Under the Sheik's Protection. C.J. Miller
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had taken.
The lead detective stepped forward. “Sir, this is a police investigation.”
“What’s your badge number?” Saafir asked.
The man straightened. “What?”
“Your badge number. I need to know who to report when I call the chief of police to discuss this matter,” Saafir said. He barely looked at the police officer. His attention seemed fixed on Sarah.
“But—”
“This is my investigation. I take a personal interest when someone tries to kill me and the people under my protection.” He looked Sarah up and down as if including her under that umbrella.
The glimmer of possessiveness in his eyes did crazy things to her stomach.
“Out. Now,” Saafir said.
The police officers did not argue further. They left the room with only their perturbed faces giving away how they felt. Saafir’s guards followed them out.
Sarah was immediately aware of several things. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She desperately needed a shower. Other concerns should be on her mind, like the person who had taken shots at her, but her physical appearance next to Saafir’s crisp and clean one made her feel like moldy green cheese in the deli display case.
Memories of the night they had spent together replayed through her mind. Every time she laid eyes on Saafir, she experienced a fresh wave of lust.
“How are you?” Saafir asked, taking a seat next to her bed. His voice was thick with concern, and many times softer than it had been moments before. He seemed to flinch slightly when he sat. “I’ve been worried about you. It took some coercing to find out where you were inside the hospital. American doctors and nurses are protective of their patients. I consider that good overall, but bad for my personal agenda.”
His personal agenda included her. Her skin prickled in awareness and her pulse beat erratically.
Aside from her friends, Sarah was accustomed to looking out for herself. It felt nice for someone to show interest in her. And the emir wasn’t just someone. He was a busy, important leader of his country with little free time and yet he was in her hospital room, talking to her as if she were most important in his life. “My arm is numb and I think whatever the doctors gave me is affecting my brain, too.” And Saafir was affecting her brain, making her feel overheated and tingly.
Saafir adjusted his chair, bringing them closer. Her temperature rose another few degrees. “Exhaustion and anesthesia will do that. I have to apologize for both of those conditions. Because of me, you didn’t get much sleep this weekend and because of me, you’re in this hospital.”
Blatantly speaking of the night they had spent together. Maybe getting it out would defuse some of the desire simmering inside her. They had already discussed they wouldn’t repeat the encounter, but alone in this room with him, even with her arm in pain, she was thinking about pulling him into bed with her. A hospital bed had interesting possibilities she hadn’t experienced before. “I don’t blame you for my injury.”
His dark eyes darted to her arm and back to her face. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?”
If she wasn’t almost lying down, his question would have floored her. The leader of a country was offering to play nurse to her. Even if it was only for a few minutes, she was pleased.
If he wanted to pamper her, she’d let him. “It’s a little warm in here,” she said.
He immediately walked to the thermostat and adjusted it. With his back to her, she had a few minutes to take him in, from the broad expanse of his shoulders to the trimness of his hips and long length of his legs. She undeniably wanted this man.
“It will take a few minutes to cool down,” he said, turning to face her.
The room. Not her. When he was close, her body ran a dozen degrees too hot. She had to get her lust in check. Owen had agreed to keep her on the contract and not activate the termination clause. Her professional ethics had to stay in place or she risked losing this job. Her attraction to Saafir was an unexpected and unwanted complication, but she could handle it.
She shook off thoughts of having sex with Saafir again. She had drawn a clear line with him and she wouldn’t cross it just because her emotions were out of balance. He had saved her life. He was being kind. That didn’t change the circumstances. She turned the conversation to him, the client. Not lover, not sex god, not client with benefits, just client. “How are you?” she asked, expecting the party line that he was fine.
“I have some pain, but it’s manageable.”
His honesty surprised her. Owen had told her what was at risk if the public learned the emir wasn’t in peak condition. Telling her the truth implied a level of trust between them she wouldn’t have assumed was there.
“How’s Adham?” she asked, thinking of Molly’s quest to learn more about Saafir’s guard.
“Adham is in surgery. He suffered a gunshot wound to the abdomen that might have killed a lesser man. But Adham is a Qamsarian Warrior and he will be fine.”
Sarah heard compassion in his voice and worry below the surface. Sarah had read that Qamsarian Warriors prided themselves on indifference to pain and not allowing injuries to slow them down. Even so, it was clear that Saafir was concerned about his guard. “The police are trying to find who did this. I’m not sure how much help I was. After the shots, my memory is fuzzy.”
Saafir filled in the blanks she was missing: the driver being held at gunpoint by Nibal, Saafir killing him and their race to the hospital to stop her and Adham’s bleeding. “My guards and investigators from my country are looking into the incident. Nibal may have spoken with someone in the past several weeks who might have orchestrated this. I believe those responsible are members of a political party in Qamsar known as the Conservatives, or at least some far-leaning members of the group. Their leader, Rabah Wasam, has made some statements this morning to the press that imply he was involved.” He paused and Sarah wondered if he knew more about the story but was holding it back. “I wanted to speak to you directly, because I brought danger to you and because you were, and perhaps still are, a target.”
“Why would I be a target?” she asked.
Saafir set his hand on hers. “The public has linked us romantically.”
She couldn’t refute it. She had slept with him. Saying “it meant nothing” or “it was over” felt like a lie. “How do you want to handle it?” He must have more experience dealing with the media and the public. She would take her cues from him.
“I insist on providing you protection and security until the men responsible are found and held accountable,” Saafir said.
That wasn’t necessary. Sarah wondered if Saafir had come to her room out of a sense of obligation. For a moment, she had thought he had feelings for her, but Sarah was quick to reconsider. She was terrible at judging a person’s intentions. Her relationship history was marred with disasters. “Owen mentioned he was increasing security for everyone involved in the trade summit. You don’t need to provide anything for me.”
Saafir stiffened. “Again, I insist. You’ve been pushed into the spotlight because of me. The men who want to hurt me won’t stop with just me. They will try to hurt the people I care about.”
A wave of disorientation pounded over her. Again with the implication that he cared about her, but Sarah was reluctant to believe him. “If we don’t see each other again, eventually, people will realize there is nothing between us.” She was giving him an out. If he was acting on his sense of responsibility, he didn’t need to look out for her.
A grave expression crossed Saafir’s face. “The media has already named you as my mistress. If someone thinks they can hurt me by hurting you, they will. I will not allow you to be harmed again.”
When she thought about being close to Saafir, a strange