The Sheikh Who Stole Her: Sheikh Seduction / The Untamed Sheikh / Desert King, Doctor Daddy. Dana Marton
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bandits were shouting and moving closer, emboldened by the lack of return fire.
Fear squeezed her lungs, so tight she could hardly breathe. She dipped her head when a bullet came too close, and could all of a sudden see the oncoming attack through the gap above the tire. For a moment she was struck speechless, but then she asked, with all the desperation she felt. “What do they want from us?”
She didn’t get to find out. Something hard connected with the back of her head and her world went dark.
Chapter Two
“Are the charges set?” He looked at the pumps dispassionately. For a man to reach his goals, sacrifices had to be made. A goal as large as his required an equally large sacrifice.
“Everything is ready, Shah. We are just waiting for the young sheik to leave and the workers to go on break. He wasn’t expected here today.”
How fortunate that he had come, anyway. “Detonate.”
“Now?” The idiot was staring at him, wide-eyed with sudden fear and lack of understanding.
He simply glared at the gaunt young man. He was not going to have his orders questioned.
“Yes, Shah,” the man said after a long pause, his face several shades whiter than a few moments ago. He scurried off to the utility trailer where he’d worked for the past three months and disappeared inside.
The explosion that shook the desert with elemental force was followed by another, then another, the charges going off in neat order, obliterating the target and everyone around it.
He watched the clouds of sand with satisfaction, then the flames that shot to the sky. His man appeared as the dust settled, running for him, for the car. The shah lifted his pistol and aimed carefully. His ears were still ringing from the explosion, so he barely heard the shot. But he allowed himself, at last, a satisfied smile. It wouldn’t be long now before he would reclaim for his son what was rightfully his and fulfill their family’s destiny.
SARA WOKE WITH A HEADACHE, her mouth so parched her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Sand, as fine as dust, ground between her teeth.
She opened her eyes, grateful for the shade of the busted Hummer she was leaning against. She lifted a hand to the back of her head and winced as her fingertips came in contact with a nasty bump.
Motionless bodies lay scattered on the sand. Fear and confusion washed over her as memories of the attack came back in a rush.
“Oh, God.” The words tore from her throat, followed by a horrified groan.
Faint clanging drew her attention, and she swung toward the sound, but it stopped almost as soon as it began. She pushed herself to standing and sneaked a peek over the car’s roof. The military trucks were nowhere to be seen. A man was working on the other Hummer, his upper body half-under the hood.
She recognized his powerful physique and the determination in his focused movements. Tariq.
She wasn’t alone. Thank God, she wasn’t alone.
“Excuse me,” she called out, her voice so raw she didn’t think he would hear her.
But he turned and glanced at her. “You’re awake. Good.” He scrutinized her with narrowed eyes.
She moved forward. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost yet. She stumbled to the closest man and sank onto her knees in front of him, turned his head, blanched at the fixed, empty stare, the dark lashes clumped with blood. The driver of the other Hummer. She recognized him before her gaze fell to his ring finger, which had been hacked off.
Tariq’s voice was tight as he spoke. “They’re all dead. I already checked.”
She drew her hands back. The sun was cooking her, the sand burning everywhere she touched it. A wave of dizziness assailed her. She was going to be sick, or faint or have a nervous breakdown. Surely all of those responses would have been appropriate under the circumstances.
“Have you called for help?” she asked weakly. Maybe he had walked around and found a spot where his phone worked.
“There’s no signal this far out. And they took the satellite phones from the cars. Took everything that could be sold at the nearest market. Get out of the sun.”
She stumbled back to the car to see if she could find some water, glanced through the window and gagged at the sight. One of the armed guards sprawled across the backseat, bathed in blood. Lots of it. She pushed away and lurched toward Tariq, fixing her eyes on the sand at her feet, not wanting to see any more dead.
He glanced at her when she stopped next to him. “You should drink.”
She couldn’t form the words to respond. Hardship on a business trip before had meant that the projector didn’t work. What had happened here was beyond all comprehension. She couldn’t begin to process and make sense of it.
She ran a hand over her body, scarcely able to believe that she had survived whole. Her brown skirt was speckled with dark stains, her top had been torn. She had bought the suit specifically for this trip because the skirt was longer than usual, the outfit suitably modest. She reached to her blouse, and found it stiff with dried blood. Not her blood; nothing hurt when she moved.
A faint sound in the distance startled her, and she launched herself against Tariq’s solid chest, thinking another attack imminent. Then she realized it was only the wind. She stepped back, embarrassed, away from the steadying hand he held out.
“Do you think they’ll return?” Her voice was shaky from nerves.
The look he gave her was an understanding one. “I don’t see why they would, but we better get out of here, anyway.” He walked around and pulled out a bottle of Evian from the back. He even twisted off the cap for her, before coming back and handing it over. “We’re lucky this rolled under the driver’s seat.”
“Thank you.” She drank sparingly, then tried to give the bottle back, but he wouldn’t take it.
Instead, he reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, lifted her chin and rubbed something from her jaw with his thumb. Dry blood, most likely. The moment dragged out, and she stood still, surprised by the gesture, even a little breathless.
“You’ll be fine. Go sit behind the car, in the shade,” he said gruffly when he finally spoke.
His simple touch of comfort helped to ease her shock and fear. After a moment he let his hand drop, but she was reluctant to move away. She felt better near him, as if his strength somehow extended beyond his body.
He said nothing, but went back to work on the engine, wiggling a wire with one long finger until he got it into the position he’d been apparently aiming for. “This should work.” He went around, reached through the driver’s side window and turned the key. The motor came to life.
The sweetest sound she had ever heard. Her eyes nearly teared up with relief.
He shut it off almost immediately.
“You should sit and rest.” He pointed to the small patch of shade the car provided.
She looked at him, then to the car, noticing that he had already cleared out the back—no bodies there. Nor anything else. Their briefcases were missing. Hers had held her laptop, cell phone, all her money, her passport and her plane tickets. She sank to the sand. It was marginally cooler in the shade.
Tariq walked back to the front and slammed the hood, which had to be hot enough to fry eggs and sausage.
“Why did they do this to us?” she asked.
He gave her question some thought, although she was sure he must have considered it himself while he’d worked on the motor. “Could be we were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Who were they?” She tried to rub dried blood off her hands.
He