Sheikh's Surprise Son

by Sophia Lynn

  Sheikh’s Surprise Son

  Desert Kings Book 1

  Sophia Lynn

  Ella Brooke

  Copyright © 2020 by Sophia Lynn & Ella Brooke

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

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  Chapter 1

  The moment Bailey Andress set foot in the village of Ikkar in the small Middle Eastern country of Amil, she knew there was something special about it. It was more than just the pristine white beaches, the way the blue sky arched over the pure waves like the most gorgeous painting ever made. It was more than the colorful markets she explored in the daytime and the food she tried in the walled courtyards of the humble restaurants.

  Instead, it was the peace she could feel settling into her bones the moment she stepped out of the bus that had dropped her off with a handful of travelers. Unlike so many of the other places she had explored in her work, the other passengers were mostly locals rather than backpackers or tourists. Ikkar, with its gorgeous landscape and its beauty, was still off the maps, and she came in with a tingle between her shoulders that she was on to something very exciting.

  Bailey had been in Ikkar a week, and besides a failed pickpocketing and a misunderstanding about the payment at the hostel, she had had an amazing time while she was working.

  Dad's money could really do some good here, she thought late one afternoon. The people here could have jobs that paid way more than anything they have right now; they could really build this place up.

  Amil was one of the more liberal countries in the region, modern in the capital, but here in Ikkar, a woman would still get scowls of disapproval from men and women alike if she went out with her head bare or in shorts. Accordingly, Bailey wore the traditional long tunic and trousers with a matching scarf that neatly covered her red hair. There was no hiding her blue eyes, however, or her pale skin, and she had learned to ignore the speculative looks wherever she went. Amil was known for its safety, and she had never backed down from a challenge in the few years she had been working for her father.

  After a fine dinner of lamb at one of the courtyard restaurants, she turned towards the beach as the sun set, pulling her phone out of her bag.

  Okay, it's late enough to call home…

  It occurred to her, however, as the phone dialed, that she hadn't thought of Boston as home in a long while.

  I wonder where it is now, she thought with a little bit of amusement. I wonder if home is on an airplane now, or maybe in a hostel or on a bus…

  “Andress here,” came the clipped response, and Bailey laughed.

  “Dad, you can see it's my name on the screen, right?”

  “Who has the time to check that?” asked her father, a slight smile coming into his voice. “Good timing, I was just about ready to go out to the club.”

  “You and your club,” Bailey scoffed. There was a part of her that wished her father would drop his habit of cigars and brandy at the club after dinner. “Have you got a minute for me to tell you about what I've found?”

  “Some grubby little place that you want me to rehabilitate, I'm sure,” he said dryly. “Shoot.”

  She laughed, because when it came to location scouting for her father's empire, she had been one of the best for the last few years running. It took patience to do this job and also to put up with Roland Andress's abrasive personality, but she had a great deal of experience, starting from when she was five and their little family had been reduced from three to two.

  As Bailey wound up her summation of what she had found in Ikkar, her father was silent. She could imagine him in the big house in Boston, pacing back and forth in front of the big bay windows, looking at nothing in particular as his brain ground through the details she had given him. He was a careful man, shrewd and tough. His enemies would have called him hard, and Bailey could see where they had gotten the idea. Sometimes, it felt as if she were the only one who saw the occasional bit of softness to her father, the compassion that kept her working for him when most of her classmates had moved on to careers out of their parents' shadows.

  “Sounds like you might be on to something, kiddo,” he said, and she grinned at the rare nickname. “Are you willing to go to the mat for it?”

  A few years ago, she would have hemmed and hawed, because that meant that her father would put all his efforts into her yes. One of the reasons why Andress Ventures did so well was because they ran lean and mean, as Roland said. He was willing to put the company's formidable resources behind her if she said yes, and it had been terrifying when she was just a few years younger.

  Now Bailey looked up and down the beach that she had walked along, out at the first stars coming out over the sea, back to the whisper of the palm trees behind her, and grinned.

  “Yeah,” she said. “One hundred percent, Dad. This is where everyone wants to be.”

  Roland laughed, and she could imagine that grin stretching over his face, so similar to her own.

  “Well, well. Sounds like you're sure. I'll get the ball rolling. You stay put and keep an eye out for anyone who might have the same idea.”

  “Got it.”

  “You have a good eye, kiddo,” he said. “Sounds like you got a good one.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” she said, and she only rolled her eyes when he hung up.

  Honestly, I wouldn't mind a little more atta girl when he's feeling generous, she thought, but she had made her peace with her father's brusqueness years ago. She could have chosen to distance herself from his seemingly cold ways; she could have left home, found a new family and never looked back.

  Instead, Bailey had chosen to love her father, and even if their relationship was far from conventional, she felt she had made the right choice.

  It's just a little lonely sometimes, she thought, staring out over the water, and then she shook her head ruefully.

  It was only the beauty of the place that was making her feel so strange and wistful, she decided. She had long made peace with what she had and what she didn't have, and besides, her father had just said that she was good at her work, at their work. That wasn't nothing.

  I should get back to the hostel, she thought reluctantly. I have some reading about the region I want to do, my Arabic won't study itself, and I know this area gets a little rough when…

  Almost as if in response to her half-formed thoughts, Bailey became aware of rustling in the bushes just beyond her. There were no large animals wandering the area, the people had assured her, and whatever that was, it was large.

  Large enough to be a man, she thought, her eyes narrowing. Large enough to be a few of them.

  Deliberately, Bailey turned her head as if she was only watching the water again, and the rustling started up again, as if relieved she hadn't noticed.

  There was a part of her that wanted to turn around and confront whoever wanted to
stalk her. Chances were good that it was only some local teens out for some fun – a game of scare the foreigner was a common form of entertainment all over the world. However, there was a chance, however small, that whoever was in the bushes was something much more serious, and Bailey liked to play it safe.

  Phone clutched in her hand, she simply sprinted down the beach, the cries that went up behind her outraged and telling her she had guessed right, that there were men behind her.

  Those aren't kids, she thought grimly, and she ran harder, her feet kicking up sand as she went. She was fit, in good shape from her restless roaming lifestyle, but her heart still skipped a beat when she heard the hard pounding footsteps behind her.

  Dammit, go away, just go away!

  She didn't start to get really panicked, however, until she looked up and realized that instead of running towards the village of Ikkar, she was running away, south along the beach instead of north. Instead of running towards the town where she would find help and shelter, she was sprinting along the beach, towards the wilder areas. There were a few homes along this stretch, she knew from her wanderings, but whether any of them would take in a woman on the run was a question that had no certain answer.

  The pursuers were gaining on her, and Bailey felt a trickle of fear run down her spine.

  Why didn't I stay closer to the town? What in the world was I thinking?

  She banished the thoughts as they would not serve her well at all, and instead started glancing left and right as she ran. There was still some distance between her and her pursuers, and she had to use every advantage she had.

  I could cut through the woods, but I don't know where that would take me, and I know there are ravines. I could turn and face them, tell them that my phone has a direct feed of them going right to the cops... I could…

  She paused as the glint of the ocean caught her eye.

  It'll still be warm enough that I wouldn't even be too uncomfortable. There are riptides, but I know how to get out of a riptide. Well, I wasn't planning on going for a swim right now, but what the hell...

  Bailey was just getting ready to lunge for the water, riptides be damned, when her foot caught in a hollow in the sand. There was no way to avoid it – it was practically invisible in the dying light, but she fell forward, all of her momentum throwing her to the ground. The fall stunned her, but she was already twisting around, trying to figure out where her pursuers were, and then suddenly, the sky was blotted out entirely.

  Chapter 2

  Sheikh Adnan Haddid had not meant to ride that far that night. He had intended only to take his mare out as far as the breakwater and then back again as a way of clearing his mind, but something about the bracing sea air, the way Mara took the bit in her teeth and strained towards the sand made him push forward.

  I suppose I had more of my mind to clear than not, he reflected as Mara broke into the long loping gait characteristic of her ancient breed.

  Horsemanship had always been a birthright of his family, but he had taken to it more than his cousins or even his father and his uncle. Being in the saddle put him in a place where the only mastery anyone cared about was what he could exert over his mount, and after a long day arguing with men from all over the world, of trying to keep the peace both home and abroad, it was exhilarating.

  “You want to run tonight, eh, Mara?” he murmured, the wind whipping his face. “All right, pretty. All right, let's see how far you can stretch your legs.”

  He took her farther up the beach, her neck proudly arched and then extended as he gave her her head. Moments like this, Adnan could leave it all behind him, racing with the sea on one hand and Amil on his other. He didn't have to think, he didn't have to be responsible; all that mattered was how he and Mara flowed along the ground like water, like a storm…

  A soft cry cut through the soft sea air like a knife, and Adnan pulled up for a moment in surprise. There were some small wild cats that sounded like crying babies when they were hunting, but a second cry told him that this was no animal. He touched his heels to Mara's flanks and they were off again, this time with more purpose than before. Even Mara seemed to sense the urgency Adnan had heard in that cry, and his mount flew as if she had wings.

  “Come on,” he murmured to her, “Come on...”

  A moment later, they swung around a bend in the trees, and the sight made his blood boil. On the ground was the crouched form of a woman, and advancing on her were two men. There was nothing in their posture or their gait that meant her any good, and with a roar, Adnan urged Mara on. With the grace of a horse that had been trained to march in place and to strike and rear at his command, she circled the prone woman and planted herself firmly between her and the advancing men.

  One of the men, the smarter of the two, took to his heels, but the second one snarled, reaching into his waistband to withdraw a snub-nosed gun. Something clicked in the back of Adnan's mind, trying to categorize the gun, but he was already moving instinctively, launching himself from the back of his horse, swinging himself so he struck the man square in the frame from above.

  The man shouted, the gun went off, and Adnan bore his opponent to the ground, his large hand forcing the gun from his opponent.

  “If you have hurt her,” he growled. “If one hair has been harmed on her head...”

  The man might have been slower than his friend, but apparently enough was enough. Quick as a weasel, he twisted out of Adnan's grip, taking to his heels. There was a moment when every instinct in Adnan's body told him to give chase, to make sure that the man and his friend never did anything like that again, but then he remembered himself.

  That woman is probably frightened out of her mind, especially since the gun went off. I should—

  But before he could even think about what he should do, Adnan found small hands on his shoulders, more strength than he thought they would possess turning him around and helping him sit up.

  “Are you hurt? Are you all right? Did that bullet hit you?”

  Her words were in English, but then they shifted abruptly.

  “Are you ill?” his would-be rescuer asked him in clumsy Arabic. “Do you need a doctor?”

  Adnan started to laugh, shaking his head.

  “No,” he said kindly in English. “No, I do not need a doctor, I do not have the flu—”

  Then his words cut off, and in the very last light of the sun, he looked up into the face of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

  In the struggle, her scarf had fallen off her head, and he could see the fiery gleam of her hair falling over her shoulder in a thick braid. Her features were delicate, fine as china, and he had the idea that she would likely be quite pale if the sun hadn't kissed her skin, giving it a warm and golden glow.

  It was her eyes that caught him though; so blue that the color was clear even in the failing light, large and rimmed with dark eyelashes that gave her an oddly sweet look.

  “Hey,” she said finally. “Say something.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Adnan asked, and then he coughed when he realized that he sounded like a moonstruck teenage boy.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You were on the ground when I came up.”

  “When you came to my rescue, you mean,” she said with a snort. There was a kind of no-nonsense air to her that he liked instantly, and she shook her scarf to get the sand out of it with quick and graceful motions.

  “I'm fine,” she continued. “More a victim of my own clumsiness than anything else. Still, that could have been nasty. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure? No sprains, no bumps or bruises?”

  The gorgeous girl grinned at him ruefully.

  “I really should be asking you that, even if my Arabic is awful. When that gun went off, I thought my heart was going to stop.”

  “I do beg your pardon for that,” Adnan said with a grin. “It was fine though. It was pointed well away from me. I should go into town and give the local police a desc
ription of those two, however. This area has always been safe, and I would like to see it stay that way.”

  The girl hesitated.

  “Should I go and give a description as well?”

  Adnan understood her wince. Throughout the world, women weren't given credence when they reported attacks from men, and she was obviously a foreigner in Amil.

  “If you wish to do so, you should. I will be there, and no one will disbelieve you if I back you up.”

  “Awfully confident, aren't you?” she asked with a slight laugh, and Adnan smiled. It was coming to him slowly that she had no idea who he was, and why should she? He might have been well known in international circles, even commanded some attention in the gossip magazines, but that was in the capital. He was a known presence in the capital of Koli-an, but no one expected to find him the rural areas of the country.

  “I can be. My name is Adnan,” he said. “If you like, I can simply escort you to where you are staying and make sure you are secure for the night.”

  She turned to face him directly, and Adnan was struck by her presence. She was of middling height and slender, but there was a confidence and assertiveness about her that caught his eye. This was a woman who would stand up for herself, who would get the information she needed before she committed.

  “And if I go with you to the police?”

  He raised his eyebrows at that.

  “You'll give your report. You will be believed. Then I shall take you to where you are staying.”

  He tilted his head, looking at her more carefully. There was a kind of recklessness to her, something a little wild. She was daring, and after the brief fight, he wasn't interested in going home to sleep either.