Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2)

by Suzanne Rock

  He winced when she pulled the scarf too tight.

  "Sorry," she said. "I'm not used to doing this."

  "I can tell." When she flashed him a frown, he chuckled. "But I appreciate the effort," he added.

  She returned her attention to the wound. "How did you know of the side entrance?" When he didn't immediately answer, she curled the edges of the scarf around the wound and tied it to the opposite end. "To Black Towers,” she clarified.

  “Doesn’t everyone know it?”

  “I've worked there for about ten months and I didn't know of the exit.”

  "It’s in the evacuation plan."

  “The what?”

  “The evacuation plan. The map above the fire alarm that tells people where to go during an emergency.”

  “You read that?”

  He frowned. “Of course, doesn’t everyone?”

  She chuckled. “No.”

  “Oh.” It seemed a rather fundamental thing, really. All of his life, Nayo had been acutely aware of exits and mentally preparing in case of an emergency. Before he had even entered Black Towers, Taz had instructed him on all hiding places and exits, as well as what to do if they should come under attack. Always knowing the escape routes was a way of life in the Middle East and it boggled his mind that Americans didn’t do the same. Unfortunately, neither one of them ever considered the possibility of Taz getting killed and Nayo going on the run.

  For fifteen years Taz had guarded Nayo with his life. When his father and stepmother forbid him to go to America, saying that it was too dangerous, Taz empathized with Nayo and offered to go with him as his protection. Only Taz knew all about Nayo’s reluctance to marry and his desire to shed the old and outdated traditions of his country. They had similar views on religion, politics, and life in general. Nayo was much closer to Taz than his brother, Jamal, who was becoming more and more set in Muslim extremism every year. While Nayo had become more modernized, Jamal had become more radical. His hatred for the western world and all it stood for ran deep, much to everyone’s dismay.

  Taz had understood and felt Nayo’s pain over the rift that had grown in his family. He was more than a bodyguard. He was a comfort and confidant. Nayo wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do without him. Don’t die on me, Taz. Please.

  Liv stepped back and admired her handiwork. "There." She glanced up at him. "I think it will hold well enough until we can get you to a doctor."

  Nayo blinked back tears and straightened. "I don't need a doctor."

  Suddenly, ominous music came from the store window, where a selection of television sets sat on display. "We have a breaking news story of a bomb threat at the Black Towers down town,” a news anchor said. “Wendy is on the scene with the latest. Wendy?"

  "Hi Frank. I'm standing outside the Black Towers, where thirty minutes ago two men were spotted placing a duffle bag inside of the television studio on the first floor. When security confirmed it was a bomb, they evacuated the building. During the evacuation, two men of Arab descent were spotted fleeing the scene with a female hostage. When law enforcement tried to stop them, they opened fire. It is not clear at this point if the men in the footage and the men fleeing the scene are one in the same, but their actions when confronted by the police have placed them as the top suspects."

  Nayo glanced sideways at Liv, who widened her eyes at the screen.

  “They’re lying,” she said. “We never shot anyone.”

  “Taz might have. I don’t know.” Things had happened so fast, but Nayo wouldn’t put it past Taz to do something crazy like fire at a bunch of armed men in order to give Nayo time to escape.

  “Was anyone hurt?” the anchor, Frank, asked.

  “One of the Arab men was shot and is in critical condition. He en route to the hospital. He will be questioned by police as soon as he is stable. As far as we know, no police officers were hurt in the shooting.”

  "Do we have the identity of the men or the hostage?"

  "Not of the men, but the woman is an employee of Elite! who works in the building. We interviewed her boss, Ms. Carrie Russell, and this is what she had to say. . ."

  The tall woman who had treated Liv so poorly in the foyer was sobbing for the camera and telling the world about Liv’s virtues.

  "Now there is a liar," he said.

  "Her job is to spin words. She's good at what she does." Liv nodded at the television screen. "This is not good, is it?"

  "No." He pressed his lips together in thought. He needed to hide out somewhere and digest what had happened, perhaps plan his next move. A hard thing to do with the entire Los Angeles police force looking for him.

  "I don’t understand. Why would they make assumptions without facts? I thought that they were reporters. You didn’t plant that bomb and you didn't kidnap me." She turned to face him. "Did you?"

  Muttering in Arabic, Nayo pulled out his cell and was relieved to discover that his wound had felt marginally better. Scrolling through his contacts, he settled on a friend he knew had a residence in the area. Somewhere guarded and quiet where he could rest and think.

  Liv took a step back. “Did you?” She glanced around at the empty street. “Oh shit.” She started to run, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  "Hey Cole," he said when his friend, Cole Anderson, picked up the line. "I was wondering, I need a place to crash for a few days. Can I come over?"

  Cole laughed. "Sure thing, although I'm not there right now."

  "Where are you?"

  "I just wrapped up that production at Black Towers for Ethan Black. You know the one I told you about.”

  Yeah, Nayo knew. It was why he had been in Black Towers in the first place. He was searching for Cole so that he could ask him for some advice on his betrothal situation. If anyone knew how to get out of a sticky relationship, it was his buddy Cole. The man flitted around from woman to woman like a bee in flower garden.

  “Well, the production schedule was grueling, so I’m in Europe taking an extended vacation." Feminine laughter could be heard in the background.

  "Leave it to you to hook up with the first woman you find over there."

  Cole laughed. "No, this one came with me." He lowered his voice. "Georgia’s amazing. You have to meet her sometime."

  “Georgia? Not the Georgia.”

  “The one and only.”

  Nayo smiled. Cole had had an obsession with Georgia Evans for as long as he could remember. She was always the one that got away. It was nice to hear that they were back together. At least someone he knew would get a happy ending.

  "I’ll meet her at the first opportunity, I promise. Where can I find the key?"

  "No key, I'll call security and let them know you’re coming."

  "Is there a back way? I don't want to go through security."

  "Why not?"

  Nayo glanced at Liv. If looks could kill, the fiery redhead would be giving him a slow, painful death. "Long story."

  There was a slight pause, and then. "Sure, go around to the back and. . ."

  Liv watched Nayo talk on the phone as uneasiness grew in her belly. She had no idea who this guy was, or who he was talking to. Yes, he was incredibly, sinfully handsome, and that crop of black hair on his head would make any woman swoon, but every sensible nerve in her body was telling her that going any farther with him was a bad idea. She wasn’t afraid of Nayo. No, she didn’t think he would hurt her, if anything she felt protected around him. But this was all getting out of hand. She didn’t understand how it had gotten to this point, a quick flirtation in the lobby that had turned into bomb threats, running from the police and bandaging a bullet wound – all in what felt like a matter of minutes. And she was sure the more time she spent with him, the further down the rabbit hole she would find herself. Was she aiding and abetting and didn’t even know it? But regardless of all this, the past few hours had been the most exciting in her whole life. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn’t deny that she liked the way it felt.

&n
bsp; "We have a place to stay," he said, closing his phone.

  "We should turn ourselves in," she said.

  "Haven't you been listening? They shot Taz. They’d shoot us too if given a chance."

  "Not if we call it in first and let them know we were coming."

  He shook his head. "Maybe for you, but for a guy like me, the authorities shoot first and ask questions later."

  “What do you mean, ‘a guy like you?’?”

  “You’re not serious, are you?” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Look what happened to Taz. Do you want to end up in a hospital?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, then.” They made it a few steps down the street before four large men in blue uniforms came out from the shadows.

  “Hold it right there,” one of them said. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

  “You have it wrong,” Liv said. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “I am Sheikh Nayef ibn Saeed ibn Tariq al-DarziYou have no right—”

  “Relax, buddy. We aren’t arresting you.”

  “Yet,” said the other officer.

  The first cop flashed his buddy an irritated frown. “We’re just bringing you in for questioning.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this. I’m innocent.” Nayo started to move past them, but one of the men drew a gun.

  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

  “Tell you what. Let’s go to the station and straighten all of this out.”

  “Listen to them,” Liv whispered. “I don’t want any more bloodshed.”

  In the end, it was Liv’s words that helped Nayo make is decision. “You’re going to question me like you did Taz?”

  The officer glanced at one of his partner’s. “Who’s Taz?”

  Nayo shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He nodded toward Liv. “And neither is she.”

  “Let me be the judge—” Liv sneezed, drawing the attention of the men. Their guard was down. It was now or never.

  Nayo grabbed her arm and, using the dumpster for cover, dragged her back down the street from which they came. Shouting and gunfire followed them, but it was Liv’s outraged cry that rattled his nerves the most. How was he ever going to make her understand? To Americans, all Arabs were the enemies. Facts didn’t matter. Truth didn’t matter. If he stepped foot inside that precinct, he was as good as dead.

  Chapter 3

  As ridiculous as it sounded, Liv felt as if she was in the middle of her favorite television show. In season three of Cops after Dark, a dark, handsome villain had taken the hero’s girlfriend hostage. During the time she was a hostage, she had fallen in love with her captor, who had treated her very well. When the hero finally freed her, she dumped him and worked hard to free her new love.

  Liv had always secretly wished that she was that girl. She didn’t have a boyfriend, but the thought of being captured and taken to some remote place, forced to do her captor’s bidding, made her panties damp. She figured it must be because deep down, she wanted a man’s man. An alpha. A man who would take without asking, but give her everything she needed in return. This was why she had all but given up on dating. She had grown tired of dating men who expected her to take charge; they were weak and couldn’t give her what she wanted. She wondered if Nayo would take her to some remote place and have his way with her. If he did, how would she react?

  After a quick glance down at his tight, firm ass, she knew exactly how she’d react. Just imagining those hips between her thighs was causing a flutter in her lower abdomen.

  “Why are you in such a rush? We lost them.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before they find us again. In here.”

  “Where are you taking me?” She looked up at the sign. It read “Annie’s Thrift Shop.”

  “We need some new clothes. Now act natural.” They made their way through the brightly colored racks of clothes. “What size are you?” he whispered.

  “That’s a rather rude question, don’t you think?”

  He frowned and grabbed something off the rack. “Here, try this on.”

  “There’s no changing rooms.”

  “In the back.” He grabbed something for himself. “Come with me.”

  The changing room was a single unisex room with a locked door. Along one wall was a mirror and underneath the mirror was a counter. Hooks lined the second wall for clothes and a ratty brown couch sat up next to the wall of the third.

  He guided her inside and shut the door behind them. “Take off your clothes.”

  “What?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she thought about her favorite episode.

  “You heard me, take off your clothes.” He removed the scarf around his arm, then took off his suit jacket and shirt.

  “How is your wound?” she asked, trying to take her mind off the fact that this gorgeous man was stripping in front of her.

  “The bleeding is stopped, see?” He showed her his large bicep and ran his finger over the line there. “It’s fine, just like I told you.”

  “Good.” She swallowed hard as she took in the ripple of muscle over his arm and shoulder. The man must have worked out, and it was a damn shame that all of that sexiness had been covered up by a suit.

  “Now strip. We don’t have much time.” He continued to take off his clothes, tossing his shoes, socks, and dress pants onto the floor.

  “Well?” he asked.

  The man stood there in front of her, this proud Arabian Sheikh, wearing nothing but his designer boxers. They were the fitted kind, coming just below the butt and leaving nothing to the imagination.

  “Are you. . . I mean. . .” She swallowed as his cock seemed to thicken before her eyes.

  “Am I what?” he asked, closing the distance between them. He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head to meet her gaze. “Am I what?”

  Her breath caught as she stared at the golden flecks in his eyes. She had seen them before, first in the foyer of Black Towers, and then again in the alley as she was bandaging his arm. Each time she thought how it was such a contradiction – the warmth of the golden in his eyes didn’t match the intense, dark stare he seemed to always have when he looked at her. It made her knees weak. “Are you going to have your way with me?”

  “I don’t believe I’m familiar with the term.” He moistened his lips with his tongue. If you need help, I think something can be arranged."

  "I can do it myself."

  "Are you sure?" He slid his finger over her sides. "Because I'd be more than happy to help."

  Before she could respond, he tugged her shirt out of her skirt and slid his fingers underneath. Liv gasped at the feel of skin-on-skin, and Nayo used it to his advantage. Leaning forward, he invaded her mouth, filling her with his heady taste. As tingles spread out over her skin, she tilted her head and focused on kissing him back. He made a low, throaty growl as she ran her fingers up over his chest. He had a light dusting of hair, just enough to let her know that he was a man, not a boy. She slid her fingers through it and then wrapped her arms around her neck.

  "Olivia." Her name sounded so sexy with his accent. She groaned and inched closer, pressing her hips against his. He inched his hands up her sides, caressing her skin with his fingertips. With a flick of the wrist, he undid her bra. He paused just a moment, those dark eyes drinking in her face. He looked at her as though he wanted to devour her.

  "Is there something wrong?"

  "No, quite the opposite." Reaching up, he unpinned her hair and then lifted her shirt and bra off her body.

  "Amazing," he said as he tossed the clothes to the floor.

  "You like?” She asked, wishing she had his confidence. He nodded. "They're perfect. Now take off your skirt."

  She shivered at his commanding voice and moved to do as he asked. When her skirt landed in the pile, she started to take off her shoes.

  "No, leave them on." He stepped forward and hooked his finger under her panties. "But this you can remove."
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br />   She held his gaze as she slid the thin, cotton fabric from her body.

  "Good," he said as she kicked it to the side. "Now hold your hands out to the sides."

  "Why?"

  "I want to see your figure and I can't with you hugging your middle like that."

  "Oh." She pulled her hands away from her breasts and held them out to the sides.

  "Higher."

  She frowned, but did as he asked.

  "Above your head."

  She noticed that his cock was getting thicker with each command. Excitement rippled through her as she obeyed him.

  "Good, now turn around."

  "Turn around?"

  He twisted his lips into a half-smile. "I want to see you."

  She started to lower her hands.

  "No, keep them in the air."

  She felt it was an odd request, but there was a part of her that wanted to obey. No, it needed to obey. Every time she did something he asked, a fluttering happened in her lower abdomen.

  "Do you have a problem?"

  "No."

  "Then. . ." He made a turning motion with his finger.

  She hesitated, then turned slowly in a circle. As she moved, she realized that every imperfection was open for his assessment. Every flaw and blemish his to critique. As seconds passed, she felt more and more uncomfortable.

  "Stop," he commanded.

  She stilled her muscles and glanced over her shoulder.

  "Look straight ahead."

  She jerked her chin back around front and started to lower her hands.

  "Keep them up." She felt his hands guide her arms back up over her head until they stretched straight above her. When they were finally positioned the way he wanted, he dragged his fingertips back down over her skin, heading toward her shoulder. Her skin heated under his touch, and anticipation crackled through the air. She wanted to ask what he was doing, what he was examining, but sensed that he didn't want her to speak.