Читать книгу Under the Sheik's Protection - C.J. Miller - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSarah held her cell phone and listened to the caterer apologize for the tenth time. She didn’t need to apologize. She needed to get to the meeting so Sarah would have the breakfast spread ready when the trade committee arrived.
Months of preparing and rechecking and confirming—and yet the meeting room was in a state of chaos. She blamed whoever had ransacked her apartment. She had located some of her printed documents on the event, but some were missing in the mess. Her laptop had been smashed. It was with a computer repair and data recovery company, but they’d told her it was unlikely they’d recover anything since the hard drive had been removed and mangled.
Alec’s whereabouts had been confirmed as still in the rehab facility, and Sarah felt guilty for suspecting that he could have vandalized her place. Holding him accountable for her problems wasn’t fair. She had to take responsibility for the successes and failures in her life. The way the day was shaping up, the first meeting would be a big check in the fail column. She couldn’t let Owen down. He’d stuck his neck out getting her this job.
Without the benefit of her notes, Sarah was relying on memory for the event details. She’d decided to temporarily stay with Molly who had helped her reconstruct what she could remember. Sarah was missing huge chunks of information that would be needed at the worst possible time. This was the biggest event she had ever planned: a week-long series of meetings, hotel accommodations, meals and entertainment.
Her resume-boosting event was quickly turning into a reputation smasher.
Sarah needed to stay unemotional and think on her feet. Handling a late caterer went with the territory. Could she find a local donut shop and buy some hold-over food? Getting off on the right foot with the trade agreement committee—in other words, having something to serve more than coffee and tea—was crucial.
“My GPS says I’ll be there in ten minutes,” the caterer said.
In D.C. morning traffic, that meant thirty. Sarah reminded herself that losing it on the caterer wouldn’t make the food arrive faster. “Come directly to the back entrance. I’ll meet you there.”
Sarah disconnected her call. After sending someone to buy muffins and donuts at a nearby shop, Sarah turned her attention to the meeting room.
Owen, the chairman of the committee, had arrived and was sitting at the end of the conference table, his leather binder open in front of him. Happy to see a familiar face, Sarah hurried to greet him.
“Good morning, Owen,” she said, slipping her arm around his shoulder and kissing his cheek.
“How’s everything going?” he asked, looking around the room with a scrutinizing gaze.
She wouldn’t let anyone see her sweat. She hadn’t told him about the break-in at her apartment, and she wouldn’t burden him with it now. Her personal problems did not enter this space. “The caterer is running a little late, but I have coffee and tea ready. I sent someone to pick up donuts to tide us over. Do you know if there were any problems at the hotel? I called the front desk last night to confirm everything was set for the emir, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Is he planning to check in before this meeting or later?”
Owen touched her shoulder. “Relax. If there was a problem, we would have heard about it. I am sure the accommodations will be fine.”
Sarah’s tone must have given away her anxiety. She relaxed her shoulders. Coming off tense and edgy wouldn’t accomplish the job she’d been given.
“I heard from the rehab center early this morning,” Owen said, lowering his voice.
Her anxiety shot up again. “Did something happen?” she asked, regretting immediately that she had. She’d wanted to close the door on that part of her life. If Alec had left rehab, if he had run away or had gotten into an altercation with the staff or one of the patients she couldn’t afford another place. As it was, she was counting on the payment for this job to cover most of the expense.
“He’s refusing to take part in the group therapy. If he doesn’t cooperate he’ll be kicked out of the program,” Owen said.
This time, rehab had been court-mandated thanks to an assault charge from a barroom brawl. If Alec left rehab, he was headed to jail. The idea of it made her feel sick. Alec couldn’t see how serious the consequences for his actions had become. Either that, or he didn’t care. Their marriage, his job and his relationships with his siblings had been damaged or broken. It seemed nothing mattered to him except his next fix.
“I’m sorry, Owen. I can’t get involved.” She forced away the guilt that crept over her. It had taken her a long time to understand she couldn’t help Alec. In fact, sometimes, she wondered if she had enabled him to indulge in bad habits more by covering for him. She had believed Alec’s lies and after a while, everything he said was a lie. He was quick to claim he was trying, that he just needed another chance and that he was doing better, and she, wanting to believe it would get better, had been quick to accept what he’d said. Every time it had been a lie, and every time her heart had broken a little more.
She, Owen, Alec’s twin sister Evelyn and Alec’s therapists had agreed Alec had to face the consequences of his decisions without any of them swooping in to fix it. Especially her. She had been the weak link, being the safe place for him to land.
“I’m not asking you to.” Owen covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to bring this up. We agreed to let Alec handle this. I just don’t have anyone else to talk to who understands him the way you do.”
Owen’s marriage was on the rocks. His wife, Chelsea, was the daughter of a prominent state senator, and some assumed his position was a result of nepotism. Sarah knew Owen had earned it. “I know,” she whispered. How many times had she called Owen and Evelyn over the years when they were trying to help Alec? When he hadn’t come home at night and she was terrified for him. When he was in a stupor for days and she couldn’t get through to him.
Several more people entered the room and Sarah introduced herself as the hostess and escorted them to the hot drinks.
“Do you have black coffee?” Virginia Anderson, the representative from the American oil company, asked. She had barely looked up from her phone as she typed with her thumbs.
Sarah was struck by how svelte and refined she appeared. From her perfectly done hair and makeup, to the thousand-dollar designer handbag on her arm to the expensive shoes, she was the image of success and power. Sarah wished she had spent a little more time on her appearance that morning. Her clothes had been destroyed and she’d borrowed something from Molly. Used to blending into the background at events, Sarah had known she would have more visibility during these small, frequent meetings. Wishing she had a closet of designer outfits to hold a candle to the attendees, she brushed aside her self-conscious reaction and turned her attention to her arriving guests.
The door opened and a familiar man stepped through it. It was Adham, one of Barr’s companions. Had Barr tracked her here? She cleared her throat where emotion was building and strode to the door. This wasn’t the time or place for a reunion with her one-night stand. How had he found her?
Then Barr stepped inside and her heart and movement stalled.
“Good morning, Sarah,” he said. His voice was firm and commanding, loud enough for the room to hear him. The words were warm and gentle like a caress and images from the night they’d spent in each other’s arms flashed to mind. His gaze raked over her, and she felt his desire in her core. Her body responded instantly. He’d given her that same look the night they’d met and she could interpret exactly what it meant. He wanted her naked beneath him. If history could predict the future, she wouldn’t say no.
Everyone in the room turned and Sarah panicked. She couldn’t cause a scene. She’d be fired. She strode to him and kept her voice low in response. “Barr. What are you doing here?”
His hair was neat, his suit fit him well, as if it was custom-made, which it probably was. Maybe he had a meeting in the area and had glimpsed her when the door had opened. He would say hello and wouldn’t stay for more than a moment.
“Sarah? You’ve already met the emir?” Owen asked, coming to her side.
Like the final puzzle piece snapping into place, understanding slammed into her and Sarah saw the whole picture. The men who accompanied him, the expensive hotel suite, the accent and the name. Barr was Saafir bin Jassim Al Sharani, the emir of Qamsar. She had read that his mother’s maiden name was Barr.
Had he realized who she was the other night? No surprise registered on his face now, so he must have. “Welcome,” she said, injecting confidence into her voice. Should she pretend as if they were meeting for the first time and that she hadn’t been writhing beneath him, screaming his name Saturday night?
Was that hurt in his eyes? Or pride? How did he expect her to react? “It’s a pleasure to see you,” he said.
Nervous energy churned in her stomach. The word “pleasure” felt punctuated with innuendo, or was it just her imagination? She wouldn’t say anything, not with the members of the trade agreement committee staring at the emir and at her.
Barr introduced her to his colleague Frederick, a man who served as one of Barr’s advisors.
Somehow, Sarah managed to give her practiced greeting and offer both men drinks she hoped they’d enjoy. Why hadn’t Barr told her who he was? He’d had the opportunity.
“Please excuse me, I’m meeting the caterer in a few minutes,” Sarah said, fleeing to the back entrance. She would do the job she had been hired for and not think about her one-night stand reappearing in her life.
Needing to get some fresh air, Sarah stepped outside to the alley where the caterer should be arriving any minute. It was early enough in the day to be cool in the shadow of the building.
The caterer was twenty minutes late. Sarah’s hands were shaking from the encounter with Barr and she needed to get ahold of her emotions and calm down. Her one-night stand was turning into a situation she would have to live with for the next week. Her stomach tightened. This was a professional complication she didn’t need in her career. Had her liaison with him been the reason her apartment had been ransacked? Did everyone already know she had slept with him?
“Sarah.”
Sarah jumped and turned, meeting Barr’s—or Saafir’s—dark eyes.
“Sarah, I owe you an apology.”
Standing in the alley outside the office building between the Dumpster and the street was the strangest place for the emir to be. He shouldn’t be out here. He belonged in the meeting. Adham lingered near the door, looking around.
She should have told him it was fine, even though it wasn’t, and that he should go inside, but she had one question. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I didn’t figure out that you were the trade summit event coordinator until my security told me.”
“At what point was that?” she asked.
“After we had slept together,” he said.
Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “This job is important to me.” She didn’t want to be fired over her decision to sleep with him. If it was awkward between them, would he want her replaced?
“I know it is and I will not do anything to interfere with it,” Saafir said. He touched her upper arm. “You look gorgeous this morning. I was disappointed that you left without saying goodbye.”
Her pulse beat erratically. “I wasn’t sure of the protocol. What should I have done?”
He smiled and ran a finger lightly down her cheek. “You’re asking me? I don’t know the protocol for how to behave when I meet someone who brings me to my knees with a look.”
Her? She had that power over him? “This hasn’t happened to you before?” Or all the time, every time he traveled.
“Never before. Do you have this lure over all men?”
She had to smile at that. “You’re the first.”
“The first. I like that.” He winked at her.
If she entered into an ongoing affair with him, she wouldn’t come out of it unscathed. Her professional ethics and her heart were vulnerable.
“Have you been thinking about that night as much as I have?” he asked.
His open flirting was something she wasn’t accustomed to. He was playful and fun and almost made her forget she was working. She remembered her apartment. “I should tell you that my apartment was broken into Saturday night.”
His face registered shock. “I’m so sorry. Were you hurt?”
“It happened while I was out with you.” Was there a connection?
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.
Was he serious? Why would she have called him? They didn’t know each other well enough for her to expect him to come running when she had an emergency. “I called the police. They’re investigating.”
“You believe I had something to do with it.”
She wasn’t good at hiding her thoughts. Never had been. “It seems like a strange coincidence.”
“I have my share of enemies. If you believe your association with me was the reason for this crime, please allow me to make reparations and look into the matter.”
He seemed sincere and honest. “Don’t worry about it. I called the police and my insurance will cover it.” The insurance company wouldn’t clean up the mess, but they were sending her a check so she could replace some of her items. It wouldn’t cover everything she’d lost. Some things couldn’t be replaced.
“That’s unacceptable. I will send someone over to—”
Adham stepped closer. “They’re waiting for you, Captain.”
His guard was a good reminder of what they were dealing with and the complications that stood between them. He was more than a traveling businessman and she had a lot at stake with the trade summit meetings.
Saafir held up his hand. “One minute more. Please, Sarah, let me take care of your apartment.”
Sarah shook her head. “That’s really not necessary.” If she relied on him, it would make it harder when he left. “I’m handling it. I’m not sure why I brought it up.”
“You brought it up because you were concerned,” he said. “We’re friends. You can talk to me.”
Friends? An interesting word and not the one she would have chosen. “What happened this weekend puts us in an awkward position. But we can keep our distance so it doesn’t happen again.” The words made her sad, but she had to be clear about her boundaries.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “How can you stay away from me when you’re the coordinator for the event?”
His smile could have disarmed her, but she would stay strong and stand behind her principles. “From now on, we’re keeping this professional.”
Saafir frowned. “I’m disappointed to hear that.”
Sarah jammed a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t want any more trouble for either of us.”
* * *
Saafir felt like a perfect idiot. He could pinpoint a number of moments after learning Sarah was the event coordinator for the trade summit when he could have told her who he was. The emir of Qamsar. Four simple words. She had slipped out early in the morning while he’d been sleeping and neither of his guards had stopped her, although Adham had trailed her home to be sure she’d arrived safely. He hadn’t mentioned anything about her apartment. He must have left before she’d discovered it.
Saafir had made the mistake of thinking he could step out of his role as emir for a night and that being the emir wouldn’t matter to Sarah. He wanted to be himself—no title and no responsibilities. Of course that wouldn’t turn out well. Denial about his position seemed to creep in at the strangest times. Saafir knew his responsibilities, but some part of him clung to his old, inconspicuous existence. Before becoming emir, he had gone about his day-to-day life with little interest from the public. He could focus on those topics that meant the most to him, like prison reform and social progress, without comment from his family or countrymen.
Now he couldn’t speak aloud what he was thinking, not without it becoming a sound bite to be used to cause further instability in the country.
He should let Sarah go. She had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in continuing their personal relationship. By sleeping with him she had become someone’s target. Her home had been invaded. His enemies would stop at nothing to harm him or find a way to exploit a perceived weakness. Saafir wouldn’t let them hurt Sarah. If he stayed away from her, his enemies would lose interest in her and she would be safer.
He was disappointed with the conclusion. Spending time with the spirited American had made him feel more relaxed than he had in months. She was fun and beautiful and different from other women he had been with.
Sarah adjusted her black suit jacket and drew his attention to her waist—likely not her intention. “Saafir, I think we need—”
Gunfire crackled into the crisp morning air, sending a loud echo through the alley. Saafir instinctively reached for Sarah, his protective instincts triggering an immediate reaction. He drew her close and to the ground.
“Shots fired!” Adham yelled.
Adham hovered over them, trying to shield them. Another loud burst of gunfire and Saafir tucked Sarah further under him. She felt small in his arms, and his military training roared to life. Protect. Defend. Retaliate. He shoved her behind the Dumpster, hoping it could provide some protection.
His guard Nibal rushed out of the building, pulling his gun and aiming it high. “I don’t have a visual. The car’s en route. I repeat, no visual on the shooter.”
The sound of gunfire continued at a rapid rate. It was either an automatic weapon or multiple shooters. Bullets kicked up shards of asphalt and concrete, biting into Saafir’s skin. His choices were to duck back into the building, remain crouched behind the Dumpster or wait for their car. If they ran for the back door, standing would open them up for another attack and staying pinned down wasn’t the safest option.
Saafir’s rented black town car screamed around the corner and pulled to a stop in front of him. Adham opened the car door and Saafir pulled Sarah to her feet. He shoved her inside the car and then climbed inside behind her. Adham got into the car and Nibal clambered into the front passenger seat. The driver pulled the car out of the alley, tires squealing.
“Sarah, are you okay?” Saafir asked.
Sarah was pale and staring at her blood-covered hands. “I’m bleeding.” She sounded like she was in shock. The sight of red on her hands prompted a primal rage in him. He had to help her, shield her. She was his to protect.
“We need to take her to the hospital,” Saafir said. He searched her, removing her jacket and finding the source of the injury. Her shoulder was injured, the skin abraded. Was it from the fall or had she been hit with a flying bullet or rubble?
Too much blood to be superficial. Saafir cradled her in his arms and pressed down on the wound. Sarah moaned in pain.
“Where is she hit?” Adham asked, shifting to help.
“Her shoulder. Looking for other injuries. I think she’s in shock,” Saafir said.
Adham shifted to get a better look at the injury. Saafir contained his fear and anger at the sight. She should never have been pulled into his problems within his country, and this attack had to be from one of his political enemies. Sarah had nothing to do with them.
“Drive faster,” Saafir commanded the driver.
His hands weren’t staunching the blood flow. “This might hurt. I’m sorry, Sarah.” He shed his jacket and removed his shirt, pressing it hard over the wound. Sarah let out a cry of distress.
She was still conscious and that was good. “I know that hurts. It will only be for a few minutes more. We’re getting you help,” Saafir said. The amount of blood pouring out of her seemed too great. He’d had some medical field-training and knew that stopping the blood flow was priority one.
“It doesn’t look good,” Adham said in Arabic. “She is losing too much blood. I can’t see if the bullet is lodged inside or if it passed through. Captain, are you hurt?”
Saafir’s arm stung, but he wasn’t loosening his grip on Sarah to check his injury. “She’s my primary concern.”
“And you are mine,” Adham said.
His guard took his duty seriously. He had earned Saafir’s unwavering trust. Saafir looked away from Sarah for a moment. Only then did Saafir notice Adham had sustained an injury. Deep red was darkening the front of his black shirt.
“Adham, you’re injured,” Saafir said.
Adham hesitated a moment. He was the latest in a long line of men who served Qamsar’s emir, pledging his life in defense of the emir, dedicating himself to the emir’s protection. It was a thousand-year-old tradition with an impeccable history. Every man named a Qamsarian Warrior had served honorably. Adham hid injuries and hurt behind his sense of honor and duty. It was that sense of honor that would force Adham to tell the truth, especially when Saafir addressed him. “I was hit.” His face registered no sign of pain.
“Sit back against the seat. Hold this over it,” Saafir said, handing Adham his suit jacket.
Adham obeyed the order.
Saafir turned in his seat and noticed a car speeding behind them, aiming for them. “We’re being followed.”
“Do you have tactical driving experience?” Saafir asked the driver.
“None in the last ten years.” The man’s anxiety was evident in his voice.
“Keep the car on the road. Don’t turn onto any side streets,” Saafir said, wishing he were driving. It was protocol for the emir to be chauffeured, but if he were behind the wheel, he could lose the tail.
Saafir looked around for an opportunity. The light in front of them turned yellow.
“Hit the gas,” Saafir said. If they stopped, they’d be cornered and shot.
He did as Saafir asked. They sailed through the intersection. Their follower pursued, but was struck by oncoming traffic.
“That should slow them down,” Saafir said. “Nearest hospital.”
“Change of plans,” Nibal said. “No hospitals. No help. I’ll tell you where to drive.”
Saafir braced for more danger ahead. He looked from Sarah to Adham to Nibal. It was unusual for Nibal or Adham to disagree with a direct command unless they’d identified a security threat. Nibal seemed off and somewhat nervous. Saafir had never seen him that way.
“Tell me the problem,” Saafir said. He struggled to keep his voice calm and not overreact. With Sarah bleeding in his arms and Adham injured, that took every ounce of strength.
“We’re not going to the hospital,” Nibal said.
“Sarah and Adham need medical attention,” Saafir said, stifling the urge to yell. If Nibal was losing his cool, Saafir didn’t want to escalate the situation. Nibal had never been as rock-steady as Adham under pressure.
Nibal lifted a gun to the driver’s head and had a second gun pointed at Saafir. “No hospital. I’m calling the shots and I’m telling you that we are not going to the hospital. We’re ending this agreement with the Americans and we are ending your rule as emir.”
Scorching anger in Nibal’s eyes confirmed his words—he wasn’t interested in helping Sarah, Adham or Saafir. “We will take Sarah and Adham to the hospital and then we can talk about the trade agreement. Sarah and Adham are not part of this,” Saafir said. His hand crept down his pant leg to his ankle holster, carefully and quietly unsnapping his gun. It had been a long time since he’d used it, but it would be like riding a bike.
“She is part of this,” Nibal said narrowing his eyes at Sarah. “They are all part of it.”
“They” being the trade agreement committee or Americans? Saafir had heard this extremist “all” speech from too many fanatical groups in Qamsar. Desperate individuals and groups who needed someone to blame and who took action to make a change. Unfortunately, the action rarely led to accomplishing anything other than hurting people.
This new reality for Qamsar wasn’t one that Saafir embraced. It made him angry and frustrated. Those emotions were sidelined by the woman in his arms who needed him to remain calm, defuse the situation and get her medical help. Adham hadn’t spoken, but his skin was pale.
The driver kept glancing at Nibal and was visibly shaken by having a gun locked on him. The car swerved in the road, left and right, narrowly missing cars parked along the street.
“Keep the car steady. Do not try to alert the American police,” Nibal said.
“Please don’t shoot. I am not alerting anyone. I want to go home to my wife and daughters,” the driver said, fear vibrating his voice.
Sarah’s face was unmoving and her eyes were closed.
Saafir tried again. “Nibal, this is not the way to get what you want. Please let everyone out of the car and we’ll talk.” If he could keep Nibal’s focus on him, perhaps Adham, Sarah and the driver could get to safety.
“No,” Nibal said. “No talking. Action. I am making a point. You are the wrong leader for Qamsar. You were never meant to be the emir. I am doing my duty and removing you from your position before you destroy everything we hold important.”
Saafir understood the sentiment. He had heard it many times from his political opposition.
Nibal planned to shoot him in cold blood. Saafir reached for his gun and slid it along his leg. He positioned it against the seat of the car. Every time he had used his weapon, he had done so because he had no other choice in defending himself or the people he was protecting. This was no exception.
Two shots and shock registered on Nibal’s face, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Saafir’s aim had been true.
Nibal’s body slumped to the side and the driver shrieked and slammed the car to a stop.
Saafir slid his gun back into his holster. He turned to the driver who was staring at Nibal. He had shoved the body against the window.
“I will drive us to the hospital,” Saafir said. Of the four of them, he was in the best position. His arm ached, but he didn’t feel light-headed and he wasn’t losing a massive amount of blood or in a state of shock. Saafir stroked Sarah’s hair by her temple. “You will be safe, my goddess. Hold on a little longer. Help is coming.”
Adham situated himself to hold a hand over Sarah’s arm. Saafir withdrew his phone and called the American police to meet him at the hospital. On American turf, he’d play by their rules.
“We’re almost there, Sarah. Stay with me,” Saafir said, taking the wheel and praying for Sarah and Adham.
