Gabriel
McKnight, a decorated former U.S. Navy SEAL and bestselling author,
sees his perfect life come unraveled when he’s named the prime
suspect in a murder case after his twin brother vanishes without a
trace. Now on the run from the law, Gabriel embarks on a desperate
worldwide quest to clear his name and uncover his brother’s fate.
His
only ally is Noor Rahman, the scion of a once-powerful Iranian
dynasty whose past intertwines with a mysterious book of Rumi’s
poems left behind by her deceased parents. Together, Gabriel and Noor
decipher cryptic passages suggesting a link between the historic
murders of Noor’s family and his brother’s disappearance. From
the back alleys of Washington, D.C., to the bustling streets of
Paris, and the vibrant vistas of Tehran, they navigate a labyrinth of
danger and deception leading them inexorably to Rumi’s mystical
resting place in Turkey.
But
discovery comes with a perilous cost. With every revelation, Gabriel
and Noor inch that much closer to unlocking the sinister truth behind
their parallel destinies. Can they outwit their unseen foes and
decode the final mysteries before they themselves become the final
casualties in this deadly game?
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CHAPTER ONE
Paris, July 14, 1997
Dying for your loved ones is a noble sacrifice, but outsmarting a killer before you die is a
sweeping triumph. That’s what Shiraz Rahman thought as she rushed out of the Trocadero metro
station on a balmy summer evening.
The sun had begun its descent, making way for midnight blue skies. Paris dressed in lights,
welcoming all to its various restaurants and cafés. Shiraz’s gaze darted around as she turned into
the Delessert Boulevard. Her posture was stiff, her pace fast, and her breath labored.
Up ahead, the Café Delessert bustled with activity. Waiters rushed about delivering trays of
food. The aroma of coffee and French cuisine drifted in the air. Parisians and tourists clustered
around the tables lined by the sidewalk, their carefree laughter carrying into the night. Shiraz
recalled the days when she, too, laughed freely, unaware of the evil surrounding her.
A loud clatter broke through the night. Shiraz bit back a scream and jerked around. A waiter
had dropped a tray on the sidewalk. He bent over to pick it up. Shiraz clutched her purse and
hastened her pace. Every so often, she looked back to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
The Delessert Boulevard swarmed with people. It was no surprise. This area offered the best
view of the Eiffel Tower. Each year, thousands of people gathered here to celebrate and watch
the dazzling fireworks display from the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadero gardens.
It seemed like a normal night, and by all accounts it should have been, but Shiraz knew better.
I will die tonight. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. I’m not afraid. I’m prepared. After all,
her daughter’s life depended on it.
Noor, my sweet Noor! Shiraz rubbed her chest as she considered her options another time.
There was one way to keep Noor safe, and when the time was right, Noor would know the truth.
Shiraz had made sure of it.
She approached her bookstore and risked another glance over her shoulder. A shiver ran up
her spine. The killer was in the crowd, waiting for an opportunity to strike. She squared her
shoulders. Come and get me. That’s all you’ll get.
She entered her bookstore and let her head fall against the door. The scent of worn leather,
polished wood, and new books were welcoming and familiar.
Jean Luc, her friend, and the bookstore’s sole employee, sat by the reading nook.
Shiraz pasted a smile on her face. “Why are you working when you should be outside
celebrating with the rest of the country?”
Jean Luc placed a book on a shelf close to the armchair he occupied. “Cheri, we have a
splendid view. I can watch the celebration from here.”
Shiraz placed her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows into a mock frown. “It’s
Independence Day. Go drink wine, celebrate your freedom, and flirt with someone nice. I’ll close
the store tonight.”
“Come with me,” Jean Luc pleaded. “We’ll find two delicious men and party all night.”
Shiraz snorted. “The only man I’ll ever love is Parviz.” She rushed on before Jean Luc could
say anything. “I know my husband died years ago, but what Parviz and I had was unique.
Something like that happens once in a lifetime.” She made shooing motions with her hands.
“That’s why I’m closing, and you’re leaving. It’s your turn to find your soulmate.”
A movement outside of the window caught her eye. For an instant, Shiraz saw a familiar
figure standing in the crowd outside of her store. She gripped the armchair and craned her neck
to get a better look. The Trocadero gardens overflowed with people wearing France’s national
colors. Its fountains switched from red to blue and back. The Eiffel Tower shone tall and proud.
Her heart thudded wildly. “Why did it take me so long to figure out the truth?”
“Shiraz, are you all right?” Jean Luc asked, concern evident in his ruddy round face. “You
were mumbling to yourself.”
Shiraz studied her hands. Her knuckles had gone white. She let go of the armchair and
relaxed her features. “I’m fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.”
Jean Luc looked uncertain. “Are you sure you want to stay here?”
Shiraz bobbed her head. “Yes, Noor and I have plans. Go enjoy your evening.”
Jean Luc finally gave in and left the store. Shiraz shut the door behind him then poured
herself a cup of tea. She sat behind the counter and picked up a volume of Rumi’s poems.
“Life is a multitude of patterns that rise, fall, and flow together. You taught me that.” She
traced her hands along the book’s spine. “It’s Noor’s turn to find her place and purpose in life. I
know you’ll guide her as you did me.” Shiraz opened the book and lost herself in Rumi’s
compelling verse.
The sound of chimes announced a newcomer. Footsteps echoed in the silent store. The
grandfather clock ticked in the corner, counting every second that remained of her life.
Shiraz closed the book and stared into the stone cold eyes of a killer.
The killer aimed a gun at her. “I put the ‘Closed’ sign up. Let’s go to the back of the store.”
Shiraz grimaced, revulsion evident in her face. “I can’t believe it. All the lies, and the
betrayal. How could you do it?”
The killer spoke with a coldness Shiraz had never heard before. “Easily. Now move. I don’t
have all night.”
She rose and headed toward the small office at the back of the store.
Her enemy held the gun at her back and pushed her into the office.
She stumbled and straightened herself. “I know why you’re here. You shouldn’t have come.”
“Where is the package?”
Shiraz raised her chin. “I don’t know.”
Her enemy slapped her with enough force to knock her head against the bookshelf behind the
desk. Shiraz stumbled and straightened herself. She spat blood, and at that moment the future of
her daughter was all that mattered. Her face flushed. There was a moment of stillness on both
sides, then Shiraz charged her foe. She was no match for her opponent’s strength, but it took her
assailant off guard.
They fell to the floor in a struggle. Shiraz kicked her opponent as hard as she could and
struggled to rise to her feet. Outside, voices rose as thousands of Parisians sang their national
anthem.
The murderer grabbed Shiraz’s ankle and dragged her back down. Shiraz reached out and
grabbed the volume of Rumi’s poems. She knocked her assailant over the head with the book.
“Argh!” her assailant grunted, nonplussed.
Shiraz wobbled to her feet. Her breath hitched as she forced her shaky limbs to move. She
made it halfway to the exit when the murderer grabbed a fist full of her hair and dragged her
back to the office.
Shiraz’s chest heaved, and her lungs burned as she gulped air.
The killer aimed the gun at her. “I’m in no mood to play games. I’ll ask one more time.
Where is the package?”
Shiraz met her foe’s gaze defiantly, and for an instant, her mouth turned up. “You’ll never
find it.”
Nostrils flared. “Then you’re no use to me.”
Gunshots echoed in the store just as the fireworks at the Trocadero started. Shiraz blinked.
She felt nothing for a few seconds, then fell to the floor as pain gripped her body.
She tried to rise. Her body didn’t cooperate. Her body twitched and convulsed as blood
drained from her wounds. She flung her hand out, trying to reach for the telephone cord a few
feet away. Her vision grew blurry, and her breath came gasps.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when footsteps approached her. A man bent over
her. Shiraz squinted through the haze of pain. It was Morris, her late husband’s friend.
Morris pressed his hands over her wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. He shouted something,
but a tremor shook her body, drowning out his words.
She coughed blood.
Sweat formed on Morris’s upper lip. “Hold on.” He tore strips of his own shirt to bind her
wounds.
The pain began to ease and grow distant. A bright haze filled her vision. Shiraz felt light, as if
she was floating. She looked up and blinked.
Her late husband, Parviz, stood by the doorway of her office. He gazed at her lovingly, then
opened his arms.
No, not yet! Shiraz mustered all her strength and gripped Morris’s arm. “Noor,” she
whispered.
Morris’s eyes glistened with tears. He nodded grimly. “I’ll keep her safe. You have my
word.”
Satisfied she’d done everything she could for her daughter, Shiraz Rahman took her last
breath and stepped into her husband’s arms.
CHAPTER TWO
“It’s time we tend to you.
We will convert you into a house of fire
A raw gem hidden in the earth’s maze
Your polished self will dazzle in the flames of the blaze.”
—Rumi
New York City, Present Day
Gabriel McKnight exited the limousine and inhaled the crisp winter air. What a wonderful
day! He adjusted his tie and stepped toward the red carpet at Radio City Music Hall.
The old theatre had spruced up for the movie premiere. Large posters surrounded the red
carpet. Spotlights centered on the guests, and fans lined up on both sides of the theatre. Security
guards and police officers stood stoically watching the crowd, while photographers snapped
photos of glamorous stars and attendees.
The couple in front of him posed for several pictures. Gabriel shifted, turning from the
cameras, a habit he hadn’t shed. He relaxed his shoulders and forced himself to smile as he made
his way through the throng of guests gathered for the event.
He spotted CJ Anderson, the brilliant actor who played the role of Jason Van. CJ grinned and
winked at him. Gabriel waved in return. Several photographers asked him to pose for pictures
with CJ. He obliged them.
A reporter approached him and stuck a microphone under his nose. “Mister McKnight, how
does it feel to have another one of your novels adapted to the silver screen?”
Oh, right. Harvey mentioned the press would speak with him. Gabriel widened his smile.
“Thank you. I feel excited and grateful.”
The reporter tilted her head back. “Hoorah, as Jason Van would say.”
Suddenly, the hair on his neck prickled, and his muscles tightened. Years of training taught
him to stay calm while he scanned the crowd, trying to pinpoint a threat. All he saw was the
throng of fans gathered outside the theatre.
The reporter leaned closer. “Your main character, Jason Van, is a former Navy SEAL, and so
are you. Are the novels based on your life? Are you Jason Van?”
Gabriel glanced at the reporter’s name tag. “No, Marcie, Jason is charismatic and
adventurous. I’m an introverted writer. As for the novels, I try to provide readers with
entertaining stories that bring forward real-life issues, like the lack of human rights in certain
countries. I hope it will make us all think of ways to better our world.” Gabriel answered more
questions and proceeded down the red carpet.
The hair on his neck prickled again. He studied the buildings across the street. No threats
there. He searched for a warning sign, a movement—anything—and found nothing. The crowd
roared when CJ Anderson approached the fans lined up by the theatre. That’s when he spotted
the man.
Standing over six feet tall, the guy wore a grey suit and stood in the crowd, sizing him up. His
gaze met Gabriel’s, and he smirked.
Gabriel approached the crowd of fans lined up on the sidewalk. People shoved pieces of
paper in front of him. He greeted the crowd and signed whatever they gave him while searching
for grey suit, but he’d disappeared. Gabriel shook a few hands and turned back to the red carpet.
Radio City Music Hall had several theatres and an enormous grand foyer with a large
staircase, balconies, and mirrors. The theatre’s plush burgundy carpet and orange-red art deco
design gave visitors the impression of walking into a sunset.
Inside the theatre, an attendant escorted him to a reception lounge. He searched for Harvey
Cornwall, his agent and friend.
Harvey was talking to one of the film producers. He spotted Gabriel, and his craggy face split
into a huge grin. He shook hands with the producer, then joined Gabriel.
For a heavy man, Harvey was incredibly light on his feet. “Gabe, I finished reading your
manuscript. It’s brilliant!” Harvey blotted his face with a handkerchief. “The twist at the end was
a surprise. I didn’t see it coming.”
Gabriel kept his eyes on the entrance and reached for a glass of water set up by the drinks.
“That’s the whole point. I don’t want to be predictable to readers.” Another ripple of tension
streaked through his body. He searched the crowd, trying to find his brother Michael. No luck.
Harvey’s forehead wrinkled. “Why aren’t you mingling with the guests or talking to the
press?”
He turned back to Harvey. “I wanted to see if you liked the manuscript. Your opinion matters.
Besides, I’ve already talked to the press. You arranged it, remember? Maybe you’re getting old,
and it’s affecting your memory. Maybe I need a new agent.”
Harvey scowled. “You know what I dislike most? Writers who are mouthy outside of a
manuscript. Keep it for the books!”
Grinning, he clapped Harvey on the shoulder. “I love you too, Harv.” He spotted Mom and
Dad and was about to greet them when two women approached him for a picture. He posed for
the picture and excused himself.
Harvey fell into step with him. “What is it with you and women? They gather around you like
bees attracted to honey, and you run them off.”
“I don’t run women off.”
“Oh, yeah?” Harvey cocked his head. “What happened to the last gal you were dating? She
was nice enough.”
“Kate was very nice.” Gabriel lifted his shoulders. “We didn’t have a real connection.”
Harvey stepped closer to him, the lines on his face deepening. “Gabe, you reach out and
connect to your readers in the best way possible. Why can’t you do it in real life?”
“Gabriel, honey, we’re so proud of you!” Mom rushed over to hug him and therefore saved
him from answering Harvey. Mom’s trim figure and cobalt blue eyes made her look younger
than her age.
Gabriel kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you’re here.”
Dad was debonair in his suit. He embraced Gabriel. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, son.”
Mom beamed at Harvey. “Harvey, are you losing weight?”
Harvey blushed. “I’m working on it.” He excused himself on the pretense of talking to
someone and scampered off.
Lily, Gabriel’s sister, stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Gabriel tugged on her hair and shook hands
with Ethan, his brother-in-law.
Dad craned his neck to see past the crowd. “Have you seen Michael? It’s not like your brother
to be late.”
“No, I haven’t.” Gabriel’s cell phone rang. He noticed the blocked number. “This must be
Michael.” He answered the call. “Where are you, Mike?”
“Gabriel, is that you?” The voice was familiar, yet he couldn’t place it. “This is Nolan
Jameson, Mike’s team lead.”
Gabriel froze, rooted to the floor. Cold sweat gathered on his neck. He lowered his voice. “Is
Mike all right?”
Several moments of silence ensued. “Mike’s missing. Jonathan Smith, the assistant director,
is in New York. I hear he’s a family friend. He can meet you in an hour. Where are you
staying?”
Gabriel took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart. “We’re all at the Ritz Carlton. We’re
on our way.”
Mom stepped forward. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You look pale.”
Harvey rushed over and grabbed his arm before he could answer. “Gabe, you need to come
with me.”
Gabriel pulled away. “Sorry Harv, I—”
Harvey tugged on his arm. “Listen to me.”
Two men approached them. Both wore rumpled suits. One of them was grey suit.
Harvey glanced at the men and tugged at his shirt collar.
Grey suit stepped forward. “Are you Gabriel McKnight?”
Alarm bells went off in Gabriel’s head. He ignored them and turned toward the exit. “I’m
sorry, I can’t talk right now.”
Grey suit put a restraining hand on Gabriel’s arm. He lowered his voice. “Mister McKnight,
I’m Detective Denton from the Washington D.C. Police Department, and this is Detective Mason
from the New York City Police Department. We don’t want to cause a scene. Please come with
us.”
Gabriel blinked. “Why?”
“Gabriel McKnight, we’re taking you in for the murder of Asra Madison.”
I
was born to a diplomat and housewife in Tehran-Iran then whisked
across the globe to whatever country my parents had been assigned to.
Raised to appreciate various cultures, landscapes, languages, and
viewpoints, my life was one grand adventure until a revolution took
place in my country and turned our lives upside down. Between then
and the age of eighteen I had experienced both the joy, freedom, and
magic our world offers as well as wars, deprivation, and oppression.
My undergraduate studies were in the Middle East and my post graduate
studies were at the Sorbonne University in Paris, France.
So,
when did I become a writer? Books had always been my greatest
friends, teachers, refuge, and the inspiration to forge my own
future. In college I realized I wanted to write engaging mysteries
and thrillers. At the same time, I wanted to give readers more than a
story. I wanted to share the rich beauty of Persian literature as
well as that of other cultures. For that I embarked on a
twenty-two-year journey, traveling to various countries, and
experiencing life while establishing a successful career. Gabriel
McKnight and his first story had been on my mind for several years
yet it wasn’t until my mid-forties that I picked up the proverbial
pen. The time had come to share my stories.
The
next step was making my dream come true. I queried several agents and
one glorious day in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic my wonderful
literary agent reached out to me with an offer for representation.
She took my story to publishers and before I knew it, we had a
publishing contract –and here we are.
Today,
I live in Oklahoma City, USA with my family and two dogs. If there’s
one thing I’ve learned, it’s the power of words. Words can heal,
teach, entertain, inspire, and evoke change. I hope you enjoy
Gabriel’s adventures as much as I enjoyed writing them.
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