A Surprise for the Sheikh

by Sarah M. Anderson

  That would be the ultimate revenge, would it not? First Rafe would destroy Mac’s beloved ranch and then his beloved town and then Rafe would marry Mac’s beloved sister and whisk her away to Al Qunfudhah, where...

  Where Rafe would take her to bed every night. Where her pleasure would be his pleasure.

  A voice cut through his reverie. “Rafiq, huh?”

  Rafe turned to see a man he did not know standing near the front of the room. His arms were crossed and he looked defensive. More than defensive—he looked dangerous.

  This was a challenge, and challenges had to be met head-on. Rafe stood. In times like this, his first instinct was always to do as his father had taught him—rule by force. But Americans were a different breed and Rafe had learned it was best to come at them from the side. “My friends call me Rafe,” he said in the congenial tone that worked best with Americans. “And you are?”

  “Kyle Wade,” the man said stiffly. “Why don’t you tell them who you really are?”

  Rafe froze. That was the kind of statement that started off badly and only got worse.

  Mac interceded on his behalf. “Hey, Kyle—I’ve known Rafe since college. We’re old friends. He is who he says he is, so maybe ease off a bit on my guest?”

  Kyle didn’t ease off. Instead, eyes narrowed, he said, “Oh? So you know that Rafiq bin Saleed is the man behind Samson Oil—the company that has been buying up land all around town?” A collective gasp went up from the other members. “Care to explain yourself there, Rafiq? Why have you been buying up property for months?”

  Rafe was not the kind of man who panicked. Panicking was a waste of energy that was better spent fixing a situation. Years of enduring Hassad’s rages had schooled him well in keeping his features calm and his breathing regular. He resolved to be like the stone that felt nothing.

  But if he were capable of panic, he might be feeling it right now. Because suddenly, one huge part of his scheme had exploded in his face, and the feeling of being sucked into a swirling sandstorm was that much stronger. If he were not careful, he would be buried up to his neck in his own lies.

  Mac turned to him, confusion and suspicion on his face. At least at the moment, the confusion was winning. “Rafe? Is that true?”

  No, he was not panicking. He was a bin Saleed. If anything, he was furious at this Kyle Wade for potentially undermining his plan. Kyle would soon learn not to cross him.

  He would, however, prefer not to have any more disruptions to his scheme today.

  He waved his hand in dismissal and made an effort to look casual. The key to escaping this situation with the bulk of his scheme intact was to play up the cultural differences. “As I said, I’m looking to get into the energy business. Is this not how it is done in this country? Do you not buy land for the exploration of mineral rights?”

  “None of that land has any oil left on it,” shouted a man from the back of the room. “Why do you think we sold it to Samson Oil? Only a fool would think they’re going to strike oil on property we’ve tapped out!”

  Rafe gritted his teeth. He was no fool, and to imply it was to risk his wrath. This was why he had not revealed himself to Mac and the town earlier. Too late, he saw that he should have remained in the shadows until his plans were complete, until he had the Wild Aces and Mac’s water had been cut off completely.

  In that respect, the man was right—Rafe was a fool who had shown his hand too soon. It would be his last mistake, that was for certain.

  But then Mac put his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. Odd, really, how that vestigial touch of friendship could still be reassuring. “Listen,” Mac said loudly over the growing buzz of people talking. “I vouch for Rafe. They do things differently in Al Qunfudhah, where he’s from. If he says he’s exploring mineral rights, then...” Mac looked at him and despite this very public declaration of support, Rafe could see the distrust in Mac’s eyes. But then a harder expression came over his face and he turned back to the crowd. “Then I believe him,” he finished.

  Ah, this was excellent. Mac truly had no idea that Rafe was here to destroy him. And the fact that Mac was using his influence to convince other people that Rafe was no danger to them only made the revenge that much sweeter because when Rafe destroyed Mac, the whole town would blame Mac for vouching for his “old friend.”

  Rafe put his best effort into smiling warmly and shaking Mac’s hand and looking as innocent as possible.

  Which must have been innocent enough because Case Baxter called the meeting back to order and everyone sat down. While the group discussed club business, Rafe mentally rearranged his plans. Above all else, Rafe had to close the deal on the Wild Aces as soon as possible. The Double M could not survive without the water from the Wild Aces. And if Rafe had a moment of doubt, a moment when he felt guilty about Violet wanting to raise their child on the Wild Aces...

  No such doubt existed, and if it did, Rafe pushed it away. Caring for Violet was a weakness and at this late stage, it was a weakness he could not afford.

  He had much work to do.

  Eight

  Violet’s phone buzzed. Of course it did. She was in the middle of branding and castrating calves, for God’s sake. It was messy work that required her full concentration and she was glad for that because it had been two days since Rafe had slipped out of her bed at six in the morning and kissed her goodbye with a promise that he would see her very soon.

  Apparently, very soon meant something different in Al Qunfudhah than it did here in Texas, because there’d been radio silence for the past forty-eight hours and she was starting to get twitchy.

  “Here,” she said to Dale, her hired hand. “Hold this calf. I’ve got to take this call.” She managed to get loose of the animal without getting kicked.

  Hopefully, this was Rafe. No, she didn’t really expect another rose or a love note—not when they’d both agreed that they were going to keep their previous acquaintance quiet for the time being, just until they got things settled a little more.

  But again—days of radio silence? The only reason she knew that Rafe hadn’t skipped town was that he’d gone to that Texas Cattleman’s Club meeting with Mac the night before last.

  She got out of earshot from her hired hands and pulled out her phone. It wasn’t Rafe, dammit. It was, however, Lulu Clilmer, the current owner of the Wild Aces. “Hello?”

  “Violet, honey,” Lulu began in her gravelly, two-packs-a-day-for-forty-years voice, “I wanted to call you personally.”

  “Hey, Lulu, what’s up? Are you all right? Do you need me to come over?” For years now, Violet had been helping Lulu out, partly because it was the neighborly thing to do but also because Violet wanted the Wild Aces, dang it all.

  “I’m fine, honey. Listen, I know that you’ve always had your heart set on this place...”

  Violet smiled nervously—which was pointless, as Lulu wouldn’t have been able to video call anyone if her life depended on it. “Yeah. I’ve been trying to convince Mac to buy you out, but you know how he is.”

  “Well, honey—I don’t know how to say this but...” Violet held her breath. “I’ve had an offer.”

  Violet’s breath caught in her throat. Was that what Rafe had been doing? Had he spent the past two days “looking into” the Wild Aces for her? For their family? “Oh?” Violet said, not even bothering to sound cool or calm about it. “Who? Anyone I know?” Please say Rafe. Please.

  Because if it were Rafe, then—finally—the Wild Aces would be hers. She wouldn’t have to go through her brother any longer. God, she could hardly wait.

  But if it wasn’t Rafe...well, if it were someone else, she’d just have to push Mac harder or head down to the bank and see how much of a counteroffer she could scrape together. She was half owner of the Double M, after all. All that land equity had to count for something, right?

 
“Naw, honey—I’m sorry. It’s some outfit that goes by the name Samson Oil.”

  Violet’s heart plummeted down to around her knees.

  “I never heard of them before—they’re not local, that’s for sure,” Lulu continued. If it’d been someone local, there was always the chance Violet could reason with the other buyer. But some out-of-towner?

  Wait—Rafe wasn’t local. “Did you talk with Rafiq bin Saleed? Is he connected with Samson Oil?” She dug deep, hoping that something might ring a bell with Lulu. “Or someone named Ben, maybe?”

  “Honey, no. I had been waiting on you, you know—I was happy to lease the land to you in the meantime—but the money this Samson Oil is offering? I can’t walk away from this offer. I’m too old to keep this place up and my medical bills...” She trailed off into coughing.

  Oh, God. This was, quite possibly, the worst-case scenario. “How much?” she asked weakly, covering her stomach with her hand as a wave of nausea appeared out of nowhere. She was just getting used to the idea of being a mother to Rafe’s child. How much more disruption could she take?

  There was a pause, which was followed by Lulu coughing some more. “Two,” she said when she finally had her voice back.

  “Million?” But Violet didn’t have to ask. She already knew.

  The Wild Aces was worth close to one million dollars. Lulu had been willing to let Violet have it for $800,000, but Mac had thought that much money for that amount of land was a waste of resources. Lulu had promised that she wouldn’t consider selling the Wild Aces out from under Violet for anything less than $1.5 million.

  “I sure am sorry, honey,” Lulu said again.

  Violet put a hand to her head, as if that could get it to stop spinning. It didn’t. “What if—what if I come up with a counteroffer?”

  “Sweetie, we both know you don’t have that much money lying around,” Lulu said sympathetically.

  She didn’t—but McCallum Enterprises did. The company had plenty of capital. “Can you just hold off for a couple of days? Just give me the chance to make a counteroffer, okay?”

  There was another long pause; Violet didn’t know if Lulu was having trouble breathing again or if she was going to say no. “This Samson Oil—they want the deal done as soon as possible,” Lulu said sadly.

  “Just two days. A day, even,” Violet pleaded. “Let me talk to Mac one more time. If I can get you $1.5 million, would you consider selling the Wild Aces to me?”

  Lulu sighed heavily. “Sure thing, honey. I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

  Violet knew that it was only because she’d spent the past several years helping Lulu out around the house that the older woman was throwing her that small bone. “Thanks, Lulu. I’ll be in touch, I promise.” She ended the call and stood there, staring at her phone.

  Samson Oil? Who—or what—the hell was that? No—wait. It sounded familiar. Hadn’t she heard something about Samson Oil buying up a bunch of land around Royal for the oil rights? She remembered people talking about it at the Royal Diner when she’d gone in for coffee one morning a couple of months ago. Some folks had been suspicious, but others had been laughing because some dumb corporation was snapping up nearly worthless land at insane prices.

  Like offering Lulu twice what the Wild Aces was worth—that was insane. This whole situation was insane. When had her nice, quiet life gotten so completely out of control? It was as if Violet’s reality had been stripped away from her and she’d been thrust into some alternative universe where up was down, left was right and she was living out a soap-opera plot. She looked around, but didn’t see J. R. Ewing and his big hat anywhere.

  Suddenly, Violet was mad. At her brother, at Rafe, at this Samson Oil—at the universe. What the hell had she done to deserve this? Okay, yes, the one-night stand with Rafe had led to her pregnancy. Fine, she’d earned that one herself. But everything else?

  She was tired of doing the best she could with what she got, because what she got was crappy. That’s all there was to it. Her parents dying? That was a crappy thing that happened when she was at that age where she needed her mother more than anything. But she went on. She didn’t go to Harvard, didn’t go out into the great big world and find her own place in it, as Mac had gotten to do. Instead, she stayed home and became a damn fine ranch manager.

  But did she get to fall in love? Every boy she’d ever liked had been chased off by Mac. And now there was Rafe. She didn’t know if this was love or lust or hormones or what. She liked him. She was definitely attracted to him. And she was going to have his baby. But was that love? Or was this just another crappy thing that was happening to her, another thing she was going to have to muddle through as best she could?

  Could she convince Mac that she could handle this, handle her life? Would he keep trying to shield her from the real world while inadvertently setting her up for the exact heartbreak he was always trying to prevent in the first place?

  If he had just bought the Wild Aces when he had the chance...

  Angry tears stung her eyes, but the agitated mooing of calves and cows reminded her that she was not, in fact, in the privacy of her room. Instead, she was out on the ranch, surrounded by cows and cowboys, and she was the boss.

  That’s right, she was the boss. She needed to act like it. She looked up at the sky, trying to get all of her hormone-enhanced emotions under control. She could not fall apart, not now, because if she did, she’d lose the Wild Aces.

  Wildly, she thought of Rafe. Where was he? She needed him right now in a way that she wasn’t sure she’d ever needed anyone before. For so long, she’d been struggling to show that she was fine, that she could take care of herself. But right now, she wanted Rafe to pull her into his arms and tell her that it was all going to work out, that he’d take care of it—of her. God, she’d never wanted that so much.

  And he wasn’t here.

  “Violet?” Dale asked, worry in his voice. “Everything okay?”

  She turned back to where Dale was dusting his chaps off. The other hands were looking at her with confused concern. To them, she was just another cowboy. They didn’t treat her like a porcelain doll the way her brother did—but the downside of that was, if she ever had a more emotional moment, they didn’t know what to do. It was as if being suddenly reminded that she was, in fact, a woman always freaked them out.

  She was not freaking out. She sent a quick text to Rafe, asking him where he was, and then she got her boss face on. Losing the Wild Aces wasn’t just a crushing blow to her long-held dream. It could easily be a crushing blow to the Double M. The only reason Mac had agreed to lease the Aces was because they had multiple springs on the property—springs that had remained undamaged from the tornado that swept through Royal last year.

  “The Wild Aces might be sold out from under us,” she said, keeping her voice level.

  Dale whistled and the other cowboys almost visibly relaxed at the revelation that Violet wasn’t going to start crying. Because she wasn’t. Absolutely no crying in baseball or ranching. “That’s gonna put us between a rock and a hard place,” Dale said.

  “We can...” She had to prepare for the worst-case here—losing the Wild Aces completely. “We can lease Taggert’s land and...”

  Dale shook his head. “He sold out to Samson Oil a few months back.”

  “What about—”

  “Samson Oil,” Dale cut her off. “All of them. The Aces was the last holdout, and Lulu only hung on for as long as she did because she’s got a soft spot for you.”

  “What the hell?” Violet stared down at her phone again, as if it somehow held all the answers. Did Samson Oil own it all? By God, she was so tired of having this crap happen to her. This was the last straw. “I have to talk to Mac.”

  She would make that man see reason and if they had to shell out $1.5 million damned dollars to get the Wild Aces,
then that was his fault for not listening to her the first time. She was the boss. It was high time to show her brother that.

  “We’ve got this,” Dale said, motioning her toward her horse. “Go on.”

  “Thanks, Dale.” Violet mounted Skipper and lit out for the house. She was so upset she couldn’t even fret about whether or not Rafe would give her a look for riding hell for leather.

  They couldn’t lose the Wild Aces.

  Now she just had to convince Mac of that fact.

  * * *

  “Well, howdy, Violet.” Mac’s assistant looked up from her desk. “We don’t see you during the day much—is everything okay?”

  “Andrea—I need help.” That was the understatement of the day but Violet’s throat closed up and for the second time in the past twenty minutes she was on the verge of tears. Luckily, Andrea Beaumont was one of her closest female friends—not to mention the only person who could get Mac to do anything, basically.

  Andrea’s face got serious and she stood up, quickly moving around the desk to put her hands on Violet’s shoulders. “Oh my God—what?”

  As she looked into Andrea’s caring face, the corners of Violet’s mouth pulled down and her eyes began to water and dammit, she was this close to crying. “I’m going to lose the Wild Aces,” she managed to say.

  “What? Oh, honey,” Andrea said, relief washing over her face. “Good heavens, you scared the heck out of me.” Andrea pulled Violet into a quick hug. “I thought there was something seriously wrong. You looked lower than a rattler belly in a wagon rut.”

  Something was seriously wrong. “I—” I’m pregnant. But the words wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t spill the beans just yet—not without talking to Rafe again. She quickly corrected course. “I’m just worried. We need the Aces for water and if it’s sold...”

  Andrea sighed. “I wish we could have gotten him to buy it when he had the chance. If you’d come to me first, maybe...”