The Black Sheep Sheik (7 page)

He brightened up instantly. They were on the same page at last. “Yes.”

“Fat chance.” She sneered.

He went back to glaring, but not really feeling it. “You’ve been mocking me again.”

“Is that a hanging offense in Jamala? If it is, I better not go there.”

“It should be,” he said, but he was laughing under his breath. She really was amazing, could frustrate and make him laugh at the same time. She had a talent for reaching his emotions on multiple levels.

“Yes, O powerful sheik.” Her smile now bloomed wide on her full lips. Obviously, she was enjoying making fun of him. Seeing him unsettled seemed to give her pleasure. Heaven help him.

He wished for only one pleasure himself—the pleasure of kissing that mocking smile off her lips, the pleasure of seeing her in his bed.
Soon,
he promised himself. “We will discuss the matter of our relationship seriously. We will have time when we’re safe at the resort.”

She watched him for a long moment. “You want serious? All right, answer a single question honestly. Did you come to Wyoming with the intent of marrying me? Or did you have me tracked down for another roll in the hay?” She looked him squarely in the eyes, her smile gone.

“Back then—”

“Yes or no,” she demanded.

“No.”

“Which means you only want to marry me now because of the baby. We don’t do that here. Women can support themselves.”

“The baby and you are my responsibility. I admit, I have not been the most responsible person all my life.” In fact, he’d been known for some wild partying and reckless behavior. “But once I do take responsibility for something, I honor my commitments.”

“That’s just it, don’t you see?” she said softly. “I don’t want to be another responsibility that has been foisted upon you. I don’t want to be the woman you grow to resent little by little for putting you in chains. It would kill the soul right out of us if we had to live like that, together for all the wrong reasons, day after day.”

There was a communication gap between them. Making her understand him was vital. He needed to figure out how to convince her, and in order to do that, he needed to spend more time with her.

“Will you come to the resort with me? The rest of the royals are there with whatever trustworthy security we have left. I wish to see you safe. You’ve been seen with me a number of times. Your car has been seen. They have your license-plate number. By now they know where you work, where you live.”

Still, she thought about it way too long. Then, at last, her hand came to rest on her belly. “All right. I’ll stay at the resort until it’s time for me to have the baby.”

Good. An excellent first step.

They exited the elevator in silence. He kept in front of her while he looked around. Nothing suspicious in the underground parking garage that he could see, and he did peer hard into every shadowed corner. Neon lights flickered above, in a neat row in the middle.

“What will your family think of this? I mean about the baby,” she asked out of the blue. “I know absolutely nothing about your family. What will your parents say? You said before that you had a sister and a half brother.” She drew her delicate eyebrows together. “That would have been a good time to mention that you were all royalty.”

“Not all, technically. My half brother lives right around here.” Finding him had been the reason for his first trip to Wyoming all those months ago. “Our parents are gone now. My father had a secret indiscretion many years ago. Wade was never formally acknowledged. My sister Saida doesn’t even know about him.” He wanted to talk to Wade again and bring the family together at last. As soon as Isabelle was safe.

“You mean royal families aren’t perfect, either?”

“Don’t you read tabloids?”

“If I ever get a chance to sit down at the hospital, I’m lucky to get through the contents page of the
New England Journal of Medicine.
People vastly overestimate the amount of time most doctors have for leisure activities.”

He took her hand as they walked through the deserted, exhaust-smelling lot. He had chosen the lower, emptier level on purpose. His picture had been on the news. He didn’t want anyone to recognize him. He had a feeling Isabelle’s doctor had, but she had a longtime friendship with the man through the hospital, so Amir didn’t think he had anything to worry about from that corner.

They were about halfway to Isabelle’s car when the first shot rang out. And he couldn’t knock Isabelle to the ground and throw himself on top of her, for fear of hurting her or the baby.

He rushed her into the cover of a cement support post instead, positioning her between the post and himself to make sure she was protected from two sides. Not enough, but something. His hands went to his waist, where he often wore a holstered weapon when he thought he might be entering a dangerous situation. But this time, of course, he had nothing.

The enemy’s gun fell silent. The man was probably moving closer, trying to find a more vulnerable angle. He wasn’t going to have too difficult a time. They were sitting ducks here.

The distraction of another car pulling into the parking area would have been welcome, but the place was quiet, nobody coming. Somebody would, sooner or later, but they didn’t have too long to wait. The second the shooter found them, the game would be over.

“Who are these people?” Desperation thickened Isabelle’s voice.

“I don’t know. But when I find out, I promise you, there’ll be hell to pay.” He searched for a weapon, spotted a fire extinguisher on the far wall, impossible to reach.

Isabelle was searching, too, her gaze darting from car to car. “Where do we hide?”

His muscles tightened. He wanted to reassure her, but he had little good news to give. “No place to hide here. I’m sorry.”

Her SUV was in a clear line of sight, most of the way protected by the emergency staircase. “We will run for it,” he told her. “Zigzag. Between here and there, take every available cover. No matter what anyone says or does, no matter what happens to me, you just keep going. I need you to promise me that.”

“It’s impossible.” She looked pale and worried, her eyes large in her face.

“Not nearly. Reminds me of running with the bulls in Spain.” He made his tone lighter for her sake, wanting to erase the fear from her eyes. “I’ll tell you about the good old days when we get out of here.”

“You didn’t run with the bulls.”

“Seven times,” he told her proudly. “Now!”

They dashed forward, stopping in the cover of an enormous pickup truck. He normally sneered at giant American monstrosities, but now he was grateful for the size. Cars in his country were much smaller; the roads narrower. The original road system had been built for donkey-cart traffic.

“What about security?” Isabelle was asking him in a low whisper.

“I don’t know if I can trust my security,” he told her morosely.

“I mean in Spain. How could they let you risk your life like that?”

Either she was the coolest person under pressure, or she was trying to distract herself from the threat of imminent death so she could function.

“I left my security at the hotel. Nobody knew who I was.”

They dashed another ten yards, then stopped by the next support column and crouched at its base. Too slow. Only luck saved them. He was still too damned weak. A week from now, he could probably take on the bastard. Take him on and rip his heart out for putting Isabelle in danger.

As it was, if he wasn’t careful, he wasn’t going to live to see next week.

“I thought sheiks were supposed to be responsible and all that. What was that embracing responsibility speech you gave me before? The whole ‘being the father of your nation’ thing?”

“I haven’t run with the bulls since I took the throne.” Not that anybody appreciated that or any of the other sacrifices he’d made. Everybody took his complete lifestyle change for granted.

And his life was about to change again. Completely. Yet, this time, he didn’t feel a single spark of resentment. He was looking forward to this twist.
Then do what you have to so you live that long,
he told himself as he inspected their surroundings.

They had only another five yards separating them from Isabelle’s car, but they would have to come out into the open to close that distance. He scanned the area again, looking for another alternative and not finding any.

“Get your keys out.”

She did so immediately.

“I’ll distract them. You run to the car and drive out of here as fast as you can. Without looking back, without a moment of hesitation. They’re after me. They will leave you alone. Don’t stop until you’re someplace safe.”

Her chin came up, and he knew what was coming before she said the words. There was something tragically heroic about her, in the fire in her blue eyes.

“I’m not leaving you in here with some armed madman. I don’t care if you’ve run with the bulls, wild elephants or a yeti.”

He didn’t have time to argue with her. He raked his brain for a compromise, aware that with every second they wasted hesitating, the shooter was creeping closer and closer to them.

“You can’t move as fast as I can,” he pointed out. “I’ll run for the elevators and keep in cover. I’ll meet you at the front entrance of the hospital. We’ll be safe there. There’s security in the lobby.”

“What if they catch you?”

“They won’t. It’s not the first tight spot I’ve been in in my life, Isabelle. I know what to do. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re still recovering.”

“I only have to make it to the elevators. It’s a very short sprint.”

She looked like she was going to argue with him, but in the end, she didn’t.

“Be safe,” she told him, then ran for it, keys in one hand, the other resting protectively over her belly.

He sprung up at the same time, drawing attention to himself.

A third of the way there.

A shot rang out, the bullet hitting the tailgate of the pickup in front of him.

Halfway there.

The next bullet hit the cement at his feet.

Almost there.

But before his finger reached the call button, the third bullet mercilessly slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, searing his body with pain.

Amir was hit.

Isabelle saw him jerk as his body absorbed the impact of the bullet. Then she could no longer see him as he fell. The shooter knew he had him and stepped out into the open, moving in for the kill.

“Stop!” She yanked her black mini-umbrella from her purse and angled her body to keep her shaky hands in the shadow, hoping like hell she looked armed and dangerous.

She had no idea what on earth she was doing. All she knew was that she couldn’t let Amir die here.

“Stop right there, or I’ll shoot,” she ordered in her toughest tone, the one she normally reserved for dressing down unruly residents at the hospital. Or patients she caught eating double cheeseburgers the night before surgery.

Then two things happened at the same time: the man turned his back to Amir and moved toward her, and a car entered the parking lot, its headlights hitting the umbrella, ending the illusion that she was holding a gun.

Blazing buzzards.

The attacker was closer to her than to Amir. In a few steps he was by her side, swearing, yanking her between two minivans and out of sight of the approaching car.

A rough-palmed hand clamped over her mouth before she could call out for help. In seconds they were at the black van parked in the back; then the side door opened and hands reached out of the darkness, pulled her up and in.

She kept her hands around her belly to protect the baby. Two men were in the back, at least one up front, driving. She could see only shapes, very little light filtering through the small window that was the only connection between the back of the van and the cab.

The men stayed silent while the vehicle sped out of the parking garage, tires squealing. She stayed down and remained still, giving them no reason whatsoever to get rough with her. Amir was her only thought. Let him be all right. Let him find her.

Then she realized that she still had her key ring hooked around her thumb. Without her car, Amir couldn’t follow the van, even if he wasn’t seriously injured. And if he was? She had to get back to him.

Whatever cool and calm she’d been faking fled in an instant. Panic set in. Shivering fear.

“Please let me go. Please. I’m going to have a baby soon—”

One man taped her hands together in front of her; another taped her mouth shut, effectively ending her begging.

A
MIR RAN AFTER
the van for as long as he could. Not nearly long enough. He gasped for air, ignoring the spasms in his side, the muscle pain in his legs, the pain of the bullet in his shoulder. He cursed the weak physical condition he was in after lying in bed for a month. But he kept moving even as he did that. Pushed around the bend. Jumped to the side when he was almost hit by a pickup. He didn’t bother to stop for the honking driver. He kept running up the parking ramp to street level.

“Isabelle!”

When he knew without a doubt that he wasn’t going to catch up with them, when he lost sight of the van down the boulevard, he dragged his wheezing self back to the hospital. He grabbed a soiled hospital gown from a temporarily abandoned cart by the employee entrance and draped it over his bloody shoulder.

The bullet had gone straight through, as far as he could tell. He didn’t have time to worry about the injury at the moment. He strode to the main entrance and straight to the nearest pay phone, then called the resort.

“I need a car sent to the Dumont hospital for me. Immediately.”

Efraim didn’t ask questions; even as Amir was hanging up the phone, his friend was barking orders on the other end.

The car was there in twenty minutes, along with two bodyguards. Another twenty minutes and they were pulling into the resort. Stefan, Efraim and Antoine were waiting for him in Stefan’s suite. With a surprise.

Darek, prince of Saruk, was with them.

Amir greeted him first. “What are you doing here?” His country wasn’t part of COIN.

Darek embraced him as if they were true brothers. “I came to help.”

The royal physician came through the door, looking bleary-eyed. “I flew all night to get here. Would you please sit, Your Highness?” He immediately saw to the wound.

His friend Sebastian, prince of Barajas, came in behind him. “I came as soon as I heard. We were on the same flight.” He greeted Amir first, then the others.

“Where have you been?” Efraim sat on a chair by Amir’s side. “Where is this mystery woman you were supposed to bring?”

“When did you get hurt?” Stefan took in the wound and shook his head.

“Who else knows that you’re alive?”

“Why didn’t you call before?”

Amir cut off any further questions with a gesture of his hand. “I was in a coma from the explosion until yesterday evening. None of that is important now. The most important thing is that the mother of my son was kidnapped from the hospital. I need to find her.”

A silent hush fell over the room. They all stared.

“You want me to set up a press conference to announce your safe return?” Stefan asked. “The media has finally decamped. They had this place swamped for a while after you went missing. I’m sure news of you can bring them back in a hurry.”

“Not until we have Isabelle back.”

“You have a son?” Efraim asked.

“He’ll be born in a few days. I met Isabelle the last time I was here. Then I was on my way to see her again the night the limousine was blown up.” He summed up the rest in as few sentences as he could; then it was his turn to question the others. “What have you found out about the explosion?”

He sat slack-jawed when they were finished. “The Russian mob?”

Stefan’s lips narrowed. “They were hired men. We haven’t been able to figure out who was behind them. We had…some distractions,” he admitted.

“And Fahad?”

“That was the biggest shock.” Efraim shook his head, sorrow and anger clear in his dark eyes. Fahad was his cousin.

“Saida will be disappointed,” Amir muttered to himself, thanking the heavens that his sister was safe and far away from here. She had a lot of respect for Fahad and, Amir thought, perhaps even a schoolgirl’s crush on the man when she was younger.

“Saida came here when she found out that you disappeared. She is getting married,” Efraim said cautiously.

Amir’s head whipped up. He pinned his best friend with a killer look. “I don’t remember anyone asking my permission.”

“Not me.” Efraim raised his hands with haste. “It seems she’s become enamored with the local sheriff.”

“Is she at the resort?”

“She had to fly back to Jamala for a few days to smooth some ruffled feathers. Your continued absence… Anyhow, she’s grown into quite the diplomat. Nasir is with her for protection. She’ll be back on Monday. She’s been calling. She wants you to call her as soon as you have a minute.”

Probably to ask his permission to marry. Like hell was some Wyoming wild man going to marry his little sister. In case they’d all forgotten, she was a princess.

“Jake Wolf is on his way, actually. You can sort that out with him when he gets here.” Efraim was grinning in anticipation.

“The least I would have expected from my friends is to guard my sister’s honor while I was incapacitated.” They were going to have more words about that later. “I thought the police weren’t to be trusted.”

“That’s the previous sheriff and his cronies,” Sebastian said. “Mr. Wolf seems like a decent man. He saved Saida’s life.”

Amir jumped up, ignoring the doctor’s yelp. The man had been about to sew his wound together. “Saida was in danger?”

“She insisted on being involved with the investigation into your disappearance. There was no holding her back.” Antoine hung his head, as if embarrassed that the four of them couldn’t control one woman.

Knowing his little sister, Amir couldn’t truly blame them. She was another one of those independent sorts, like Isabelle. He didn’t understand today’s women. His mother had always been the very picture of matrimonial obedience. A thought he didn’t have time to ponder at the moment. He sat back down and let the doctor take over again. “But she’s safe now?”

Efraim nodded. “Absolutely, yes.”

“Actually, hers might not be the only upcoming royal wedding,” Sebastian said with a sheepish expression on his face.

Amir’s eyebrows slid up. “What are you talking about?”

“You missed an eventful month.” Stefan shrugged. “We all sort of, well, met our matches one way or the other.”

He took a few seconds to process that. “I was missing in action and you took time for romance?” He didn’t know whether to feel insulted or to laugh. They’d always been confirmed bachelors, the five of them.

“Exactly why I came over,” Darek teased. “Someone had to keep a straight head on his shoulders.”

“Danger and romance are not as incompatible as one would think,” Sebastian declared, waxing philosophical.

And Amir couldn’t contradict that. His connection with Isabelle had only grown through the danger they’d faced together. And she was still in danger, in more danger now than she had ever been. “Hurry up,” he snapped at the doctor.

“All done, sir,” the royal physician assured him, having bandaged him in the meanwhile. “The bullet went straight through. It shouldn’t get infected. All you need is rest. Is there anything else you require?”

“I didn’t bring you here for myself,” he told the man, his patience on its last leg, frustration and worry over Isabelle tightening his muscles. “You will be attending to my future wife as soon as we recover her.”

Antoine brought over a plate of food without remarking on Amir’s paleness or the weight he’d lost, which he appreciated. Just now he didn’t want to dwell on his weakness.

“Where do you think they took her?” Antoine asked.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t feel like eating. He chose what looked like a turkey sandwich, anyway, and took a healthy bite. He needed to regain his strength. “But I have the license-plate number of the van.”

“Good. Then we’ll start with that.” A man who looked at least partially Native American came through the door, a sheriff’s star on his shirt.

That had to be Jake Wolf, the bastard who had seduced Saida. Amir put down the sandwich and stood. Damn it all that he still didn’t have a gun, while the sheriff was armed. He hadn’t been in a good mood to begin with, but Wolf’s cheerful face rubbed him just the wrong way. He opened his mouth to rip into him, but Wolf spoke first.

“Sheik Amir, I’m Jake Wolf, sheriff of Dumont County. I would like to ask you for the honor of your sister’s hand in marriage.”

That gave him pause. All right, so maybe he had
some
manners and his intentions were possibly honorable.

“I will answer that request after I’ve had a chance to converse with Saida.”

“Fair enough,” the man said easily, looking like a besotted fool who was so far gone in love he actually didn’t think he had anything to fear from the Black Sheep Sheik. “What do we know?”

Amir rattled off the letters and numbers of the license-plate number, and Wolf called it in. They had an address within thirty seconds.

Then there was a fight over who should go. All the royals insisted, including Darek. In the end, it was agreed that having them out in public would only complicate things and might put Isabelle in even more danger.

“You all stay. I’ll go with my most trusted men.” Wolf headed for the door.

Amir grabbed a gun from the table and followed.

Wolf, oblivious to danger, blocked his way. “You should stay, Sheik Amir.”

“Can you envision a situation, Mr. Wolf,” Amir asked in a tone of clear warning, “in which my sister was in trouble and you would stay home while others went off to rescue her?”

The sheriff’s lips narrowed; his shoulders went still and stiff. Then he went through the door without another word of protest, and Amir followed him. Wolf was calling in reinforcements on the way.

Amir prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

“W
E’LL BE FINE
.” Isabelle placed her hand on her belly. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to either of us. By hook or crook, whatever it takes. You have to trust me on this. Did I tell you that Wyoming law requires that children believe their mother?”

She was locked in an abandoned basement office. She had no idea where. The van had no windows in the back, and they hadn’t let her out until the garage door had been closed behind them. All she’d seen was a short hallway with a closed door at the end and the basement door to the left. They’d gone down one flight of rickety wooden steps to an unfinished space, save the small, windowless office in the corner. At least it had an attached powder room that housed a cracked toilet and a lime-scale-covered sink.

Her back was killing her. She sat on the dusty chair, contemplating lying down on the dirty floor. The baby seemed to gain weight every day, her belly putting more and more strain on her spine. Her legs were a little swollen, but nothing serious, a normal part of this stage of pregnancy. Her cramps had stopped, which was a huge relief. She didn’t want to give birth in this godforsaken place.

“Remember how I said this morning that you could come anytime now?” she asked her son. “On second thought, I’d really appreciate another week.”

She would have appreciated a host of other things as well, like knowing what had happened to Amir, if he’d made it. He’d gone down. How bad was his injury?

She looked around once again, hoping to spot something this time that might help her open the door. They’d taken her purse and car keys. She was still wearing the cowboy shirt over her maternity dress, the cowboy boots still on her feet.

She could probably kick the door open—she had serious weight to put behind the kick—but that would be heard. She needed a quieter method. Amir might have had an idea if he were here. Too late, she was beginning to appreciate him and the concept of teamwork. Right now, actually, it wouldn’t be all that bad if somebody had her back.

Voices filtered through the heating vent: men were speaking, but not loudly enough for her to make out the words. She stared at the grate wistfully. Spies and thieves crawled through industrial-size vents all the time in the movies. But these ducts were way too small for that, especially with her current figure. Not to mention she would need a crane to lift her to the ceiling.