Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6)

by Manda Mellett

  “Skeleton key. It wasn’t difficult. Your security is crap, Aiza.”

  Well, damn. I’m no locksmith, and a lock is a lock is a lock to me. I thought it was safe enough. I shrug off the implied criticism just as Hunter speaks.

  “Princess, you better come over and check, see what’s missing.”

  Yeah. I suppose I had. Though I don’t want to see what state my home’s in, and what has been taken—imagining it’s hard enough. Despite Ryan saying it had looked undisturbed, someone had been in there for a reason.

  Moments later, accompanied by the three men from Grade A, I’m in the lift. Soon I’m gingerly entering my flat with the sensation of being violated, knowing that a stranger had been here. I hadn’t been imagining seeing that door open. However, as I walk in I can see why Ryan had questioned my memory. The place looks untouched. I know someone was definitely here. Who were they? What did they want? Nervous, I follow Hunter inside. With Seth and Ryan at my rear, I go from room to room, mentally cataloguing the contents. It doesn’t take long—why waste my money on rooms I have no use for when it could be used for a much more beneficial purpose?

  The small lounge is untampered with, likewise the one bedroom. The small kitchenette and bathroom are just how I left them.

  “Christ, Aiza. You live in a dump.”

  I bristle at Hunter’s implied criticism and bite my tongue to stop myself pointlessly blurting out that though there’s mould on the walls and the carpets are worn, I do keep it tidy and as clean as I can. He can see that for himself.

  After inviting me to take a seat on my own couch, Hunter takes the chair opposite. He clasps his hands between his knees and looks at me with a serious expression. “You’ve not said anything. Is there anything missing?”

  I shrug. As far as I can tell, no. “Nothing seems disturbed at all, Hunter. No one’s rifled through my drawers or taken anything.” My brow creases as I wonder what the hell whoever it was had been doing. If I’d come home at my usual time I wouldn’t even have known anyone had been here. The thought is chilling.

  Hunter’s blue eyes gaze at me a little accusingly. “Think back carefully to when you left this morning. Are you one hundred percent certain you closed the door? Were you in any particular hurry? Late perhaps? Is it possible that you didn’t shut it, and in the meantime one of your neighbours noticed and closed it for you?”

  “I know how to lock up behind me,” I snap, not even having to think. Even a princess trying to keep out of sight has basic security measures ingrained in her. “The door was locked when I left it.” I can see the doubt in his eyes.

  Seth and Ryan are continuing to look around. What for, I don’t know. I suppose any sign that someone’s been in here. When they don’t come up with anything I start wondering whether they believe my story. While I wouldn’t admit it to Hunter, I’m starting to question myself. Did I forget to shut the door? Bloody hell. Have I exposed myself when there was no need?

  “Well, some good’s come out of it at least. We know where you are now and can sort out proper protection.” Hunter looks pleased at that pronouncement. It’s the very opposite of my expression as he adds, “We’ll be able to get you into decent accommodation. And of course, Kadar will be happy when we tell him we’ve got it all under control.”

  Kadar, my oldest brother and emir of Amahad, is likely to throw a fit that I’m not on the secure compound in Switzerland—and haven’t been for the last six months. In his anger he’ll probably call me straight home. I’m starting to formulate a plan of how I can avoid that scenario when Ryan suddenly exclaims and calls Hunter over to look at something. Turning, I see he’s taken the air vent off the wall.

  “What…?”

  Moving fast for such a big man, Hunter’s quickly by my side with one hand over my mouth and holding up the index finger of his other. “You must have been mistaken, Aiza,” he says forcefully. “No one’s been here.” His eyes fixed on mine seem to implore me to go along with everything he says. There’s no longer any judgement there. He looks worried instead.

  “You’re right, Hunter. I must have been careless.”

  Nodding his approval, he again speaks, his voice at odds with his expression. “It’s been ages since we last got together, Aiza. Why don’t I take you out for dinner?” We’ve never ‘got together’ in any shape or form, so he’s not extending a friendly invitation. I take it that it’s an instruction. When I eye the air vent and at the same time analyse his behaviour, I realise my flat’s been bugged.

  Nodding as comprehension dawns, ruefully I look down at my jeans and jumper I’d worn to work today. “I’ll just go and change.”

  A dismissive shake of his head. “You’re fine as you are, Aiza.” He leans forwards so his lips are against my ear. To anyone else it would look like a lover’s caress. “Just go with it, pet.” Then he raises his voice. “Pack an overnight bag. You know where we’ll end up. You’ll be staying with me tonight, just like old times.” Before I can protest he’s intimating a relationship that never existed, his arms surround me, and he pulls me so quickly I stumble into his hold. I’ve no time to take evasive action as his lips crash onto mine.

  Stunned, his action totally unexpected, I gasp. My mouth inadvertently opening gives him an advantage he doesn’t miss, his tongue quickly gaining entrance.

  I’ve known Hunter for years and am well aware of his reputation as a womaniser. My youngest brother, Nijad, hates him for flirting with Cara, his wife. Apart from admiring his good looks from afar—a woman would have to be dead not to appreciate those—I’ve never thought of taking any attraction further.

  When his lips move over mine he incites reactions I don’t expect. Boy, can this man kiss. His flavour mingling with the residual taste of coffee remaining in my mouth, his tongue toying so dominantly with mine, the intoxicating scent of whatever aftershave or soap he uses inflames me, sending signals straight to my core. Annoyed he’s taken the upper hand, I lift my arm and place my hand around the back of his neck, roughly pulling him down to me, and attempt to take over the kiss.

  Our mouths mate together, fight together. A duel that goes on and on, with neither coming out the victor.

  What the fuck am I doing? I drop my hand and push him away. My eyes are glazed, my lungs heave as I stare vacantly up at him, bemused.

  He’s smirks then leans down and murmurs, into my ear, “Convincing, pet. Very convincing.”

  Chapter 2

  Rami

  This is far from my first visit to the Palace of Amahad in the country’s capital, Al Qur’ah, although it is the first time I’ve been sat around the boardroom table with Emir Kadar and his two brothers, officially representing Alair, my country. We’re in discussion about how to celebrate the first barrels of oil which have successfully been extracted from the oil field that lies underneath the three countries of Amahad, Alair and Ezirad, the latter our joint landlocked neighbour to the south. For once it’s a joyful meeting, congratulatory slaps on the back all around, even if none of us, personally, got our hands dirty digging in the ground.

  The pipeline, constructed at great expense, crosses Amahad and goes to the port just outside Al Qur’ah. Knowing it was uneconomical to carry oil over our country, my father, King Asad, agreed to terms by which we would provide funds for the venture in return for our share of the profits. Ezirad, completely landlocked, was a willing partner as well. Thus, we’ve coming together to form a joint project between our countries.

  Over the past two years a variety of terrorist attacks have tried to prevent the oil field development and, more recently, to cause damage to the pipeline. Cleverly Amahad had persuaded their desert tribes to invest heavily in the scheme, with the result that they’re tied into protecting their venture, providing fierce manpower in the process. It was a stroke of genius on the part of the country whose palace I’m now sitting in.

  Alair has always maintained a friendly relationship with Amahad, and Ezirad is hanging onto the coattails of our more advanced economi
es and socially developed countries, hoping to reap the benefit and become more akin to its richer neighbours. Tellingly, the representative of Ezirad, Sultan Qudamah, is reserved and quiet in the exalted company he finds himself in today.

  Also quiet is Sheikh Rais, leader of the desert sheikhs, and a man who looks like he could protect the pipeline all by himself. Like the other nine desert sheikhs, he’s perfected a fierce countenance that shields his thoughts and emotions and, unlike the rest of us, currently he’s not giving the slightest hint of a smile or wearing any other suggestion of pleasure on his face. That he, too, must be over the moon with the success of the oil travelling from the extraction point to port is unquestionable. Looking across the table I decide it would be wise never to chance a game of poker with him.

  My eyes flick to Nijad, Emir Kadar’s youngest brother, and then to the Jasim, only eighteen months older. They’re both raising glasses of fruit juice in celebration. I smirk behind my hand, expecting they’ll be commemorating with something stronger when they return to their private quarters after this official meeting. As indeed I will be doing myself. Although our countries are technically dry, having been educated in the West, it was difficult for us not to pick up certain habits.

  The agenda completed, Kadar bangs on the table for quiet. “Thank you, Prince, sheikhs, gentlemen, for attending today. Please, stay, talk, and partake of the hospitality. If you will excuse myself and my brothers, we have another meeting to attend.” He pushes back from the table and stands. If I hadn’t been watching them I might have missed the bemused glances that flick over his brothers faces momentarily before they also get to their feet to follow the emir out of the room.

  To my astonishment, as he passes me he places his hand on my shoulder. “Prince Rami, if you will be so kind?” Then, before I have a chance to reply, he nods over to Rais. “And you, too, Sheikh Rais?”

  An invitation from the powerful emir cannot be refused. Neither of us waste time following the Kassis brothers out through the door, leaving behind the clinking of glasses, and, for once, conversations voicing satisfaction.

  A short walk down the corridor has us entering Kadar’s office, a pleasant room, one end dominated by a large and antique desk, the other by a conference table. Floor to ceiling windows look out onto a colourful garden. After waving us to take seats, Kadar stands for a moment with his back to us, gazing out onto the view. Even with his back turned towards us he looks stiff and tense.

  “I received an email during the meeting,” he starts without turning, taking out his phone and glancing at the screen. No one interrupts his train of thought as he’s clearly rereading something. After a moment he swings around, his robes billowing with the sudden movement. “Aiza.” The one word, managing to carry both concern and resignation, has me sitting up straight.

  “What’s she done now?” Jasim sounds weary. “And why was it so important to pull us away? Couldn’t it have waited? I wanted to speak to Qudamah’s representative.”

  Nijad nods at his brother. “I too. It would have been useful to see how he’s proposing to strengthen the borders.”

  A subject that interests me too. Jihadists and terrorists have often found it all too easy to use the underdeveloped Ezirad to cross over into the southern boundaries of both our countries.

  “As long as he doesn’t bring up the suggestion of building a wall again,” Rais sneers, raising a smile on my face and causing short laughs from the others. I’ve always hoped that suggestion was made in jest, the impracticalities of building a solid construction across hundreds of miles of uninhabitable desert, and some of it mountainous, was surely not a serious one. Not that it would have stopped anyone anyway, walls can be climbed or flown over. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

  Kadar waves his hand dismissively. “I’m afraid this takes precedence, brothers.” Nodding at myself and Rais, he includes us in that familial definition. No one speaks as the emir takes a seat at the head of the table. We wait, hoping for him to enlighten us without further prompting. I’d like to get back to the celebration myself. Not that I’d want to miss hearing the latest about Aiza. I frown slightly, wondering whether the information which I believed only myself was party to is going to become general knowledge.

  The emir’s eyes flick to the phone that’s still in his hand, and he shakes his head as though he can’t quite believe what he’s reading. Then, after taking a breath, he starts. “Someone broke into Aiza’s flat.”

  “What?” Nijad exclaims. “The Swiss compound is fully protected. Security is top notch.”

  Kadar throws a stern look at his brother and gestures with his hand. “Let me finish.” His authoritative voice thunders, and a look of rage crosses his face. “She isn’t in fucking Switzerland. She’s in England, and has been for the last six months.”

  Jasim’s face drops and he leans forwards. “What. The. Fuck? How come no one reported her missing?”

  Kadar’s head’s still moving side to side in disbelief. “Because no one noticed she was. She apparently always kept to herself. It wasn’t unusual for her not to be seen around the campus, so no one thought anything of it.”

  Nijad’s head moves back and forth as though mimicking his older brother’s actions. “Hang on, she’s a party girl…”

  “If you’ll let me finish?” When Nijad nods and Jasim sits back again, Kadar continues. “Seems she’s not been doing anything we expected. She’s been studying with the British Open University for the past three years. Head down, working all hours, and managed to get herself a first-class honours degree. With that, she’s been doing charity work.”

  As his brothers exchange surprised looks, I smile to myself. Good on you, Aiza. I’m not surprised no one knew. Probably in her view, if her brothers didn’t give a damn enough to ask what she was doing, she didn’t think it was up to her to let them know. Then again, I frown. I had no idea she’d gone to England. Reckless, foolish girl.

  Rais is the only one whose face remains expressionless. “Tell us the rest, Kadar. You haven’t called us here to update us on Aiza’s education and employment.”

  Kadar’s eyes swing to meet those of the desert sheikh’s. “You’re right, Rais, I haven’t. You all seem to have forgotten that I’ve already told you, her flat was broken into.”

  The reminder pulls us all up short. “Robbery?” Nijad suggests.

  “Nothing was taken. Rather, things were left.” He waits until he knows he’s got all our attention. “Bugs. Girl was at least smart enough to call Ben Carter when she noticed someone was in there. He got some Grade A operatives around as soon as he could, and they found the stuff that had been planted.”

  “Which Grade A operatives?” Nijad growls.

  Kadar doesn’t even have to consult the email. “Hunter,” he says succinctly.

  Nijad growls and Jasim laughs, earning him a punch on his arm from his younger brother.

  “Ryan and Seth,” Kadar adds belatedly, ignoring their reaction.

  “Who placed the equipment? And why?” Rais gets directly to what I agree is the most important point.

  Kadar raises his shoulders. “They don’t know. There’s no clue. Russian-made kit, but that could mean anything.”

  “She’s got to come home.” Nijad sums up exactly what I was thinking. Someone like Aiza is at risk of kidnapping and being held hostage every minute of her life. A very good reason why she should be on a secure compound. If she’s baulked at security, moved without anyone knowing and seems to have no idea about keeping herself safe, well, I agree with her brother. She needs to be somewhere where her protection can be guaranteed. Here in Amahad, or…

  Her brothers clearly regard her as a nuisance. To my mind, it seems it's excellent timing for me to step things up. Aiza’s a beautiful woman I certainly wouldn’t object to having in my bed, and her personality would complement mine. Clearing my throat, I look straight at Kadar. “I’d like to remind you, Kadar, your father, the late Emir Rushdi, proposed a union by marriage…”<
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  “No.” Nijad interrupts me, slashing his hand through the air. “Our father’s dead, and so are the old ways. Arranged marriages are in the past for this family.”

  Kadar cocks his eyebrow at his younger brother. “Really? And yours turned out so badly, did it?” He pauses, waiting for Nijad to deny his marriage was the best thing that ever happened to him. Which he can’t possibly do. When no refute comes, he carries on. “And my own marriage was arranged. As,” he breaks off to point at Jasim, “was yours, Brother. You hadn’t really a choice when you wanted to save the English woman.”

  Nijad and Jasim look at each other, twin expressions of dismay on their faces. Unexpectedly, it’s Rais who’s next to speak. “Your fate, Emir, could have been very different. Don’t forget, I saw the devastation on your woman’s face when she thought you were destined to marry another, and it was I who used my influence with the desert sheikhs to prevent that from happening. That you and your brothers have ended up happy is due to chance, not design. And certainly not process. Even in the desert we’ve moved on from your father’s time. I agree, Aiza shouldn’t be pushed into anything she doesn’t want.”

  I shift in my seat, sending him a sharp look. Now I’ve settled on the notion I don’t like anyone challenging it. “Who say’s Aiza wouldn’t want it? What’s to say Aiza and I wouldn’t have a happy marriage? We’ve both been brought up to accept it was always on the cards. I’m willing to do my best to make it work.” I certainly wouldn’t look on it as a chore. Aiza’s just, well… I’ve never seen another woman I wanted more, and always thinking one day she’d be mine for the taking, I’ve been looking forward to it.

  Kadar clears his throat and throws me a look that manages to appear both sympathetic and awkward. “The thing is, Rami, Rais is correct. Circumstances have changed since my father put forward the original proposal.” He coughs as he clears his throat.