Under the Sheik's Protection

by C. J. Miller

  “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.

  Chapter 3

  The moment Sarah awoke, she knew she was in a hospital. A heart rate monitor beeped rhythmically. Her left arm was restrained and covered in heavy bandages. It took her a few seconds to remember what had happened. She had been speaking with Barr in the alley outside the first trade summit meeting. Not Barr. Saafir, the emir of Qamsar. His big, brawny guard, Adham, had been lurking in the doorway. Then, she had been pinned behind a Dumpster as the sound of gunfire exploded around her.

  Thanks to the emir of Qamsar, she was alive.

  She opened her eyes and saw Owen’s concerned face. Owen leapt to his feet. “Jeez, Sarah, you scared about three decades off my life. What the hell happened in that alley?”

  Sarah struggled to sit. She felt groggy and tired. She pressed the button on her bed to raise the back of the hospital bed. Her entire left arm was numb. “I remember to a point, than it goes hazy.”

  A long pause. “There are reporters everywhere. What do I need to know about this?”

  She wasn’t hiding anything. She wasn’t sure she fully understood his question. “I don’t know anything more than you. How is Saafir? I mean, the emir?”

  Owen shot her a curious look. “The hospital won’t release details, but a spokesperson for the emir said he is in good health. Given the political environment in Qamsar, there’s nothing else they could say. The leader of their country being down and out opens the door for a coup and could cause a revolution. How are you feeling?” Owen added quickly.

  “I’m a little wor
se for wear,” she said. When the pain medication wore off, she guessed she’d be in a great deal of pain. “What’s wrong with my arm?” She couldn’t see anything under the mass of bandages.

  “You were grazed by a bullet that hit a large vein. You’ve got a lot of healing to do,” Owen said. His face was grim. “I don’t want you to worry about anything except getting better. There’s a bunch of crap in the news. You’ve been named as the emir’s lover, the emir’s mistress and the emir’s American bride.”

  Sarah groaned. “Already digging around for some lurid ties between us. Will this hurt the trade agreement?”

  “Obviously, day one has been derailed,” Owen said. “I’ve communicated with every member of the committee and their staff to alert them we might be dealing with a violent extremist. We’re organizing increased security measures and will implement them immediately. The emir could be the target, but how could they have known he’d step into the alley? This may have been an attack of opportunity. The target could be anyone on the committee. It’s too soon to know what the objective of the attack was.”

  Though it wasn’t the most pressing concern, she worried about her future. “What about my job?” Sarah asked.

  Owen touched her arm lightly. “Don’t worry about that. Worry about getting better.”

  Anxiety made her feel sick. “Owen, no. Don’t blow me off. Don’t feed me a bunch of bull. If you’re planning to fire me, tell me now.”

  He sighed. “Nothing has been decided. The contract is still yours. But Sarah, it’s not worth losing your life over this. I want you to consider stepping back.”

  Sarah shook her head. Her marriage was over, her apartment was trashed, her personal life was being eviscerated by the press and her job was the one thing she had left. She needed the money and she needed the event for her resume. “I wasn’t the target. The emir was.”

  “If you are not around the emir, you will be safe.”

  She couldn’t back down or back away from this job. She needed it. She’d earned this opportunity and she might never get another like it. “I will be fine, Owen. Please don’t take this away from me.”

  Owen sighed. “Until the police or FBI tell me differently, I am taking the threat as directed at us—all of us. If you get hurt again, I’ll hold myself responsible.”

  “If I get hurt, I only hold the people shooting the guns responsible,” Sarah said.

  Owen leaned forward in his chair. “May I ask you a personal question about you and the emir?”

  Unease twisted through her. Sarah worked to keep her composure. Had she given away that something had transpired between her and Saafir? Owen was perceptive and the intimacy she and Saafir had shared had made a permanent impression on her. It could have been obvious to others. “Go ahead.”

  “I thought I saw something between the two of you this morning. Have you spoken with the emir before today on more personal matters? Is there more to your relationship than you’ve led me to believe?” Owen asked.

  His question was made more awkward by Owen being her former brother-in-law and her boss. She hadn’t wanted to speak of the night she and Saafir had spent together, especially not after learning of his connection to the trade agreement. In light of the shooting, was that information relevant? She didn’t want her life to be fodder for the gossip rags, but Owen was a friend. She could trust him. “I ran into the emir Saturday night in a bar. We talked.”

  Owen was too much of a gentleman to push for details, but he could infer the rest. “You have a personal relationship with him.”

  She supposed relationship was as good a word as any. “I didn’t know who he was,” Sarah said. “I was feeling bad about the divorce and he’s a tough guy to ignore.” In a crowded room, Saafir stood out head and shoulders above other men.

  Owen was silent for a minute, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. When he spoke, the words came out slowly and carefully. “This is a good opportunity for us. You can talk to him. Find out what he’s thinking. Get a read on him to further negotiations. The faster we can get signatures on paper, the better.”

  Sarah groaned. She was groggy from meds, but even in her half-addled state she knew this was a bad idea. “We’ve spent time together twice, including today when someone tried to assassinate him. I don’t think that puts our relationship into confidante status. I don’t have any pull over him.” She did not want to insert herself into a political negotiation.

  “I’m not suggesting you pull him, I’m suggesting you do what you can for your country and be his friend. If anything relevant comes to your attention, you bring it to my attention.”

  “I can’t do that,” she said. She was the event coordinator. Her responsibilities ended at lodging, food, drinks and entertainment. She guessed security arrangements would be passed to Owen now. Her interest in spying was nil. “I won’t. From what you’ve told me, the agreement is good for both sides. You don’t need me in the middle. I’ll make it worse.”

  “The agreement is good, but it’s not without trouble spots. You can smooth those over. Come on, Sarah, I got you this job. You owe me. You just asked me not to release you from the contract. Do this for me in return.”

  He wasn’t pulling punches. Her choices were to help Owen or lose the contract. If she lost the contract, she had nothing left in her life. Weeks of sitting around her apartment, draining her savings account and waiting for another job. She had turned away a few jobs knowing the trade agreement would occupy most of her time and it was too late to acquire more. Idle time was bad. She needed to stay busy.

  If she agreed to help Owen, maybe she wouldn’t have to pass on anything because she may not learn anything. Saafir might not want to see her alone again. He might not say anything to her about the trade agreement. If they never spoke of the trade agreement, she’d have zero insider knowledge. “If I hear anything, I will let you know.” The words felt like they were stuck to her tongue.

  She was spared further conversation by Molly and Krista, who arrived in her room carrying a balloon and flowers.

  Owen sighed. “The news is already on the street?”

  Molly glared at him. Owen and her friends had never gotten along. “Details aren’t in the news. I heard from Debbie about a problem with the trade summit,” Molly said, referring to the congresswoman she worked for. “Krista called one of your waitstaff and got the details.”

  Gossip spread quickly in D.C., especially when it involved international politics and high-profile situations.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes to talk,” Owen said.

  After Owen left the room, Krista set the flowers on the table across from Sarah’s bed and sat in the chair he’d been occupying. “He is always so uptight.”

  “That’s not true,” Sarah said, though she’d had similar thoughts in the past. “He’s under a lot of pressure.” His marriage, his work and Alec were strains on him.

  “Oh, please. He’s always been hard on you,” Molly said.

  Sarah and Owen had a shaky history. They hadn’t agreed on the right course of action for Alec’s care. “He’s protective of Alec and he knows you guys were on my side during the divorce.”

  The word “divorce” still pained her. It should be easier to talk about it. Maybe one day it would be.

  “Of course we’re on your side. We’re always on your side,” Krista said.

  Her friends were the closest to family she had. She’d once felt that Alec, Owen and Evelyn were her family, but not recently, not based on how they now treated her.

  “How are you feeling?” Molly asked.

  “I’m okay,” Sarah said. Should she tell her friends Barr’s real name? They were usually understanding and nonjudgmental. “It turns out that I accidentally slept with the emir.”

  Molly lifted her brows. “Accidentally? How do you accidentally get naked and sleep wi
th someone?”

  “The guy from this weekend is the emir.”

  Molly and Krista had matching looks of shock.

  “Does that mean you’ll be a princess?” Krista asked.

  “What does that mean Adham is? His courtier or something?” Molly asked.

  “I am not a princess and Adham is in charge of his security. Adham was outside when the shooting started,” Sarah said.

  “Is he okay?” Molly asked.

  “I haven’t heard anything about Adham, and Owen says the emir is doing okay.”

  “What about you? How are you feeling about all this?” Krista asked.

  Confused and overwhelmed. “Physically, I’m okay.”

  Molly chewed her lower lip. “I’ll talk to one of the nurses and see if I can get more information. I’ll be right back.”

  Krista touched Sarah’s arm. “Excuse her. She’s bounced between worry about you and talking about Adham. She’s crushing on him hard. But are you really okay? I was terrified when I heard there was a shooting.”

  Sarah hadn’t had time to process what had happened. “I’m scared, shaken and confused. It happened so fast. One minute, I was talking to the emir and the next I was waking up in a hospital. I have some fragmented memories, but I think I was fading in and out of consciousness.”

  Krista clasped her hand. “Maybe you should think about taking a vacation.”

  “You sound like Owen. You know I need the money and my business needs the boost. Alec is counting on me to pay the bills for his rehab.”

  “Why can’t Owen pay for it? He brags about how he’s some big-shot negotiator. Let him deal with his brother.”

  Krista’s vehemence was in defense of her. “I promised Alec I would do this. It’s the last thing I will do for him.” And Owen had indicated he had some financial problems. His wife was running up credit card balances across town.

  “I’ve heard that before,” Krista said.

  Sarah let her head fall against her pillow. “It’s not easy to cut him out of my life.”