Читать книгу The Black Sheep Sheik - Dana Marton - Страница 8

Somewhere in the city of Dumont, Wyoming, a telephone rang in a dark, abandoned warehouse, the sound bouncing off the empty walls and filling the space. Long seconds ticked by before anyone responded.

“I think we know where he is,” the caller said when the line was finally picked up.

“Do we have confirmation?”

“Not yet.”

“How soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“Get the men ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No more mistakes.”

“No, sir. Should we bring him to you when we have him?”

“Yes, but not here. I’ll be changing locations. I’ll call you from the new place and give directions when I get there.”

“Yes, sir. And if he has anyone with him?”

A moment of silence, then, “You know who I want. Everyone else is expendable.”

The line went dead as the call ended.

ISABELLE WATCHED AMIR from under hooded eyelids. Yep, she should have definitely waited with her big surprise.

He’d just come out of a coma. He should still be in bed. Not that she would ever be able to get him back in there now. He had stubborn written all over him. He had walked to the table, for heaven’s sake. He seemed determined to pretend that there was nothing wrong with him. Men and their foolish pride. Someone needed to invent a pill for that. If only.

“You need rest. We can talk about this later.” Or not at all. “You need to get back to your family and a physical therapist who can help you regain your strength. I have to get back home and get ready for the baby’s birth.”

She had a week left, at most. If he hadn’t awakened in a day or two, she would have had to make the difficult decision of what to do with him. She could no longer stay with him at the cabin, and she couldn’t have left him here alone, either, not without medical assistance.

Yes, she was mad at him for manipulating her the night they first met, but she was a doctor. She would never be mad enough at anyone to provide less than the best medical assistance she was capable of. Not even if the lying weasel bastard had tricked her into his bed and left her pregnant.

The worst part was that after all that, she was still attracted to him. She had to be stupider than shipping peanuts. Seriously. Any other woman would have strangled the man by now. Not her, she’d carefully taken care of him.

His tumultuous dark gaze was fixed on her belly, his gaze like a physical touch on her skin. “Are you certain about paternity?”

Oh, that was rich. He was questioning her word? She bit her lower lip, then let it go, pulled her aching spine straight. “I am. And I’m not going to be offended by the question, because you don’t really know me, but this is the only pass you’re going to get on the subject.”

He raised his gaze to her, sharp now like a hawk’s. His shoulders tensed. His voice was cold as he asked, “What do you want from me?”

She shouldn’t have been disappointed. This was exactly what she’d expected in the unlikely case that the prince of Persia ever returned.

“How about your name, for starters?” After evading the truth so skillfully when they’d first met, now that the question was put to him straight, would he lie about his identity?

Nine months ago they’d met at the hospital’s annual charity ball, a masquerade. She’d been Isabelle the Harem Flower. All six of the women from general surgery were decked out to the nines in belly-dancing outfits—Janie’s idea since she’d been taking lessons to revive her marriage.

He’d worn the costume of a Persian prince to the charity ball, a flowing, colorful robe. His midnight eyes called her from across the room. He’d walked straight to her without noticing any of the women who gaped at him. They’d discussed health care, of all things, which still needed improvement in his home country, Jamala, he’d told her in the most charming accent. His intelligence had seduced her as much as his rich voice and the way his dark gaze drank her in.

She had no idea how she’d ended up in his suite at the Wind River Ranch and Resort, but she knew with absolute certainty that it wouldn’t have happened if she’d known that he was a sheik! Yep, he’d skipped that little detail.

She’d stayed with him for two whole days, doing little more than making love and ordering room service. She’d left without waking him, nearly late for her emergency O.R. shift, at 2:00 a.m. on the third day, still thinking him some foreign hospital administrator here to do benchmarking or whatever.

“So no name, huh?” Resentment welled inside her for having been duped so thoroughly. “It would be nice to know what to say once the kid starts asking.”

She’d been too embarrassed to go back to him once she’d gotten off work. She’d never lost control like that before. She barely even dated, let alone had passionate affairs with strangers. Med school, residency, then her insane surgery schedule left her neither time nor energy for men. Having a serious relationship was on her to-do list, just scheduled for a much later date. After she’d made chief of surgery, maybe.

By the time she’d figured out that she was pregnant, he had checked out, and the resort, of course, would divulge no information on the mysterious guest in the Emerald Suite.

But here he was now, even if with his amazing lips pressed in a thin line, he didn’t look like he was keen on her giving any more information than he’d given her before, which was pretty much nothing.

She tilted her head, incredulity creeping into her voice as she asked, “I can’t know your name?” Her fingers itched to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Not that she would ever do that to a patient.

A tense couple of seconds passed. His gaze slipped to her belly, then slowly returned to her face.

“Amir Khalid.” He stood and gave a small but formal bow, watching her as if he could see right inside of her, to her deepest, darkest secrets.

“Isabelle Andrews.” Of course, he probably knew that if he knew where she lived. He’d said he was coming to see her the night he’d gotten injured. So he’d investigated her. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.

“Sheik Amir Khalid,” he said, adding his title, then waited a beat. “You don’t seem surprised. You knew my name already.”

She held his gaze without blinking. “Your friends at the resort made a rather passionate plea on television for information on your whereabouts. Your picture was all over the news.”

His face turned grim. “I regret that I involved you in this. I’m afraid that by coming to you, I might have put you in jeopardy.”

“Nobody knows. Relax. I didn’t even call your friends. There were some news reports on a possible conspiracy or whatever that went as far as the local cops. I didn’t know who to trust.”

“My friends you can trust.”

“How about you? Can I trust you?”

He looked taken aback. “We should leave here as soon as we can. Of course you can trust me.”

Not a chance. “But you never trusted me.” She pointed out. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t have lied about who you were.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a sheik. The Black Sheep Sheik of Jamala. That’s what they called you on the news, you know that? Imagine how stupid I felt when I heard it and recognized your picture. What exactly did you do to get that nickname, anyway?”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t plan for things to happen this way.”

Oh, she believed that. “You just planned to make some poor, ordinary woman your entertainment for the weekend. Rich royal sweeps in, seduces clueless chick, goes home and forgets her. Did I hit all the major bullet points?”

“I never forgot.” His voice was low; his gaze piercing; his color rising.

Dammit. She drew a slow breath, catching herself too late. She wasn’t supposed to get him upset and get his blood pressure up. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to attack him at first chance.

“How fast can you be ready to move?” he asked.

Again with his insistence that they weren’t safe. Thing was, she felt safer here than at just about anyplace else. The cabin had served them well for the last month. She had some medical equipment and meds here, if he relapsed and needed anything. If he really was in as much trouble as he thought he was, then going to ground made more sense than running around out there. At least until he made a full recovery.

“We’ll talk about leaving after you finish your food and put your feet up for a few minutes. How about that? You’re no good to anyone if you push yourself too hard and relapse.”

He went back to his food, his dark brows furrowed. “Do you still work at the hospital?”

“I took the last month of pregnancy as maternity leave. Can’t do those triple shifts. Can’t really stand hours on end in the O.R., either.” There, that almost came out normal, as if she wasn’t spitting mad at him.

“Is everything well with you? With the pregnancy?” His tone was detached.

She made hers match it as she said, “Yes.”

Silence stretched between them. She closed her eyes for a second, consoling herself with the fact that the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. Then it did.

“I used protection. I always do.” That same emotionless tone again. He was questioning her word.

She hated that. She was a respected surgeon. People normally didn’t accuse her of lying, not even in a roundabout way.

“I said one pass.” Each word was frostier than the one before. “We slept together nine months ago. I’m nine-months pregnant. Do the math. I haven’t been with anybody else since.” Or before, really, not for a long time.

Something flashed across his dark gaze but was gone too quickly for her to identify it. He read her much better, apparently, and could see that she was telling the truth, because he magnanimously said, “I believe you.” Then ruined the whole effect by adding, “Of course, there’ll be a test of paternity.”

“I don’t want anything from you. I can support this child. He’ll be well loved and well taken care of. You can go back home as soon as you recover.”

She’d been preparing herself for a future just like that. She didn’t need a man in her life. She didn’t want a man in her life. Another woman might have built up a number of crazy fantasies over the past weeks about him recovering and the two of them riding off into the sunset. She had no illusions. She’d known from early childhood that the whole happy-American-family thing was a sham, a marketing message companies used to sell things.

His spoon had stopped halfway to his mouth. “A son?”

“According to the last ultrasound.” Despite the strained circumstances of the moment, a thrill ran through her. She couldn’t wait to meet her son. She hadn’t planned on having a baby just now, all alone, but the thought of that baby made her feel happier than she’d ever been. The two of them were going to make an amazing family.

“A boy for certain?”

She focused back on Amir. “This is not something you have to worry about. My son and I will be fine. I have a whole support system ready. I have great friends. And if you don’t believe me about him being yours, that’s okay, too. I’m all right with this. I had time to figure it all out. You obviously have your own very serious issues to deal with.”

Like the fact that somebody wanted him dead. Her heart twisted at the thought of anyone harming him. They shared a child. Whether they ever saw each other again after this or not, there was a connection between them that would never go away. She couldn’t say that the concept didn’t make her feel uneasy.

“Tests will be necessary,” he continued thoughtfully, “so my son’s legitimacy cannot be challenged when the time comes for him to take the throne. He’ll be the crown prince. My heir.”

“No.” Denial flew from her lips as she gripped the edge of the table, pushing her chair back. “Are you kidding me?”

She’d been thinking of her son as hers, singularly hers. She didn’t want anyone to have any claim on him, let alone someone as powerful as a sheik. Her son would have a future as a normal little boy, not crippled by expectations and responsibility in some strange, distant country. “That’s not necessary. As soon as you’re well, you can go back home. You don’t need to be involved in this.”

“As soon as I’m well, we’re getting married.” The somber look on his face said he wasn’t kidding. Nor was he happy.

Welcome to the club. Maybe they could have T-shirts made and have membership cards printed.

She’d spent the last nine months planning on how she was going to be the best single mom ever. Her plans did not, whatsoever, include being married to a sheik.

The sounds of a chopper came through the open windows, coming from the east.

Amir immediately tensed and set his spoon down. “We’ll pack and leave now. No hideout is secure if used too long. My enemies had a whole month to track me here.”

“This is Wyoming, not the Middle East.” Honestly, they were at her father’s cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Even some of the locals couldn’t find their way out here.

They had the Wind River Mountains to the west and nothing but the Rattlesnake Badlands on the other side as far as the eye could see. Beyond a couple of farmers way down the road, few people lived out this way.

She went to the window to look up at the sky. Amir limped over to pull her back, but she resisted until she got a good look. Did the chopper slow as it flew over them? She couldn’t tell for sure, but soon it moved on toward the badlands. “Probably one of the charter tours. They take tourists to see the antelope and the wild mustangs.”

He didn’t look convinced, didn’t relax until he tugged her back to the table. “It might be too late to leave. I shall summon my security here. When they arrive—”

“You’re welcome to go with them.”

“When you’re my wife—”

“Let’s make one thing clear,” she said as unequivocally as she could. “I’m not marrying you. And I’m not in any kind of danger. You can’t use that as an excuse to wrap me in cotton and lock me away. I’m not going to be any man’s emotional slave. And I’m not going to be any powerful guy’s power play. I’m not going to be your prisoner, with you holding this baby over me.”

She clamped her mouth shut, regretting most of that monologue as soon as the last word was out. A simple no would have sufficed. She was projecting and she knew it. But at least she didn’t leave any doubt about how she felt. Considering how used to getting his way he must be, that couldn’t be a bad thing.

His face hardened on cue, his eyes filling with determination as he took her hands and kept them. “My purpose is not capturing you for selfish reasons. I want only what is best for you and my son. I would give my life to keep you from danger.”

The I-control-you-for-your-own-good song and dance. She knew that one by heart, had watched her mother live it with various men after she’d abandoned the family.

“I’m not marrying you, and you can’t make me,” she told the sheik and she meant it.

He glared regally.

He was the only man she knew who could look magnificent in a hospital gown and make her head swim. Figured. Somehow he managed to radiate strength—along with massive disapproval—even in his current, weakened state.

She hadn’t forgotten him in the past nine months, and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have forgotten him—even if he hadn’t returned—for as long as she lived. But he did return. She’d been moonstruck enough so that if he’d suggested a loose liaison after the baby was born, she might have gone for it. He was the perfect man to have an affair with.

But what he wanted was to control her completely.

“You carry my son,” he said with the arrogance of a man who knew he held the trump card.

“And this is not the Middle Ages,” she told him with the certainty of a woman who believed she had sanity and progress on her side. She pulled her hands out of his, at last, away from his tingling heat.

His voice dropped an octave as he said, “Do you hate me that much for not coming back sooner? I did not abandon you. You were gone when I woke. Matters of the state… I had to return home to take care of things.”

“I hate you?” She threw her hands up, her frustration escaping at last. She didn’t have as good a grip on her emotions these days as she would have liked. A flood of hormones ruled her mind and body.

“Right. I hate you. That’s why I put my entire career and everything I worked so hard for at risk by hiding a patient. If anyone found you, I could have lost my medical license. I could have gone to jail.”

She’d had plenty of time to worry about that while he’d been out cold. Giving birth in jail wasn’t on the list of things she wanted to try. She had risked everything, because she couldn’t do otherwise. Because she’d believed him when he’d said he was in danger.

His eyes never left her face. “I do thank you for keeping me here all this time. Ask for any reward and I will see that you shall receive it. But the matter of my heir is nonnegotiable.”

Of all the magnanimous… She walked away before she could have said something she would regret. “I think I preferred you in a coma. You’re much nicer when you’re not talking, you know that?”

The prince of Persia she remembered was passionate and…well, very passionate and intelligent and had a sense of humor. Also, um, passionate. She swallowed. Sheik Amir Khalid was arranging her life without any regard to her wishes. Nobody was the boss of her. She’d worked hard to make sure that her choices would be her own, that she wouldn’t owe anyone anything, that she wouldn’t depend on anyone for anything. Ever. She would never be like her mother.

She needed to get out of the cabin and away from him for a while. She had the perfect excuse. “Why don’t you lie down and get some rest, give your mind a little time to settle? I need to leave for an hour or two. I have a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Is something wrong?”

“A regular, scheduled checkup.”

Relief crossed his face as he returned to his food. She could see that swallowing was difficult for him, but he was determined to finish. He understood that eating was necessary to regain his strength. Good. At least they wouldn’t have to fight about that, because she was about out of the patience she kept in reserve for stubborn sheiks.

“You will not go,” he decreed between two spoonfuls. “I will have the royal physician flown in by tomorrow. He shall take over your care.”

She could feel her blood pressure inch up. “I will go to the doctor of my choice. Because I’m a free woman in a free country, and not one of your subjects.” She folded her arms over her chest, working hard not to say anything she might regret later. He was the father of her child, and he would be that forever. She needed to keep that in mind. Establishing an acrimonious relationship wouldn’t serve anyone’s interest.

“I am your future husband. You should not think angry thoughts about me,” he said with disapproval.

He didn’t know half of her angry thoughts. She was happy to fill him in. “I’m thinking whether I’d lose my medical license if I strangled you with the IV line, Your Highness.”

She expected him to issue some further royal command, or even a threat, and was ready with a retort. She wasn’t scared of him—he’d be lucky if he made it back to the sofa on his own. But instead of berating her for her latest insolence, he laughed. The same laugh that she remembered, the one that had a way of sneaking inside her chest. It completely disarmed her.

The warm, rich sound brought back memories of a luxurious suite with an equally luxurious bed, a thorough seduction, the most amazing two days of her life. The images flitting through her head stole her breath. She turned and busied herself with tidying up his hospital bed while she regained her equilibrium, resenting that he could make her lose it so easily.

He finished his meal and did stagger back to the sofa unaided, abandoning his empty bowl on the table. Of course, His Highness would. She shot him a glare and went to take care of that. She always did all the dishes immediately and kept all food sealed away. Otherwise, she’d have a battle with ants on her hands. Not something on the sheik of Jamala’s radar, obviously. He had a palace full of staff to worry about that sort of thing.

“I do need my cell phone now.” Sitting with his back supported, he lifted his left leg and tried to hold it steady before lowering it again, then did the same with the right leg.

“You don’t have a cell phone. You didn’t have much on you when you climbed from the wreckage.”

His face turned somber at the mention of the explosion. “Then I’ll need yours, if I may.”

She pulled it from her pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it. At least his reflexes were okay. He was doing amazingly well, considering that he’d been in a coma for nearly four weeks. His bearing was still regal, his head held high and proud. He could be just as well sitting on a throne than on her worn-out couch. Okay, minus the leg lifts.

“If you don’t know who blew up that limo… How do you know whom to trust?” She’d kept him alive this long, and he’d made it. Calling the wrong person could end all that. Just because she didn’t want to marry him didn’t mean she wanted to see him hurt.

He kept up with the leg exercise. “I must call the palace.”

The palace. Right.

Because he was a sheik. And she was a Wyoming doctor who was still paying off her student loans. A giant gap stretched between them, a gorge that could not be bridged: different countries, different cultures, different social status.

And all that distance didn’t have to be bridged, really. Because they were not going to be part of each other’s lives in any meaningful way. There was no way in hell that she was marrying him. No way was she going to be Mrs. Sheik.

He could make his calls, have his people come and pick him up, the sooner the better. Then she was out of here. She had a baby to bring into this world, and a carefully planned life to live.

She hesitated for a moment, a small part of her wishing for the impossible.

Then he said, “I’ll assign you a secretary who will tie up all loose ends for you here. You won’t be coming back to the U.S. for a while. I’ll hire a manager to take care of this cabin and any other property you own if you wish to keep them.”

On second thought, the smartest thing might be to leave before his people got here. She didn’t think he would take her against her will, but then again, she wouldn’t stake her life on it.

“How nice of you,” she said, while at the same time she thought, Time to ditch the sheik.

THE MAN GIVING the orders rattled off a residential address for one of the quiet suburbs of Dumont, the perfect hiding place to move his plans to the next stage. “Use GPS. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Yes, sir.” The man taking the orders hesitated. “At the pickup site… It looks like we’re going to have some collateral damage.”

“Potential for witnesses?”

“Slim to none. We’re talking about a pretty remote area here.”

“Good. I’ll send a cleanup crew. You keep your focus on the sheik. Bring him to me. Alive if you can.” He hesitated. Yes, Amir Khalid would make the perfect bait for his royal friends, but if the men were too careful around him and let him slip through their fingers once again… “Of course, if he dies, he dies. As long as he doesn’t escape again, I’ll be pleased.”

“Yes, sir. There’ll be no mistakes.”

“There better not be.” This was just the beginning.

“We’re heading out right now, sir.”

“I expect a call within the hour about whether you made a capture or made a kill.”

AMIR DIALED HIS secretary at the palace, lifting his right leg and rolling his ankle at the same time. He didn’t want to limp in front of his security. Or in front of Isabelle. Her resistance baffled him. In his experience, people challenged authority when they perceived it as weak. The sooner he regained his full strength, the better.

He knew what was best and he was going to take care of her and his son. As soon as she was over her feminine hysteria, she would come to see that his was the best way, the only way, really. Protocol and tradition demanded they be together. And so did he.

“I’ll be outside, watering.” She headed for the door.

“If you see that chopper again, come back in.”

The line was picked up at the other end. “Sahed Habib, royal secretariat. How can I be of service?”

“It’s Amir.”

Stunned silence came first, then the sound of rapid breathing. “Are you all right, Sheik?” The always stoic voice thrilled for the first time that Amir could remember. “What happened? Everybody is looking for you.”

He explained as much as he knew, then had the man fill him in on all that he’d missed. Fahad had betrayed the alliance and was dead. Amir sat stunned, the news hitting him hard. Fahad had been his best friend’s cousin and head of security.

He and Efraim were going to have a long talk about this, which he didn’t look forward to. But first, he had other matters to arrange.

“I need the royal physician here at the Wind River Ranch and Resort. Put him on the next plane,” he ordered, without going into detail about Isabelle.

He was careful about what he said over the phone, careful not to mention his location. If Fahad had been involved, then so could others from the palace. He sent short messages of reassurance to his sister and key people in the government about being in touch very soon, then ended that call and dialed Efraim.

“Where have you been? Do you have any idea… Never mind. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t even call the police. There’s danger—” The line went dead. No battery power left on the phone. He grunted with frustration as he slapped the phone onto the counter and headed for the door. He needed the charger from Isabelle.

He caught a glimpse of her through the window. She was walking from the back of her SUV to the front and…getting in? The nervous glance she cast toward the cabin confirmed his sudden suspicions. She was sneaking out on him once again.

“Isabelle!” He lunged for the door, a feat his legs weren’t quite ready for, tripped and grabbed on to the shelf by the coat hanger, pulled the stack of blankets off it by accident. The hunting rifle that had been hidden under them crashed to the floor with a clatter.

So it was nothing but sheer luck that when the beaten-up black van tore up the road, leaving a dust cloud in its wake, he had a gun in hand. An exceedingly good thing, since the second the van stopped, the men jumping from it opened fire.

They weren’t playing around. Judging from their weapons, they were stone-cold professionals, here to do business.

Isabelle dove inside the SUV as best as she could, considering her round belly. He provided her with cover and prayed that she got out of there before she got hurt. Instead, she drove to pick him up, tires squealing.

“Go! I’ll hold them off.” He took aim and squeezed off another shot.

“I swear if you don’t get in…” She looked scared to death but determined, steel glinting in her blue eyes.

And he didn’t have any choice but to jump into the car. Hesitating would have put their lives in even more danger.

Then Isabelle was peeling out of there, driving like mad down some trail that went behind the cabin.

“Duck!” he yelled just in time, as a hail of bullets hit the back window and it exploded.