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Today's featured author is MARCELLE DUBE and her book GHOSTS OF MOROCCO. Please enjoy the excerpt, pop the book on your wishlist if you're tempted, and don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter draw below.
Just as she thinks she’s found a safe place to hide the boy, Sam Walker, the bane of her youth in Morocco, suddenly appears. Can she trust him to help her keep Meddur safe? Or is he working with the radicals?
In a departure from her Mendenhall Mysteries series, Marcelle Dubé’s Ghosts of Morocco is a standalone novel featuring Hope Adler, a woman tormented by her past and willing to do anything to make amends. Ghosts of Morocco is a wild, exotic ride from the sands of Morocco to the deep snows of the Yukon.
As soon as they got what they wanted, they would let her go. Especially as she couldn’t identify them. That was why they kept the hood over her head.
Dad would pay the ransom and they would let her go.
Hope sucked in a breath as she suddenly remembered Sam’s warning about Berber rebels. What if instead of money, they wanted her dad to do something in exchange for her freedom?
What if they wanted to kill her as an example of how far they were willing to go?
The car suddenly braked to a stop and she heard car doors opening and closing. Then the darkness lightened as the trunk catch was released and blessed oxygen diluted the dust.
She took a few deep breaths, then hard hands grabbed her by the shoulders and knees and hauled her out of the trunk. Instead of setting her on her feet, she was flung over a shoulder and carried for a little distance.
The shoulder pressed into her abdomen, compressing her lungs, forcing little grunts out of her with every step. That was when she remembered that her mouth was free.
“Help!” she shouted. “Help me!”
“You may shout all you wish, Miss Adler,” said a man’s voice. “No one will hear you here.” There was a faint accent in the man’s speech, and his voice was tinged with amusement.
Hope ignored him and shouted as loud as she could, only stopping when someone cuffed her on the back of the head.
“It is, however, annoying,” continued the same man conversationally.
At least two men, she decided. One to carry her, one to walk behind. There had been at least two men in the marketplace, where they had grabbed her. Surely she could escape from two men. All she had to do was bide her time and look for an opportunity.
A door opened and another man spoke in rapid Tamazight. Her heart sank. They had apparently arrived at their destination, where at least one more man waited for them.
The sound of her captors’ footsteps changed. They had crossed the threshold into the building. The man carrying her paused for a moment and she thought he would set her down, but at a sharp order from the man behind her, he carried her through a few more steps before finally stopping.
He set her down and then the bag was finally removed. She stood blinking in a large room with whitewashed walls, sucking in cold air. Narrow windows high on one wall allowed sunlight to cut through the cold shadows, illuminating a bed of Berber carpets twenty deep in one corner and a straight-back wooden chair in the other. Nothing else.
She tried to turn, but her bound ankles made her lose her balance. She would have fallen if not for the steadying hand on her elbow.
“You have a choice,” said the man, his breath hot against her ear. She shivered in sudden fear, brutally aware that she was alone with him. “I can free you if you promise to behave. If not, I will tie you to that chair until we no longer need you.”
She stiffened but he only laughed.
“No, Miss Adler,” he said. “We do not wish to harm you. As soon as we have the money we have asked in return for your release, we will set you free. Now,” he continued and she realized that the accent she was hearing was British. Whoever this man was, he had spent time in England. “Will you cooperate if I untie you?”
Without hesitating, she nodded, then regretted it when her head threatened to fall off. The man leaned down and cut the ropes around her ankles, then did the same at her wrists. Her arms swung free and she bit her lip to keep from crying at the sharp pain in her shoulders.
She managed to turn around without falling and looked at the man who had kidnapped her. He was no taller than her but his shoulders were wide and thick with muscles, as was his neck. Everything else was hidden under a striped djellaba.
His dark eyes glittered in the sharp sunlight that pierced the deep shadows in the room. Black, curly hair and high cheekbones, a fine mouth and strong nose. He would be handsome if not for the look in his eyes.
They stared at each other for long seconds, until his features were burned into her mind. Then he smiled, revealing strong, even, white teeth, and left, closing the door behind him.
Hope stared at the heavy wooden door as a bar slid shut on the other side, locking her in.
He had let her get a good look at him.
He wasn’t planning to let her go.
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