The Sheik's Mistress

by Brittany Young

  Michael handed him another hundred. “And if I find the woman I want, there will be more.”

  He smiled, flashing tobacco-yellowed teeth. “Help yourself,” he said with a wave.

  Pushing his way through the crowd, Michael was stopped by gun-toting guards. They looked toward the auctioneer and he signaled that Michael was to be allowed through.

  Behind the scenes, things were remarkably quiet. The victims were mostly women, but there were some men. Some were seated; some standing. Guards stood at the corners, arms in evidence, watching over their charges.

  Woman by woman, Michael made his way through the captives, examining every blank face, fully aware that Jensen’s hair could have been cut or dyed.

  And with every strange face, there was disappointment. And then he said a little prayer that the next one would be her and moved on.

  He was nearly at the end when he saw her about ten feet away. It was just the back of her head, but he would have known that long, blond hair anywhere. Thank God. His entire body flooded with relief. He strode straight toward her and touched her shoulder. “Jensen, I’m here.”

  At the touch of his hand, the woman turned her head and looked up at him with dead blue eyes.

  It wasn’t Jensen.

  Michael’s hand fell to his side. “Excuse me. I thought you were someone else.”

  She looked away, expressionless, without saying anything.

  But it could have been his Jensen. She could have been put on the market like a piece of meat, the way the others were.

  His father may have had good reason not to interfere with this, but he’d never seen it firsthand. Finding Jensen was Michael’s first order of business.

  His second was going to be shutting this operation down. And if it took an act of war against Sheik Ahmed to do it, then so be it.

  Jensen slowly opened her eyes. They felt so heavy, it almost took more effort than she could summon.

  She closed them again.

  “Jensen?” said a man’s voice softly. “Jensen O’Hara? It’s time for you to wake up.”

  She opened her eyes again. But open and focused were two entirely different things. A man sat in a chair beside the bed. At least she thought it was a man. Mostly he was a blur.

  “Michael?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s not.”

  As soon as Jensen heard the voice again, she knew it wasn’t Michael. “Who are you?”

  “Think of me as a fan.”

  “A fan?”

  “Of your books.”

  “You read romance novels?” Even in her drugged state, she was surprised. A man admitting to reading romance novels? It was completely unheard-of.

  “I read yours. I have ever since we met at an ambassador’s ball a year ago.”

  Jensen stared hard, but her eyes just wouldn’t focus properly. “I don’t remember...”

  “You were there with your brother. We danced.”

  “I danced with a lot of people that night. It was a large party.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Jensen let out an exhausted sigh. “Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

  “I’m surprised with all that imagination of yours that you haven’t figured it out.”

  “I guess I’m a little slow when I’ve been knocked unconscious and drugged. Which, incidentally, is no way to win a woman’s heart, if that’s your intention.”

  As he sat beside her on the bed, Jensen felt the mattress sink under his weight. “I’m sorry about Habib hitting you,” he said as he gently touched her bruised cheek. “He overstepped his bounds. But you have to admit you were being difficult. He was simply doing his job in bringing you here to my palace.”

  She sharply jerked her head away from his fingers. “Don’t you touch me.”

  “I can touch you when I wish, wherever I wish, Miss O’Hara. You belong to me now.”

  Her vision was getting better all the time, but still wasn’t completely clear. “What kind of ridiculous remark is that? You can’t own another human being.”

  “You think not?” he asked calmly.

  “I know it.”

  “But you’re here, aren’t you?”

  “Not voluntarily.”

  “Volunteerism isn’t required for ownership. I should think that very few people would volunteer for that, unless they’re in love. Nevertheless, the fact remains that I possess you. I paid the nomad good money to bring you here. Good enough to keep him in comfort for the rest of his life as long as he keeps his mouth shut. You are in my palace and you will not leave here unless and until I say you can.”

  “You may have made me a prisoner,” Jensen said, “but I don’t belong to you.”

  “You Americans think that because you say it, that makes it so.” He touched her face again. “So naive. So trusting. I think you’ll soon come to understand that you do indeed belong to me. In every intimate sense of the word. At least, you soon will.”

  “Meaning what? That you’re going to rape me?” Her eyes were focusing now, on a very handsome man, perhaps thirty, with warm brown eyes and a dark beard. “I remember you now,” she said. “You’re the man at the hotel who bumped into me. And at that dance, you stood off to the side and watched me all evening. You’re Sheik Ahmed.”

  “Yes, I am. And not all evening.”

  “We danced once,” said Jensen. “The next day you sent me an extravagant diamond-and-emerald necklace.”

  “Which you returned to me by messenger later in the morning with a politely impersonal note.”

  “I thought that would be the end of it.”

  “Oh, no. That only whet my appetite for you.”

  “But not mine for you.”

  “Circumstances have a way of changing feelings. You’ll be ready for me when I come to you tonight.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Oh, I think there’s a very good chance.”

  “So you believe that by forcing me to give you my body, you’ll win my heart?”

  “I care nothing for your heart. There are dozens of women who willingly bestow theirs upon me.”

  “Without my heart, you can never truly own me.”

  “I think we have different definitions for the word ‘own.’”

  Jensen couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like something out of a nightmare. Any minute she was going to wake up, safe in Michael’s arms.

  The man stroked her long hair. “You’re so beautiful. From the moment I first saw you at that ball, I knew I had to have you.”

  “Are you saying that you’ve been planning this kidnapping for more than a year?”

  “Every detail.” He smiled at her. “You’re very predictable, Jensen. I knew if you believed your brother was missing, you’d come here to find him.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “First I lured Henry to the Middle East and then I lured him to Adjani, where I had him arrested.”

  It was beginning to fall into place. “You’re the one who made the phone call to my home....”

  “Well, I had someone make it. Then I left little clues for you to follow.”

  “You sent the guide to the hotel? The one who claimed he’d been sent by the embassy.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you had him dump me in the desert.”

  “Yes. And Habib was supposed to fetch you for me. What I didn’t count on was your being rescued by someone else. And particularly not by the sheik of the neighboring country. I must admit that made things a bit awkward.”

  “So this whole exercise has been nothing more than a plot to get me here?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to simply introduce yourself?”

  “But we were introduced and you clearly weren’t interested. You returned my necklace.”

  “Women can’t accept gifts of that extravagance from strangers. It just isn’t done.”

  “Other women have.”

  “Well, I don’
t.”

  “Perhaps you should have. Then we could have avoided all of this. Although I have to admit that the hunt for you has been surprisingly pleasant. Plotting what to do and how you’d react. Almost like a chess game, really.”

  “You should have left it at that.”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t allow someone else to get near you. I wanted you then and I want you now.”

  “You want me for what?” Jensen asked.

  “To share my bed.”

  “Then it will have to be rape because I’ll certainly never willingly come to you.”

  His mouth straightened into a tight line. “Am I so repugnant to you? I assure you, there are many women who would be honored.”

  “So you mentioned earlier. Why not ask one of them to sleep with you?”

  “But you’re the one I want.”

  “Why? Why me?”

  “Everything I thought about you the night we met, I discovered to be true when I read your books. You are the kind of woman I can love. The kind I want to love me.”

  “What you read is fiction.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t tell me those aren’t your emotions you’re writing about.”

  “Some of them are, of course.”

  He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “I know the kind of man you want...the kind of man you can love. I can be that man for you, Jensen.”

  Jensen looked directly back at him. “No, you can’t. The kind of man I can love already has the qualities you saw in the books. He doesn’t have to develop them. I want a man who already is intelligent, honorable, loving and honest, not one who has to pretend.”

  “You sound as though you’ve already found him.”

  “I have.”

  “Who is he?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I want to know.”

  Jensen just glared at him. “I’m going to be missed. People will come looking for me.”

  “Like your brother? He won’t know where to start. Or Michael Hassan? He would never suspect me of kidnapping you. We grew up together, you know, until he went to the United States to school. You might even say that we’re friends.”

  “Michael would never be friends with someone like you.”

  “He would if circumstances dictated it.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “We run neighboring kingdoms. It’s in both of our interests to maintain a cordial relationship.” The man smiled at her. “I think that’s enough conversation for now.”

  “Will you at least tell me where I am?” Jensen asked.

  “I suppose that won’t hurt anything. You’re in Adjani. But not for long.” He snapped his fingers and a man standing in the shadows handed her captor the same bottle the nomad had used.

  Jensen knew what was coming. “Please, you don’t have to do that. I won’t give you any trouble.”

  “You’ve given us nothing but trouble for all of your waking moments. This simply calms you.”

  “It knocks me out.”

  “I won’t give you as much.”

  “Please. I’ll stay quiet. You don’t have to drug me.”

  “But you might try to escape.”

  “I promise not to.”

  The man smiled. “Nice try, my dear, but I don’t believe you.”

  As he tried to press the bottle against her mouth, Jensen twisted her head back and forth.

  His hand slipped away.

  He put one hand behind her head and grasped her hair to hold her still and started to clamp the bottle over her face. Jensen’s squirming caused him to lose his grip and the liquid spilled all over her face. Jensen saw her chance and brought her teeth down on his hand as hard as she could. He bellowed in pain, then grabbed her throat as he backhanded her across the face.

  “Don’t you ever do anything to me like that again or so help me I’ll kill you. And that’s not an empty threat.”

  He signaled to the other man to hand him the fallen bottle. There was a tiny bit left in the bottom. He got a better grip on Jensen and poured it into her mouth.

  Then he sat next to her and watched as her eyes gradually closed.

  “You don’t understand,” he said quietly. “I always get what I want. Always. Did you think you’d be the exception?”

  Even in her state, Jensen frowned and raised her hand to her bruised throat.

  “You will grow to love me. You’ll see. Once we’re together, this other man will fade from your memory. There will only be me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As soon as Michael arrived back at the Adjani house he’d rented, Henry came running out. “Where’s Jensen?”

  “I don’t know,” said Michael, his frustration clearly showing. “There’s no sign of her.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Get in the car.”

  Ali pulled up behind them just as Henry climbed in. Michael signaled him to follow and in a two-car caravan, they made their way to the outskirts of Adjani at a prearranged meeting spot in the desert.

  As they sat in the car waiting for the soldiers, Henry looked at Michael, who clearly was in no mood to talk to anyone. “What do you think has happened to her?”

  The muscle in Michael’s jaw grew taut with emotion. “I don’t know, Henry. I wish to God I did.”

  “But you have some idea.”

  “Some idea? I can tell you this. The nomad wasn’t interested in Jensen for her cooking skills.”

  “Too bad,” said Henry. “She could have taken out his whole tribe with one of her meat loafs.”

  Michael just looked at him.

  “I’m her brother. I can say that.”

  “This isn’t a joking matter, Henry.”

  “I know. I’m just afraid if I don’t joke, I’ll cry. You don’t know her, Michael. She’s like our mother... such a gentle person. Even if we get her back, she might not be the same.”

  Michael wasn’t even going to consider that. “We’ll find her before he has a chance to do anything. She’ll be fine.”

  Henry looked sideways at his friend. “You’re taking this very personally, considering you barely know Jensen. What’s going on with you?”

  Michael stared straight ahead through the windshield of his stopped car. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you’ve always been the calmest man I know, and right now you seem to be doing all you can not to explode.”

  The muscle in his jaw moved again. “Jensen and I have had a chance to get to know each other quite well over the past few days. We’ve spent a lot of time together.”

  “And?”

  “I’m in love with her.”

  “But you’ve only known her a few days.”

  Michael turned toward Henry. “She’s your sister. You know her better than anyone else. How long do you think it should take a man to fall in love with her?”

  A smile curled a corner of Henry’s mouth. “You’re absolutely right. She’s adorable.”

  “And we’re going to get her back.” Michael leaned forward in his seat and peered into the distance. “There they are.”

  Ali, Henry and Michael climbed out of their cars and walked toward the long caravan of cars and trucks. As soon as they parked, more than a dozen men poured out, all of them soldiers, but in plainclothes.

  Young Yusef was with them.

  He ran ahead to Michael. “I heard men talk in taxi! I know who has lady.”

  “What men?” asked Michael.

  “Men who work for Sheik Ahmed of Adjani.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “They were laughing, saying how they had fooled the lady, that she is stupid, like all Americans, that Sheik Ahmed had tricked her into coming to Sumaru just as they had tricked her into going into the desert. They talked about how she had made them rich men.”

  “Who were these men?” Henry asked.

  “Yusef doesn’t know. Never saw them before. But they work for Sheik Ahmed. They said so. I heard them.”

  �
�Have you told anyone else?” asked Michael.

  “No, sir. Only you.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What do we do now?” Henry asked.

  “Move very carefully,” said Michael. “The guy is powerful and, some would say, one brick short of a load.”

  “Would he hurt Jensen?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “We have to go after him.”

  “But it can’t be obvious. We don’t want to do anything to arouse his suspicions.”

  “Just tell me what to do,” said Henry. “I’m there.”

  Michael shook his head. “I think it’s best if you do nothing. If Yusef is right, you were set up by Ahmed to lure Jensen here. That means he knows who you are. The last thing we want is for you to be anywhere near him.”

  “But he has to be confronted.”

  “That’s right. By me. Not you.”

  “I’m her brother,” said Henry.

  “It has to be done diplomatically, and by someone of his own station. You’ve been around here enough to understand that, Henry. I’m going to send you and Yusef to my home with one of my men.” He signaled to a young man nearby and spoke to him in Arabic.

  “What will you say?” asked Henry.

  “I don’t want Ahmed to know that I suspect him of having Jensen. I want to try to draw him in on the search. The less he thinks he’s suspected, the more open he’s likely to be.”

  “I should be there,” Henry said.

  Michael put his hands on Henry’s shoulders. “I know you want to be, but it’s not wise. You’re considered an escaped prisoner. If you’re recognized and arrested again, we’ll lose time in our search for Jensen—time we can ill afford at this point. And you can bet they won’t let you get away as easily the second time.”

  “But...”

  “I’m going to find her, Henry. You can count on it. You can count on me.”

  Henry looked at his friend for a long moment. If there was one thing he knew about Michael Hassan, it was that he was a man of his word. He always had been, even in college. The rest of the group they ran with were a bunch of irresponsible drunks. But Michael was a rock. He always did what he said, and he took care of his own. Henry couldn’t even remember how many scrapes Michael had saved him from.