by Lora Leigh
The fight had been as much about possession of Paige as it had been about the possession of Mustafa lands, Abram decided. A possession the Mustafa family would now lose forever. Just as any small amount of control over Paige had been taken as well.
The emissary would arrive any day and find Abram no longer in attendance to take over guardianship of the fortress. An agreement that had existed for more than three hundred years would now come to an end, and for that Abram knew the monarchy would be more than thankful. It was an agreement he knew they had regretted nearly from the inception. From the day they had dealt with the first treacherous Mustafa.
There had been a few over the years who had dreamed of peace rather than war, but they hadn’t been in the majority.
He closed his eyes, unable to stare at Paige knowing that when the transport landed he would have to let her go. That or risk his sanity when he had to face the guilt of losing her.
Until Khalid, no son of Mustafa had ever found happiness in love. And Khalid’s happiness wasn’t yet assured. As long as Azir lived, there could be no assurances, there could be no security. And he was learning Khalid was a far braver man than he.
His brother had found the ability to love, the ability to laugh, and to dream again. Abram hadn’t yet found the courage to consider that step. And he learned the night before that being with Paige would take more from him than just his cock.
That was all he had to give. The sex, the heat, the pleasure of two men at once.
It was a pleasure that he hadn’t given Paige, though he meant to. Once again Azir had managed to royally fuck things up for him.
He stared at her again, remembering the pleasure, the sensations searing him from the inside out.
How tight she was, how sweet and hot. The taste of her on his tongue, the delicious spice exploding against his taste buds and intoxicating him. And he remembered the need—the need to watch her face, to hear her screams of pleasure as both he and Tariq possessed her gorgeous body.
How he’d fantasized about it. How he’d longed for it over the years. To take her as the sweet, responsive lover he knew she could be and to give her every possible second of sensual, sexual excitement that he and Tariq were capable of.
A pleasure none of them could know, despite the furious heat of his cock, throbbing, pounding, aching. His balls drew up tight at the base of his cock at just the thought of fucking her again. Of watching Tariq touch her, taste her, watching her face, seeing her pleasure, catching all the nuances of a woman consumed by the ecstasy he was bringing her, as another fucked her.
He’d had her himself. He’d have to make do. He couldn’t risk her further. He couldn’t risk himself further.
Because losing her would kill him.
Chapter 13
It felt strange to be home. To walk through the door of her apartment and have the familiar scents wash over her, but to find that aura of peace and security to be strangely absent.
She had been kidnapped from her own home and taken from the country she called home.
Unconscious, she had been unable to fight against whatever happened to her. Unable to fight to survive.
The apple-pie scent of the fragrant oils that wafted from the potpourri on her end table teased her sense of smell. The scent of furniture polish, light though it was after nearly a week since her maid service had visited, still added to that sense of cleanliness she had once enjoyed.
The myriad rose, jasmine, and vanilla scents from the unlit candles around the room assured her she was at the one place she had depended upon for safety since moving from her parents’ home.
The luggage she had packed the night of her kidnapping sat in the small living area after being found abandoned at the airport. What her kidnappers hadn’t foreseen was the identification tags inside each bag.
She would have to deal with unpacking it all now, as well as trying to get her job back and her life in order. And at the moment it all seemed an insurmountable task.
“I do not like this,” her father complained, his Greek accent still present even after so many years of living in the U.S.
“Shush,” her mother cautioned him.
“I will not shush,” her father informed her with a husband’s self-righteous anger.
Paige wanted to smile and declare her father paranoid, but she was too frightened that he could be right.
“Pavlos, don’t fuss at her now,” Marilyn Galbraithe chided him. She shot him a tight expression filled with anger and a need for vengeance.
“When should I fuss at her then, my dear?” he asked. “Perhaps after she is kidnapped again? Or should I wait until I am burying my children and wishing I had done more to protect them?” He’d given Khalid the same lecture earlier. To give him credit, he had always claimed Khalid as his own despite the agreement that Khalid would be named by his natural father. The agreement also stated that Khalid would receive periodic visits by a member of the Mustafa family who would help him to learn about his father until he turned eighteen. At that time, Khalid had been required to return to the land his father had stained with so much blood.
Not that the “family” member arrived often. Pavlos Galbraithe had always been very generous in his duties as a host and provided a car, a driver, and credit at most restaurants, clubs, and casinos.
For nearly fifteen years it had worked.
“Our daughter and our son will be protected as well as we can provide,” Marilyn restated. She had made the same claim earlier. “Until then we can only pray for Azir’s early demise.” Both husband and daughter stared at her in shock.
“What, can I not wish the bastard dead and buried?” she questioned harshly, her tone exposing the fear she had been living with for so many years.
“It’s just rare for you to voice it, Mother.” Paige spoke before her more blunt father could do so.
“Your father is well used to hearing me wish that bastard dead,” her mother stated as her face tightened with hatred. “If I could kill him myself then I would do so.” After meeting him, Paige couldn’t say she blamed her mother in the least. Still, she wished the opportunity had presented itself while she had been in Saudi Arabia. For Abram, for Khalid, and for her mother, Paige believed she would have killed him just as easily.
“Marilyn, call and make certain Khalid, Marty, Abram, and Tariq made it to Khalid’s home for the night. You will not rest until you do so.”
Her father shoved his hands into his trouser pockets as her mother nodded quickly and extracted her cell phone from her purse.
Her father continued to watch Paige intently. That look had made her nervous for as long as she could remember. It was a look that assured her that her father was aware of something she may not want him to know about.
Nearing sixty, his gaze still eagle fierce, his body still powerful, and his mind still sharp, he was an imposing businessman, a man none wanted to make an enemy of.
“You’ve allowed Azir to live all these years,” Paige said softly as she met his gaze directly.
“Why?”
His head tilted to the side thoughtfully for long moments before he answered. “Because your mother has known enough pain. If she believed for a moment that I had killed him, then she would be certain my soul was damned and we would not meet in Heaven as she has always claimed. Besides, were he to die, I would be the first suspected of it.” Paige glanced across the room as her mother stepped into the bedroom.
“She will take this opportunity to check your drawers, your closets, and so forth to see how you are conducting any intimate life or a lack thereof,” he commented.
“Tattling on Mother again, Papa?” she asked with a smile as his weathered face eased into a grin.
“She will say nothing to you, but to me she will complain of grandchildren she does not have and a son-in-law you owe her. Then once again she will make her lists of her friends’ sons to introduce you to. And she will stare into the night when she believes I sleep. A
nd she will fear you have lied to us as she lied to her parents when she assured them that Khalid was not a child of her kidnapper’s raping of her. And soon she will cry, certain you lied to us and that Azir raped you.” She could hear the question in his voice, the fear.
“Azir hit me,” she confided, knowing her father had a second sense when it came to her and Khalid’s lies. She wouldn’t lie to him about Azir.
“How hard did he hit you?”
She described the abuse, then paused and watched her father’s face closely as she continued.
“Abram came in and stopped Azir. He had Tariq take me to his suite and I never saw Azir after that.” Thick salt-and-pepper hair was pushed back from his dark face as gray-green eyes held a hint of suspicion.
“I swear, Papa,” she promised him. “If Abram wasn’t with me, then Tariq was. I was perfectly protected.”
Her father nodded slowly, then drew in a deep breath.
“Tariq and Abram often share their lovers as Khalid has,” he said somberly. “Did they seduce you, daughter?”
She saw the worry and the concern in his face as her own flushed in embarrassment. Sex was not a subject she discussed so freely, especially not with her papa.
“They didn’t,” she revealed softly. “But am I so wrong to wish they had?” She saw the surprise, and also the discomfort in her father’s face as he cleared his throat.
“I see.” His voice was lowered in case her mother came into the room, she assumed.
“Do you think I’m bad, Papa?” She loved her parents. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass them or give them cause to feel shame because of her desire for Abram.
“Paige, what could make you ever imagine you are bad simply because you are a woman who deserves what her lover desires?” He gave a hard shake of his head and a hesitant smile. “Perhaps that did not come out as I intended, but I would never believe you bad because you are a woman.”
“Or because I’m in love with Abram Mustafa?” she asked.
He couldn’t hide it, and her father wasn’t a man who would lie to her.
The gray green of his eyes flashed with concern. His expression tightened with what she knew was disapproval and fear.
“That is a bit of a surprise,” he admitted as he raked his fingers through his hair with a hard sigh.
“And does Abram feel the same for you, Paige?”
“No,” she admitted painfully. “Abram isn’t in love with me, Papa. And he doesn’t want to see me again because he’s afraid of the danger he will bring into my life. For him, it’s over.”
“Ah, my little princess,” he whispered, his arms opening to her. She had to swallow tightly to hold back her tears.
She rushed to him. She let him pull her into his embrace. His arms surrounded her, cushioning her against his chest as she fought to hold back her tears.
“He is a fool and a coward to walk away from a woman whose heart is as brave and as courageous as yours.” He kissed the top of her head gently. “Perhaps, Paige, he no longer knows how to love.”
She was saved from replying as her bedroom door opened and her mother stepped into the room.
Paige knew instantly that something was wrong, just as her father did.
“Marilyn.” Pavlos moved to her. Paige followed, her heart suddenly jumping in her throat.
Her mother was shaking and pale, her lips bloodless.
“Marilyn?” Pavlos gripped her arms, staring down at her worriedly. “Love, what has happened?” Marilyn swallowed tightly as she stared up at her husband in fear. “Reaching Khalid was impossible. I finally got Abram to answer his phone.” Her voice turned ragged, and a tear eased from her eyes as she inhaled roughly. “Oh God, Pavlos, they hurt Khalid. They shot him and no one knows how bad it is.”
* * *
It was bad enough. Paige rushed to the hospital with her parents to find Marty, her clothes stained with Khalid’s blood, her eyes dark with fear as she sat with her mother, surrounded by men.
One of those men was the director of the FBI and had at one time been Khalid’s boss.
With her were both Abram and Tariq. They looked as exhausted as she still felt.
“Marilyn, Pavlos.” Zach Jennnings, the FBI director stood to greet her parents.
“Whats going on here, Zach?” Pavlos asked quietly.
“Khalid, Abram, Tariq, Marty, and I were leaving the Justice Department after Abram and Tariq were debriefed. Abram signed the papers disclosing his American citizenship for the past twenty years and his ineligibility and unwillingness to accept the guardianship of the Mustafa lands.” Paige turned and stared at Abram in shock. “What does he mean?” she whispered.
Abram’s expression was closed and tight.
“He means Abram turned in the papers his mother filled out before her death and put in safekeeping for him. When he was twelve he lusted after America. He turned those papers in himself and his relatives from Saudi swore to their validity,” Tariq answered. “He’s been a U.S. citizen since he was twelve, and at eighteen he joined the army. He was secretly trained and sent back to the Mustafa province along with Khalid, to spy on his father and the terrorists moving in.” Abram remained silent, his black gaze holding Paige’s as Tariq spoke.
She remembered teasing him years before about needing to marry an American to be able to leave Saudi forever, and his reply had been, “America would never let the son of a terrorist claim citizenship.” She repeated his words softly as his gaze flickered with icy anger. “You should have told me that didn’t apply to you.”
“It would have served my purpose,” he said. “Don’t you see, Azir will ensure neither Khalid nor I ever enjoy the peace we’ve searched for.”
“Even more than you know.” Zach Jennings stepped to them.
“There are reports Azir, Jafar, and a team of Jafar’s soldiers have stepped into the country. I’m sorry, Ms. Galbraithe,” he said simply. “You’re going to have to return to protective custody until they’re found.”
There was evidently so little that she knew about the man she loved, as well as her brother.
While they waited for Khalid to get out of surgery, her father and Zach Jennings answered her questions while her mother interjected with what she knew.
The Mustafa lands were held differently than any other in the region. Because of a border dispute generations before with Iraq, the Iraqi king at that time negotiated an agreement that as long as the Mustafa family controlled the land, then it would stay within the Saudi border. The Saudi regime couldn’t turn the land over to any other family simply because of a claimed relationship to the Mustafa family, nor could the land ever be mined or in any way profit the monarchy unless a Mustafa male guarded it.
It was said the Iraqi king at that time had a son who carried the name of another man. The arranged marriage between his son, a Mustafa, and the daughter of a sheikh who controlled the land for the Saudi regime prompted this particular settlement.
Each generation, at the age of thirty-six the eldest heir would give his vow to the Saudi king and his emissary to protect the land and to ensure its borders remained a part of Saudi Arabia. The heir must vow to conceive sons to protect it and to ensure no one ever used the province to threaten the regime.
Only in the event that the heir had no sons to take the vow, would the land revert entirely to the throne for the king to decide himself which family or tribe would control it.
Abram was the only Mustafa heir to have had no legal heirs born. He could willingly abdicate the guardianship with no repercussions except those his father was now enacting against him and Khalid in revenge for the deaths of Ayid and Amam, the two youngest sons of Azir Mustafa who had died at Abram and Khalid’s hands.
“He’ll never give up,” Paige whispered. She looked across the room to where Abram and Tariq stood leaning against the wall quietly discussing Khalid’s condition.
As though he couldn’t stand to be around her, h
e’d moved from her, putting the entire width of the private hospital waiting room between them.
“Do they know Jafar was behind it for certain?” she asked.
She wanted to find a way to deny it but there was no way to excuse his actions.
Abram’s gaze suddenly lasered in on her as though he’d heard the question.
“Paige, darling, Jafar isn’t the friend you knew then.” Her mother laid her hand comfortingly against Paige’s arm.
“How do we know that unless we know for certain he gave the order to kill Khalid, Abram, and Tariq?”
