The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  “Could it be that you guys are just that good?” Ahsan knew that wasn't the case. As good as the Royal Elite were at finding information out, it still took some digging, many phone calls and leaning on their various contacts to get what they needed. Ahsan had thought it might take several days for the group to suss out any leads, yet people involved with a trafficking ring were already dead and more women rescued.

  “I wish, brother. I wish,” Leander said. “I think Chayton's right. I think Bashir set you up. We just managed to get the jump on them before they could spring their trap.”

  Ahsan said nothing for long minutes. Sitting at his desk in his private office, he toyed with the edge of a paper, flicking the end over and over. He couldn't figure what Bashir's angle was with all this, what his intentions were. It wasn't like there was any challenge to Bashir's title as Crown Prince. Ahsan hadn't even been in the country often the last few months, preferring travel over pacing the palace in restless agitation. There was no reason for Bashir to take the chance that he would be discovered plotting to kill another brother. There was no doubt in Ahsan's mind that Bashir had been the one to take out the other siblings, although there was not one lick of evidence to prove it.

  “All right. I'll take the necessary precautions until this blows over. Tell the others thanks for getting on the problem. You, too, Leander.”

  “Hey, you know we don't mind. The women are safe, and now we just need to make sure you stay that way, too.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Ahsan assured him.

  “Many dead men have said the same thing. We'll be there tomorrow with the girls.” Leander hung up.

  Grunting, Ahsan set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Folding his hands behind his head, elbows askew in the air, he considered the situation. Considered what steps he should take to make sure none of his friends or employees got hurt. Bashir would be taking a huge risk to try anything in the palace, so the likely plan was for his brother to strike when he was out and about. Or, Bashir might attempt another lure like the last one, leading Ahsan to a designated place.

  Just as he was about to get up and go find his personal security team, his phone rang again.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ahsan.”

  He sat up straighter when his father's voice came down the line. The Emir rarely called him. “Yes?”

  “I would like you to reconsider your stance.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  His 'stance' was a total opposite ideal than his father's. Ahsan wanted many different things, believed many different things, all of which went against the grain of the Emir. Of his culture and religion. Ahsan's views were more worldly and open, views that troubled the Emir and his council to the point they had banished Ahsan from the city. He hadn't moved to the far side of the country on his own—he'd been driven there by his father's advisors.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You know I am continually hearing things in my position as ruler here. Things that make me proud to call you my son. Then there are the things I know, your 'views' on how to run this country, and they are not acceptable to me or my council.”

  “We've been through this before,” Ahsan said. “Extensively. And my opinions haven't, and won't, change.”

  “I'm asking you to reconsider.”

  Just what was the Emir saying? Ahsan frowned. “Again, I ask why. It matters not what I do on my own time, or what I believe. I'm barely a member of this family any longer.”

  “Because if your views were on par with mine, son, then I think you would make the best choice to ascend the throne after I'm gone.”

  Shocked to his very core, Ahsan at first couldn't speak. It wasn't often he was struck for words. For his father to suggest such a thing after the banishment meant something serious was going on back in the city.

  Or, his father had fallen ill and had neglected to tell anyone.

  “Are you well?” he asked first.

  “Will you consider it?” the Emir asked, pressing the issue without answering. “I offer you a great gift, a greater honor. Your brothers would fight for the opportunity I have the power to hand you.”

  After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I'm sorry, father. But no, I will not change my beliefs, alter my views. I am who I am, and that will never change.”

  . . .

  Sessily spent the time between dusk and full nightfall sketching out a generic map of the palace while it was still fresh in her mind. The structure was too large and complicated to draw in its entirety, but all she needed were the main arteries, doors leading out, and access to the large rooms that she might use as shortcuts from one part of the palace to another. As the evening wore on and her plan solidified, she tucked the map into her suitcase, took a long, hot shower, and changed into a fresh pair of clothes.

  The dry heat of the day had eased into a mild evening of slightly cooler temperatures. Barefoot, she departed her room just past midnight and, with an ear for movement in the palace, made her way to the staircase. Padding to the first floor, she paused to glance along the broad halls, then struck out for the back door leading to the courtyard and pool.

  To achieve a successful escape, she thought she was going to have to drive out of Ahsan's home herself. Stealing a vehicle was out of the question, but maybe she wouldn't have to steal one at all.

  Maybe, if she asked nice enough, he would allow her to borrow one and take it to the private airstrip herself. If she worded it right, and mentioned leaving very early in the morning the day after the race, he might cave to her wishes and let her do as she pleased. She could say all sorts of things about wanting to drive herself to reflect on her time there, or to memorize the road for a future return. She didn't want to put his drivers out, or jar his household into motion before dawn. Not very elaborate reasons, sure, but she thought if she was persuasive enough it just might work. One by one during the wee hours, she could have the harem women pile into the back of the vehicle and hide until she got there.

  She had few other alternatives. Sending the women away on foot was foolish and dangerous. They were too far from the airstrip and the heat of the day would catch up to the ladies long before they reached safety. If Bashir sent a car, she would have to leave during daylight hours and there would be no way to sneak the other women in without being seen. Never mind Bashir's driver would call it in and then she'd really be in trouble.

  Taking a different hall, she tried to find the right door to the garage attached to this side of the palace. She'd glimpsed a car pulling in and out during the ride and knew it was here somewhere.

  The first two doors in the hallway led to a small living area and what she thought was a reading room. It was difficult to tell from the spill of light coming in from the corridor and she didn't want to flip on the lights in the room for fear of drawing attention. Workout equipment filled a third room, and a cozy mini-theater with rows of plush chairs lurked behind the fourth door.

  How many rooms were there, anyway? She had to find the correct garage door so she didn't lead the women astray.

  “Lost?” a masculine voie said behind her.

  Startled, she chirped a noise of shock and flipped around, hand over her thundering heart. Ahsan stood less than two feet away in the dim glow of the corridor, wearing only a loose pair of black lounge pants. His dark hair was loose around his neck, just brushing the top of his shoulders.

  “You scared me half to death,” she said, unable to temper the accusation in her tone. “I couldn't sleep and thought I'd go for a walk.” Her heart continued to hammer and it wasn't entirely related to his unexpected arrival. Built broad across the chest and shoulders, Ahsan was a vision of masculine strength and ripped muscle. Her gaze yanked upward after grazing the waistband of the pants, which sat low enough on his powerful hips to almost expose the bone.

  He regarded her steadily, something amused in his expression. “Are you any sleepier now?”

  The knowing lilt to t
he question sent a shiver along her arms. He knew she was affected—or perhaps he was just that cocky and confident of his charms on every woman he met. And really, what woman wouldn't appreciate a well put together man with a jaw that appeared chiseled out of stone and eyes that were too easy to get lost in?

  “Not anymore, thanks to you.” She allowed him to be the reason she wouldn't be sleepy any time soon, except she made it about his stalking rather than his captivating physique.

  “Any time. Would you like company while you snoop through my house?” he asked ever so casually.

  Sessily gasped. “I'm not snooping.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “I'm investigating.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It is not. I wouldn't ever get into your personal things.” Affronted, even though snooping—and worse—was what she'd been up to, she about-faced and continued her...search.

  “If you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I'll guide you in the right direction.”

  That would be handy, she thought. And ironic. She couldn't hear his bare feet on the floor, but she knew he was pacing behind her. Like a stalking lion taking its time pursuing prey.

  “I'm not looking for anything in particular. Just investigating, like I said.” If she repeated herself enough, maybe she'd start to believe it.

  “The only things left down here that you haven't explored are a sauna—which you're free to use if you'd like—an extra office for guests, an overflow collection room and the garage.”

  Sessily's skin tingled all over. She wanted to glance back to see him again but didn't dare. Instead, thinking of her plan, she asked, “Do you collect cars as well?”

  “I have a few, but not an extensive collection.”

  “Care to show me?” Pausing, given an excuse to finally glance back, she discovered he'd closed the distance by half. At least. He was so close she could feel the heat from his swarthy skin.

  “Last door on the right.” He came even with her, shoulder brushing hers, and led on toward the mentioned door.

  The urge to put her hands on his biceps and along his back overwhelmed her. She wanted to touch all that tempting skin and the hard sinew beneath. To see if it jumped or twitched in response. Careful, Sessily, this is dangerous territory.

  “I know you own a jet, but what about yachts and things like that?” At the door, she fell back a step to let him lead on. That was when she caught sight of a vicious scar just under his shoulder blade. The jagged shape curved toward his spine, pale against his darker flesh. Drawing in a surprised breath, she reached out to trace the scar with her fingertips. Later, if asked, she wouldn't be able to say what compelled her to do such a thing.

  He hesitated in the act of opening the door and tilted his whiskered chin toward his shoulder. Staring back at her with just one eye.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that.” She snatched her hand back, cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment, and met his single staring eye. He towered above her by a handful of inches, maybe more, and was just as muscled across his back as his front.

  “But you wanted to, because you did it without thinking. Go ahead. Explore that, too. I don't mind.” He stood still, half in and half out of the gloomy garage.

  Sessily drew in another deep breath, unsure whether it was a wise idea to allow herself the luxury. Reaching out, her fingers tentatively touched the scar at the point below his shoulder blade and traced a slow path to the other end.

  He exhaled a quiet breath, then said, “Yes, I own a yacht. Several of them, actually.”

  “Have you sailed extensively?” Mesmerized by the flex of muscle in his back, Sessily stepped closer, tracing the scar back the other way.

  “One year, I spent probably three months total on the water. Other years, I only snag a few weeks here or there.” He braced a hand against the door frame, elongating his already tall body.

  “So you don't use them all that much.” She hesitated, then asked, “What happened?”

  “Not as much as some people. But I may decide to, and they're there when that time comes.” Ahsan was quiet for a moment, then said, “I ran with the bulls in Pamplona. Someone bet me I wouldn't, so I did, and the bull won.”

  Sessily leaned around his other shoulder, the one with the hand down instead of up, seeking his eyes. “You ran with the bulls? Are you insane? You could have died.”

  He cut a look sidelong, mouth quirked into a curl of amusement. “I almost did die. It didn't help that I'd had a few too many to drink.”

  “Ridiculous.” Sessily muttered unkind things about men and egos after that, using her thumb next to smooth over the skin just above the scar. “I hope you've learned your lesson.”

  “I'm going next year. You should come with me.”

  He was laughing at her. She pinched him, hard, rewarded with a faint grunt and shift of his body. Then she realized what she was doing, and that she'd forgotten—again—what Ahsan might be involved in. He made it far too easy to get lost in him.

  Damn his charisma.

  Withdrawing her fingers, she put a bit of space between their bodies and goaded him forward. “Come on, then. Show me your toys so I can finally go to bed.”

  He murmured, too low to hear, and stepped into the garage.

  “What was that?” She wanted to know what he'd said.

  “Nothing.” The overhead light snapped on, illuminating an enormous garage.

  Sessily, about to press the issue, instead turned her attention to the array of vehicles lined up before several bay doors. She knew which were his favorites because they were parked closer to the house, leaving the ones used for every day activity in the back.

  She hated to admit that she had no idea what kind of cars they were by sight. Sessily didn't run with these crowds, only pretended to. Would he expect her to have some knowledge, or could she get by playing dumb?

  “Very sleek and pretty,” she said, and that wasn't a lie. The vehicles looked like they could take flight.

  He strolled toward the few parked closer to the house. “This is a Hennessey Venom GT. It's as fast as it looks. That's an Aston Martin, the one after a McLaren F1. I have a couple classics elsewhere. Corvette, Camaro, Mercedes.”

  Afraid to touch the cars lest an alarm go off, she nevertheless made a circuit around each one, examining the details. Meanwhile, while trying not to be obvious, she took note that there were other vehicles available. The limousine, a couple SUVs, a few nice sedans with tinted windows. They were still nice, though not of the million dollar variety she currently circled.

  “Very nice. I think this is a pretty extensive collection, myself,” she said, coming back to the front where he stood. Hyper aware of his half naked body, Sessily kept her attention focused on the cars, memorizing the layout and other things.

  “Real collectors have twenty, thirty, fifty cars. I'm not that into it.” He slid his hands into his pockets, posture relaxed.

  Sessily had the impression that while he might enjoy riding in the cars, he treated them as he did the palace, with an almost dismissive air. It wasn't like when he'd shown her his main collection room, where his passion for Egyptian antiques and collectibles made his eyes shine with interest. From papyrus pages to a sarcophagus to rare objects from a Pharaoh’s tomb, he collected it all. That was where his true passion lie.

  “Maybe you'll allow me to drive one of the less expensive ones,” she teased, “since you don't care so much about them.”

  He laughed and glanced at her. “Any time, any where.”

  Sessily seized upon the invitation. “Really? Actually, I'd love to reflect on my visit here when I leave, so if you would allow me to drive one to your private air strip, then I could kill two birds with one stone. If you wouldn't mind one of your people coming to collect it after, that is.”

  He arched a brow, studying her features intently.

  Sessily thought she might have gone too far. But the opportunity had been organic, too natural to pass by. She hoped her feat
ures looked innocent instead of guilty.

  “If that's what you'd prefer, then I don't mind.” He sounded mildly disappointed.

  “Thanks.” She left it at that. Now all she had to do was get the harem women into the car beforehand. One problem down, one to go.

  “When are you leaving, anyway?” he asked.

  “The day after the race.” She tilted her head as if this pained her—and in a way, it did. She had pangs about staying, and pangs about leaving. Most of it was not knowing the level of Ahsan's involvement in the trafficking scheme. Or whether he'd been lying to her the whole time.

  Like you've been lying to him. Displeased with that thought, she refocused her attention on Ahsan. He wore a vague frown at the news.

  “You're welcome to stay on after the race, if you'd like,” he said.

  “I'd accept that invitation if I didn't have some work to see to back home.” She paused for effect, hating the lies that were pouring from her mouth. “Maybe we could meet up somewhere afterward, in a couple weeks?”

  “There's another gala next month in Greece.”

  “I know! We can attend the gala, then perhaps you can show me one of your yachts. How exciting would it be if we toured some of the Greek islands? Maybe even visited Egypt in person.” The sad part of it all was—if the circumstances were different, Sessily would have loved to do exactly that. Except she wasn't who he thought she was, and she didn't trust that he wasn't involved in questionable, repulsive acts. But she let herself believe it could happen anyway, thinking the sincerity might reflect better on her features.

  Ahsan wasn't so easily sold down the river, however. The way he watched her made Sessily think he was on to her game. Or suspected she was leading him for reasons he might not understand.

  “All right. I plan on attending, anyway, so we'll meet in Greece. How long of a trip would you like to take?”

  Sessily grew nervous at his reserved manner. She'd expected him to perk at the idea of visiting Egypt firsthand. Then again, he'd probably gone before, many times.

  “Well, how about two weeks? Can you get away for that long? I'm not sure how long it takes to get from one place to the other on the water.”