Protecting His Princess (15 page)

Saafir wrapped his hands around his teacup. “What did you have in mind?”

Not an outright no like Harris had expected. Thus far the emir’s younger brother was proving to be easy to get along with. Years living in his brother’s shadow hadn’t made him outwardly angry or bitter. He had carved out his own identity and found worthwhile work.

Harris leaned closer. “My family is eager to make friends in this country. They know how important Laila is to me, and they’ve written a check to your cause.” Harris withdrew the check and slid it on the table to Saafir.

If Saafir was surprised, he didn’t show it. He didn’t immediately reach for the check, either. “I am glad you and my sister are happy together. I don’t expect a gesture to sway me. I’m not the person you need to win over, and from what I’ve heard, the family is pleased with this match.”

Laila shook her head. “The money is not meant to buy you or your favor. Harris and his family want to help.” The genuineness in her voice was believable.

Saafir smiled. “Then I accept your gift, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He took the check and put it under his teacup. “The work we’re doing brings better living conditions to the prisons. It’s our tradition that the families of the imprisoned should care for them, send food and clothing, and necessary items, but too often the families can’t afford to send anything or aren’t given access to the prison to deliver the items. Packages get lost in transit, and prisoners go hungry for days or weeks on end. I wish to stop this. Even prisoners deserve essentials and respect.”

Harris didn’t see the connection to the Holy Light Brotherhood. But Saafir’s dedication was almost too good to be true. “How did you convince the emir it was a good idea to go into the prisons and offer help?” Harris asked. He hoped Saafir would give away something in the manner by which he spoke of his brother.

Saafir leaned closer. “Mikhail is a good man with good intentions, but he feels that kindness is a sign of weakness. By taking on the project myself and keeping my distance from the emir and his administration, needed work can be done without my brother appearing weak. As much as my brother resists change, he knows our prisons are old and crumbling.”

Harris understood the emir’s thinking, though he didn’t agree with it. Kindness wasn’t weakness. Sometimes it took a stronger man to be kind than to be indifferent or cruel. “I hope that this helps your mission. It’s good work you’re doing.”

“It’s needed work. I have more plans for the future. I’m a dreamer, and I believe in this country. I want to see social reform in schools and in the workplace. Change won’t happen overnight, but it won’t happen at all if no one does anything. Laila and I were born to privilege. It is my burden and my honor to use my influence to help my country.”

“I’d like to see what you do in the prisons firsthand,” Harris said.

Saafir looked between Harris and Laila. “You’d like to visit our prisons? For most visitors to our country, it’s the last place they’d want to see. The conditions are bad. You don’t have anything like this in Germany. It will be shocking to you.”

Was he trying to talk Harris out of it, or was he telling Harris no? Harris decided to push further. “I’ve seen the most beautiful parts of Qamsar.” He glanced at Laila. She was the most beautiful part of the country, inside and out. When her eyes met his for a moment, he read the longing in them and wished they were alone. Wished he could take her in his arms and carry her away from this. She deserved more in her life. More than he could give her. He was restricted by this mission, bound by the rules of being an FBI agent, by his position and by his personal life.

He refocused on the conversation. He could have spent an entire lifetime thinking about Laila and planning ways to touch her. “Now I want to see the worst. I cannot fully understand Qamsar without seeing both the good and the bad. Experiencing it for myself will give me a better appreciation of the work you’re doing.”

Saafir’s eyes were wary, and he folded his arms over his chest. He wanted to outright tell them no, but he was considering the political and financial consequences of a denial.

“Please, Saafir. We can help. Let us try,” Laila said.

At his sister’s plea, his gaze softened, and Saafir appeared to consider it. “I suppose there isn’t harm in coming along. Mostly women attend to the prisoners, but I join them to keep an eye on things and make sure no one gets the wrong idea about why we’re visiting. Getting into the prisons, even for a visit, is a tricky maneuver.”

They were taking a chance the Cinder Block was one of the prisons Saafir was planning to visit. What choice did Harris have? This was the CIA’s plan, and he’d do his best to carry it out.

Laila squeezed his fingertips. “Thank you, Saafir. I am pleased to be included.”

“I’m pleased someone takes an interest in the work we’re doing,” Saafir said.

Harris let the conversation drift to Saafir’s ideas about the country. Harris found most of them logical and clearheaded. Saafir recognized the problems his country faced, and he had common sense solutions to fix them. Harris watched him speak, trying to get a read on Saafir’s genuineness. Everything about his posture, facial expressions and tone spoke to honesty. But well-skilled liars knew their craft.

Laila remained silent on the issues Saafir mentioned, nodding when appropriate. In Qamsar, it wasn’t her place to comment on social and political matters, but Harris wondered what she was thinking. Though some circumstances in this country required that she hold her tongue, she was smart, and he liked hearing her ideas.

Laila was the whole package: brains, beauty and a heart of gold. Knowing it didn’t take the edge off his desire for her. It only made her more difficult to resist.

What if Saafir was working for the Holy Light Brotherhood, and reported the vulnerable position he and Laila would be in by visiting the prisons? An attempt had been made on her life once. If their objective was to pin her death on America, they might be safe while inside the borders of Qamsar. But if Harris and his team had misinterpreted the reason for the car bomb, visiting the jail gave the terrorist group an easy way to kill her.

* * *

Laila waited in her room for Harris. He’d texted her a time, another late-night meeting, to discuss the jail visit. He hadn’t given her much of an explanation earlier in the day. He hadn’t said why he had canceled breakfast, and her mind had flipped to the worst-case scenarios. Had something come up with the mission? Or worse, had he blown her off to put some distance between them after the intimacy they’d shared the night before?

Laila couldn’t tell her mother about Harris’s late-night visit, and she hadn’t mentioned his abrupt departure that morning. She wished she could confide in someone about her growing feelings for him. The only person who knew the details of her relationship with Harris was Harris, and she couldn’t talk to him about her riotous emotions.

When Harris slipped through her balcony door, relief rushed over her.

“Saafir agreed to allow us to help more easily that I expected,” Harris said, dropping his German accent, and kicking off his shoes and setting them on the balcony. They’d be waiting if he had to flee. So far, the ugly shoes hadn’t made another appearance. She was grateful.

“He’s an easygoing guy, and he takes his work seriously. If you’re becoming part of our family and your family is interested in helping by making donations, it’s in his best interest to allow you to tag along.”

“Unless he has an ulterior motive for allowing us to visit the jail,” Harris said.

Did Harris think everyone operated with personal agendas and hidden intent? The book they had found in the library didn’t make Saafir look good, but Laila wasn’t ready to accept that Saafir had joined the Holy Light Brotherhood. “We asked him if we could come along.”

“He could have grabbed the opportunity to get us to a place where making us disappear would be simple.”

In Harris’s world, the players were double agents and spies. In his personal life, women betrayed him and couldn’t be trusted. In her world, not everyone was out to hurt everyone else, and friends and family could be trusted. “It will take more than scrawl in a book to convince me Saafir has turned.”

Harris’s eyes clouded with worry. “Have you ever been inside a Qamsarian prison?”

She’d seen pictures and heard stories. That was the extent of her experience. “I haven’t. I know not to expect cleanliness.”

Harris’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “The conditions will be deplorable, the prisoners abused and malnourished, and the guards likely indifferent. It’s the only way for someone to work in a place like that and not go crazy.”

He was worried about her. He was taking his vow to keep her safe seriously. A tickle traced up her spine. Being under his protection made her feel special and safe. “I can handle it. I know it won’t be pleasant.”

Harris laid on the bed. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

The words drew her closer. She peeled away the covers and climbed onto the mattress. “I’ve been thinking about you, too. About last night.”

“Regrets?” he asked.

Qualms hadn’t entered her thoughts. “None.”

His body relaxed. “I’m glad. May I stay with you until you fall asleep?”

Her heart shouted an instant yes. She wanted to spend as much time with Harris as she could. Her brain screamed a warning. The more time they spent together, the closer they became, the harder it would be when he left. “After Mikhail’s wedding I won’t see you.” Few precious nights remained for them to be together, nights to avoid being discovered. Tossing away caution, she made the decision on pure impulse and desire. “Yes. I want you to stay with me.” She reached for his hand and took it in hers.

Laila drew him closer, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I like being with you.”

“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’d stay all night, but my room was searched last night. We need to be careful.” Harris brushed his hand along her arm. “Your skin is so soft.”

“I can hear your heartbeat,” she said.

“Do you hear how fast it’s pounding?” he asked.

She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Why is it fast? Are you worried?”

“Not about this mission. Everything about this mission is going fine. But, yes, I’m worried. I’m worried about what’s happening with us. I’m worried if this continues, you’ll get hurt.”

She flattened her palm against his chest. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I’ve known from the moment we left the States what we had.”

“Come here,” Harris said, his voice soft and quiet.

Laila shifted and crawled up his body. With her arms resting on his chest, she skimmed her lips across his. Harris closed his eyes.

“Do that again.”

She repeated the action, and this time, Harris’s hand crept to her lower back.

“You have me in a compromising position,” Laila said.

“That goes both ways,” Harris said.

Laila kissed him again. Feeling bold, she ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft between her fingers. She reveled in the feel of his mouth on hers. Harris shifted beneath her, bringing her body over his. Her dress moved up her legs, baring her feet, her calves and her knees. In some of her American clothes, she’d shown more skin, but she’d never had a man between her legs. Hot pleasure sizzled and burned across her body.

Harris’s mouth moved to her chin, to her neck and to the spot where her clothes met bare skin. He moved aside the fabric, and his tongue flickered against her overheated skin. The urge to tear off her dress consumed her. She wanted nothing between them, and she wanted to feel Harris’s hands sliding over her body.

Laila took a deep breath and sat up. Her thoughts caught up to her in a rush. Too fast. This was moving too fast.

Harris stroked the side of her face. “What are you thinking? Is this too much?”

She wouldn’t tell him that she’d been thinking about stripping naked. Coarse words she wasn’t prepared to speak. “I think we need to slow down.” She needed to take her time and make careful decisions. Spending time in bed with Harris was a slippery slope, and she wanted to be in control of where it might lead. At the moment, she wasn’t ready for more.

“I understand. Slow is fine. You set the pace.”

His understanding touched her. She was safe with Harris. He wouldn’t push her. He wouldn’t lie to her. Her trust was well placed with him.

“Tell me more about your family,” Laila said. “You met mine.”

“My parents are amazing. Growing up, I would have called them too nosy. They kept me out of trouble. And my brothers? There are no better men. As much as they hassle me, when I need them, they are always there.”

“Sounds pretty ideal.”

“Don’t get me wrong. We’re not ideal. We fight. We argue. We don’t see eye to eye on everything. But what really matters is that we’d do anything for each other. When I told them I wanted to take this assignment and work jointly with the CIA, I could tell they were worried, but they supported my decision. My mom used to be a CIA operative, and she was nervous, but she knew I could handle it.”

How different from her family! While her parents had never actively prevented her from doing anything, the culture in which she’d been raised was restrictive. Growing up, Laila had had a sense of where the boundaries were, and she hadn’t pushed or questioned them.

She laid next to him on the bed, letting the conversation roll, sharing the occasional kiss until she drifted off to sleep.

When Laila woke, Harris was gone. She had another hour before she needed to prepare for her outreach trip with Saafir and his group. Her sheets smelled of Harris, and memories of both his gentleness and those scorching kisses kept more sleep out of reach.

At 6:00 a.m., Laila met the outreach group by the main gate of the compound where two black vans were waiting. For getting so little sleep, Laila felt refreshed and clearheaded.

In total the volunteers numbered fourteen. The females were dressed in dark dresses, simple footwear and head scarves, no jewelry dangling from their arms.