Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6)

by Manda Mellett

  Now it’s my turn to interrupt. He won’t be telling me anything I don’t already know, and it certainly doesn’t matter to me. I chuckle slightly, realising he thinks I’ve made my offer in ignorance. “It doesn’t matter to me, Kadar, I assure you. I’m very well aware she wouldn’t be a virgin bride.”

  Several things happen immediately when the words are out of my mouth. Nijad and Jasim cover their mouths in shock, Kadar jumps to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process, and Rais leaps across the table and proves the scimitar in his belt is not ornamental as he presses it into my neck.

  “Rais!” Kadar shouts to prevent blood being shed, for which I’m heartedly grateful. While Rais doesn’t push the blade in any further, he doesn’t withdraw it either. Kadar looms over me, spit flying from his mouth as he roars, “Seems you’ve pre-empted the wedding. Which, of course, must now go ahead.”

  “Or I kill him instead.” Rais’s softly spoken words are worse than Kadar’s bark.

  I go to shake my head, then remember the threat of death, which I’m quite certain at this point Rais wants to deliver. Thinking rapidly, I realise that while leaving them to assume I’ve personal knowledge of Aiza’s, in their eyes, tainted state, might push me into a marriage I wouldn’t be averse to, it could alternatively end up with me returning to my country in a coffin. Grasping letting them know the truth might be best course of action, I swallow rapidly, then, in a voice an octave higher than normal, squeak out, “I assure you, I’ve not touched her myself. I’ve seen her playing in clubs around Europe.” As silence falls I can’t help making it worse. “And once in the States.”

  “Clubs?”

  I hadn’t known it was possible for Kadar’s voice to get any louder. As Jasim sniggers, Kadar rounds on him. “What the fuck do you know about this?”

  Nijad puts his hand on his brother’s arm, as though for moral support, and answers on his behalf, kicking off with one of his customary shrugs. “I’ve known she’s been playing in BDSM clubs for a while. I told Jasim…”

  “And you didn’t think to inform me?” Kadar retakes his seat and puts his head into his hands. Begrudgingly, Rais withdraws his scimitar and retakes his seat while we all give the emir some space to re-evaluate his thoughts about his young sister. After a while he wipes his hands across his face, then looks up. “Well, there’s no doubt about it. She’s got to come home now. And we need to find someone to take her off our hands pretty damn quick.”

  “You’re old fashioned, Kadar. This is the twenty-first century. I know it’s hard for Amahad to accept, but Aiza’s not going to sit back and wait to be traded for a herd of camels,” Nijad scorns.

  Jasim’s staring at his brother open-mouthed. “We’re not going to force any marriage on Aiza, camels or no camels.”

  “My father’s got a good stable,” I drop in now the threat of imminent death has been removed. I can’t hold back a grin. If Kadar wants someone to take her on, I’m more than willing. Unwittingly, Aiza’s played right into my hands. It’s the thoughts of my hands on her that has me adjusting myself under the table.

  There’s a growl from the man opposite, and after a quick glare in my direction, Rais turns to Kadar. “I agree with you, Kadar. Aiza’s been enjoying too much freedom for a woman her age.”

  Jasim’s hand bangs down on the table. “Aiza needs to come home so we can protect her. But I refuse to accept that protection means curtailing her freedom or coercing her into a marriage she doesn’t want. She’s twenty-four years old, a woman, a person in her own right, and should be able to make her own choices. Don’t forget it was for this very reason I myself stayed away from Amahad and was reluctant to return home. The country still has archaic views on such matters. I won’t allow you to use ancient laws against my sister. She will not be forced into a marriage she doesn’t want if I have anything to do with it.” His eyes catch mine. “Even with you, Prince Rami. No offence.”

  I raise my chin to show none has been taken. I don’t want her to be forced either. I’m sure enough of myself and what I can offer, to think that she’d come to me willingly. There had been signs our attraction had been mutual.

  Kadar seems to have aged in the last few minutes. He studies Jasim, then slowly nods his head, his hands rising in a gesture of defeat before pronouncing, “Aiza comes home and stays until we can analyse any threat against her and negate it. As a member of the royal family she’s in the public eye, her every action examined and discussed. Any free-living lifestyle she’s taken advantage of while abroad will be denied to her here. Prince, I will discuss your proposed marriage with her, nevertheless I will take her views into account. If she refuses yourself, or any suitable partner that I put forwards, then once it is safe she can resume her activities in the country of her choice. If she does, she will have bodyguards at all times. Fuck knows how she managed to get away without protection for so long.” He turns his tired eyes towards me. “Prince, Aiza is headstrong, and if she accepts your proposal I can’t vouch that you will have the subservient wife that perhaps you were looking forward to.”

  I nod, letting him know I was serious about my offer. I don’t say it, but I wasn’t joking. My father has got an excellent stable of camels, and I reckon I know quite a bit about headstrong females.

  Chapter 3

  Aiza

  Hunter’s kiss had been something else, unexpected and rendering me nigh on speechless. Unnerved, I ignore his comment and offer no protest as I obediently trot off into my bedroom and start throwing clothes into a small bag. It isn’t until I open my underwear drawer and begin choosing which pants and bra combination I’m going to take that I pause with my hand in mid-air. What the fuck am I doing? Hunter told me to go pack, and I just obeyed him. Without any discussion or argument. Okay, so I couldn’t very well talk back without the risk of being overheard, though I could have pulled him outside and told him exactly where he should put his overbearing attitude and demands.

  Then the memory of why I couldn’t speak openly to him hits me with full force. Rather than worrying about Hunter’s audaciousness, I should be more concerned that someone’s gone to the bother of placing bugs in my flat. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and spurs me to get moving again. I have no idea where Hunter’s planning to take me. But I don’t want to stay here. I’m not stupid. Being who I am means I’m at risk of being abducted and used against my country. I’m a princess of Amahad, and while that personally does me no favours, only curtailing my freedom to live as I wish, I bear the country no ill will, as it provides me with funds to do with what I want. For Amahad’s sake and my brothers’ sanity, I really have no option other than to throw in my lot with Hunter and trust he, and his colleagues from Grade A, can get me out of the predicament I find myself in.

  Who would want to listen in on me? I’m boring, not interesting. I have no state secrets to give away. I barely know my family or what goes on in my country.

  That question unanswerable, my mind turns to the next and more immediate one. Why did Hunter kiss me? Was it just an act for whoever is listening and watching? Or was it something he wanted to do and seized the opportunity? If the latter, how does that make me feel? The stickiness between my legs reminds me I wasn’t entirely unaffected. Hunter’s an undeniably good kisser, and a fine looking and fit specimen of a man. No doubt about that. Would I turn down a chance to know him better?

  Before I can summon up an answer, the man invading my thoughts appears at the door, nodding towards my half-packed bag. He jerks his head to show he’s getting impatient. Under his scrutiny I toss the last few items in and then look around to see if I’ve missed anything. My phone charger. I go to unplug it and slide it in with the rest of the contents. My e-reader and tablet. I take those too. Hunter comes over and takes my bag, zipping it up with a grin and a shake of his head preventing me putting anything else in. The look on his face suggests he was expecting me to pack the kitchen sink next.

  “An overnight bag,” he stresses, something innocuous fo
r any listening ears.

  Certain I’ve left something vital behind, I follow him out. Seth and Ryan are waiting in the corridor as Hunter shuts the door behind me, another shake of his head when his eyes fall on what has proved to be an inadequate lock.

  I don’t protest the lift, simply get in alongside the men, feeling cramped and claustrophobic being surrounded by three tall, masculine bodies which take up all the space, glad to get away from my flat, which had felt so safe, but now so violated. Who’d want to spy on me? And why? The notion that someone’s been listening and watching me in my private space is alarming.

  Outside, Hunter leads me to the SUV Ryan and Seth had arrived in, then my eyes fall on his bike, a Ducati if I’m not mistaken. The slick Italian machine looking fast and mean. “Can I go with you?” I’d ridden with my brother, Nijad, before when I’d visited him in Paris many years ago now, and had always loved the feel of the wind in my face and freedom of the road passing underneath. The chance to blow the cobwebs away with the edge of excitement is oh so tempting. I bite my lip, hoping Hunter will agree.

  He gives me an amused smile. “You want to ride on the back of my bike?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll be too exposed.” Ryan steps up, using a tone that brooks no argument. “Safer to come with us.” He cocks his head at Hunter, who seemed to be considering it.

  I know I’m pouting, believing they’re being over cautious, but after a silent conversation over my head it’s clear I’m not going to get my way. With a heartfelt sigh, I obediently step alongside Ryan and get into the back seat without further objection when he opens the door. Ryan goes back to talk to Seth and Hunter, presumably to agree where they’re taking me now we’re out of range of the bugs. Unfortunately, they’re out of ear shot. When at last they return, Seth gets into the front passenger seat and Ryan starts the engine.

  There’s silence in the car as we drive away. Finding the quiet unnerving, I break it by asking, “Where are we going then?”

  The men in the front exchange glances. “To a hotel,” Ryan informs me.

  “Which one?” I start to ask.

  Ryan deliberately catches my eyes in the rearview mirror. As he gives a violent shake of his head, I interpret what he’s telling me, and then it falls into place. They think I could be bugged.

  Now I understand the need to stay mute. I keep my mouth shut as Ryan drives through the streets, looking around at people going about their business as though they haven’t a care in the world. While I’m being targeted. The question is, by whom, and why?

  That’s when the revelation hits me, making me shudder. If I hadn’t come home early and seen the door open, I’d never have found out someone was watching and listening to my every move. It’s a sobering thought. I’ve already discounted they were after information, as I’ve got none to give away. The only thing of value is my body. The sole conclusion I can come up with is that this was a prelude to kidnapping me. How close I’d come to remaining ignorant about the unknown person or persons’ preparation scares me. I’d been careless, thinking I had no enemies. Of course I have. However much I try to forget it, I am a princess.

  Having battled through the traffic at the very worst time of day to be driving through London, we at last draw up outside a modern hotel, all glass and chrome in the renovated docklands area. It must be near to the head office of Grade A Security which I know is around here somewhere. It makes sense they brought me somewhere close by.

  Hunter has predictably arrived before us, the bike managing the evening rush hour easier than the car. I no longer need the finger he’s holding to his lips to keep my mouth shut as the men surround me, and once again I’m in a lift, this time heading up to one of the top floors. Watching the numbers of the floors increase as we pass, pointlessly I think to myself. If I’m staying here long I don’t think I’ll be attempting those stairs.

  Hunter opens the door to a room which must be the penthouse suite, and after a look up and down the corridor, ushers me quickly inside where I find another man already there and waiting. I haven’t met him before, but as he approaches holding out his hand for my carry-on bag, I find I’m giving it to him automatically. My handbag I hand over a little more reluctantly.

  As the unidentified man passes some sort of wand over my possessions, an audible bleeping sounds, which for a moment I don’t know is good or bad. I glance at Hunter, his face impassive. Then I frown and want to protest as he starts taking out my carefully packed clothing. Soon there’s a pile of everything I’d brought with me on the floor. I blush as he passes the wand over everything, including my flimsy underwear.

  The wand stays silent until it produces another bleep when he scans the bag’s lining. Nodding in satisfaction, he puts the bag to one side. My eyes widen as he places my tablet next to it. Then he turns to my handbag and empties the contents out next to my clothes on the carpet. My cheeks redden once more as loose tampons fall out of the pocket. However, a glance at the men show their faces are focused on their job, seemingly disinterested in what I carry around in my bag. They’re professionals. They’ve seen sanitary products before. Even so, the inspection of my personal possessions seems overly intrusive.

  My handbag and purse, having provoked the handheld machine into life, join my other bag and tablet. Hunter takes the carrier bag, which the stranger had thoughtfully come prepared with, and starts to scoop up the scattered contents, which seem to have passed their test. The pile thankfully including my phone which the man had examined very carefully. Embarrassed, I fall to my knees and push him aside, collecting up everything myself. Him touching my tampons seems far too personal.

  Now the man is waving his wand over me. It bleeps. He indicates I should remove my jacket, which I do. That, thankfully, is the only offending object. For a moment I’d worried I was going to have to strip down in front of them.

  With a satisfied grin and a lift of his chin towards Hunter, at last the unknown man gathers up everything that’s made the machine leap into action and takes it out of the door. I stand stunned, looking at Hunter, then Ryan, then Seth, not knowing what I’m supposed to do next.

  Hunter moves in front of me. His hands rest on my arms, and his intense eyes stare down into mine. “You okay?” He breaks the eerie silence at last.

  “I don’t know,” I answer quickly and truthfully. “They’ve been watching, listening to me for a while now, haven’t they?” They couldn’t have planted everything today—I’d been wearing my jacket and my bag had been over my shoulder. Once again I shiver, wondering how long someone’s been eavesdropping, and how much they now know about me. Hunter moves closer, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into him. I’m a strong woman and don’t normally rely on the strength of a man to hold me up, but right now I need the physical contact, and tonight welcome the comfort he’s giving me. “What happens next?” I mumble into his chest.

  “We meet with Ben Carter. Try and get some answers.”

  “With the bugs removed, they’ll know I’ve found out about them.”

  Hunter chuckles. It’s an ominous sound, and one that makes me immediately suspicious when he says innocently, “Mason, the tech who was just here, he’ll sort it out.” His tone doesn’t give the reassurance it should have done.

  My eyes narrow as I glance up. “What do you mean?”

  Now he gives a deep laugh, this one full of amusement. “You really want to know, darling?” At my nod, he continues, the sides of his mouth turning up. “Right now they’re listening to a sex tape. They’ll think it’s you and me.”

  I raise my hand and put my fist to his arm. “Hunter! How could you?” I’d thought it was impossible to feel more embarrassed than the tampon incident. It appears I was wrong.

  He’s unrepentant. “Easiest way to buy us some time and decide what to do.” He pulls away from me and rummages in a bag that I hadn’t noticed before, and that the strange Mason must have left. He returns with a sweatshirt, which he hands over. It’s about five sizes
too big. Hunter shrugs apologetically. “You haven’t got a jacket, and it’s cold out there. Mason must have grabbed some of his own stuff, sorry. We didn’t have much time to get anything organised.”

  I take the offered item, pulling it on over my head, having difficulty finding the arm holes in the ocean of material. As I do, I realise I was probably lucky I hadn’t had to take all my clothes off, suspecting I’d have ended up wearing a pair of Mason’s boxers if I had.

  Dressed in the sweatshirt that reaches almost to my knees, I leave the swanky hotel and get into the car with Ryan and Seth for the short journey to the main offices of Grade A Security. We park in the underground garage alongside Hunter’s bike, then take the lift to the third floor.

  As I follow in Hunter’s wake it dawns on me that since discovering my open door all I’ve done is exactly what I’ve been told, without question or protest. It’s not like me at all. Normally I’m the one in the driving seat. As I enter a conference room and eye the men already seated around the table, I decide to start speaking up for myself, taking back the control that, for me, is as necessary as breathing.

  Discarding my oversized coverup, I smooth down my long hair and pull back my shoulders. As I walk to a vacant chair I give a nod worthy of that of my oldest brother to the men and the woman around the table. Ben rises and comes over, pulling out the seat for me. As one, all the men stand, only sitting back down when I do so myself.

  After giving me a moment to get settled, Ben begins. “Welcome to Grade A Security, Princess. I think you know most of the people here?”

  Finding my title unfamiliar—I haven’t used it in months—for a moment I’m put off my stride. Then, pulling myself together, I glance around again, this time taking note of those assembled, and jerk my chin in agreement as I put names to faces. There’s Jon Tharpe, who, along with Ben and the elusive Jason Deville, own the company. Jon spent years as my youngest brother, Nijad’s, bodyguard until they had a falling out. Next to him there’s Ryan, then Seth, then Harry, who’d taken over from Jon for a while when Jon had refused to work with Nijad anymore. I quirk my brow at the woman who I can’t identify, and she introduces herself.