Charmed & Dangerous

by Candace Havens

  For some reason this guy always had the welfare of others in mind. Where were the flaws? Other than being ruthless in business and a bit bullheaded. I’d been prejudiced when I first saw him and assumed he had a harem at home. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  “What are you thinking, Bronwyn?” His voice sounded husky and I met his eyes. Damn, I know that look. That’s the serious I-want-to-get-in-your-pants look. Can’t say I don’t feel the same way, but the “no screwing clients” rule won’t be broken by me.

  And if I’m really honest with myself, I’ll admit that he doesn’t make me feel like Sam does. If that warlock has ruined me for other men, I’ll have to kill him.

  “I’m thinking that some things are way too good to be true.” I stepped away from the heat I could feel from his body. “What time do you want me ready to go into town tomorrow?”

  He accepted the change of subject with gentlemanly respect. “My first meeting is at ten. We’ll leave at nine.”

  I checked my watch. Ick. “I’m off to bed.”

  “Good night, witch.” The way he said witch sounded more like darling or lover. Yikes! He touched my shoulder as I walked past.

  “’Night.”

  Can’t even imagine how I could consider the sheik as a lover. Well, that’s not true. The guy’s gorgeous, brave, and compassionate, and the list goes on. But he’s a friggin’ sheik. What is it with men lately? Never been into the whole masochist thing, but I’m beginning to wonder.

  Twelve

  Friday, 10 P.M.

  Dubai

  Spells: 3

  A nother long day at the office. At least the sheik didn’t get kidnapped this time. Can’t say I like the people he does business with in Dubai. Rudest bunch of jerks I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of assholes in my line of work.

  Some prince from a neighboring country wouldn’t shake my hand. Wouldn’t touch a single female, especially an American. Whatever. He’s related to Azir, but I never figured out how. Most of the men Azir introduced me to nodded slightly at my presence, but for the most part ignored the fact that I sat two feet away. Annoying.

  Not that I needed any encouragement in the men-are-toads department, but these guys sealed the deal. Most of the conversations centered on land that the prince wanted to buy and evidently Azir had no desire to sell. His office in the sky filled with steam coming off the prince’s ears. But the sheik wouldn’t budge.

  Lots o’ angry thoughts coming from the prince and I wondered if perhaps he’s our guy. Nothing clear enough to pin the bombs on him but I’ll keep tapping in now and then. He’s a definite suspect.

  The best part of the day happened before we ever left the house. I finally had a chance to visit the women in the “secret wing.” I complain about men on a regular basis, but I’ve got nothing on these chicks.

  Before directing me through the doors where the two guards held great big guns, the sheik explained what was about to happen.

  “A few of the women have heard about your work to protect the shelters and want to meet you.” He talked in hushed tones as we walked through the long corridor so as not to wake any of the women who might be sleeping.

  “Each woman has her own set of rooms and they stay here until new identities can be given to them. They come from all over the world. All that I ask is whatever you see or hear today, you keep to yourself. I’m duty bound to protect these women, and it is my wish you understand how far I will go to do so.”

  The sheik had just thrown a mild threat my way, but I understood his point, so I let it go.

  “I’ve sworn to protect you and your family, and from what I can see these women fall under that umbrella.” I grabbed his wrist to stop him before we entered through an elaborate wooden door decorated with tiny pink and green flowers. “What you do for these women is extraordinary; I’d never do anything to put them in danger.”

  He accepted what I had to say with a nod and knocked on the door. Behind it an African princess lived in what I call the pink room. It had been filled with every shade of pink the mind could imagine. From fuchsia to bubblegum the place was covered. And I haven’t seen so many ruffles since my fifth birthday party when my mom decided petticoats were to be worn under all of the little girls’ dresses for high tea. It was overwhelming then and almost equally so now.

  The sheik stepped back through the door after introducing me to Naraba and left us to our conversation.

  “Sheik Azir is a most generous man,” she told me as we sat on a plush sofa covered in pink velvet. “I’d spent the last seven years in a prison cell that consisted of stone. No chairs, tables, or beds allowed. No comforts at all.”

  “May I ask why you were in prison?” I shifted on the sofa and couldn’t imagine this graceful, regal woman wrapped in silk sleeping on a cold stone floor for so many years.

  “I’d been accused of adultery.”

  “And they threw you in jail for that? Where I come from they celebrate it in the press when movie stars do it.”

  “We come from quite different worlds, but you must understand something. I did not commit the act of which I was accused.” She clasped her hands tightly as if she could hold the pain to her. “My parents made me marry a friend of my father’s when I turned seventeen. He had promised to be a good husband and was quite a bit older than me. He took me to his bed but was dissatisfied with my performance. I knew nothing of the act and was only a frightened girl. After that he ignored me.”

  There are way too many assholes in the world.

  “Two months into my marriage I was raped by another man. My husband, feeling I’d been soiled, wanted to be rid of me. So I was accused of adultery. They threw me in jail and I was given a death sentence.”

  You know when you have those days and nothing is going right? Well, from now on I’ve got something to compare those days to because while I tend to think I’ve been to hell and back, this woman had actually been there.

  “How did the sheik find you?”

  “He was traveling with a group of human rights activists and talked with me during his visit. A few days later I boarded a plane and I’ve been here for the last six months. I’m not sure how he did it, but I’ll be forever grateful.”

  I wish I could say that was the worst story I heard this morning but there were more. A Chinese woman from a small village who had been sexually mutilated for giving birth to triplets. Her babies had been killed and she was tortured. Another woman from Russia who had been forced into prostitution at the age of ten to help feed her family. The stories went on and on.

  In my line of work I often see the worst humanity has to offer, but nothing like this. My heart hurt for these women. Amazingly, though, none seemed as broken as you might expect. They were strong and each working toward very specific goals.

  I left feeling not sorry but proud. These incredible women had survived atrocities most of us couldn’t imagine and had managed to move on and create better lives.

  But none of them would have been able to do it without Azir. In each case he had stepped forward and pulled these women out of dire situations. In a strange turn of coincidences the villains in each of their stories always wound up dead. I wondered if Azir had something to do with that. On the way into town he wouldn’t talk about it.

  “There may be a time when I need your help to save a lost soul,” he told me in the car. “Then you’ll find out how we are able to do what it is we must.”

  He did promise to consider my offer to make each of the women protection charms to keep them safe in the future. It’s so odd to hear these stories from women who think he’s the greatest man in the world and two hours later sit in an office with men who think he is the reason their country has gone to hell.

  Tried to tap into the prince but couldn’t. That means magic is involved. I’ll try again later and see what happens.

  Saturday, noon

  Azir’s asked me to travel with him to Oslo again. Don’t really have the clothes for it, but gues
s I’ll pick some things up when I get there. The PM is meeting us but no other dignitaries.

  I wish they’d discuss their plans with me. Once we get out of this house and on the jet I’m reading the sheik’s mind and he can bite me if he doesn’t like it. Stubborn, mule-headed toad.

  Sunday, 3 A.M.

  Oslo

  We just got in and I’m too wired to sleep. We’re staying at a private residence, which is nice. Don’t have to worry so much about poisoned hotel food. The PM should be here in a few hours. Gotta grab some sleep before Miles arrives and yanks me out of this nice warm bed. I didn’t think it possible, but I swear it’s even colder than the last time we were here.

  Azir’s sister loaned me a parka and boots, so at least I got to the house without freezing to death. I’ll pick up the rest of what I need later. Have no idea how long we will stay. Guess that’s something else to ask about tomorrow.

  Snooze time.

  Noon

  Spells: 2

  Charms: 3

  This house isn’t as big as the sheik’s castle but it’ll do. It has a whole goth feel going for it, with deep red walls and black furniture. I always think of Norwegian architecture of being clean lines and light woods, but this is the exact opposite. I don’t think there’s a piece of furniture in this place less than two hundred years old. But for some reason it suits me. I love the darkness and the oldness. First thing this morning I put protection charms on all of the doors and windows and did a general spell to protect all the inhabitants of the home.

  My bedroom is huge with a bay window that looks out onto mountains and a white wonderland. I love the carved mahogany bed with the curtains. Definitely think it’s something I’d like to replicate at home. These posts would be great for tying someone up. Not that I’d actually do it, but it’s nice to have options.

  I had three e-mails from Dr. Sam. Seems he’s upset that I won’t take his phone calls. “You’re avoiding me,” he wrote. “I don’t like the way we left things. I care about you so much and I believe there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  Whatever. He’s right. I’m avoiding him but I have good reasons. I can’t deal with all that and protect these guys at the same time. I’ve got to focus on the business of keeping my charges alive.

  There’s a lunch meeting at one to talk about security for both the sheik and the PM. These guys live their lives in meetings. Don’t know how they do it. Tapped into the PM when he walked in this morning.

  Some corporate mergers in the oil industry have him worried, not to mention the fact that they found another bomb at his home in London. He’s mystified about who’s trying to kill him.

  Noticed for the first time ever that the PM had a woman rolling around in that brain of his. Nothing dirty, just watching her walk into the office and he thought she had a nice smile. That’s the really bad part of reading minds. Sometimes you get way more information than you want to know.

  Wonder if Miles would be jealous of the PM’s love interest. Haven’t run into the snippy little twit yet. Thank God for small favors. Darn. Spoke to soon. He’s at the door.

  11 P.M.

  Strange. Strange. Tapped into Azir. He’s worried about so many things his mind constantly skips from one trauma to another. He doesn’t understand that I could help him if he’d open up and let me.

  Decided to confront the sheik head-on but didn’t handle it well. We were at lunch and I told Azir and the PM that we had to make a list of suspects. I needed somewhere to start my mental investigation. They both gave me names but at the same time looked guilty of holding back.

  “Look, you’ve hired me to protect you both and I’m doing that.” I put the pen I’d been taking notes with down on the table. “But you have to be honest with me or I quit. Right now. I’m going to walk out and get on a plane and go home because I’m tired of the subterfuge.”

  The PM let out a huff, and Azir’s forehead crinkled into a frown.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m insubordinate,” I said. “Can’t help it. I’m made this way. Don’t get all huffy on me. Sheik, you know someone close to you, other than your cousin, has tried to kill you. Prime Minister, there was someone specific you were worried about but I know that name never made it to the list. If you don’t want to speak in front of each other for fear of destroying business relationships, fine. But I need those names.”

  Complete silence for about three minutes, then both men rose, pushed in their chairs, and walked out without a word.

  “Great.” I went upstairs to pack because I’d meant what I said. If they couldn’t be honest with me I had no hope of saving them from the danger they faced.

  As I yanked my bag out of the wardrobe someone knocked.

  Opened the door to find Azir standing there with his arms crossed against his chest. “I’ll talk to you but with the understanding that nothing I tell you leaves this room.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before. I’ll keep your confidence.”

  “I cannot say out loud what I think, because if it is true it will crush my family.”

  “Perhaps I can help by telling you I believe I know who it is you suspect.”

  He’d gone to stand by the window and his head snapped around. “No.”

  “No?” I sat down on the bed. Did the man forget I read minds for a living? I knew he believed it to be his brother. All he had to do was say it.

  “There’s no way you could know anything about who might be behind these latest attacks.”

  “I’m not here to play games, Sheik. Do you believe Alkazir conspired with your cousin?”

  He laughed. “If only it were that simple. It isn’t my brother who wishes me dead.” The grim set of his face told me that the next words out of his mouth would hurt more than anything he had said in a long time.

  “You must understand I do not say this with a light heart.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and turned toward the window again as he whispered, “It’s my father.”

  Thirteen

  Monday, 8 A.M.

  Waxing moon

  Oslo

  Spells: 2

  Brain-weary witches: 1

  N ever in my life have I wanted to say “Back to the Bat-cave, Robin” more than I do right now. Need time to assimilate all this information. I’m in total overload.

  Wish the most shocking news I heard yesterday was that the sheik’s dad wanted him dead. No, no. That would be way too normal for Bronwyn these days.

  Minutes after the sheik left my room, the prime minister walked in. He talked about nothing for ten minutes and then blurted out, “I’m afraid Miles may be behind some of these attacks!”

  Miles? Snippy twit-faced jerk, who always had his panties in a wad? I think not.

  “Prime Minister, as much as I detest the man—a fact you are well aware of—he couldn’t possibly be behind something like this.”

  “The evidence speaks otherwise, Bronwyn. Did you know his brother is behind an underground military operation in London?”

  “No, sir, but what does his brother’s actions have to do with Miles?” I mean come on. The sniveling brat of a man was in love with the PM, didn’t he have a clue?

  “My security agents have a tape of him talking with his brother at a local pub, less than a mile from my home.”

  “Well, they are family.” I grabbed a pillow off the bed and hugged it. As much as I hated Miles, I knew he couldn’t be a killer. But I needed the whole story before I could help.

  “That tape was taken twenty-four hours before the car bomb. And quite frankly, I have a difficult time believing it myself. Then only six hours before the bomb was found at the house, Miles met his brother again at a hotel. They had tea and talked, but our agents weren’t close enough to pick up on the conversation.” His hands twisted in angst. I’d never seen the PM so upset.

  “If you’re worried about Miles being behind the attacks, why did you bring him to Oslo?”

  “Quite frankly, I couldn’t brin
g myself to believe this news. But after talking with you and Azir, I don’t know. Would it be possible for you to read Miles so we could know for certain?”

  “Yes. Have a seat there.” I pointed to a thronelike chair in the corner. “It may take a few minutes, but I think we should settle this as soon as possible. And I’d like to go on the record as saying you couldn’t be more wrong, Prime Minister. Of all the lists we could ever make of your enemies, I would never put his name on any of them.”

  “You have no idea how much I want you to be right.” He sat down and crossed his long legs. The idea that his closest associate might want him dead obviously weighed heavy on the statesman.

  Took a deep breath and found Miles with my mind. He was in his room returning e-mail. I probed slowly through his brain, weaving in and out of his subconscious. And found nothing. The only thing remotely regarding the PM was Miles handing him papers to sign. When he thought of the prime minister I could feel the warmth. No, if anything my initial impression of Miles’s relationship with the PM was correct. He had been in love with the man for years.

  Put the pillow back in its place on the furry down-filled comforter. Stretched my legs by walking around the room.

  “So is it him?” The PM’s voice was tight with worry.

  “No.” I couldn’t invade Miles’s privacy by telling the other man that he might be in love with him. Much as I’d like to get my digs into the sniveling toad. “You have the wrong man. That’s not to say his brother isn’t involved. I’ll check that in just a bit. But—”

  “Tell me—everything.” He stood and touched my shoulder.

  Snow fell heavy against the window, obliterating the view outside. Definitely needed some warmer clothes.

  “Prime Minister, Miles has absolutely nothing but your best interests at heart. He cares a great deal for you and could never wish you harm. I’d like to know who it was that first threw suspicion on Miles.”