by Donna Young
“Beau.” Sarah smiled. “Beau Mercer MacAlister. He’s adorable. And now that Clare is four, she is a terrific big sister.”
Rashid rushed into the room. “I’d be a better big brother.”
“Ready to say good-night?” Jarek asked, taking the safer route and ignoring Rashid’s boast.
“Yes.” But he surprised those in the room by going to Sarah first and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“You will be here in the morning, right, Sarah?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she answered, then gave him a small squeeze for added reassurance.
Rashid hugged Jarek a moment later. “Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, son.”
Rashid jumped into Quamar’s lap. “Good night, Uncle Quamar.”
“Good night, Your Highness,” Quamar said seriously, only to tickle the little boy a moment later. Rashid rolled off his uncle’s lap in a peel of laughter.
Sarah laughed, hoping that it would be awhile before Rashid lost the playful innocence that came with childhood. At least in that, she had to commend Jarek. He had given his son a tremendous gift by allowing him to be a child.
Something she was sure he’d never had.
“Come on, sport.” Anna took Rashid’s hand. “It’s time for me to put Kadan and Jenna to bed, too. You can help me with Jenna.”
She paused to give Quamar a kiss. “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t hold dessert on my account.”
Quamar chuckled. “You are done being mad, then?”
“No. But we can work that out later. Alone,” she promised, then gave him a slow sexy wink as she walked out of the room with Rashid.
“Mad?” Jarek asked, his frown deepening after watching the interchange between his son and Sarah. Rashid’s obvious affection for Sarah was proving to be a bigger problem than he had anticipated.
“Anna is not happy that we are going out to the plane crash site tomorrow,” Quamar stated. “She believes the Al Asheera might use the opportunity to set a trap for us.”
“You’re going to the site to retrieve Ramon’s body?” Sarah asked.
“We will try,” Quamar responded slowly. “It has been three days since the accident. There will be little left of our friend, but we will bring back what we can.”
“I also want to see if there is any evidence of foul play on Ramon’s part,” Jarek answered. “It might help clear up the matter of the tracking device.”
“I’d like to go,” Sarah stated. “And before you tell me no, Your Majesty, I would like to point out that this directly affects me.”
“No,” Jarek replied, dismissing her argument. “You are still recovering from your injury.”
She glanced at her bandage. “The swelling is almost gone and so is the pain. I’m more than capable of going with you.”
Quamar noticed the hesitancy on Jarek’s part. He also noticed the tension between the couple. Quamar knew his cousin and knew he was struggling for indifference.
“Ramon’s death is not part of your news, Miss Kwong.”
“I agree, Your Majesty. But this is not only about Ramon, it is about the Al Asheera,” Sarah said, firmly.
“They are an issue for my country to deal with,” Jarek answered, but his tone was low, just short of harsh. “The Al Asheera do not need media attention for their treachery.”
“I will not mention them specifically. But I think their involvement will only add public opinion to your commitment to this partnership with America.”
“I think that would be a good idea, Your Majesty,” Quamar stated. “I have enough men. With Bash and Ivan she would be well-protected. And guarded,” he added with a twitch to his lips.
Jarek looked at his cousin, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He understood his cousin well enough to know that something motivated Quamar’s suggestion. He just didn’t know what.
Finally, Jarek nodded, his royalty showing in that one short movement. “All right. I will agree against my better judgment. But you had better follow orders. My orders.”
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Bash and Ivan escorted Sarah to the courtyard where Quamar and Jarek waited.
Like her, both men were dressed in khaki pants and light linen shirts. A set of clothes, she noted, that matched most of the men around her. A uniform of sorts for the desert.
It took them less than an hour to reach the plane by jeep.
Quamar ordered a team of eight soldiers ahead to check out the wreckage.
“Bash, go with King Jarek.” Quamar jumped out of their jeep and followed the men.
“Ivan, stay with Miss Kwong,” Jarek commanded. “And remember my orders.”
Bash shot Ivan a stern look and followed Jarek across the sand.
“What did the king mean? Remember my orders?”
“You’re to be kept at a thirty-meter distance, Miss Sarah.”
“A hundred feet. Why?”
“The king must announce the site safe,” Ivan advised. “Then you’ll be able to join the others.”
“Why did Bash frown at you, Ivan?”
Ivan smiled. “He was warning me to be on my best behavior and to perform my duty. He said I was too exuberant in my conversation with you the other night.” Ivan blushed. “I do apologize, Miss Kwong. I sometimes get carried away.”
Sarah’s lips twitched with humor. “There is no need to apologize—”
Suddenly, Quamar shouted Jarek’s name in warning. Sarah swung around just as explosion hit the air.
Ivan threw himself on Sarah, covering her with his body.
“Jarek!” Sarah gasped his name, fear hit her full force. Without realizing it, Sarah screamed and shoved Ivan off of her.
“Jarek,” she whispered. Another explosion hit near the plane. Fear grabbed at her, clenching her gut while she searched the mayhem of men running in different directions.
Suddenly, Jarek tackled Bash a few yards away. It took a moment to realize that the older soldier’s clothes were on fire. Jarek rolled around with Bash, using the sand to smother the flames.
She was grasped by the arm. “Stay here,” Ivan instructed, swearing.
Quamar ordered two soldiers over to the plane where two men lay unmoving on the ground. Sarah could tell from the blood and broken bodies that both men were dead.
“We need a medic over here!” Jarek yelled the command.
Ignoring Ivan’s order, Sarah raced to Bash’s side. Sand and blood covered the raw burns on his face and arms. Black soot covered his clothes and the rancid scent of smoke and burnt flesh filled the air.
Bash looked up at her, his light brown eyes hazy with pain. He could do little more than gasp for breath.
“Jarek,” Sarah yelled. “Bash needs something to help him breathe.”
“I have it.” Quamar dropped beside Sarah and placed an oxygen mask over the soldier’s mouth. “Bash, the helicopter is on its way. It will be here in a few moments.”
Jarek grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “I want you back in the jeep.”
“No.”
Jarek shook her sharply. “Listen to me. There could be other mines set around here.”
“I’m staying with him.” Sarah’s words came out numb and hoarse. “At least until the helicopter gets here. Please?” Her gaze found Jarek’s through blurred tears. “He wouldn’t have been hurt if I hadn’t insisted on coming.”
“I will stay with her, Your Majesty,” Ivan stated solemnly from behind her. “And Bash. I promise no harm will come to either of them.”
“I don’t want anymore—” Jarek stopped when he noticed the look on the younger man’s face. “All right. Damn it. But watch her well. Do you understand me, Ivan?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Jarek turned to Quamar, who remained near Bash’s side. “How did you know?”
Quamar pointed to the dead bird lying only a few yards away. “When was the last time you have seen a vulture killed by a bullet?”
Swearing, Jarek leaned down and pulled what looked
like a piece of hair from around Bash’s ankle. “Quamar.” He handed it to his cousin.
“This wire is thread thin. A new technique that only an expert would have access to,” Quamar observed, twining the wire around his forefinger. “A specialist did this. Not the Al Asheera. They have no one with this expertise.”
Anger whipped through Jarek’s features, cold fury that chilled his blood. “So they are recruiting from the outside. For that they need money.”
“A neighboring country?”
“Or a private venture,” Jarek added. “Both would want control of the oil. Both could afford backing the AlAsheera.”
“Jarek,” Quamar said, his voice only low enough for his cousin to hear. “The bottom line is that someone knew you were coming to the site.”
“As we suspected. Which is why I didn’t want Sarah here in the first place,” Jarek acknowledged, his tone sharp with anger. “The question is how did they know.”
Quamar scanned the men now fighting to put out the fire. “Or who?”
Chapter Eleven
Sarah stepped into the king’s outer office just as a pendulum clock chimed, marking the top of the four o’clock hour.
The man’s eyes sharpened behind wire-rimmed glasses. He pulled his pocket watch from his suit vest and checked the time.
She sensed irritation shifting through him. He was a tall man, thin with a slight stoop that had become more noticeable in his later years. His features were hawkish in nature. Mostly because of a severely hooked nose than from the long, boney features and the ring of gray around a rather pointed head.
From what she knew about him, after twenty-five years serving the royal family of Taer, few things tended to annoy him. Reporters were one of them. Lack of manners and lack of respect for his country and its traditions were others.
She supposed that in his eyes, she seemed to represent all three.
“Hello, Miss Kwong.” His voice was even, with no hint of his displeasure underlining the tone. “I am Trizal Lamente, His Majesty’s personal secretary.”
“Hello, Mr. Lamente.” Sarah reached to shake hands, only to bite back her own impatience when Trizal refused to acknowledge the gesture. She let her hand drop to her side. “I received a call a few minutes ago. I believe His Majesty is expecting me?”
For the past few hours, she’d paced her room, unable to get permission to see or information regarding Bash.
Anna was out on a scheduled charity committee meeting and Quamar had been holed up with Jarek all afternoon.
Finally a call had come through less than fifteen minutes before by one of Lamente’s assistants, advising Jarek would see Sarah at four o’clock.
“Yes, he is expecting you,” Trizal confirmed. “Follow me, please.”
“Thank you.”
Sarah’s heels tapped lightly on the marble tiled floors of the corridor. She’d worn a new navy blue suit for the meeting. One that Jarek provided. Cut stylish enough to be feminine, but conservative enough to show her professionalism.
They stopped at the end of the hallway in front of a set of mahogany double doors. Lamente gave a short, rather efficient knock.
“Come in.”
The secretary opened the door and gestured Sarah in before him. “Your Majesty, Miss Kwong.”
“Thank you, Trizal.”
The secretary bowed, then shut the door with a firm snap.
“Your Majesty.” Sarah offered a small curtsy. “I don’t think your secretary approves of me.”
“Don’t take it personally, Sarah.” Jarek stood and came around from his desk. “Most times he doesn’t approve of me, either.”
“Nor does he like me.” Quamar grinned. “I am too barbaric.”
“Hello, Quamar.”
“Sarah.” Quamar gave her a big hug. “How are you holding up?”
“Better than Ivan, I think,” she said, referring to the young guard she had left standing outside the offices.
“We would have called you before this, but Bash has been in surgery since he arrived at the hospital,” Jarek stated. “He is now in recovery. The doctor said he did well, considering.”
“When can I see him?”
It was Quamar who answered. “I am going to see Bash now that I’m finished here. I will take you with me, if you’d like.”
“Yes, very much so.”
Jarek leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “Sarah, I must warn you not to use Bash’s accident in your exposé.”
Sarah jerked as if she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I cannot allow you to use Bash’s misfortune as part of your article.”
“Let me get this straight.” Sarah articulated each word slowly, trying to hold on to her temper. “You think I’m going to exploit Bash?”
“Not necessarily. However, I wanted to make sure we understood each other.”
“I understand you perfectly,” Sarah acknowledged with disdain. “It seems to me you’re the one who doesn’t understand, Your Majesty.”
Quamar hid a smile behind a dry cough. “I do not think an interview was your intention, was it, Sarah?”
“No,” Sarah answered tightly. “It wasn’t.”
“Whether I thought it was or not, I still needed to be clear,” Jarek reiterated. “I will not have any of my people publicly humiliated.”
“I think you’ve made yourself crystal clear. No questions from the reporter,” she answered, annoyed. “May I see Bash now?”
Jarek stared at her for a long second. His jaw tightened but he said nothing until he walked back around to his desk. “Quamar, will you please escort Miss Kwong to the infirmary.” He dismissed her by taking up a few papers and hitting the intercom button on his desk. “Trizal, Miss Kwong is leaving. I need you to come in here for a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Sarah took the dismissal for what it was. She curtsied, rather stiffly, then turned on her heel and walked toward the door in quick, angry strides.
“Miss Kwong,” Jarek called out, stopping her mid-stride. “One more thing.”
She faced him, her spine rigid. “Yes?”
“If you would, please give Bash my regards and tell him I will be by later to see him.”
“Later?” Sarah nearly snorted. What could be more important than seeing to the well-being of one of his soldiers?
As if he heard her, Jarek added, “Two other of my soldiers died at the crash site today. Soldiers who had wives, children and parents. I need to speak with the families, let them know of the attack and offer my condolences. It is the priority.”
Startled, Sarah found herself turning back toward Jarek. For the first time, she noticed the pain in the darkest part of his black eyes.
Once again, Jarek surprised her. How can a man be so insensitive one moment, then so compassionate the next? Suddenly, Sarah realized how. Jarek risked being insensitive to her in order to protect Bash. One of his people. Just as he’d said.
“I’ll give Bash your message.”
A long silence settled between them, until Quamar discreetly cleared his throat.
“One more thing,” Jarek added, his voice now huskier. “Your personal things were destroyed in the fire today.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have enough to get me through.”
“You’re going to need clothes for tomorrow. We’re going to the oil field. We need to increase the security there and I’m assuming you would like to take a look around.”
“Yes, I would like to go with you.” Sarah hesitated, unsure of where the offer came from. “It will give me an opportunity to report on the progress of the oil drilling.”
“That was my thought as well. We leave first thing in the morning,” Jarek ordered. “I’ll make sure there are clothes for you in the morning.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Trizal opened the door.
“Are you ready, Sarah?” Quamar asked gently.
“Yes.”
Quamar walked with her outside, leaving Ivan to follow a few steps behind.
“I didn’t realize that this would affect him, too,” Sarah murmured. “I should have.”
“Jarek takes loss, any kind of loss, personally,” Quamar answered solemnly. “It is what a king does, if he is a good king. And believe it or not, Sarah, Jarek is an excellent king.”
SARAH STEPPED OFF the hospital elevator. Antiseptic thickened the air in the corridor, stinging her nose and eyes. They headed down to the hallway to Bash’s room.
“Here.” Quamar stopped at the third door.
Before they entered, Nashemia stepped out.
Startled, the servant looked up. “I’m sorry, mistress. I didn’t see you.”
“It’s all right,” Sarah answered softly. “Are you a friend of Bash’s?”
“Yes,” she said. “He was very kind to me when I first arrived here.”
“How is he?” Quamar asked.
“Resting, Master Al Asadi.” Nashemia’s eyes teared. “Dr. Haddad says that he suffered burns on his chest, back and arms. But that he is lucky.”
“Do not worry, Nashemia.” A man walked up behind the trio, his white hair short and stark against otherwise tanned features. “He will be fine. His recovery will be a long and arduous one, but he will recover and that’s the most important thing.”
“Yes,” Nashemia answered, bobbing her head. “If you all will excuse me, I must get back to the palace.”
“Of course,” Quamar replied. “I’m sure Miss Kwong will keep you informed.”
“Thank you,” she said and hurried down the hallway.
Quamar clasped the doctor on his shoulder. “Sarah, may I introduce you to our royal physician? Dr. Omar Haddad.”
“It is nice to meet you, Miss Kwong,” he said, and shook Sarah’s hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Haddad.” She smiled, liking the older man immediately. “Are you Dr. Sandra Haddad’s father?”
“Yes.”
“She treated my injury the other day,” Sarah commented, seeing the same shape of eyes, the small cleft in the chin that Sandra had inherited. “Of course, her reputation is worldwide. You must be very proud of her work in advanced synthetic viruses.”
