“What are these for?” He picked up one of the flow meters that she’d moved from one shelf to another.
“Those are oil flow regulators which need to be replaced every month. We really should have more of them on hand as production would stop completely if we ran out.”
“Ms. Malone is cataloging our maintenance supplies. We should ride before the sun gets any higher.”
“I’ve seen you ride at midday plenty of times. Mad dogs, Englishmen and Amahd Al Kilanjar.” Zadir grinned at Mac.
Which was weird. What was he really doing here?
“Do you ride, Mac?” He lifted a brow. His eyes were an unsettling blue color.
“I used to. I had my own horse when I was a girl. I haven’t sat on one in years, though,” she said wistfully.
“Then you must come with us.” His smile grew broader. “Mustn’t she, Amahd?”
“Ms. Malone has work to do.”
“I’m confident that work can wait for a couple of hours. And surely you have horses that need exercise.”
“They’re all rather fresh. Not ideal for someone who hasn’t ridden recently.” Amahd still hadn’t entered the room and spoke from outside the door.
“Actually I used to ride rodeo.” It irked her that he didn’t think she’d be able to ride his horses. “I used to pride myself on being able to ride anything, or if I couldn’t I’d at least know how to fall off and land in one piece.”
“Perfect!” Zadir clapped his hands together. “Come with us. The stables are only a few minutes away. You’ll be back to finish your work before anyone even notices you’re gone.”
She laughed. “I can’t just leave. What if something breaks?”
“Exactly,” grumbled Amahd from outside the door. “We can’t all indulge our whims. We have a business to run.”
Zadir turned to the doorway. “How about if you tell your foreman that if something breaks we’ll gallop right back?”
“That’s not how it works, brother. There’s a strict production schedule.”
“Maybe it should be a bit less strict.” He turned and flashed a pearly smile at Mac. “At least for a couple of hours. Mac is new to Ubar and should get to see our land at its finest—from the back of one of our magnificent horses—not be stuck inside a windowless closet for hours on end.”
She heard Amahd exhale with exasperation. Then he appeared in the doorway, his face set in a hard expression. “Ms. Malone, would you like to abandon your duties to ride a horse?”
Uh-oh. That strange warm feeling flooded her. She should say she was far too busy and that she couldn’t go. That’s what he wanted her to say. But the opportunity to ride a horse? She’d begun to think she’d never sit in a saddle again. “I’d love to.”
“See?” crowed a triumphant Zadir. “And you’re dressed perfectly for it.”
She’d taken off her greasy coveralls to keep the storeroom clean and was dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and her favorite cowboy boots.
Mac glanced warily at Amahd. “Would it really be okay? I would love to ride but I don’t want to cause any problems.”
“It’ll be fine,” he growled, looking as if he felt the exact opposite. “We won’t be long.” He scowled at his brother, then turned and left the room. Today he also wore jeans, faded and soft-looking, which hugged his muscled backside in a way that could make any girl weak in the knees.
Zadir ushered her out, and soon she was walking along the corridor toward the exit, while Amahd explained the situation to Bubba over the phone.
Excitement zapped through her as she climbed into the back of a silver SUV and they took off along the dusty desert road. And for once the excitement had nothing to do with a certain tall, dark, handsome boss. She could honestly say that she was only thrilled by the prospect of riding.
They drove through a wide arch into a cobbled courtyard, with a rather minimalist looking stucco-fronted house on one side and a row of stables on the other. Several horses peered out from their shaded doorways.
“As you can see, my brother’s house looks more like a barn than a typical residence.”
“How cool,” she said honestly. “You can look out your windows and see all your horses. And they can probably see in, too.”
“It is convenient,” muttered Amahd.
“At night they can see the TV through the windows. They all come out and stare when he puts a movie on,” said Zadir.
“That’s so cute. I bet they love it.” The horses all looked curious, moving in their stalls and craning their necks out. She’d guess they were all Arabs, though not the dish-faced cartoon ones you saw back home. More the old-school warhorse type. “What beautiful horses.”
“Thank you,” Amahd said gruffly. He parked the car and they all climbed out. Two men in long robes rushed forward and spoke rapidly in the Ubarite language. Amahd responded and they rushed off to bring out the horses.
Mac almost managed to forget about Amahd when she was introduced to her horse, Alaya, a proud-looking gray mare with soft brown eyes and a long pale mane. She drank her fill of that delicious horse smell she’d missed so much, while they quickly brushed their mounts and the grooms brought out tooled leather saddles.
“She’s fast but steady,” explained Amahd, as she pulled the bridle gently over her horse’s curious ears. “So you won’t see any rodeo broncing, but you’ll feel the wind in your hair. I think you’ll enjoy her.”
“I’m enjoying her already.” She smoothed Alaya’s long white forelock. “It’s been years since I even touched a horse.” She glanced at him. “I hope I can remember how to ride.”
“It’s not a skill one forgets.” His gaze hovered on her for a moment, which had a disturbing effect on her sanity. He was always so deadly serious. That and the adrenaline bubbling inside her made a rogue giggle rise in her chest and she had to choke it back. It wouldn’t do to laugh in her boss’s face. How would she explain it?
The two brothers mounted their horses from the ground with no apparent effort and stood watching her. The Arab mare wasn’t large, but Mac wasn’t large either—at least not vertically—and she hadn’t done this in a long time, so she had a moment of trepidation in which she imagined herself putting one foot in the stirrup and hopping, and hopping, and…
Luckily one of the grooms rushed forward with a wooden stool for her to use as a mounting block. She managed to climb aboard with relative ease and settled herself into the comfortable saddle.
“How do you feel up there?” asked Zadir, whose gleaming black horse couldn’t stand still.
“Great.” She let a grin spread over her face. Alaya moved gently underneath her, anticipation shifting her feet. Mac felt a similar rush of excitement. “I’m ready for action.”
“Let’s go.” She could swear she saw the hint of a smile cross Amahd’s oh-so-serious mouth before he turned for the entrance archway and headed back out into the desert. They walked and trotted for a few minutes, while the brothers told her the names of the distant mountain ranges that ringed Ubar, then Amahd asked if she would like to canter.
There was nothing but air and flat open land between them and the nearest mountains several miles away, so she had a hunch that it might be a bit more than a canter. Her heart beat faster at the prospect, and she couldn’t be entirely sure if it was excitement or fear. She certainly had no plans to show the latter. “I’d love to.”
The two men urged their horses forward—they didn’t need much encouragement—and soon they were all flying across the desert, manes tossing on the breeze and warm air rushing in their faces. At first Mac found herself bouncing in the unfamiliar saddle, but she soon managed to sit down and follow Alaya’s movement, rising and falling with her back as if she was riding on ocean waves.
“Woo-hoo!” she finally let out, as the thrill of adventure triumphed utterly over any nerves or trepidation. “This is amazing.”
Zadir turned to shout, “I knew you’d like it. Better than organizing shelves, huh?”
<
br /> “I like doing that, too,” she yelled back, with a quick glance at Amahd. “But this beats pretty much any feeling on earth.”
Amahd finally turned to look at her, and his approving glance made her glow with pleasure. It also made her blushingly aware of how her breasts were bouncing. Yes, he’d looked. Which was funny, really, since he tried so hard to be professional. If she’d had any idea where her morning was headed, she’d have worn a sports bra.
They finally slowed to a walk, way out in the middle of nowhere. There were so few trees in Ubar that you could see far in any direction. It didn’t look so different from parts of Texas, when you thought about it. The sun was hot and her skin was flushed with exhilaration and the effort of staying with her speedy mount.
“I hope that wasn’t too fast for you,” said Amahd softly.
He looked appallingly handsome right now, with his hair ruffled by the breeze and his pale shirt open at the neck to reveal a few inches of tan chest.
“I loved it. I used to take my horse out on the trails and gallop until we both got tired.”
“She was a mare?” asked Amahd.
“Yep, her name was Star. A black mare with a star on her face. My grandpa bought her for me when I was ten and she was three, and we grew up together. I think I spent most of my childhood on her back.”
“We all rode a lot when were were kids, too. At the palace the servants hovered over us like hawks, but somehow they had no problem letting us gallop off into the wilderness by ourselves. Amahd rode at boarding school in England, too.”
“Yes, I was lucky to attend a horsey school.”
“Did you ride English and jump?”
“I did. Even hunted and competed.” He looked bashful. “It was the best part of the whole school experience.”
She’d read on the Internet that the Al Kilanjar brothers had been educated overseas. It certainly explained why they spoke such fluent English
“Where is your mare now?” Amahd looked curious.
The familiar pang of pain tightened her chest. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“You sold her?” he asked. In his world probably nobody ever sold a horse they loved. She’d prefer a world like that, too.
“I didn’t sell her, but my brothers did. When I was away working in Midland. They did it without telling me because they knew I’d never agree. They said she cost too much to feed.”
And they used the money to buy a truck bumper. Her blood boiled every time she thought about it. Grandpa Moon was fit to be tied when he found out, but everyone else, including her parents, had just shrugged and said she was gone.
“They sold your horse without even asking your permission?” Amahd looked shocked.
“I couldn’t believe it either, and I tried to find her and get her back but she’d left the area so I never found out what happened to her. I haven’t ridden a horse since.”
“Did you want to?”
“Oh, yes. But I’ve been working the whole time, and there aren’t usually too many horses hanging around oil fields,” she risked a grin.
The grin he shot back made her heart pump harder. “I guess there aren’t. I’m glad my brother badgered you into joining us.”
“Me too,” said Zadir. “You should ride regularly now that you’re here. My brother has more horses than he knows what to do with.”
“Nonsense,” Amahd scolded. “One can never have too many horses.”
“As long as you can afford to take care of them, why not?” she said. She’d love to have a whole herd outside her window. Not that it was likely to happen. She had to be practical now that she had a child to support, which meant buying a house in a sensible suburb with good employment, not an acreage out in the boonies like the one she grew up on. “And that doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.”
His smile faded. She remembered that he was her boss. And royal. So of course he was hardly lacking for hay money. She cursed herself for being so crude. She’d grown so relaxed cruising through the desert on the rolling back of this lovely mare she’d almost forgotten what an awkward situation this was.
“I’m lucky to be rich in resources. Though sometimes time is in short supply.” He spoke with his trademark seriousness. “A startup oil field has many demands, as you know.”
“Oh, I do. I’m the one they call to fix everything that breaks.” She really should be getting back. It felt odd to say that when she was here with the big, big boss. “I hope nothing’s gone down in my absence.”
“I must get back myself,” said Zadir. “Ronnie and I are meeting an artist at our house later. Ronnie’s commissioning some original artworks to complement her design.”
Mac remembered Ronnie from their wedding ceremony. She’d been such a beautiful bride, glowing with happiness.
“Ronnie is an architect,” explained Amahd. “She’s designing their house out in the desert.”
“How cool. I always thought that would be a fun job.”
Amahd frowned. “You wanted to be an architect?”
Would that be so surprising? “Not really. I did want to be an engineer and design complicated buildings.” She’d worked long hours from the get-go and never had the time or money to take courses. Once she became a mom, her dream receded so far into the distance that she’d almost forgotten it.
He nodded, considering the possibility. For an instant her skin tingled as if his dark gaze had drifted over her chest and down to her thighs. But she didn’t see his eyes move at all, and his expression didn’t change.
Any attraction between them was entirely in her mind. Which was weird because she didn’t consider herself very imaginative. Still, what was wrong with a little fantasy every now and then, as long as you didn’t act on it?
At least not more than once.
His wide, arrogant mouth had begged to be kissed. His tall, regal physique… Well, he was hard to resist.
But resist she would. “I should get back. I have to check some fluid levels before two o’clock.”
“Of course.” Amahd looked strangely relieved. Probably that she wasn’t going to completely neglect her duties. He turned his horse and headed back in the direction they’d come without any further discussion. Which made her feel strangely appreciated and respected. Or maybe that was her overactive imagination at work again.
As they rode, Zadir explained how the mountain range to their left was the only place on earth where one particular orchid grew when suddenly a loud explosion ripped through the air and made all their horses spook and scoot forward.
CHAPTER FIVE
“What was that?” Zadir wrestled with his scared mount.
“An explosion in the drilling field.” Amahd didn’t even wait to get his horse under control. He steered her excessive energy toward a large plume of dust now rising above the desert floor about a mile away.
Zadir galloped after him and Mac’s horse lost no time in following them, whether she wanted her to or not. They ran flat out across the desert, much like before, except that this time adrenaline buzzed inside her like a swarm of bees. An explosion at an oil field was about as dangerous as an explosion could be.
On the other hand the smoke she could see was white, not black, and she didn’t see any flames shooting up into the air. She didn’t have much control over her horse right now, so this gallop was less enjoyable than the first, but as Amahd had promised Alaya was sensible and didn’t buck or spin, so she hung on for the ride, eating the dust that Amahd and Zadir’s horses kicked up.
The big cloud of smoke and dust was starting to subside by the time they drew near. The site was part of an outlying field with little activity, and they were the first people to arrive. She could see three trucks racing from the main oil field, two of them fire trucks.
“They blew up the exhausted well.” Amahd reined in his horse. “We drilled it and pumped for a few months, but it ran out.”
“That’s why there’s no fire?” asked Zadir.
“Yes. Thank heaven. Rem
ember that fire we had that took four weeks to put out? That was one of the first acts of sabotage and although it wasn’t the deadliest it was the costliest by far.”
“Why would they blow up an empty well?” Zadir rode closer.
Mac kept up with the brothers. There wasn’t even much visible damage to the wellhead equipment. It must have been a small explosion. Still, she knew as well as anyone how much all this stuff cost.
“It’s strange, when we have so many wells pumping right now.”
“Maybe because it’s not guarded as closely?” suggested Mac. Their horses were all glad of a chance to catch their breath and stood calmly by the smoking aftermath.
“Or perhaps they didn’t want to cause too much damage.” Zadir looked thoughtful.
“Then why do it at all?”
“Intimidation.” Zadir rode a little closer. “Gibran shared a theory with Osman that Darud the Twelfth is behind all these. He’s angry because he tried for years to negotiate oil leases with our father, and now he’s watching you extract the riches he’s dreamed of enjoying.”
Amahd stared at him. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“It’s just a theory. Osman think’s it’s crazy.”
“Darud the Twelfth is coming here in a few days—onto our land—into the palace. Should we cancel?”
Zadir laughed. “Maybe your reaction is why Osman told me not to mention it. Gibran has a plan to draw them into our midst and get to the bottom of this.”
“It’s risky.”
“Gibran is an expert in international security. He’s beefed up our defenses with cutting edge technology. Guests are not allowed to bring weapons and there are security cameras everywhere. Half the palace staff is guards in disguise. He says that a friendly contest and re-establishing relations will work better to bring peace back to the region than an all-out war.”
“I suppose I can’t disagree with his thinking.” Amahd’s brows lowered. “Though I can’t pretend I like it. This is an act of aggression. And this valuable equipment is damaged. We were going to move it to a new well. I want some payback.” His eyes flashed.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 65