Her Sheik Protector

by Linda Conrad

  Rylie had no intention of going anywhere with Darin, but together they would have a better shot at getting away. She could give him the slip later. Right this minute, he was the devil she knew.

  Darin loosened his grip and lowered her to her feet. She was amazed he had actually believed what she’d said and her mouth dropped open. For a moment she stared into his trusting eyes. Then she turned and ran.

  “Split up and double back,” she hollered over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you—”

  She never had a chance to finish the thought because Darin caught her from behind, gripped her arm and kept up the momentum she’d begun as the two of them dashed down the half-lit sidewalks hand in hand. He might be trusting, but it seemed he wasn’t stupid.

  Out of breath, they made it to the doorstep of an inn. Banging on the locked door with one fist, Darin kept his other hand glued tightly to hers. Apparently he was also familiar with the concept behind the saying “Fool me once…”

  A particularly grumpy innkeeper finally let them in after Darin explained their circumstances in the man’s native French. Rylie wasn’t sure, but the memory of her old college French led her to believe Darin had also mentioned a bonus for calling them a cab.

  Within a few minutes, money had changed hands and she was safely tucked into the backseat of a beat-up Mercedes taxicab.

  Suddenly exhausted, Rylie leaned her body against the strength of Darin’s shoulder. “Where are we going? To the police?”

  No answer.

  A sneaky thought of betrayal crept into her mind. Could he be one of the bad guys after all?

  “Okay,” she said in a meek tone…at least it sounded meek considering that the tone came from her own loud mouth. “No police. Then at least tell me where we’re headed. I kinda thought you and I were beginning a real friendship back at the bar. You owe me…”

  “Friends don’t lie to each other.”

  “When did I lie? You were the one who lied to me.” She forced this new white lie out with an indignant groan as if she’d meant it, but that was the best she could muster. Of course she’d lied in the middle of trying to escape. She wasn’t a fool, and she would have done anything to get away. But if he pushed her too hard, she might crumble in a heap on the cab floor and beg for his forgiveness now that he’d saved her life.

  “I do not lie.” His tone was hurt instead of incensed, and she felt a very real pang of regret.

  “Okay…” Suddenly needing to find a little backbone and a lot of pride, she steadied her voice. “Then who was that guy? And I want the truth.”

  “I have never seen the man before.”

  Screwing up her mouth for a few well-chosen words, she was about to let them loose when he continued, “But I did recognize him as Taj Zabbar. He wore the purple-checked head cloth of their modern-day businessmen.”

  “Businessman? Bull. That assailant, as you called him, was far more interested in kidnapping than business.”

  The next thought came out of her mouth much too easily. “Hey. Talking about kidnapping, he was after me, not you. What the heck would the Taj Zabbar want with me, anyway?”

  Her words lingered in the stale air of the backseat as the cab jerked around corners and then over one of the Rhône River bridges. Interesting question, wasn’t it? She could almost feel Darin mulling the same idea over in his head.

  “If you’re not lying again,” he began in a sober tone, “then that’s something we must learn together.”

  His voice was rigid, unyielding, but as he spoke he gently folded her hand in his. He glanced over at her, and if she’d been talking, his expression would’ve surprised her speechless. Instead of a glare of suspicion, his eyes plainly said he thought she was the most exquisite and priceless creature he had ever beheld. A tiny shiver ran to the base of her spine at the sensual look in his eyes. This was not the gaze of a man who wanted only friendship and truth.

  Rylie was unsure of what she wanted, so she left her hand right where it was. The idea of kissing him…and more…was certainly appealing. Being this close to a man as exotic and enticing as this one was driving fire through her veins.

  Still, she didn’t know him. Not really. And someone—maybe someone he knew well—was trying to kidnap her.

  Darin spoke to the cabbie in French and the driver made a couple of quick left turns, heading for the expensive part of town. A few more minutes of riding in quiet and the cab pulled up in front of the Geneva Four Seasons Hotel, a spendy and trendy joint that was far above Rylie’s current circumstances. She looked up at the bright lights and marbled entry and wondered how much this place could possibly cost per night—and then couldn’t help thinking how many hospital bills she could’ve paid with all that money.

  The cab stopped, Darin threw a wad of Swiss francs at the driver and then eased her out with a nod to the doorman holding the open cab door.

  When Rylie put her none-too-steady feet on the pavement, Darin reached for her. He pulled her close and took a moment to study her under the light. She knew she must look a mess, all sweaty and disheveled. Trying to break free, her only thought was getting away from both his intensity and the harsh light.

  But Darin held her fast. Using the pad of his thumb, he gently touched a spot on her cheek while his lips turned down in a deep frown. The hurt look in his eyes made Rylie wonder if he what he was rubbing was dirt or a bruise. As far as she could tell she was nothing but one big bruise.

  “Come on,” Darin said in soft tones. “It’s time you met some of my family.”

  Family? The first crazy thoughts to enter her mind were how sweaty she was and how much she needed a shower before being presentable enough to meet his loved ones. But her very next thought quickly changed channels back to the reality show of her current life.

  Darin was still looking at her as if he would love to eat her for breakfast, much like a man on a first date who was smitten. But their situation seemed to her to be more a life-and-death matter and not much like any date.

  Still seething, Hamad Taj Zabbar sat back on the hotel’s settee and threw a final instruction to his idiot cousin. “This time, catch up to her without one of the Kadirs nearby. And I don’t care how you arrange it, but I expect you to make it look like an accident or a generic kidnapping. And for Allah’s sake, take off that damned Taj Zabbar head scarf. I don’t want any bystanders putting two and two together. Got it?”

  The cousin visibly trembled but stood at attention. “Yes, my sheik. I will not fail again.”

  At that moment, Hamad received a new satellite call, coming from one of the other Taj Zabbar elders. Predicting this call would not add a lot to his frustration level, he knew the coming conversation was bound to annoy him in far different ways.

  He waved off his dullard of a cousin and waited until the man headed for the elevators. They had already decided Darin Kadir must eventually return to his rooms, and the best plan was to continue following him. He would lead them once again to the woman.

  As soon as the cousin was out of sight, Hamad acknowledged the caller.

  “A communiqué is being couriered to you,” the elder, Mugrin Bin Abdul Taj Zabbar, told him over the line. “Information within the document is classified and vital. Much too vital to send via any modern communication system. Telephones and computers are inadequate. No one must be allowed to waylay these secrets.”

  The elder paused after speaking, breathing hard into the phone line until he could whisper once again. “We have written the message down using ancient family codes. You will have no trouble translating, I’m sure.”

  Hamad refused to let any hesitation show in his voice, at least not in the way paranoia clearly showed in the elder’s voice. The elder Mugrin could someday be his rival for power. But upon further reflection, that seemed not highly likely. This particular elder was part of the old guard and refused to accept modern technology. How quaint, and yet how annoying.

  “No trouble,” Hamad said to calm the old man and make him believe all was
well. “And will it be left in the usual place and in the usual manner?”

  “Of course.” Mugrin Bin Abdul sounded worried, and that made their conversation disturbing. Hamad felt certain the elder was concerned about losing his position of power. The man was weak.

  Bidding goodbye to the elder Mugrin, Hamad swallowed the dregs of his bitter Middle Eastern coffee, then rose from his shadowed corner spot in the hotel lobby. As he moved, he made slight adjustments to the plans in his mind. He still had time before daybreak to issue new orders.

  These new orders would mean a couple of stops and a new final destination for his not-too-bright cousin. But Hamad was certain even Taweel should be able to follow revised instructions. After all, the cousin knew he had but one chance left to make things right, or there would be no chances left for him to have a future. Hamad did not have time to coddle inept employees.

  “But why did you bring her here?” Shakir set his jaw and flicked his thumb toward the closed bathroom door where the noise of running water made it clear Rylie was taking a shower. “She could be leading the enemy right to us.”

  Darin wanted to say that he would never leave her out in the cold and unprotected—this woman of his obsession. He wanted to tell Shakir that nothing his family could say, and certainly nothing she could possibly do, would change their destiny. It was written in the stars.

  But he didn’t mention any of that. “She’s an innocent bystander, bro. The Taj Zabbar came after her, and I think we need to find out why.”

  “Innocent my ass.” Shakir jammed his fists on his hips and the muscles around his eyebrows tensed. “I’m not buying that. What’s she doing here in Geneva, anyway?”

  Darin turned his back on his middle brother and walked to the sitting room bar. “You won’t believe it. She says she came to find out who is responsible for that explosion in Houston. She doesn’t think it was an accident. Sound familiar?”

  “I bloody well don’t accept such a ridiculous excuse. And I can’t believe you could be so gullible. What has she done to you?”

  Darin straightened his spine without turning around. “She hasn’t done anything to me. But you should’ve seen her take on that Taj Zabbar gorilla without as much as pepper spray to defend herself. She was magnificent.”

  “Oh?”

  Darin felt the air rustling and knew his brother had moved close behind him. He busied his hands with pouring them both drinks, unready to put on his I’m-not-infatuated face. Shakir was the one brother of the three who had been in love, and it had ended badly nearly four years ago. Since then, Shakir had soured on love and women in general.

  “I’m calling Tarik,” Shakir said through gritted teeth when he reached his side. “When it comes to spy work, he’s the most knowledgeable. He can be here by tomorrow evening. Then we’ll see what he thinks of all this.”

  Darin turned and offered Shakir a shot of Blue Goose vodka on the rocks. Though he seldom drank alcohol, his own drink was twenty-year-old scotch. Both of them needed a moment.

  Shakir swallowed his down in two huge gulps, then set his ice-filled glass back down on the counter with a slap. “This is the first time any of us has as much as set eyes on one of the Taj Zabbar. I think it must prove the elders have been right all along. We are in an undeclared war with them. And you uncovered the truth. You can be proud, brother.”

  Darin heard the but coming loud and clear. “And…?” He urged Shakir to finish the thought.

  Shakir lifted a shoulder, dropped it and his chin and glared down at his empty glass on the counter. “And I think it’s time you went back to headquarters and began strategizing in earnest. I’m sure the Kadir elders will want you to head up the family’s defense systems from now on. Let Tarik and me take care of this first skirmish.”

  Chuckling into his own drink, Darin lowered his glass and said, “And what do you propose I do with Rylie? Pack her off to America with a pat on the head and no explanations?”

  “Works for me. Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know her. She would never accept leaving without learning the real reason for the attack.”

  Shakir swiveled to face him. “Oh, and you know her so well after a mere twenty-four hours?”

  His brother might have had a point if he’d been dealing in real time. But to Darin, Rylie was the embodiment of the best of his past and his dream of the future. However, he was not ready to voice those feelings, especially not to this brother.

  “I think she’s in real danger, Shakir. What’s to stop them from coming after her in America or anywhere else?”

  “Why?” Shakir grumbled under his breath. “The Taj Zabbar have no quarrel with the Hunts. Last night’s attack, if it was for real, and the one in Houston, too, had to be because of us. Because a Kadir was in the vicinity. Have you considered that if she’s as innocent as you say, she might be better off—safer—if she stayed away from the Kadirs altogether?”

  The idea had crossed his mind but he’d pushed it away.

  “She is innocent.” No question at all and no room for debate. “And she needs protection. I’m not losing sight of her until we figure out what it is the Taj Zabbar wants.

  “You and Tarik do what you do best,” Darin continued. “And Rylie and I will see what we can find out on our own.”

  Shakir looked as if he was about to argue, so Darin cut him off. “Don’t worry about me, brother. Together, she and I will be invincible.”

  Rylie awoke with a start. Something, somewhere, had jerked her from the first sound sleep she’d had in months. Rolling on her side, she was surprised to see it was still dark outside the full wall of windows in Darin’s hotel bedroom. The lighted dial on the bedside clock read 5:00 a.m., but she was done sleeping for the night. Peace would never come while thoughts and questions stalked through her mind in brilliant colors and scattered pieces.

  She dragged herself out of bed and tried to get her bearings, carefully making her way to the bathroom in the dark. Most of last night remained a blur in her mind. She distinctly remembered the run-in with her assailant, giving him the slip and then coming back here with Darin. And she vaguely remembered Darin treating her like some kind of fragile doll, insisting that she take his king-size bed while he slept on the pull-out couch in the sitting room.

  Flipping on the overhead light in his bathroom, Rylie winced against the glare and wished she hadn’t been looking in the mirror when the room lit up like a night game at the baseball stadium. Her hair was standing straight up on its curly ends. Her eyes had a sunken-in and bruised appearance. What a mess. Had she looked like this last night when she’d met Darin’s brother?

  No wonder Shakir had treated her so suspiciously. Who could blame him? It would be hard to trust anyone who looked as disreputable as she did at the moment.

  She hadn’t gotten a good read on Shakir, other than he was loyal to his brother. And that he was big, bigger than Darin—and mean-looking. Or maybe those mean glances were because he seemed convinced she was one of the bad guys. Her. As if.

  She pulled Darin’s T-shirt up over her head, grateful that he’d offered it after her shower. Her underpants were still hanging over the shower rod, and she was pleased to find them mostly dry when she slipped them on. After splashing water on her face, she squeezed a dab of toothpaste onto her finger and swished it around in her mouth. One of the men’s spray deodorant cans sat on a nearby shelf, and Rylie didn’t hesitate to use it on her underarms.

  Feeling moderately better, she went back to the bedroom but left the lights there turned off. Forced to feel around until she found her clothes and trusty traveling purse over the back of a chair, she sat down to slide her feet into her jeans and boots. A hairbrush would’ve been a godsend right about then. But as she hadn’t been able to cram one into her tiny purse with the passport, phone and wallet, she ran her fingers through her hair and patted it down the best she could.

  Rylie took a second to think about what her next move should be. Darin had made a comment at the
end of last night about the two of them working together to solve some mystery. But in her mind, the only mystery was whether she should trust the Kadirs. Every time a Hunt found themselves too near a Kadir, all hell broke loose.

  Would she dare try it again?

  Maybe. Maybe she could try again at some point—just to prove to herself this magic she felt with Darin was for real. It had been a long time since her body had responded to the touch of a man. And it had been even longer…as in never…that she’d wanted a man to hold her and protect her through a long, sleepless night.

  Darin Kadir was special. All of a sudden she’d been thinking about a future instead of wishing she had died in that explosion along with her father.

  But before they could talk about any kind of future, she had to learn all his secrets. Was he dangerous? Potentially evil? A part of her wanted to wait and ask him for the explanations, trusting him beyond what seemed reasonable for someone she had recently met. But a bigger part, a more thoughtful part, was afraid he could tell her anything and she would never know that he’d lied until it was too late.

  Nope. Rylie knew she had to find out about his past, his family’s secrets, all on her own. Then when she asked him and he told her the truth, she could be sure he wasn’t spinning fancy tales.

  With that settled in her head, the only thing left for her to do was to slip out of his hotel suite without being noticed.

  Chapter 5

  Arms crossed under his head and lying flat on his back on the sofa, Darin stared into the night while lights coming through the glass doors bounced off the ceiling like tiny, ghostly bats. He’d heard the water running in the bathroom and knew it had to be Rylie because Shakir had ducked out at about 3:00 a.m. Grinning absently into the blackness of the room like an idiot, he wondered if it was normal for her to wake at such an early hour.

  Everything about her was unknown and fresh. What did she like to eat for breakfast? What kind of scented soap did she prefer? He couldn’t wait to begin peeling back the layers and discovering the real Rylie Hunt.