by Kristi Gold
She was wrong. So wrong. When Ben pushed open the apartment door and she saw her upturned couch, her shattered floor lamp, her kitchen drawers tossed aside like yesterday’s garbage, shock wasn’t even close to what she felt.
“Don’t move,” Ben hissed, causing her knees to lock in place like the Tin Man without his oilcan.
He put up a hand, a silent command for her to wait on the threshold while he investigated. Blinding fear caused her temples to throb and her body to tremble. Not fear for herself. Fear for Ben. What if someone waited for him? What if several intruders ambushed him?
Jamie tried to convince herself that he would be fine. He had military training. But as far as she knew, he was unarmed.
A shaky breath of relief seeped out when Ben returned to the living room, all in one piece, and gestured her inside. “He is gone.”
Moving forward on rubber legs, she took in the sight of her ransacked apartment. Nothing had been left in its place. Not one magazine, not one knickknack. Almost everything had been either destroyed or tossed aside, including much of Jamie’s heart when she noticed her grandmother’s porcelain angels in pieces scattered about their curio-cabinet home. Keepsakes passed on to Jamie’s mother, then Jamie, and intended eventually to be passed down to Jamie’s child. A symbolic death of a dream. Jamie’s dream.
“Oh…no…not….” She bent to survey the horrible debris. How could anyone be so heartless? Why would anyone want to do this to her? What had she done to them to deserve such cruelty?
She fought back angry tears. Fought back sadness and frustration and a total feeling of helplessness.
“Jamie.”
At first she didn’t realize it was Ben standing over her, Ben calling her name. Then gentle fingertips circled her arms and lifted her up. Up into his strong embrace, his protective arms. He soothed her with words, some spoken in his native tongue, a language she didn’t understand, but they made her feel safe.
Jamie clung to him, letting the tears come, unheeded, unwanted. She pressed her face into the fine silk of his robes, allowing his comfort. But only for a moment.
Pushing out of his arms, she let anger take the place of tears. “Damn whoever did this. Damn him to hell and back!”
Ben’s dark serious expression stopped her ranting cold. “Did anyone give you anything when you were on the plane?”
Her mind was a muddled mess. As trashed as her apartment. So why was he asking about the plane? “What do you mean?”
“Were you given anything? An envelope? A package? Anything at all?”
“No.”
“What about your luggage?”
“Destroyed in the fire. Every last shred of it.”
He dropped his arms from around her and paced the room. “Did you have a bag with you that you carried off?”
“No. I had nothing with me but my mother’s wedding dress.”
Ben’s gaze snapped back to her. “Did you have it with you at all times?”
“Yes. I was holding it when the plane made the emergency landing.”
He walked back to her. “Was it out of your possession at any time?”
Why was he so interested in all these things? “I don’t understand why you’re asking me this.”
Ben shook his head and paced some more, as if his thoughts only came if he kept moving. “There is something missing. Something we believe the man who did this is looking for. He thinks you have it.”
Jamie stomped her foot, frustration replacing her grief over the break-in. “What is this something? Maybe if I knew, then I’d know if I have it.”
“I cannot tell you. And if you had it, you would know.”
Jamie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know you spoke in riddles, too.” She hugged her arms to herself, hating all the secrecy. Her father was a master at secrecy.
Ben stopped his pacing and faced her again. “I am sorry I cannot tell you more.”
“Sorry?” She clamped her mouth shut against the oath threatening to spill out. “This is crazy. I’m just a good ol’ Texas girl who made the stupid mistake of letting her father manipulate her into a marriage. All of a sudden, I’m thrust into some crazy scheme about some missing something and now I’ve got a target on my back.”
“I will make certain he does not harm you.”
The whole concept was so ludicrous, Jamie wanted to laugh. “You and who else?”
He seemed unaffected by her near hysteria, or her sarcasm. “If you would like to retrieve some clothes to take with you, I will escort you to your bedroom, then we must leave here. You may also bring your fish if you would like.”
She would like to add foolish to frustrated since she’d been both. Not to mention frightened. Might as well tell Prince Ben the truth, even if he wasn’t willing to do the same. “I don’t have any fish. I made that up so you’d bring me back here. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Ben smiled. A knock-your-feet-out-from-under-you grin. “Well, Miss Morris, you are very creative.”
Darn him! Jamie couldn’t help but smile back, although what she really wanted was to sit down on the floor, throw a tantrum and have a good cry. If there was such a thing as a good cry. Instead, she chose to look on the bright side. If Ben hadn’t come to her rescue the other day, then this could have happened while she was in the apartment, alone. She might have been hurt again, or worse. And now he was offering to keep her safe and give her a place to live until… Until what? Would she ever really be safe again?
She couldn’t worry about that now. She’d consider that later. Right now she wanted to grab some clothes and get out of here before the robber came back to finish the job, meaning finish her.
“Okay, let’s go find some clothes.” She stopped at her bedroom door, but didn’t turn around. “And I really like it better when you call me Jamie.”
“All right then…Jamie.”
Pleasant chills coursed up Jamie’s spine when he said her name. She sensed his closeness, felt his heat even though he remained a step behind her. And she wondered if being with Sheikh Ben Rassad was such a terrible thing after all.
In the back conference room of the well-appointed Texas Cattleman’s Club, Ben affected attentiveness while listening to his fellow members discuss the recent events. In reality, impatience rushed through him as his thoughts turned to Jamie. He needed to get back to her immediately. Although he had put his workers on alert and posted a guard at the door, he would not feel at ease until he was with her again, seeing to her safety himself.
“Is that right, Ben?”
Ben’s gaze snapped to Justin Webb when he realized the doctor was addressing him. “I am sorry. What were you asking?”
“The color of the car. Was it white?”
With a sigh, Ben leaned back in the chair. They had been through this before. “Yes. It was white.”
“Winona did some checking for me,” Justin said, referring to his wife who was also a police officer. “According to her, a white car was stolen from the hospital lot, the day Jamie was almost run down, so it’s a safe bet Klimt was driving. They found the car abandoned right outside town, but we’re pretty sure he wasn’t strong enough to get too far on foot because of his injuries. He’s still around here, somewhere.”
Ben straightened again, thankful Justin’s wife continued to keep them informed. “Yes, there has been no doubt in my mind from the beginning that Klimt drove the car and that he is still a threat to Miss Morris.”
Aaron Black sat forward. Ben noted the diplomat’s concerned expression and knew more questions about Jamie were forthcoming. “Have you asked her about the diamond?”
“Not specifically, since I believe the fewer who know about the diamond, the better. I have asked if she was given anything before boarding the plane. She says no.”
Dakota Lewis frowned. “And she is absolutely sure, beyond a doubt?”
Normally the comment would not have bothered Ben. Lewis was retired from the United States Air Force, traine
d in the art of interrogation. Yet the need to defend Jamie burst forth and Ben could no longer control it. “Of course, I believe her. She has been through much. I do not care to upset her further by asking again and again.”
Justin raised both hands, palms forward. “Whoa, Ben. We’re not saying you should harass the woman. We just want to be sure she’s not forgotten anything.”
“She has not forgotten.”
Matt Walker, Ben’s neighbor and closest friend in America, finally spoke. “Okay. The diamond’s still missing, and for some reason Klimt thinks Jamie has it. We just don’t know why.”
“And it’s good he thinks she has it, even if she doesn’t,” Dakota added. “If he’s connected to the revolution as we now suspect, selling the diamond is his only chance to raise money since we’ve recovered the emerald and opal. He’ll eventually try to get to Jamie again and that’s the way we’ll catch him.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Like a helpless lamb waiting for the slaughter?”
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Ben,” Justin said. “But we have to find the diamond, and with any luck, return it to its rightful place, here with the others.” He pointed toward the plaque in the grand salon that covered the hole in the wall containing two of Royal’s legendary jewels. The third was still missing.
Peace, Justice, Leadership; the club’s mantra etched across the plaque reminded Ben why he must endure the questions. Why he must see this through, not only for Jamie’s sake but also for the town’s prosperity.
“We need to put Klimt away for good,” Matt said, “and we can’t do that unless we find the man. I agree that he’ll try to get to Jamie again. Unless he found what he was looking for in the apartment.” He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe he hid it there.”
“I don’t think so,” Aaron said. “He’s been hospitalized since the crash. When would he have had the opportunity?”
“The night he killed Riley,” Justin interjected.
“If he killed Riley,” Dakota said. “We don’t know for sure it was him.”
“It was him,” Ben said adamantly. “But I do not think he would have hidden the jewel in Jamie’s apartment since she was home the night before the wedding. The luggage would have been a more likely hiding place. After all, the other jewels were found on the plane. I believe that the diamond was somewhere in her luggage and was perhaps lost in the fire.”
“We’ve looked in what was left of her luggage,” Aaron added. “We didn’t find it. And we went over every inch of that plane.”
Justin leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Looks like we have no choice but to wait it out. See if he comes after Jamie again. If he doesn’t, then he’s found it and could be on his way back to Asterland. If not, he’s still looking and that means Jamie’s still in danger. If so, he’ll try to find her, you mark my words.”
The thought of Klimt harming one golden hair on Jamie’s head made Ben stifle an oath. He shoved back his chair and stood. “If he touches her, I will kill him.”
The vow echoed in the room, all its occupants’ eyes now trained on Ben.
Ben moved away from the table. “I must return to her now. I will stay in touch.” With a quick bow of his head, he took his leave, but not before he heard Matt’s familiar Texas drawl.
“Yep, he’s got it bad for her, all right. Let’s just hope his feelings don’t interfere with him keeping her safe, and helping us get that diamond back.”
The words followed Ben all the way through the ornate grand salon and out the door. The overcast skies suited his black mood. He welcomed the impending thunderstorm that would truly complement his emotional turbulence.
The members were wrong. He would not allow Jamie Morris to keep him from his duty. He would prove to them he could resist all temptation, and that he did not have it “bad” for his charge. He was simply honor-bound to protect her. That was all it was or would ever be.
And that was what he told himself over and over, all the way home.
One minute he was vowing to protect her, the next minute he was gone.
Jamie walked aimlessly around the living room, not knowing what do about her situation. She’d tried to read some magazines to entertain herself, wishing she could turn back time. Wishing it was still December and she still had her old job back. Wishing she was living in her simple apartment and her only worry was trying to keep her dad from sinking farther into debt and depression. Wishing it was before the blasted notice had been posted all over town announcing Bride Wanted for Albert Payune of Asterland.
Never had she felt so alone, so out of place. Where was Ben now? Off planning her future? Deciding her fate?
He’d left an hour ago, barking demands about her staying inside. Staying away from the windows and doors.
Well, there wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t just take a peek outside. See what was going on. Surely there would be no harm in that.
Quietly she approached the front window and pulled back the heavy beige curtains. A man sat on the front porch, kicked back in the wooden glider with a shotgun resting across his meaty thighs. A Santa belly hung to his lap, probably the result of too much chicken-fried steak and beer. His ratty straw cowboy hat dipped low on his forehead, covering his eyes. Eyes that were closed, Jamie suspected. The piece of hay drooping from his mouth suddenly did a nosedive when his lower lip went slack.
If this man was Ben’s idea of protection, Jamie would be better off with her own gun. Maybe she couldn’t shoot straight to save her hide, but at least she wasn’t napping.
Dropping the curtain, she stretched and braced her hands on the small of her back. She wasn’t as tired as she had been, but she still felt the effects of getting up close and personal with the downtown sidewalk. The bruise on her hip was just plain ugly now, but the knot on her head had all but disappeared.
She felt bored, restless, in dire need of some kind of physical activity. She doubted Ben owned a treadmill, although he must do something to keep in such superior physical shape. Probably just came naturally for him, though. She couldn’t imagine him dressed in gym shorts, working out at the local Y. Now another kind of workout she definitely could imagine.
My, my, Jamie Morris, you are turning into a bad girl.
The little voice in her head sounded remarkably like her grandmother. But her Nana had been gone for some time now, as had Jamie’s own mother. Still, she thought about them often. Many times she had craved the company of a woman. Craved some honest-to-goodness motherly advice. Like now.
She suddenly considered Alima.
Would Alima talk to her? All she could do was try. It beat the heck out of talking to herself.
Jamie strolled toward the kitchen. Considering the spicy smells coming from that direction, she figured she’d find the housekeeper there. She stepped into the room to find Alima busy at the island counter, chopping vegetables with a vengeance, her ears covered by bright yellow headphones.
Walking to the counter, Jamie stood in front of Alima in hopes of getting the woman’s attention without scaring the wits out of her. After several minutes had passed, she tapped her on the arm.
Alima’s gaze darted up from her task, and she stripped her ears of the headphones. She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, Miss. I did not know you were standing there.”
From the sound of the music coming through the headphones dangling about the housekeeper’s neck, Jamie could understand why. She smiled at the woman. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Alima looked almost alarmed. “Oh, no, Miss. It is my duty to serve you. You must rest.”
Jamie frowned. “I’m not even tired. Actually, I’m tired of resting. I’m about to go nuts just sitting around doing nothing. Surely you can think of something.”
Alima surveyed the kitchen then pulled a barstool back from the island. “You may keep me company.”
Conversation wasn’t exactly a physical activity, but Jamie supposed it would have to do. Besides, she could find ou
t more about the sheikh. She took her perch on the barstool and considered how she could do that. She guessed just coming out and asking would be the best place to start. “So, Alima, how long have you known the prince?”
Alima sent Jamie a kind smile. A mother’s smile. “Since he was an infant. I cared for him then, as I care for him now.”
“What about his mother?”
Alima’s knife stopped in mid chop. “Her Highness cared for him as well, but she had many duties to attend to and was in need of my assistance.”
“And you followed him here?”
“Not in the beginning. When he was still at the university I remained in Amythra. When he bought this house,” she made a sweeping gesture around the room, her voice full of disdain as if it were below princely standards, “he sent for me to attend to him here in America.”
“Where did he go to school?”
“The University of Texas in the city of Austin.”
Jamie smiled. From now on, she would think of Ben as Lawrence of Longhorn instead of Arabia. “That’s interesting. Do you have children of your own?”
A sadness passed over the woman’s expression. “No, Miss. Prince Hasim is the closest I have to a child. Allah did not see fit for me to bear children, but he was gracious in allowing me to care for the sheikh.”
A lump formed in Jamie’s throat when she thought about her own mother, how much she had cared for her, coddled her and loved her. Jamie had been so very, very lucky. And seeing Alima’s face, the maternal pride when she spoke of Ben, made her realize how much she would value having a child. Later. Much, much later.
The sound of a slamming door caused Alima to look up from her chopping and Jamie to slide off the barstool, ready to go for the nearby butcher knife in case the unknown apartment destroyer might come strolling in.
