is his place. His new place, actually. He moved in a few months ago, I’ve only been here a handful of times.”
    “You mean, Cole Anderson, the actor?”
    “Yes.”
    She widened her eyes at him. “You have friends in high places.”
    “One of the perks of being royalty,” he joked and took a piece of bacon. “And this,” he said holding up the strip of bacon, “this is one of the perks of familiarizing oneself with western culture.”
    She