Captive of the Desert King

by Donna Young

  “If you need anything, just ring.” The servant nodded toward the cordless phone on a nearby desk, then turned toward Anna. “Shall I draw a bath for Miss Sarah before I put her clothes away?”

  “No, not yet I think. Maybe in an hour or so.” Anna inclined her head. “Thank you, Nashemia.”

  “You are welcome.” The woman bowed slightly, then excused herself.

  Anna sat down on the settee. Conscious of Sarah’s injury, she pointed toward the refreshments. “May I?”

  “Yes, please.” Sarah took her seat on the chair across from Anna.

  “You have a kind heart.” Anna picked up the teapot and filled the two cups. “And you’ve impressed Rashid. He told me about the scorpion and how you saved him from falling. By the time he was done, the scorpion was the size of a tiger and had fangs as well.”

  “He wasn’t exaggerating. I’ve never seen a bigger bug in my life.” Sarah smothered a chuckle. “The whole experience gave me more than a few gray hairs.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I’ll let you in on a secret,” Anna whispered, conspiratorially. She handed Sarah her tea. “Quamar’s fear of bugs is the reason he has no hair.”

  Sarah chuckled, almost jostling her cup. The reaction spurred both women into laughter.

  After a few moments, they calmed down enough to sip their tea.

  “I think Ramon’s death is the only reason why Jarek has not punished Rashid for riding Ping out into the desert,” Anna said, sobering.

  “I think he’s learned his lesson,” Sarah suggested, remembering the cliff. “He’s a brave little boy.”

  “You understand him,” Anna stated, then decided to go with her instincts. “And, I believe, have grown to love him.”

  “Yes,” Sarah answered truthfully. “I think from the first moment he looked at me with those soulful eyes and that baby face.”

  Anna nodded, understanding. “Sarah, do you want me to notify your family about your injuries?”

  “No. The worst is over,” Sarah explained. “It would only add to an already growing list of worries for them.”

  “Because of your job?”

  “Mostly,” Sarah replied. “Both my parents and older sister lead a calm existence. Not that I suffered because of it. Both my parents are loving, supportive, well-educated. I had your typical all-American childhood. The white picket fence, the swing set and tree house. No hidden skeletons. No drama.”

  “And journalism offered you a chance to change that,” Anna reasoned over the rim of her tea. “A little excitement, in an otherwise normal life?”

  Surprised, Sarah had never considered that before. “Maybe.”

  “Are you up for dinner tonight?” Anna asked, changing the subject. “Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”

  “No.” She glanced around. “I think I’d like to get out and explore a little.”

  “That might be more difficult than you think.” Anna finished her tea and placed the cup back on the tray. “You have two guards outside, ready to accompany you wherever you need to go.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Guards?”

  “Think of them as escorts,” Anna suggested. “It might help.”

  “I thought he was just threatening me. I had no idea he would go through with it.”

  “Go through with what?”

  “Keeping me prisoner.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dressed in white cotton slacks and a matching sleeveless blouse, Sarah opened her bedroom door.

  Two soldiers immediately straightened to attention.

  “Hello, gentlemen.”

  The older of the two, a man in his early fifties, inclined his head. “Hello, Miss Kwong. My name is Bash.”

  “Hello, Bash.”

  Bash nodded to the younger man, one closer to Sarah’s own age, next to him. “This is Ivan. We will be your escorts during your stay here in Taer.”

  “You mean you are my guards.” She smiled at the young man, immediately liking his warm brown eyes. And the fact that he tried not to smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivan.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “I was hoping to take a walk through the garden,” Sarah explained. “I’ve seen it from my balcony and it looks absolutely beautiful.”

  Bash pointed down the hallway. “The stairs are at the end of this corridor.”

  “I admired your work on that biochemical incident in Las Vegas a few years ago, Miss Kwong,” Ivan admitted as they walked toward the main staircase.

  “Thank you, Ivan.”

  Bash cleared his throat to catch the younger man’s attention, then shook his head.

  “I didn’t mean your work on the biochemical. I meant I’ve seen your news broadcast.” Ivan nearly stumbled on the stairs. “Many of them. If they are big enough news stories, that is…we get to see them here on television.”

  Sarah saw Bash roll his eyes. She cleared her throat to smother a small laugh.

  “I appreciate that, Ivan. Thank you again,” Sarah replied. “Hopefully, my story on your king will make the news over here, too.”

  “I think that would be wonderful,” Ivan replied, his face beaming.

  “As we all do.” Quamar approached them at the bottom of the stairs. He gave the two guards a quick nod.

  “Good day, Sarah.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then offered his arm. “May I?”

  “Certainly,” Sarah responded as she placed her hand through the crook of his elbow and followed through the terrace door.

  “I’m glad to see you up and about, Sarah.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  They strolled through the patio, down the stairs and out to the garden. Sarah and Quamar caught Jarek scowling from his office balcony.

  “Jarek looks angry,” she commented following Quamar’s gaze. “Did I do something again, without realizing?”

  “No.” Quamar chuckled. “I imagine he is thinking about the Al Asheera. Normally, Jarek has many things on his mind but with the rise of the Al Asheera, he has put most everything else aside.”

  “Including my interview.”

  “It’s quite possible. He hasn’t made a decision on your meeting yet.”

  “Maybe as his personal advisor, you can help me with some preliminary information, Quamar.”

  “Such as?”

  “You could give me more insight to the AlAsheera,” Sarah suggested. “I know they are a renegade group. The news reports from years ago stated that they overran the palace and killed Jarek’s wife, Saree, and your uncle, Hassan Al Asadi.”

  Quamar steered her down one of the main paths and into the courtyard. “That is correct. They also killed Hassan’s son, Zahid.”

  “All before you and Jarek were able to overtake them,” Sarah added. “You saved Anna, didn’t you? And Rashid?”

  “You have done your research.”

  They stopped at a nearby olive tree. The shade gave them a brief respite from the hot sun. Sarah leaned up against its trunk.

  She’d traveled throughout the Middle Eastern world. Turkey, Jordan and many similar countries. But none moved her more than Taer.

  From her position she could see most of the palace. It rose from the rolling plains of the Sahara, boasting long lines of archways and columns that stood stoic for hundreds of years against golden crested towers.

  How much would the technology—the oil production—tarnish the luster of the country?

  “What I’ve learned is documented, public knowledge. And it is all I could find out,” Sarah acknowledged. “And I’m really good at finding out things. There are gaps. Huge gaps. But everywhere I turn, I hit wall after wall on the attempted rebellion. Why is that, Quamar?”

  “Maybe there is not much to tell?”

  “Or maybe there is something to hide,” Sarah deduced. When Quamar didn’t answer, she tried a different tactic. “Your king does not strike me as a pushover. Somehow, someone got the best of him in o
rder to get that close to his family.”

  “Many of the guards had been bribed by the rebels.”

  “Who leads the Al Asheera?”

  “We do not know at this time. Their previous leader was killed during the attempted coup five years ago.”

  “Who was that?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “You cannot or will not?”

  “I will not,” Quamar admitted. “That is Jarek’s decision to tell you.”

  “Why? Was this person important?”

  “A traitor is a traitor. Who they were before that is insignificant.”

  “But it would explain how they got close to Jarek’s family.” Sarah thought for a moment. “He’s concerned there is another traitor within your walls isn’t he? And he suspects it is me. Although the fact that I’d risk my own life in a plane crash to kill him is crazy.”

  “Crazy is always a concern when you are dealing with terrorists,” Quamar commented. “But I do not believe Jarek considers you a threat, Sarah. However, the tracking device he discovered in your purse has us both puzzled.”

  “Me, too,” she confessed. “I couldn’t even begin to pinpoint a possible moment someone slipped it into my purse.”

  “If that’s the case and you had nothing to do with the tracking, you also could have been a target.”

  “Or more likely a decoy,” she responded. “Targeting me to be killed serves no purpose.”

  Started, Quamar looked at her. “It is not you. It is what you represent. You are American.”

  “So is Anna.”

  “No. Anna is Al Asadi now.”

  Sarah smiled at the possessive tone. “I stand corrected.”

  “There are still many people in Taer opposed to our relationship with your country, Sarah,” Quamar explained. “What has kept us in balance is the friendship between our king and your president. And the respect that our people hold for Jarek. If something happens, such as your death, President Mercer and my king would have a hard time keeping the balance. The outrage of your country would force us to defend ours.”

  “But I am just another journalist.”

  “You are also Lara MacAlister’s friend. She is the daughter of the President. You’ve come here on the recommendation of the President.”

  “I didn’t get this job because of Lara,” Sarah defended once again.

  “Whether you did or did not, is not important. What is important is the perception of friendship. That and the fact you have a reputation of being tough, but fair. If you are successful, it would put their public relations in a far better light. I think the risk is worth the reward.” Quamar paused, letting his words sink in. “Your death would make a statement. Especially now. Once you saved Rashid, you became Taer’s heroine. Now two nations would mourn your death.”

  “And if I were proved a traitor to your king?”

  “Disastrous.”

  “The president told me this assignment would be difficult,” she acknowledged. “But never dangerous.”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  “No.” She came for more than a story. She came for answers. Private answers that only Jarek could give her. Diplomatic agreement or not.

  “He isn’t an emotional man, your king,” Sarah noted, making sure she nodded in Jarek’s direction so he knew they were talking about him. If he asked her later, it would be her opening for a personal conversation.

  “When you are king, you are not allowed to be.”

  “Yet he blames himself for the death of his wife, doesn’t he?” Sarah pushed.

  “A personal question?”

  “It is. But not for my exposé. Just for my curiosity.”

  “You will have to ask him,” Quamar stated solemnly. He started them back toward the palace. “Only he can say what is in his heart.”

  “Oh, I will,” she promised. “But first, I need to find out if he has a heart.”

  Chapter Ten

  That night, Jarek surprised Sarah by meeting her at the bottom of the stairs for dinner. He’d shed the last two days in the desert easily enough. As a snake would its skin, she thought with more than a little resentment.

  His trimly tailored, gray Armani suit was a far cry from the sweat-darkened shirt and dirt-stained riding pants. Grudgingly, she admitted, he wore them both well.

  “Your Majesty,” Sarah greeted him with a deep curtsy. A custom that struck her strange, considering the last few days.

  “Miss Kwong.” Jarek took her hand as she straightened and brought her fingers to his lips. “That must have been painful,” he murmured.

  “You have no idea,” she responded, tugging her hand free.

  “Is it your arm?” Anna asked, her brow knitted with concern. She wore a sapphire-blue dress that accented the short bob of blond hair and her baby blue eyes.

  The dress’s sweetheart neckline and snug fit showed off her feminine curves and shapely legs to perfection, making Sarah more than a little self-conscious over her somewhat boyish figure.

  “Maybe you should have stayed in your bed one more day, Sarah,” Anna suggested.

  “I’m fine.” Sarah smiled reassuringly, ignoring Jarek’s raised eyebrow. “And dinner with you is just what the doctor ordered.”

  Quamar took Anna’s elbow and led her through the dining room doors, while Jarek offered his arm to Sarah.

  Reluctantly, she accepted, slipping her uninjured hand over his forearm. But the disdain was there, if only in the rigid nod of her head.

  “Sarah, Ian MacAlister told me once that you were the last person he ever expected his wife, Lara, to be friends with,” Anna commented, while the servants served the first course of shrimp almandine.

  The dinner table had been set for the adults only. At first Sarah wondered if it was because of Jarek’s order to keep distance between Rashid and her. But Ivan explained that normally Jarek, Quamar and Anna dined with the children earlier in the evening, whenever possible, to avoid conflict with bedtimes. Tonight the children dined in their quarters.

  “Yes, I suppose he would say that.” Sarah chuckled, not at all offended. It actually felt good to laugh, she had done very little in such a long time. “And honestly, I would have to agree with him. Lara gets the credit for our friendship.”

  “How so?” Jarek asked the question, but his face remained expressionless. Sarah couldn’t decide if his interest was piqued or he was just being polite.

  She wore a simple silk dress, the color of burgundy wine. The silk dipped and flowed from a haltered neckline to a slightly flared skirt at her hips. Her hair had been brushed and left in a long, straight curtain between bare shoulder blades. Like in the desert, she wore no earrings, only the jade pendant that now hung low between her breasts.

  “I actually was a newspaper reporter at the time I met Lara. We crossed paths in the public bathroom at one of the casinos on the Las Vegas strip. I recognized her instantly. Her father was the vice president under your father, President Cambridge, Anna. Lara had become somewhat of a celebrity during that time.”

  “And she didn’t know you were a reporter?” Anna asked, obviously enjoying the story.

  “No, she didn’t. I wasn’t quite as recognizable at the time.”

  “So then what happened?” Anna asked the question before biting into a buttered roll.

  “I happened to be changing my niece’s diaper at the time and struck up a conversation about children. At one point, she admitted to me she was pregnant. Of course, she didn’t tell me who the father was, but rumors were already circulating about her and Ian MacAlister.”

  “And you reported it?” The disbelief in Anna’s tone made Sarah laugh.

  “Oh, yes. It made the headline news,” Sarah explained. “The next time I saw her was the day after the story broke. I thought for sure she would punch me in the face.”

  “Did she?” It was Quamar who asked.

  “No, but I think she was tempted if only for a second or two. After all, I had a microphone in her fac
e at the time she realized I was a reporter.”

  “What did she do?” Jarek prompted, intrigued in spite of himself.

  “She laughed and told me to look her up in a month for an exclusive interview.” Sarah thought for a moment. “I think it was the only time in my life I’d ever been flabbergasted. From that moment, we were destined to be friends, I think.”

  “So did you follow up with her?”

  “No, actually.” Sarah placed her fork down on the table and wiped her fingers on her napkin.

  “Later that day I found out about a biochemical terrorist plot to take down half the city of Las Vegas. I covered the story. That, combined with Lara’s pregnancy, put me on track for national news. The rest is history.”

  “I was there,” Quamar said quietly. “A government agent turned traitor. Lara was shot in the stomach by his son.”

  “Yes. But thankfully the baby wasn’t harmed.” Jarek noted that Sarah quit eating and instead rested her hands in her lap. He summarized that she didn’t want to ruin dinner by drawing attention once again to her injury. She’d lost weight in the desert, at least five pounds in his estimate. She couldn’t afford to lose more. He made a mental note to have some food sent up to her room later in the evening.

  “I never reported that part of the events. It had become too personal at that point, I guess. I found myself visiting her while she recovered and we became friends.”

  “Lara affects many people that way, I think.” Quamar winked.

  Sarah grinned before turning to Anne. “She told me your families have grown closer over the years.”

  “Yes, with United States presidents for fathers, you tend to share similar life experiences,” Anna replied easily enough.

  Sarah understood that life hadn’t been that easy for Anna Cambridge-Al Asadi. Several years before, Anna’s younger brother and grandmother had been killed by an assassin during a plot to kill her father. Sarah knew that somehow the MacAlister family had played a role in helping Anna through the loss she’d suffered.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing Lara and Ian’s new baby when we visit in a few days,” Anna exclaimed.