“I think you need to start a radio station.” He shot her a pointed look.
Sam glared at him and snuck a glance at Allan. He’d probably die laughing if he knew Osman had spent the afternoon trying to convince her to live in Ubar.
More static and another station with someone talking more softly. She still couldn’t understand it, though. Arab phrasebooks were useless when everyone spoke an archaic dialect.
The palace was getting closer. Most of the other cars turned off and headed to the left, toward a village of low, stuccoed houses that she could see in the distance. She turned off the radio and stretched.
And that was when the road in front of them exploded.
14
The force of the blast threw their car off the road, and it rolled at least twice before coming to rest on one side. When Sam opened her eyes, she was dangling from her seat belt, with the airbag deflating in front of her. She could hear her blood pounding in her head.
Osman had seen that she was breathing and was already climbing out through the shattered windshield.
She turned to Allan. “Are you okay?” Thank God he was wearing his seat belt.
He hung sideways, stunned, but nodded. “What the hell happened?” He looked as white as a sheet.
“Something blew up right in front of us.” She struggled with the latch on her seat belt. She was on the upper side of the car, hanging in the air, so she braced herself with a foot so that she wouldn’t crash to the opposite side. When she freed herself, she tried to pry the door open, but it must have been crushed closed. “Do you need help getting out?”
“I’m okay. I’ll be bruised as hell tomorrow, though.” He’d already freed himself and was gathering the camera equipment that had flown out of his bag. “Are you alright?” he asked as an afterthought.
“I’m okay.”
Osman reappeared and helped her out. “We have to run for cover.” He helped Allan out, too, and they dashed for the vehicle driving behind them. It was far enough back to be completely untouched by the blast. Osman’s men muttered furiously into their satellite phones, weapons brandished, and made room for Sam and Allan on the rear seats as Osman climbed into the driver’s seat.
She buckled in, grateful she’d done it the first time—and the vehicle took off at speed. It was horrifying to see the smart Mercedes they’d been driving in dented and turned on one side by the road.
It was far worse to see that the car in front of them, carrying two of Osman’s men, had been obliterated and was nothing but a smoldering ruin.
“Oh, no.”
“They’re dead. No one but God can help them.” Osman drove, his expression grim. “And now we know what caused the flash in the mountains. That explosion was the result of a rocket-propelled grenade, fired from a considerable distance.”
“Why would they fire at your guards?”
“I’d imagine that they missed and that they were targeting me.”
The horror of the situation crashed over her in a wave of emotion, and Sam felt tears spring to her eyes. She fought them back. She used to want to be a reporter! They dealt with situations even more horrifying than this.
Osman sped across the desert at about a hundred miles an hour, and all the time she was braced for another explosion to rip apart the road in front of them or behind them…or worse. But nothing happened. Osman’s men sat silently, weapons pointed out the open windows. The silence was so oppressive she could hear herself breathing, could hear all of them breathing.
“We’re almost at the palace.” Osman scanned the horizon.
“Surely they could launch an attack there. It’s a perfect target.”
“It has antimissile defenses. They’re on high alert right now. We’ll be safe there. In fact, we’re entering the guarded zone right now.”
Sam grabbed Allan’s hand and squeezed it for reassurance. His skin was cold as ice. “Are you in shock?” She’d never seen him so pale.
“I’m in some kind of shock, but I don’t think it required medical attention. I wasn’t expecting to be thrust into a war zone.”
“This area’s usually peaceful. The embassy doesn’t have an advisory issued.” She glanced at Osman, whose focus remained intently on the road ahead. “And we didn’t have any idea we’d find ourselves directly in the firing line.”
“Could you please arrange for someone to drive us to the airport tonight?” Allan spoke up in his most authoritative voice. “Not you, obviously. Someone who isn’t under air attack would be preferable.”
“My apologies that your visit to our country has been marred by violence.” Osman spoke softly. “But I’m afraid it won’t be safe to leave the palace again tonight.”
“So you’re keeping us as your prisoners.” Allan scowled.
Osman’s eyes glittered. “Think of it as protective custody.”
Allan seethed silently in the back seat as they drove through the arched opening flanked by flaming torches. Sam heaved a sigh of relief to be out of immediate danger. Osman pulled to a stop in a courtyard and the guards jumped out and ushered Sam and Allan to follow.
Still shaken by the explosion, Sam felt her knees tremble. It had been a long day and promised to be an even longer night. Osman briefed his men on how to handle the wreckage and asked them to bring him the contact information for the two other guards next of kin. When told that they lived in a nearby village, he asked for their addresses so he could visit immediately.
Sam was touched that he cared about the family members of his fallen security guards, especially since he’d only been here a short time himself. Anyone would have understood if he let another member of staff or one of the remaining guards, handle it.
The courtyard swarmed into action. Including their first night, Sam realized she must have seen at least a hundred employees within the heavy stone walls of the palace. A pretty young woman directed them back to their rooms, and Sam climbed into the shower as fast as she could get her clothes off. She couldn’t wait to wash off the tension and drama of the day.
She blow-dried her hair and had just swallowed an aspirin when she heard a knock on the door.
She looked around with some trepidation. It was either Allan or Osman, and she didn’t especially want to see either of them. “Come in.” Her gut clenched when Allan appeared in the door, wet hair falling to his eyes, dressed in clean clothing.
“Didn’t it feel great to have a shower?” She wanted to counter his sullen expression.
“Yeah. Whatever. I just wanted to let you know that the camera is fine and all the footage survived our roll in the car.”
“That’s a relief. I chose that camera partly because it was advertised as indestructible. I didn’t know what this trip would bring, but I knew it would have to at least survive the crude equipment at the local airport on the return voyage.”
She scrambled mentally, trying to appear calm when inside thoughts flew across her brain thick and fast. I think we should get unengaged. I don’t think we should date any more. Can we turn this into a work-only relationship?
Not accustomed to secrecy and subterfuge she would have much preferred to just tackle their relationship issues head on. But she owed it to their funders and to Allan, who needed to remain focused on the shoot, to wait until they wrapped before she blew everything out of the water.
And really, one explosion a day was quite enough.
“So whose bedroom should we sleep in?” Allan looked sheepish and awkward.
Sam swallowed. “We don’t have to. Both our nerves are in shreds.”
“That’s probably all the more reason why we need each other for comfort.” He shoved his hand awkwardly into his hair, and she felt a tug of tenderness for him.
“Let’s just wait and see what the night brings.” She tried to smile. “We still have to make it through another dinner.” She frowned as a nasty thought occurred to her. “I hope Osman is safe while he’s out delivering the bad news.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. F
or all we know, he staged the whole thing to make himself seem important.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
Allan shrugged, and a tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “No. I admit I’m a little jealous when he’s around. The way he looks at you, it’s…”
“Intense. He’s just a very intense guy. I’m sure he looks at everyone like that.” She realized she was speaking too fast. “I’ll be glad to get out of here. Only one more day!” What would Allan think if he knew that Osman had announced that afternoon that he intended to marry her?
Obviously sheikh Osman was a little too accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Unsettled by the prospect of sharing a bed with Allan, she didn’t really want to hang around the bedroom now. “Let’s go explore the palace. I’m sure no one would mind, and how often do you get to set foot in a royal residence? This might be our only chance.”
“I’m game. Let me get the camera.” Allan went back to his room to retrieve it. She was surprised he let it out of his sight even for a moment. He must trust Osman and his staff more than he let on.
Excitement pricked her nerves as they set off along the corridor. A palace with antiaircraft capabilities? There was more to this Thousand and One Nights fantasy than met the eye. And she wouldn’t mind getting a glimpse of the unauthorized version before Osman returned.
“I don’t dare open any of these closed doors,” she whispered. Heavy wood doors stood in each arched doorway. Likely they were bedrooms similar to the ones they’d been given, built to house the king’s large household. The hallway ended with a doubt-height arched doorway decorated with multicolored mosaic tile in intricate patterns.
Through it they could see a garden, laid out on formal lines, with a round fountain in the middle. A long rill—a trickle of water in a narrow stone trough—carried water across the garden to where it filled another round pool. Lush plantings filled rectangular beds, and blooms of pink, yellow and crimson brightened the space below majestic palms.
Allan filmed it silently. The garden was lovely but not exactly unexpected. She led the way alongside the rill and around the second pool of water, which had turned gold in the sunset. The garden continued through another ornamented archway, and in the distance Sam caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman leading a…
“What the heck does that woman have on a leash, Allan?”
He frowned, no doubt hating to get unexpected voice-over while filming. When he looked up, though, she heard him suck through his teeth. “Looks like some kind of big cat.”
“A puma?” The cat was black and huge. The woman hadn’t noticed them and seemed to be lost in thought. Her clothing was very rich—rose-petal pink with gold embroidery—and a blue-and-gold scarf covered her hair.
Sam immediately wondered if she was the king’s recently widowed wife. She looked to be no older than Sam’s age. Curious, Sam stepped through the archway and into the garden. At the sight of her, the young woman startled and hurried away, with her dangerous-looking pet.
“Rats. I’d have loved to talk with her.”
“Careful. She might set Fluffy on you.” Allan shot her a crooked smile. It was nice to see him relax a bit.
“Let’s follow her. I want to see where she goes. I think it’s weird they never talk about her.”
“Maybe they’re just mad because their dad dumped their mom for her.”
She decided not to mention that the three brothers all had different mothers, who had died in order for their father to marry again. It was hardly surprising that they’d harbor resentment, especially since this woman was younger than all of them.
If she was indeed the widow. She might be a cousin or even a sister who no one had bothered to mention.
“Where you going?” A heavily accented male voice made her spin around. She recognized one of the men who’d accompanied them all day. He looked worn and stressed. She was surprised he spoke English, because he’d certainly showed no sign of it until now.
“We thought we’d just stretch our legs before dinner. I hope we’re not causing any trouble.”
“It’s better if you stay in room. Danger is everywhere.” His dark brows lowered. “I take you back.”
Considering that he had a semiautomatic weapon held across his chest, she was in no position to argue.
“I guess this is the protective custody your boyfriend mentioned,” muttered Allan as they walked in front of him.
Sam glared at him. Was he trying to get them into trouble? If this guy spoke idiomatic English he’d be deeply offended by now. With any luck he was limited to basic phrases. “One more day. You can handle it.” She wanted to tell him to be on his best behavior, but decided that might have the opposite effect.
Allan went into his room and closed the door. Probably so he could push some furniture against it. Sam retreated to her room and stretched out on the bed, where she tried to empty her mind of thoughts and meditate. She had very limited success, as thoughts shoved their way in like an unruly Black Friday crowd, but she did eventually fall asleep and was woken from a fitful dream when a knock on the door made her jump.
“Yes?”
“It’s Osman. May I come in?”
“Hold on.” Sam climbed off the bed, pulse rate already accelerating. She opened the door and sucked in a breath at the sight of his imposing presence, grief written across his handsome face. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and she had to admit that affected her.
“Did you meet with the dead men’s relatives?” She’d never had to break terrible news like that, and couldn’t imagine how hard it could be.
He nodded slowly. “One was married, with six children. His widow is inconsolable. The other was a widower himself and his mother bore the news bravely, but I know her sorrow will increase when the reality sinks in.”
She wanted to take him in her arms and give him a hug. But she didn’t. “I’m so sorry that happened. Do you have any leads on the perpetrators?”
“Unfortunately the site where the grenade was launched was so remote my men still haven’t found it. When they do, hopefully they’ll find evidence that will lead us to the perpetrators. I’d be lying if said I didn’t want their blood on my hands.”
He gestured with his powerful hands, then shook his head again. “I’m sorry you should see me so angry. This situation brings out the less civilized man in me. I’d hoped to show you around the palace.”
She wondered if he knew about her impromptu excursion. “Actually Allan and I tried walking through a garden and one of your men sent us back here.”
He frowned. “Really? Who?”
“I think his name is Salman. I assumed it was on your orders.”
“Not at all. Mi casa es su casa, as the Spanish say. I want you to feel completely at home here.” He rubbed his expressive hands through his closely cropped hair. “Would you like to accompany me to the gardens? I need to clear my head.”
“Okay.” It would be cruel to say no when he was under such stress. And she was curious about the mysterious cat lady. She slipped on her sandals and followed him into the hallway.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that terrible scene earlier.” He seemed earnestly shaken. “This kind of violence is so out of character for my country.”
“Maybe you should stay safely here in the palace until they catch the culprits.”
“Hide behind these walls like a coward?” She saw a flash of indignation in his eyes. “I’d rather be dead. We’ll find them and bring them to justice, and until them I will walk about my own land a free man, like any Ubarite should.”
She saw his chest rise with pride and felt an answering swell of sympathy. Osman didn’t seem like a man to back down to threats or bullying, and she admired that.
They reached the grand arch at the end of the hallway and stepped out again into the garden. The sun had almost completely set and flaming torches lit the night like beacons. A thick, rich scent—honeysuckle, maybe?—filled the air, and she i
nhaled deeply, letting it soothe her.
“These gardens were created a thousand years ago. I wonder how many men have meditated to the cool trickle of this water.”
“It’s so lovely. What’s on the other side of the garden?” She pointed to the distant arch they’d never reached before.
“That’s the secret garden.” He smiled mysteriously. “Would you like to see it?”
15
Sam nodded eagerly and they walked through the arch together into a neat orchard. She didn’t recognize all the fruits hanging from many of the trees, but she did see figs and dates, and some tiny limes. The soil in between the trees was silvery raked sand, not the grass she’d expect back home. It seemed to grow darker with every step they took and the rising moon dusted the branches with milky light.
“Why is it secret?”
“It was planted by a great sultan for his third wife. He knew that if the first two wives visited it, they’d be so jealous that they’d try to steal the fruit or poison the trees, so it was kept locked and barricaded to all but the sultan and his new bride.”
“I thought men couldn’t marry more than once in Ubar.”
“Now they can’t. Polygamy was banned about five hundred years ago, though many people—my father included—would certainly have enjoyed it.”
“How would you feel if your father had simply taken another wife when he wanted to?”
His face hardened. “That’s exactly what he did.” He looked at her, and she saw the day’s fresh pain in his eyes. “But if the old ways persisted my mother might still be alive to see me take my own bride.”
Sam gulped. Surely he wasn’t still thinking that she’d be his bride? She suspected the afternoon’s dramatic events had probably pushed thoughts of matrimony from his head.
“I suppose being king gives men the right to do almost anything they want. It must make them hard to manage.”
“Is that so different than a man being CEO of a major corporation? Owning an international conglomerate? All power corrupts.”
“Do you think you’re immune from that?”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 52
