She lowered herself slowly to a rock, her brain spinning as she recalled the names in his sat phone contact list: Zakir, Tariq, Dalilah. Julie Belard—the name of Sheik Tariq Al Arif’s now deceased fiancée.
“Your brother…is king of Al Na’Jar?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re hunting for the man behind the assassinations of your parents, your older brother, Da’ud, and now of Tariq.”
“That is correct.”
Her head began to pound. And it hit her—Jacques Sauvage—he was the founder of the Force Du Sable, the private army based off the coast of Africa. Omair had said he’d contracted to the FDS, which was why Sauvage’s name must have begun circling in her subconscious and felt familiar when she’d scrolled through his sat phone list.
Faith ran a shaking hand over her hair. It all made sense now. Except one thing—STRIKE had ordered a hit on an Al Arif prince.
This was not possible—that had to be a mistake. Al Na’Jar was an ally of the United States. King Zakir Al Arif had been invited to the UN to talk about how he was trying to ease his kingdom into a democracy. The U.S. was backing him in this endeavor. Senator Sam Etherington, the man everyone believed would be the next president, was even promising very lucrative future oil deals with the small kingdom.
She didn’t want to believe Omair. Yet she did. Which meant the impossible.
Oh, God.
She dropped her face into her hands—she was carrying the child of an Al Arif prince. She’d been sent by the United States to kill him. And now her country was out to kill her.
Chapter 11
Faith looked slowly into Omair’s eyes.
He was watching her intently, worry etched into his Persian features. He looked like a sculpture, the moonlight filtering into the cave, painting him with silver. Tears filled her eyes. Damn him—she was falling for him, and now that she knew who he was it just made things worse.
Why the United States had tried to assassinate the next in line of succession to the Al Na’Jar throne, Faith had no idea. But telling him, revealing the existence of STRIKE, could topple her own country and make her a red-hot pawn for his kingdom. There’d be no way she could disappear then—even if Omair tried to protect her inside his kingdom. STRIKE would find a way to get to her, and kill her. Her baby would die, too.
She held her arms tighter over her stomach, protecting her secret, her baby, holding on to that precious feeling she had back at the wadi when it had really hit home that she was going to be a mom.
And another chilling thought struck her: if the Al Arifs learned she was carrying a child of royal blood, a possible heir, they might try to take her baby from her. The laws in that kingdom were not yet in a woman’s favor. She needed to disappear, for every reason she could fathom, and fast.
As much as she wanted to help him, she couldn’t.
“The sky has cleared,” she said abruptly. “I’m going to find the camels.”
Faith reached for her rifle, but he grabbed her by the arm as she tried to leave.
“Is that what you do when you hear something you don’t like? You ignore it? Run away?”
There was hurt in his voice. That made it worse. This was a man with compassion. But he was also ruthless when it came to matters of his kingdom—how ruthless might that kingdom be if they wanted his baby?
“Please, Omair, let me go. We need to find the camels and get moving before daybreak, before another chopper comes.”
But his fingers just dug tighter into her arm.
“Faith—you need to tell me who wants to kill you, because they’re the same people who want me and family dead.”
She began to shake inside. “Please, let me go.”
“Who sent that chopper?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Who did you phone from that wadi, Faith?”
“I can’t help you. Why don’t you just let me be, Omair—”
“Not until I find the people trying to kill my family!”
Part of her soul cracked inside as she was torn by a need to tell him, help him. The other part of her was desperate to escape, to survive, while she still could.
Her own mother had given up on her by not trying to survive, and Faith sure as hell wasn’t going to be her mother. She was going to do whatever it took to survive and save this baby.
“Whoever you called at that wadi sent that chopper, Faith, and you know it.”
“I called a voice mail,” she answered, very coolly. “I left a message for the agent who brings me jobs. I let him know the deal was off. I guess the message alerted someone, or they were already tracking my GPS systems.”
He glared at her and raked his hand over his hair, visibly fighting his anger, frustration, his eyes crackling with fury.
“You could try a little better than this, Faith.”
He took her by the shoulder, forcing her to face him. And he seemed even more powerful in his nakedness than clothed. He looked deep into her eyes, hot energy rolling off him in waves.
“I know you are scared, but my family is powerful.”
That’s what worried her—that they might be powerful enough to take her child, but not powerful enough to protect her from STRIKE.
“I—we—can protect you. And I know you care, Faith. I have seen it in your eyes, heard it in your voice. It’s been in your actions. I’m falling for you, and I know you feel for me, but we have to trust each other now, if we want to move forward together.”
She didn’t. As much as she did…she just couldn’t.
She jerked out from under his hold and stomped out into the fresh sand drifts, slinging her rifle over her shoulder as she went.
“Faith!” he yelled from the cave.
“I’m going to find the camels,” she called out behind her. “Then I’m going to get the hell out of here before they send another chopper.”
“Wait!”
Omair cursed violently. Just as he thought he was getting somewhere—this woman was impossible to crack, at least this way. And if she headed out into that sea of sand she was as good as dead—her enemies would see her from miles away. Omair spun around and marched to the back of the cave to grab his clothes.
As he bent down he saw something unusual lying on the floor of the cave where her pants had been. It must have fallen from her pockets. He picked it up and took it to the cave entrance where there was better light.
A pregnancy test?
There was a solid blue line in one of the little windows, and next to the window, printed in English, was the word positive.
He shot a glance into the moonlit desert, where her tracks in fresh sand led from the cave.
Faith was pregnant?
Shock slammed through Omair and on the back of it rode a hard wave of sudden rage.
Damn her—she had no right to have kept that secret from him. Being a soldier of fortune was one thing, but taking an innocent child into the field was absolutely another!
Then another thought rushed at him—what if it was his?
He’d slept with her eight weeks ago. But he’d used protection—it was not likely. The baby was probably another man’s and Omair hated the jealousy that stabbed through him.
Either way, it was not right that she was out here in the desert now. He was going to airlift her to his country where she could get proper medical attention, immediately.
He unbound his arm, yanked on his clothes, thrust his dagger back into his belt, and marched outside. As he climbed the moonlit dune he called Zakir on his sat phone.
“Zakir, I need a helicopter,” he said crisply when his brother picked up. “I have an informant. But she’s pregnant. I need to bring her to Al Na’Jar where she can be safe. And please, send a medic with the crew.” Omair gave their coordinates.
Zakir told Omair he had a military unit currently in training at a base in the Grand Erg. A medical team and chopper could be dispatched from there at once, and arrive within the hour.
Omair sig
ned off, and crested the dune. His mission was now to find Faith and get her back into that cave, until the helo arrived.
He found the two camels before he found Faith in the next valley. She was crouched near the charred and sand-covered wreckage of the chopper, examining something.
The dawn sky was bright but the sun had yet to burst over the horizon and turn the place into an instant furnace. Even so, the temperatures were fierce and the quality of light made Faith’s hair gleam in a soft fall about her face.
Omair stilled a moment, struck by her presence of beauty against the charred disaster. And as he led the camels closer, he saw she was bent over the burned and twisted remains of a human body.
Another body hung out of the cockpit. Both wore flight suits. Both were dark haired, most likely male. There were no immediately discernable markings on the downed craft, but it was one of the smaller, rugged, and easily serviceable models typically sold by the Russians and ideally suited to local conditions. This one had been rigged to function as a gunship. Black market without a doubt, thought Omair, and consistent with MagMo weaponry.
Faith was examining something she’d taken from the body. It glinted gold in her hand.
“It’s some kind of medallion,” she said as he came up behind her.
He crouched down at her side, pulse quickening. “It’s the sign of the MagMo,” he said. “I found one just like it on the body of Da’ud’s killer in Tagua—he was the bodyguard of the North African arms dealer, which is why I needed your note about the hit. I was there to avenge Da’ud’s death.”
Her gaze shot to him. “So that’s why you needed my note—vengeance?”
“Retribution. Yes. The old way.”
The carotid at her neck pulsed fast as she stared at him.
“And since I arrived in North Africa eight weeks ago, I learned that MagMo terrorists have started wearing this symbol as part of the ideology their new leader is spinning. This New Moor claims he and his Maghreb followers are descended from the ancient Sun Clan, a fierce warrior tribe said to have once ruled the Atlas Mountains. The tribe is also rumored to have gone to battle hundreds of years ago with the Al Arif Bedouins over land that now belongs to Al Na’Jar. The New Moor claims the Al Arifs decimated the clan, and he’s
building it back. He now wants the land back—he claims Al Na’Jar is theirs.”
“Is this true, about the battle?” she said.
He shrugged. “It might be, but either way the Moor has given his terrorist organization an identity, a sense of country and ancient purpose when all he really is after is our oil.”
“Smart man.”
“Very, and dangerous because of it. Far more so than his predecessor. And he’s using this same ideology to stir unrest among those of Moorish origin within our own country.”
He nodded toward the twisted and burned craft. “It’s Russian-made, the kind the dealer I met with in the courtyard sells to MagMo.”
“Are you sure?”
He frowned. “As sure as we can be, why?”
“It’s…nothing.” But she looked suddenly pale, two odd hot spots forming high along her cheekbones. In spite of the heat Omair noticed her skin was dry, and her breathing seemed light and fast.
He needed to get her somewhere cool—she could be showing signs of heat stress.
“I’d bet my life that craft, these people, are MagMo. Especially given the medallion.”
“It’s not possible,” she whispered, glancing at the gold medallion glinting her palm. “They wouldn’t work with MagMo.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” She got up abruptly, determination steeling her features as she reached across him for the rope of the camel he was holding.
“Whoa,” he said, jerking the rope out of her reach. “These are my camels.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“You abducted me, brought me out here, and won’t give me a miserable camel so I can split before these people come back?”
“I cannot allow you to make yourself a sitting duck in a sea of sand, Faith. I’ll do better than give you a camel—I’ll fly you out of Algeria. I’ve already sent for a chopper. We’ll have you safely in the Al Na’Jar palace before dinnertime.”
“What?” she said, a stunned look on her face.
“I called my brother Zakir—he’s dispatching transport from a training camp in the Grand Erg as we speak. Their ETA is—” he looked at his watch “—in less than thirty minutes now. We need to go back, wait at the cave in case MagMo comes looking for their downed helicopter.” He reached for her arm.
Incredulous, she stepped back from his reach. “I’m not going to Al Na’Jar. I’m going to Morocco. I know someone there who can help me disappear. I need to disappear, Omair.”
“It’s not safe to cross this desert on camel. Your tracks will lead them right to you. I want you out, now. This environment itself is dangerous and no place for a woman in—”
“Excuse me? This coming from the guy who bound and rubbed my wrists raw, took my boots, my communications and navigation devices, induced hypothermia, extreme dehydration! Who are you to—”
He took the wand from his pocket.
The words died on her lips and she went sheet-white. “You dropped this. You should have told me, Faith. How far along are you?”
“You had no right—that’s private!”
“It was on the cave floor. What were you doing with it out here on a job anyway?”
She grabbed the stick, shoved it into her pocket, turned away and began to trudge up the dune.
“Faith!”
She kept trudging, shoulders wire-tense.
He raced up behind her, grabbed her arm. “Where in hell do you think you’re going!”
She whirled around, eyes crackling. “Get your hands off me!”
He met her eyes. “I can’t let you do this.”
“Why—because you’re some prince on a power trip? Because you’re used to domineering everyone? You didn’t give a damn about hurting me before.”
“You were my enemy before,” he said quietly. “You tried to kill me—I wanted to try and find out why. And you didn’t tell me you were carrying a child. Being a contract soldier is one thing, but you had no right to bring an unborn child into this environment.”
“You’re judging me?” She snorted. “I should have guessed—a prince and a chauvinist. Women have been carrying babies in all sorts of extreme environments since creation—”
“You entered a danger zone by choice, apparently for hard, cold cash. That’s different.”
Her mouth flattened into a furious line and the hot spots on her cheeks grew redder as her entire body started to vibrate with anger.
“You have no right to judge me!” she snapped back. “You, who takes the law into his own hands, vigilante style, pretending it’s some ancient desert warrior code as you avenge the deaths in your family? There are international rules about this sort of thing!”
Omair tamped down a spurt of sudden rage and chose to sidestep her barb. “You’re not endangering that child’s life any further. You’re coming with me.”
“Forget it.” She unsheathed her knife, held it out to him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Faith.”
She waved the blade. “I mean it. I’m not going to your kingdom.”
“It’s my country. You’ll be safe. We have an army—”
“Yeah, and a revolution, enemies, assassins after your family. Even if I wanted to go, you would not be able to guarantee my safety, trust me. I need to take care of this myself.”
“Where is the father of this child, Faith? Who is he? How far along are you?”
“This has nothing to do with you, Omair. So please, back off. Just give me a camel and let me go.”
Her words were a vicious punch to his gut. And it cut like a knife to think she’d slept with him again, in the cave, while she was pregnant with another man’s child. Pressure b
egan to build dangerously in his chest.
“I guess your promiscuity shouldn’t come as a surprise,” he said, his voice cold.
Hurt, raw, flashed through her eyes. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. One-Night Stand. What’s good for you is not good for a woman?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said… Forget it, it was my own error in judgment. I misread you, that’s all. I was foolish, or arrogant enough, to think what we just shared in that cave might have been…special.”
She glowered at him, hurt sparkling in her eyes, the spots on her cheeks growing redder.
He hurt, too, and felt a fool because of it. Dragging his hand over his hair, Omair tried to temper the dangerous undercurrents of emotion swirling in him.
“And now you want to disappear?” he said, more calmly, his peripheral attention still on her knife. “What about the father of your baby? Does he even know you’re pregnant?”
Her eyes flickered. And the sun burst over the horizon, sending color and heat rippling over the dunes, glinting on the blade in her hand. Urgency kicked into Omair. He needed to get her back into the shelter of the cave in case MagMo came looking for its downed chopper before Zakir’s team arrived.
“You just found out, didn’t you, Faith? That’s why you have this test stick with you on the mission. Am I right?”
“Omair, please. It’s not your business.”
“Are you going to tell him about his child? It’s his baby as much as it’s yours, Faith. A man has a right to his own child.”
“I’m not going to keep it, okay,” she said, very quietly. “I can’t. So please, back off.”
Omair stiffened.
“If you don’t want the baby, maybe he does. Maybe he wants to raise his own child. The father has a right—”
“Is that what you’d do? Let me carry it to term then just take it? You, who says there is no room for his own children in his life? No room for a wife?”
“This is different. This is—”
“Is what?”
Omair was silent for several beats. “Because it’s you, Faith. And if you were carrying my child, I’d…do everything to make it work.”
Sheik's Revenge Page 14