Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (2 page)

"Give that back," she demanded, clawing at the sleeve of his suit, trying anything to pull his arm down.

His body went still. Even more still than usual.

Which she could tell because she wasn't just looking at that body. She had full-on pressed herself against him. One of her hands grasped the small of his back, steadying herself as she stood on her tiptoes. She felt solid thighs against her own, was squishing her C-cups against a chest hard as his palace's marble walls.
 

That spectacular butt was totally in squeezing distance. She just had to move one hand a few inches down to give him the royal grope of a lifetime.

For a second, that idea seemed like the best one she'd ever had.

Instead, she jumped back, refraining from making sexual advances on the man who held her hostage.

She crossed her arms over her chest.
Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush
, she ordered herself. From the heat she felt rising in her cheeks, it wasn't working.

Without a word, he flicked open the snap of her bag and slipped her iPhone into his inside jacket pocket.

She set her jaw. With any luck, he'd mistake her blush for a creeping red rage.

He pulled out another item, which made him narrow one golden-rimmed eye. "I will keep this as well."

"It's a Kindle. Just for reading books. I can't call anyone on it." She was finally smartening up because that was a total lie. The Paperwhite 3G had an experimental browser and could connect anywhere. She could have used it to email for help.

Who could actually help her at this point, she hadn't worked out.

"Nonetheless," he said, seemingly unaffected by their touch, "I believe I shall take it. To be safe."

She put on a pout. If he saw her as dumber than she was, maybe that was a good thing. "But I was in the middle of
The Earl with the Dragon Tattoo
. It's an ebook."

"Whatever reading material you require shall be provided for you," he informed her. "Please let my staff know what you desire."

Ask for something about pirates
, insisted that weird voice in her head.

"
Cosmo
," she said. "
Vogue
. Nothing too depressing."

"I will see to it." He nodded. "You will have every convenience while you are here, I assure you. I trust your father will fulfill his obligations and your stay will be of short duration. Your cooperation will make this situation easier for both of us, Miss Oldrich."

"Noelle," she reminded him, forcing a smile. "Emphasis on the
No
."

"Noelle," he responded, before calling for a guard to take her to her new chambers.

He left her alone to wait for her escort. She refrained from throwing his computer through one of his massive windows. But she had no intention of making this situation easier for him.

Keelhaul the scurvy swab!
shouted the voice in her head, for some reason.

*****

As gilded cages went, this one was more gilded than most, Noelle noted. It looked exactly like guest apartments in a Middle Eastern palace built in the Middle Ages should look. A small sitting area centered on a fireplace over there--though she doubted she'd need a fire anytime soon. Over the fireplace was a huge, slightly curved big-screen TV. The coffee table held a domed silver platter on it--a high-class doggie bag from the interrupted dinner, she guessed. Soft carpets with fascinating, intricate multicolored designs protected her feet from the cool marble floor. A stainless steel bar fridge with cold water and snacks sat behind the door that led to the hallway.

She didn't have an issue with anything inside the room. It was more than she would have asked for. But the door to the hallway came accessorized with two guards outside it.

Two burly guards with firearms and nightsticks. Female guards. Had the sheikh expected her to try to sex her way out of this one? Hmmph. He'd prepped for the possibility, anyway.

But the sheikh made one critical mistake. His whole plan orbited the idea that her father would pay her ransom.

Apparently Walid had never considered the possibility that her dad just did not have a shit to give about her. Maybe half a shit. Enough to want her under his thumb for the rest of his life. Compare that to having to pay money to get her back? Winston Oldrich would take the money. Every time.

She had to face it. No one was coming for her.

She unzipped her booties and stepped out of them. Ah. That was better. Another door led off to the right. Since she didn't see a bed, it must be through there. Might as well check it out. After all, she'd just taken up residence. At least until the sheikh figured out her dad wasn't going to give even one cent to get his daughter back.

No ransom would be paid. No one was coming for her. She'd never get out of her with no one to help her.

There's me. Don't forget about me!

Noelle put her hand over her eyes. What the hell? That voice in her head again. This was a terrible time to go crazy. Not that there was ever a good time to lose your sanity. But suddenly developing head voices when you were deep in hostile enemy territory? Not helping.

You know what? She wasn't hearing voices, she decided. Definitely not. Nope. No voices. She took a deep pull of air into her lungs and let it out again.

Then she listened. This time, she only heard the soft sway of the air conditioning coming through the vents. Not a voice in hearing range. Certainly not one between her ears that sounded like a little girl playing at being a sailor.

Good. She might not have her phone or Kindle, but at least she had her sanity.

On the other side of the door she found where she was supposed to sleep. A comfy-looking bed with a modern leather headboard on a raised platform. Sliding glass doors led to a marble balcony on one side. On the other, she noted a full en suite bathroom with jets in the tub. Nothing too impressive for a girl who spent most of her life in daddy's hotels.

Out of curiosity, she opened the walk-in closet to find that a wardrobe had been provided for her. Her wardrobe, in fact, right down to the running shoes her stepmother hated.

She couldn't help nodding in appreciation of the sheikh's attention to detail. Though with a country full of people to carry out his orders, it couldn't have been that hard to get someone to steal her clothes from her hotel room and bring them here.

He probably thought it would make her more comfortable. She couldn't have felt more violated.

The copy of the crown with the Palm of Askar that Elise had made her sat on a low table in front of the couch, she noted. It had been moved out of her luggage.

She got out of her dress and into some Lululemon loungewear, trying not to think of some unknown person's hands all over her stuff. Ugh.

She checked the clock on the bedside table. 11:30. Sleep probably wouldn't come tonight. Not after the day she'd had. Oh well. She might as well lie down and try.

And that was when the sea shanty started.

What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor?
the voice in her head belted out with enthusiasm. That stupid voice, back with a vengeance.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore, she told herself. You're not going crazy. You're just stressed, she assured herself. You need some sleep.

But the voice continued. Irritatingly, it didn't seem to know any of the other words to the song, but just kept repeating the line she did know.

What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we--

What. The. Hell.

Just like herself, the voice had zero singing talent.

Stop. Please just stop
, she begged, sitting up straight in the bed.

Oh, so now you're talking to me,
the voice responded, mercifully giving up the singing.

Who are you and what are you doing in my head?
she asked.

The better question,
the voice suggested, sounding even more like an eleven-year-old girl,
is why don't you remember me? You used to listen to me all the time.

Who are you?
Noelle repeated.

Me? I'm the one who's going to get you out of here, matey,
declared the voice.

Something familiar teetered on the edge of Noelle's memory.

Matey?

Noelle swore she heard the voice sigh.
When did you turn into a landlubber?

Why do you talk like a sailor?
she asked. Oh God, she really was losing it.

Sailor! As if!
The voice's indignance filled the air. Well, the air inside her head, at least.
I'm no mere sailor. I'm Bonnie Read, pirate princess, at your service. Yarrgh!

Two

B
ONNIE
R
EAD
. T
HE
name sent Noelle's brain spinning.

Bonnie Read was... Well, Bonnie Read was Noelle. Or she used to be, at least.

When she was a kid, she'd read about the lady pirate Anne Bonnie. Anne had been a pirate in the 1700s and discovered a fellow woman dressed as a man on one of the ships she'd taken--Mark Read was, in fact, Mary Read.

The two women had bonded over the patriarchy and piracy and gone on to be feared across the seven seas. As a kid, Noelle had decided that she was going to be a pirate princess when she grew up, and she'd taken the name Bonnie Read.

Bonnie Read had been her imaginary friend, the voice inside her head that had talked her into doing all the bad things that had made her dad mad at her. That tree she'd fallen out of had been a ship's mast. The bully she'd punched had been a rival pirate. The silverware she'd buried in the backyard? Hidden treasure. Which maybe wouldn't have been so bad if she'd remembered to make a map to it.

Nothing is better than buried treasure. X marks the spot
, Bonnie declared, unapologetic.
Then you decided to ignore me. You shoved me aside. You weren't my friend anymore.

I grew up
, Noelle countered.

Nope, you decided making your dad happy was more important than hanging out with me.

Did Bonnie just sniffle there? Did the voice inside her head sound hurt, on the cusp of tears?

Noelle fell backward on the bed. The mattress gave a soft whump.
I've only been kidnapped for a few hours and I'm already losing it.

You won't be here long.
Bonnie sounded back to her normal brash self.
I'm getting you out of this.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm being held hostage in a palace.

Exactly the job for a pirate princess. Too bad I don't have my trusty sword.

Her sword. Wasp, named for its sting. Ha. It had just been a branch that she'd carved into a vaguely pointy shape, but she'd loved that "sword" more than the room full of Barbies everyone kept giving her. Barbies she would routinely make to swab the deck and walk the plank.

But this wasn't her playroom, and the women with guns outside her door weren't dolls.

Bonnie, I don't see how. The door is guarded and there's no other way out
, she told her friend. Her imaginary friend. Who lived in her head. Oh man, this was so weird.

Noelle could practically see Bonnie, red handkerchief tied around her head, frayed jeans cut off at the calf, over-large shirt stolen from her dad's closet, stick out her chest with pride.
There's always a way out for a pirate princess.

And then, as if Noelle didn't will it, her attention turned to the sliding doors that led to the balcony.

You have got to be kidding me
, she protested.

Ahoy, matey, we're going over the side. Yarrgh!
she yelled, a battle cry Noelle hadn't heard since she was twelve.

One that filled her with dread.

*****

If she fell, Noelle told herself, she probably wouldn't die.

Probably. Her room was only on the third story, she figured. Could have been worse.

Okay, so maybe it was the fourth.

She held tighter to the "rope" she'd made by ripping apart thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and tying them together. To her relief, the rope had reached all the way to the ground when she'd tied it to the balcony railing and thrown it down.

Now she dangled in midair with nothing but the rope and her own strength to hold her up. She really should have added upper body training to her running. It was okay, though. Her muscles barely burned, or so she told herself. Her triceps weren't on fire with the white heat of the nuclear center of a thousand suns or anything.

A breeze blew, cooling the sweat on the small of her back.

Feel that,
raved the pirate princess.
This is freedom. This is adventure. Remember when we fought the notorious outlaw pirate Smith together?

That wasn't real. I could actually die here
, Noelle complained, as she let herself down another few feet.

But the night surrounded her, hid her from the view of the boring, dull people of the world. It had been years since she'd felt this alive.