Not a muscle in his body moved. “I must concede, Nikki, that you ply your craft exceedingly well.”“Excuse me?”He leaned forward suddenly. “Did your people compile a psychological profile of me, assess my weaknesses? Then send in someone specifically selected to target my vulnerabilities? Is that why you came up with the idea of playing a mission nurse? And where did you get the children for your ruse? Steal them from some orphanage?”Panic licked through Nikki. She shot a glance at the door. The Gurkhas blocked access, their hands on their knives.Zakir waited for her gaze to meet his again. When it did, Nikki’s mouth went bone-dry. His face had turned to dark thunder, eyes crackling with aggression and hatred. There was no sign of the man she’d been falling in love with, the man who’d asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.“What is your name?” he said very quietly in Arabic. “Your real name.”Blood leached from her face. It was over. This was it. Her brain raced—she’d take whatever punishment he chose to mete out, but she had to find a way to make him help Samira.
