Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6

by Jennifer Lewis

  Gibran turned and stared hard at her. She tried not to blink—and failed.

  “But then why blow stuff up? Why take out the power during the wedding party?” He pretended to be interested. Or maybe he really was interested. Perhaps he was starting to entertain some suspicions.

  The idea made her gut clench. But she lifted her chin. “To create an atmosphere of chaos. A feeling that the current order is about to collapse. To make people anxious and desperate….”

  “For the overthrow of three strong men so that two cute little toddlers can rule the country?” The twinkle of laughter in his eye and the dimple by his mouth were finally her undoing.

  She laughed. “Okay. I’m not really cut out for villainy.”

  “You have some good ideas about motive, though. I do think that the culprit or culprits are trying to create an atmosphere of unease, and we know for sure that they want the brothers dead or injured or gone. The intriguing part is that they haven’t been able to pull it off yet. I have to credit the brothers on putting together pretty decent defenses, even if their security has a lot of holes in it.

  “I love the brothers. I’d never do anything to harm them.”

  “I know.” He looked at her with warmth. “And from what I can see, most of the people of Ubar already feel the same way. I think our miscreants were hoping they could quickly dispose of them before they made too many changes, and now they’re getting frustrated that their plans keep failing. The attempt to kidnap Parsia was probably the start of a new tactic of making actual demands. In some ways it would have made my job easier if they took her.”

  “What?” She stared at him, horror in her heart.

  “Because then at least we’d have some idea of what they really want. Upsetting the current order is just a means to an end, and we don’t yet know what end they have in mind, though now we have three of their foot soldiers in custody and sooner or later one of them will talk.”

  “Will you torture them?” She winced at the thought. She didn’t like the idea of him inflicting physical pain on anyone.

  “Not in the way that you think. Zadir already found an effective way to torment one of them, by bringing lit cigarettes around him. I could see his greed for a smoke when I tried it myself. We need to find their weak link. And once one talks, the others will be easy.”

  “I just hope you figure it out before anything else happens. We could be targets right now.”

  “Yes. In fact that was part of my reasoning for walking through Nabattur with you. I wanted to see what kind of attention we attract. I made sure that we are under heavy guard at all time.”

  “What?” Aliyah turned and saw three black cars behind them. “There are guards with us?”

  “Ten of them. I had them walking through the crowd—dressed as regular citizens, of course, listening to conversations and watching for any sign of interest.”

  “But the guards might have overheard our conversation.” She frowned, trying to remember exactly how personal it had been. Had anything incriminating been revealed?

  He flashed a dark glance at her. “If you want people to pay attention, you need to be interesting.”

  “So you said all that on purpose, just to stir me up?” Adrenaline rushed through her. Was he using her the whole time as some kind of decoy? Playing with her emotions to create an interesting spectacle?

  He stared straight out the windshield, and once again she saw a muscle working in his jaw. “I may have had my own reasons, too.”

  “If you don’t take me home right now, I’ll—I’ll—” Fury surged in her chest.

  “You’ll what?” He looked at her curiously.

  “I’ll jump out of the car.”

  She heard the locks click. “Can’t have that. I’m supposed to be protecting you, not encouraging you to endanger your life.”

  “You’re impossible!”

  “So they tell me.”

  “I hate you!”

  “You aren’t the first.” Gibran let out a long sigh. “There’s something reassuring about knowing people hate you. At least you know where you stand.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Back at the palace Aliyah barricaded herself in her quarters with her children. Even though Gibran had assigned himself to guard her, she wouldn’t allow him entry. She simply said that she was tired and needed privacy. She certainly wasn’t going to explain to anyone that he’d flirted with her, kissed her, toyed with her emotions and driven her to raging fury!

  “It’s time for you to go to dinner.” His voice through the door sent another flash of emotion and anger shooting through her.

  “We’ll eat our dinner here, as we usually do.”

  “But Mama!” Parsia pulled at her skirts. “I like to eat with family.”

  “This is our family, sweetheart. You, me and Nasri. We’ll all eat together.”

  “But Uncle Zadir said he’d carry me on his shoulders,” protested Nasri, pouting.

  “Another time, my love. Mama is tired today.”

  Even the two sad little faces staring up at her couldn’t sway her resolve. There was no way she could sit at a dinner table, surrounded by people, next to Gibran after the way he’d played her like a lute today for his own purposes. If nothing else she needed time to gather her thoughts and figure out how to handle him.

  She certainly couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. Sam and Ronnie would lose all respect for her if they knew she’d let him kiss her—and worse, that she’d enjoyed it.

  She just had to do her best to stay away from him until he figured out who the culprits were. Then hopefully he would leave.

  Which was a shame, since he was a member of the family. Originally she hoped he’d be welcome and even settle in their midst. How naïve and foolish she’d been! A trained soldier and hired mercenary, Gibran Al Nazariyah was a jackal—ruthless and without ethics—ready to take what he needed from those around him without a care for their feelings.

  From now on she’d be sure to remember that.

  Gibran watched Sam approach the dinner table, then frown when she saw a staff member removing the place settings for Nasri and Parsia. “Aliyah and the girls aren’t coming?”

  “Her majesty wishes to rest,” explained the servant.

  Obviously disappointed, Sam looked at Gibran. “You wore her out today in Nabattur?”

  “Something like that.” He moved quickly to pull out her chair, trying to keep his expression neutral.

  She looked a little surprised at his chivalry as she thanked him and settled herself in her seat. “Did you learn anything more about the reasons for the attempted kidnapping?”

  “The former guard still maintains that he was operating on his own. These people are clearly being paid to keep silent, and someone is benefiting even with them here in custody. Probably their families are being paid, but since their identities are false we haven’t yet traced them.”

  “And I don’t suppose Ubar has comprehensive fingerprint or dental records to identify someone.”

  He laughed. “You’re right about that. But this area doesn’t have a huge population, so we’ll find out who they are by process of elimination, if nothing else.”

  “I guess we have to ask around and see which villages are missing their idiots.” Zadir sat down next to Sam. His comment brought a laugh from the group.

  “You’re not so far wrong.” Gibran took a seat on the far side of the table. “The problem is the villages are small, close-knit groups and can be secretive with information.”

  “DNA analysis could work, though.” Amahd took a seat next to Gibran. “It’s easy enough to obtain and you could match the culprits with their family members.”

  “Without their permission?” Zadir looked intrigued.

  “Asking for permission would be half the fun.” Gibran took some rice offered by the waiter. “Because then you can see who has something to hide.”

  “It still sounds like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Osman laid a kiss on S
am’s cheek, before seating himself next to her. She smiled at him. “But it’s not an especially large haystack.”

  “Except that according to Gibran the three men aren’t even from the same country. Which makes it several haystacks. We can’t go around demanding DNA from the citizens of Satya.”

  Ronnie, sitting next to her husband, spooned some shrimp onto her plate. “They all have something in common.” She frowned at Gibran. “Besides their employer, of course. What made them vulnerable to being bought?”

  Gibran nodded. “Whose business suffered when your father died and you took over?”

  Osman shrugged. “We tried our best to accommodate everyone and keep things going the way they had been.”

  “Except for the oil leases.” Amahd munched some chicken. “Since for the first time we’re drilling and processing our own oil.”

  “And before the oil was leased out?”

  “Not really.” Amahd sipped his drink. “Negotiations had been going on for a long time but nothing had actually happened.”

  “Discussions with who?” Gibran looked fascinated.

  “The Sultan of Tabriq. Darud is his name. Darud the twelfth,” replied Amahd. “He’s one of those colorful old characters that no one takes very seriously.”

  “Like our father,” chimed in Zadir. “All talk and no action. The discussions had been going on for nearly two decades.”

  “But he might have developed a sense of entitlement.” Gibran made rapid mental notes. This was just the kind of lead he’d been looking for. “He spent a long time considering the possibilities, and no doubt imagining the vast wealth he could accrue, then suddenly everything changes.” He glanced around the table. “What do you know about him personally?”

  The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. “Not a whole lot, really,” said Osman. “We were overseas for years. He had a relationship with our father, but I don’t know how close it was.”

  Zadir leaned forward. “Remember Barbit, that annoying woman who brought her daughter here to marry me?”

  Sam laughed and looked at Gibran to explain. “Barbit was an distant relative of Osman’s who arrived unannounced with her daughter right around the time that Zadir brought Veronica to visit from the states. Zahaina flirted like crazy but Zadir was already smitten by then.” She exhaled slowly. “She did actually mention several times that we should invite Darud to the palace. She thought we should make more of an effort to cultivate relations with the neighbors.”

  “And why didn’t you?” Gibran was curious.

  “We’ve been working flat out on everything here at home.” Osman sighed. “I suppose we just wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. I have a sneaking suspicion that although our neighbors have been cordial, they probably do see us as young upstarts here to change the world they’re used to.”

  “To a certain extent, they’re right.” Gibran looked from brother to brother.

  “Indeed they are,” said Sam. “And how do you interrogate the leader of a nation to figure out what he really wants?”

  “You could just ask them.” Gibran leaned back in his chair. “Osman, have you ever done that?”

  Osman shook his head. “Maybe I’m afraid I won’t like what I hear. I already know Darud wanted the oil leases. He brought it up a few times. I didn’t take him that seriously because if he was so interested, why did nothing happen when my father was alive?”

  “Maybe your father was stonewalling him, too.”

  Osman nodded. “My father was not one to share his true opinions with anyone.”

  “Perhaps you should hold a summit.” Ronnie spoke up. “Invite the leaders of all the neighboring countries here to discuss their aims, and talk about promoting peace and prosperity in the region. Maybe they’ll have some ideas about who’s behind the attacks.”

  Osman winced. “That sounds good in theory, but it could end up kicking over a hornets’ nest. If you’d met our father, you’d have some idea of what I’m talking about. These men are all essentially dictators of their own nations. They maintain the status quo by not tinkering with it.”

  “It sounds a bit like you’re doing the same thing,” Ronnie lifted a brow. “That you’re afraid to even ask what they want in case you won’t like it and you’ll have to do something about it.”

  Gibran looked at Ronnie with interest. “Ronnie makes a good point. And what you’re doing isn’t working—the attacks keep escalating—so I agree that a change of tactic is in order.”

  Osman nodded. “I’m game. You think we should invite them all here, and see what happens? I guess we’d have to invite Barbit back, too.”

  Sam laughed. “Is that really such a good idea? Poor Ahmad would probably come under attack by Zahaina. And beneath her flowery headscarves, Barbit is a very strong character.”

  Gibran smiled. “She sounds intriguing.”

  “I have to admit, I rather suspected her of being somehow involved with all those traditionalist protests when you made divorce legal.” Ronnie tilted her head. “She kept bringing it up.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Zadir looked astonished.

  “I was the new kid on the block, just a guest. It would have been rude to suggest that a member of your family was somehow involved in creating unrest.”

  Sam frowned. “Now that Ronnie mentions it, I had a pretty bad feeling about her, too. And I didn’t really feel I could say anything because they were family. Zahaina is certainly a lot smarter than she’d like people to believe, but I didn’t get a really scary vibe from her. Barbit on the other hand…”

  “Invite her back. I want to meet her.” Gibran grinned. “She is part of my family, after all.”

  “We can try.” Sam lifted a brow. “We invited her and Zahaina to our weddings this Christmas, but they didn’t come. Barbit said they already had plans. Which was a bit weird, but a huge relief all the same.” She laughed. “I guess it’ll be interesting to see if they will come back.”

  “We should offer Amahd as a sacrificial lamb,” teased Ronnie. “Say he’s ready to get married after all.”

  “No way.” Amahd’s growled reply and serious expression made them all laugh. “Zahaina is not at all the kind of woman I could marry.”

  “And who is?” asked Zadir, curiously.

  “When I meet her, I’ll know.”

  “You seemed to get along well with that red-haired girl at the wedding party.” Sam peered at him.

  Amahd just grunted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. Gibran could tell he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Never mind.” Sam reached over and patted Amahd’s arm. “All you have to do is pretend. You don’t have to really marry Zahaina. You’re all the bait we have left.”

  “I like Ronnie’s idea that you should plan a summit of sorts.” Gibran looked around the table. “Pick an innocuous subject like increasing the trade in….”

  “Rose petals.” Ronnie laughed. “Is there actual trade in anything else?”

  “Fabrics, metalwork, livestock. Limes, in season,” Osman protested. “All the usual medieval-era commodities. We’re right up to date for the 1200s.”

  “Well, whatever it is, pick something that will involve all of them, then once you have them here you can get them drunk and feel them out.”

  Zadir raised his glass. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Sam looked around. “I wish Aliyah were here. She knows more than any of us about how this society works. She’s the only one who’s truly been a part of it from birth until now. Gibran, why don’t you convince her to join us?”

  Gibran hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was go disturb Aliyah when she was already mad at him. “She wants to put her girls to bed.”

  “Then bring her back when they’re asleep. We can do all the planning tonight and send out the invitations tomorrow. Surely you want to get this moving as fast as possible.”

  “Of course,” he managed stiffly. “I’ll
go find her.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gibran didn’t like the idea of disturbing Aliyah. She’d said good night to him with a firm finality that amounted to a dismissal. Approaching her now was almost certain to win him a sharp rejection.

  Still, he was a warrior and he didn’t back down from a battle, even when the odds were against him.

  He approached her quarters, which were under heavy guard by men he’d hand picked from the palace staff, and knocked on the door in full view of the guards.

  “Who is it?” Her soft voice called from within the chambers. He cursed the warm flare of arousal it stoked inside him.

  “A messenger.” He didn’t want her to tell him to get lost before he’d even spoken to her face-to-face. “From the king.”

  Silence.

  No doubt she was contemplating how to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

  The door opened slowly, revealing the beautiful Aliyah, dressed in a pale pink and silver dress, with her long, shiny hair falling about her shoulders. She studied him warily.

  He tried to ignore the unwelcome surge of arousal rising through him. “The family is in discussions about inviting the rulers of the neighboring countries for a summit, and they’d appreciate your local expertise.” He said it with stiff formality.

  “They asked for me?” She sounded curious.

  “Indeed they did. I would be derelict in my duties if I returned without you.”

  She stared at him with suspicion shining in her dark eyes. “Maybe I’d like you to get into trouble.”

  “Maybe I deserve that, but this isn’t about me. It’s about the safety of the people of Ubar, most particularly the family you care for.”

  Her expression softened. “I don’t really see how I can be of help, but…”

  Gibran decided to take that for agreement. “I’ll wait here while you get ready.”

  “The girls are already asleep.” She glanced behind her. “I don’t want to disturb them, but let me just check on them.”