“You should not have tried to snatch the gun from Hakim.” Hassan shrugged. “It was a stupid move. We have no wish to harm you. You are too valuable to us.”

“You’re insane to believe that Sheikh Ben Raschid will give you what you want. I’m nothing to him.” Her hands tightened on the padded arms of the seat. “In the end he’ll refuse your demands.”

Hassan’s smile faded. “I hope for your sake he is not so foolish. Your treatment will change radically at that point.” His hand dropped to rest with insulting intimacy on her jean-clad thigh. “You are a very beautiful woman, Zilah Dabala. My friends and I would enjoy using you.” He felt the muscles of her thigh tense beneath his hand, and there was another flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes. “Did you know I was a student at the university at Marasef eight years ago?”

Zilah felt the breath leave her body; panic rose within her. She knew what was coming. It was there in the expression of feline satisfaction on his face. She mustn’t give in to the panic. She wouldn’t give in to it. She was strong. David had made her strong. “How could I know that?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I haven’t noticed any measurable degree of educated intelligence in your actions so far. I’m surprised that they let you into any university.”

His fingers tightened on her thigh with a sudden force that brought an involuntary cry of pain from her. “So proud,” he sneered. “Have you forgotten the House of the Yellow Door so quickly?”

“I have forgotten it,” Zilah said quietly. “It doesn’t exist for me any longer.”

“If Bradford fails to persuade Ben Raschid that we are serious, we will remind you. Be sure of it.” Hassan’s hand relaxed and fell away from her thigh. He stood up. “You might shed a few frightened tears for this Daniel Seifert to report back to Bradford.