Captive of the Desert King Page 11

  Suddenly, water caught her right in the face, causing her to gasp.

  Rashid laughed, a belly laugh that cut short on a gasp when Sarah splashed him back.

  Within moments, Kadan had joined the fun and all three were drenched in water. Anna sat away with Jenna and they both clapped with delight over the fun.

  “Pardon my interruption, madame. But it is time for his Highness’s lessons.”

  “Master Trizal Lamente, may I introduce you to Miss Sarah Kwong.” Gone was the warmth of Anna’s tone. It was replaced by a gracious if somewhat bland introduction.

  “We have already met.” The older man bowed his head slightly. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle.”

  She inclined her head. “Monsieur Lamente.”

  “I did not realize you were spending time with the young prince. Perhaps I can arrange for his lessons—”

  “That is not possible, Trizal. Please take Rashid for his studies.” Jarek approached in quick, angry strides.

  “Goodbye, Sarah,” Rashid said sadly.

  “Bye, Your Highness.” Sarah kept her smile in place as to not upset Rashid. She was unwilling to let the young boy see the rage brewing in his father’s eyes. She had grown to recognize the emotion in Jarek over the last several days.

  Trizal glanced at Jarek, who dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  Slowly, Sarah stood, feeling much better facing him at her full height. Even if it only took her to his shoulder.

  Jarek’s eyes flickered over Sarah, taking in the wet blouse, and even wetter pants.

  “The agreement was…” Jarek’s voice held no emotion once the teacher and pupil disappeared onto the terrace “…you would have no contact with my family, Miss Kwong. You cannot tell me this meeting was unavoidable.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you,” Sarah managed. “My breech wasn’t on purpose. I was on my way to see Bash. I didn’t notice the boys until it was too late. And I wasn’t going to be rude to Anna.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t know, Your Majesty. Maybe you judge everyone based on your own prejudices rather than on the facts?”

  Anna’s soft gasp echoed from behind Sarah. But she refused to take back her words. Only the tightening of Jarek’s jaw showed she’d scored a direct hit.

  “May we speak in private?” Although he addressed her with a question, she understood it was an order.

  “Of course.”

  Deliberately, he reached down and grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and tossed it to her. “You might want to dry off before you give the servants an eyeful.”

  Sarah looked down and barely suppressed her gasp. The water had turned her shirt translucent enough to the see her breasts through her bra.

  She held the towel up and turned to Anna. “Thank you for the fun.”

  “Oh, I think the fun is just about to begin.” Anna’s lips twitched with amusement. “But its been my pleasure.”

  Sarah waited for Jarek to go ahead a few steps before glancing back at Anna. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “If I don’t appear again after an hour or so. Could you have my personal belongings sent back to the States?”

  Anna laughed outright. “I don’t think it will be necessary. But if you don’t want to be escorting your stuff back yourself, you might want to try and be a bit more reserved.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrow. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

  THE STONY SILENCE didn’t dissipate until they were back in Jarek’s office.

  “I agreed to have you here in my country only if you agreed to follow certain rules.” Anger infused every word, every syllable. “Rules I reiterated last night in your room.”

  “It wasn’t preplanned, Your Majesty,” she repeated. Sarah understood she was in the wrong, but it didn’t stop her from stating her defense. “I saw Anna and stopped. I didn’t see the children playing in the wade pool until it was too late.”

  “You didn’t hear them splashing? Them laughing?”

  His anger fed her own. “I heard splashing. But I won’t be rude to a child. No matter who his father is,” she said sharply and tossed the towel on the table.

  If he didn’t like that, too bad.

  “Let me make myself understood, Miss Kwong.” The words were grounded through his teeth, his eyes locked on her face. “You will not instigate any contact with my son. Are we clear? Because if it happens again, it will be the last thing you will do in my country.”

  “Throw me out, then.” Anger seized Sarah with two fists. Damn it, she wanted things out on the table. “Since the plane, you’ve run hot and cold. One moment you don’t like me, then next you want to make love to me. Either way you have barely managed to be civil. You’ve threatened to imprison me, then threatened to toss me out on my ear. Make up your mind.”

  “How can I?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and drew her up until their noses almost touched. “When I’m damn sure I’ve lost my mind.”

  Swearing, his mouth settled over hers.

  She expected anger and frustration.

  His lips caressed hers, coaxing, tasting, shaping them beneath his mouth.

  Instead, he gave her tenderness…pleasure…seduction.

  The world stopped around them. No intrusions, no demands—except for the ones their own desire made.

  He gathered her close, fitting her body to his even as his kiss continued until she surrendered on a sweet shudder and sigh.

  With a growl, he deepened the kiss, his tongue no longer coaxing but demanding a response.

  Her arms slipped around his back, gripping him tighter as she arched against his body.

  When that wasn’t enough, her fingers tugged in frustration, loosening his shirt from his waistband. This time when her hand skimmed his back, he didn’t pull away. She felt the ridges, the deep scars that crisscrossed his back and whimpered at the pain he must have endured.

  “Don’t,” he murmured and kissed her again, driving her thoughts away from his demons.

  Without warning, glass shattered behind Sarah. Jarek swore and shoved her to the ground.

  “Stay down.”

  His body was hard against hers, comforting for a brief moment before he rolled off her and onto his knees.

  Blood, warm and sticky spread through her blouse. It took her a moment to realize it was his blood.

  “Jarek!” A freight train of fear slammed into her. Before she recovered her balance, she realized that the fear came from more than concern.

  It came from love.

  Suddenly the door burst open and Ivan came through, his gun raised.

  “The window.”

  Ivan nodded and shouted an order to the guards outside the door before turning back to Jarek. He noted the blood on his king’s shirt, down low on his right side. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?”

  “Superficial,” Jarek snapped, more angry at himself, then the guard.

  Quamar stepped into the room, his gun raised. “Are you all right, Sarah?”

  “Yes, only a little shaken.”

  Quamar holstered his gun, then glanced at the blood. He grabbed a phone from his pocket and punched a number.

  “I need Doctor Haddad at the palace. King Jarek’s office. It doesn’t matter, either one,” he added, then snapped his phone shut.

  Jarek placed his gun on his desk and walked over to the window. “The shot pierced the bullet resistant glass. Whoever did this is long gone.” He ripped off his shirt, used the clean portion to stem the flow of blood.

  Sarah gasped. In the sunlight, she could see the scars, their ugly pattern of ridges and crevices. “Jarek—”

  “Don’t, Sarah. They are just scars. No more than that. They don’t hurt, for God’s sake.”

  “Still, you haven’t forgotten for one minute that they are there or forgotten who put them on you.”

  Jarek hissed softly. No one had said that to him. Ever. No one dared.

 
“I will check the perimeter,” Quamar commented, obviously deciding to leave them alone.

  Sarah waited until Quamar left before approaching Jarek. “Please tell me about it.”

  “I’m sure you’ve read all the news reports and files,” he replied.

  “Actually, I didn’t.” Sarah wanted to stroke the damaged skin, soothe the hurt that had happened so long ago. Instead, she settled on stroking his forearm. “Someone must have kept that fact hidden.”

  “I was caught unaware.” Jarek thrust his fingers through his hair in frustration. “The attack came in the middle of the night. Half my guards had joined the Al Asheera. It made it easy for them to infiltrate the palace grounds.”

  “And Saree? Was she with you?” Sarah tried to sound nonchalant. But she wanted to know about his wife.

  “She’d gone to check on Rashid. He was almost a year at the time and teething. I went to find her but couldn’t. The next thing I remember is waking up in a cell beneath the palace.”

  “But Rashid was saved by Anna—”

  “Anna and Saree had been friends since college. Anna had come out here to visit. A vacation of sorts,” Jarek explained. “Rashid’s nanny saw Anna in the hallway and gave her Rashid. Her name was Alma. She was an old woman. She had been my nanny, then my son’s. Anyway, she had no strength left in her bones and couldn’t run with a young baby. Instead, she created a diversion to give Anna a chance to escape.”

  Jarek tightened his jaw against the memory. “They killed Alma after she refused to reveal Rashid’s whereabouts.”

  “That’s when Quamar found Anna and Rashid.” Sarah remembered the stories. The couple had hidden for several days in the desert with Rashid.

  “Yes. He found her in the tunnels beneath the palace. Quamar took her and the baby to his father, Sheik Bari,” Jarek explained. “My uncle travels with his people in the desert but changes his route every year. He never gives anyone but myself and Quamar the directions. The Al Asheera had no way of knowing where Quamar had gone.”

  “And they tortured you to find out where Quamar had taken Rashid and Anna.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell them.” There was no doubt in Sarah’s mind. Jarek had suffered at the hands of his enemy.

  “No,” Jarek admitted. “I didn’t tell them.”

  “I wouldn’t have, either.”

  Jarek smiled, a small wry lift of his mouth, at the venom in her voice. “No, I don’t imagine you would. Not if they held your child.”

  “Not my child,” Sarah corrected. “Rashid.” When he said nothing, she continued. “I love your son, Jarek. I tried not to, but he was just too hard to resist. I will do as you ask and stay away from him when I can. But I won’t be rude to him and I won’t have his feelings hurt. I won’t do that to any child.”

  Jarek shook his head. “Sarah, I—”

  “What happened after Quamar reached his father?” She cut him off, not wanting another argument.

  Jarek gave in. “Within a few days, Quamar returned with help from Ian MacAlister and a few other friends from the American government. They managed to free me, but by the time it was all done, Saree had died and so had my uncle, Hassan. My father’s brother.”

  “And a little thief.”

  Jarek smiled. “Yes. A little thief. His name was Farad. He died saving Anna from Za—” Jarek stopped and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Sarah agreed cautiously, but her mind raced around Jarek’s slip. Zahid? Jarek’s cousin? If Zahid was going to kill Anna, that meant that he was behind the rebellion.

  Before she could ask, Quamar stepped into the room and tossed Jarek a clean shirt. “I think we’ve found our explosive expert.”

  “LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE left you a present, Your Majesty,” Sandra Haddad murmured.

  Jarek turned the body over and noted the gaping throat wound. “Do we know him?”

  “Roldo Costa.” Sandra handed the card to Jarek. “His wallet identification. By the looks of the rigor mortis, he’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours. Probably closer to thirty-six. I’ll know for sure once I get him into my lab.”

  “That would make him dead before the plane blew up yesterday,” Sarah pointed out.

  “The plane could have been booby-trapped long before we arrived.”

  “You think he has something to do with Ramon’s death?” Sandra reached into her bag and pulled out a camera. Systematically, she took pictures of the dead man.

  Sarah turned away. “Maybe our questions yesterday prompted his murder.”

  “Or maybe he failed. If he’d been hired to blow us up at the plane, or capture us, he didn’t do his job.” Jarek picked up the high-powered sniper rifle.

  “Every lead I followed on him yesterday, came to a dead end,” Quamar admitted, disgusted.

  “If it helps at all, Quamar,” Sandra took a picture of the throat wound, “Ramon had cancer. Inoperable cancer. I’d diagnosed it a few weeks back. In fact, I was getting ready to pull his airplane license, but he asked me to wait. He didn’t want to worry you until he was left no choice.”

  “How long will it take for you to get me more specifics?”

  “A few hours,” she replied, before letting her gaze drop to the bloodstain on his fresh shirt. “After I take care of your side.”

  QUAMAR WALKED INTO Jarek’s private quarters. Found his cousin out on the balcony.

  “Do you remember when Zahid talked us into the tunnels and then set that fire?” Jarek studied the city laid out below him. His people. His responsibility. “How old were we? Ten? Twelve?”

  “Old enough to never trust him again,” Quamar stated wryly. “Even then he wanted you dead.”

  Zahid had been the one with the whip. The one who primarily used it on Jarek, demanding answers. “If I had figured it out sooner, I might have saved myself these scars.”

  “I pulled Sandra’s medical file on Ramon.” Quamar held up the file, then tossed it onto a nearby glass covered table. “The cancer had moved to his bones and liver. He would have lived another six months, maybe eight. No more, Sandra said.”

  “Something has been bothering me.” Jarek flipped open the folder, not really seeing the documents as he fingered through them. “When Ramon came in over the desert, he brought the plane low. At first I thought he might have been showing Sarah a closer look at the Sahara but now I’m not so sure. She said she’d been flying all night and had fallen asleep. She hadn’t realized they’d been hit until they’d already started in the dive.”

  “So you believe now that Ramon planted that device in Sarah’s purse?”

  “I think it’s a strong possibility. He had no reason to fly so close to the ground. I considered Ramon family, but if he was going to die soon…” Jarek let the thought trail off, unwilling to put his theory into words. “Zahid. Uncle Hassan. They too were family and still they betrayed us.”

  “As did others,” Quamar added, following his cousin’s thoughts.

  Jarek nodded. “I want Ramon’s bank accounts seized. I want them checked and his apartment searched, Quamar. If Ramon was a traitor, I want to know it by the end of the day.”

  “I also have been thinking, Jarek,” Quamar commented. “Did you not tell me that when Jon first proposed this meeting with Sarah, you were against it? Mainly, because Sarah had proved to have the reputation of being cold-blooded when getting her stories.”

  “Yes. That and the fact I didn’t want to face the past,” Jarek admitted. “Why?”

  “I have not seen that behavior, that’s all,” Quamar noted. “What I’ve seen is the same behavior she took when she told us about Lara Mercer. Her intention had been to expose Lara’s relationship with Ian, but when Lara was injured, Sarah’s only concern was for Lara herself.”

  “You’re saying she became emotionally involved with her story.”

  “Ian said that the two women are extremely close.” Quamar made a mental note to make a few calls. The pr
esident was a wily old man. Much like his own father, Bari. Quamar wouldn’t have put it past Jon Mercer to have done a little matchmaking.

  “Since your return from the desert, she has not worried about the story so much as she has about your people. And you. And your son.”

  “She could be a very good actress.”

  “True,” Quamar agreed reluctantly. “But there is one thing for sure that she is not.”

  “And what is that?”

  “She is not Saree.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taer’s royal ballroom boasted of smoky blue marble floors and swan-white vaulted ceilings. Their gilded arches, beautifully sloped and adorned wih crystal chandeliers. Imported, Sarah had been told by Nashemia, from Italy over two hundred years before.

  The dance floor was crushed with people. Most dressed in black, white or the occasional ivory and blue of the older generation. The more daring wore shades of red that stood out as a sporadic dot amongst four hundred people.

  Thin windows stretched from the floor along the outside wall. Ten feet tall and swathed in sapphire velvet with gold trim, several opened up to a large terrace or the royal garden just beyond.

  Relieved, Sarah spotted an endless stream of guests still arriving through a doorway harbored with a metal detector archway. Obviously, Quamar and Jarek were not taking any chances on the security.

  The ball had started long before Sarah made her way through the doors. Since she wasn’t one of the honored guests, she hoped that her late arrival went unnoticed.

  “CHAMPAGNE?”

  Sarah turned, surprised.

  “Here, take it,” Sheik Bari Al Asadi handed her the fluted glass. “I hear that champagne goes to some people’s heads. Makes them do foolish things.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, her lips twitching. “I’ll try to remain civilized.” She took a sip, enjoyed the bite against her tongue.

  Sheik Bari Al Asadi held up a glass of amber liquid, barely visible from inside a large, meaty fist. “If you want civilized, you should drink Scotch, Miss Kwong.”

  At six feet tall, Sheik Bari carried his age well. And although the photos Sarah kept on file were of a younger Bari, his long, lean frame hadn’t changed much over the years.