“You are insane,” the Sheikh said through gritted teeth, and Irene could see his fist clenched so tight the skin was white. “And soon to be dead.”
“True on both counts, but you are here with me, are you not, great Sheikh?”
“True on both counts?” shouted Irene. “What does he mean? Is he expecting to die in here? Is this a trap? Where are all the attendants? Why are we alone? Why is no one stopping you from beating the crap out of him?”
The Sheikh blinked and drew his hand back again. Then he opened up his fist and let go of Blackbeard, who sunk slowly to the floor, landing slumped against the wall, his broken face still twisted in a smile.
“I am a fool,” the Sheikh muttered. “A prisoner of my past mistakes. I could think of nothing but trading myself for my woman and child, something I was not able to do once before. And now . . . now . . .”
“Now what?” shrieked Irene, holding the crying Sage close and staring at the Sheikh and the laughing Blackbeard.
“Now . . . boom!” whispered Blackbeard. “Now all of us go boom. And my brother and your niece ride off into the sunset on a silver chariot. Happy ending! Inshallah!”
The Sheikh ran to the closed wooden door and hurled himself at it, but the door did not give an inch. Bilaal tried again, and Irene shouted for him to stop because she could tell that he would shatter his shoulder before that door broke.
“Reinforced steel in the door,” the Sheikh shouted, running along the walls and pounding on them to find a soft spot he might be able to punch through. “And concrete walls. Bloody hell, this place is a prison. A death trap.”
“No windows,” Irene said. “I know, because I looked.”
“Ventilation shafts,” said the Sheikh, reaching up to a ventilator grill and smashing it in before cursing that the shaft was too small to crawl through. “Sage will fit there, but an explosion will make its way through the ventilation shafts first, so we cannot take the risk.”
The Sheikh paused and turned to Irene and Sage, as if affected by saying the name of his son. It was the first time she’d heard him say the name, and the way he said it—like he knew the name, had known it for years—sent a warm buzz through her even though the panic was rising like steam.
“I have it,” shouted the Sheikh, and he rushed over to the kitchenette area of the room, where there was a steel-doored fridge built into the sideboard. He pulled open the doors and began pulling the shelves out, tossing the bottles of milk, baby-food, and water out as he cleared enough space for Irene and Sage to fit inside. “Come, Irene. Both of you. Now!”
Irene picked up the hysterical Sage and started to make for the refrigerator, but from the corner of her eye she saw Blackbeard rise. He began to rummage in the drawers of a desk near him, like he might be looking for a weapon, and Irene strode over to the Sheikh and handed Sage to him.
“Hold your son while I take care of something,” she said quickly, depositing the child in his father’s strong arms.
Then she walked over to the bedside table, where she’d kept the small thermometer that she’d asked for on the second day to check Sage’s temperature. She picked it up, closed her fist around it, and hurried over to the bumbling, bleeding Blackbeard. She grabbed his turban and yanked his head back, and in one clean stroke stabbed him in the eye with the thin glass thermometer, pushing it in as far as she could while he screamed and collapsed on the floor. She watched as he writhed for a moment before going still.
“The eyeball,” said the Sheikh, absentmindedly rocking his son, who’d suddenly calmed down. “Quickest way to the brain.”
Irene stood there for a moment, transfixed by the dead man. Then she wiped his blood off her hand and spat upon his dead body.
“You kidnapped my son. You endangered my life. You planned to murder us all. That’s bad enough, but I might have let you live if not for Beauty,” she whispered. “You don’t kill a frontier-woman’s horse and get away with it.”
She walked over to where the Sheikh was holding their son, her breath catching when she took in the beautiful sight of Sage in the arms of his father, a sight she’d resigned herself to never seeing. But there wasn’t time to take in the view, and she quickly climbed into the refrigerator and reached out as the Sheikh handed Sage to her.
“Wait,” she said as Bilaal started to close the door. “What are you doing? You can squeeze in here with us.”
The Sheikh smiled and shook his head. “All of us cannot fit. The door will not close completely. I cannot take the risk.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Irene said, sucking in her cheeks and making a show of it. “I just had a baby, you know. Now stop body-shaming me and get the hell in here with us. Sage wants you here.” She paused. “Your son wants you here.”
The Sheikh blinked and tried to look away before Irene saw that his eyes were misting up, but he didn’t pull it off. Then he tried to push the fridge door shut again, but she stuck her hand out so it wouldn’t close.
“We both want you here,” she whispered. “We both want you with us. Now and forever. But mostly now.”
Just then a beeping sound came from across the room, and Irene saw that it was from Blackbeard’s wristwatch. “Now!” she screamed, grabbing the Sheikh’s arm and pulling him towards them.
The Sheikh cursed in Arabic and then crammed his way into the fridge along with the two of them, pulling the door as far as it would go. The door closed almost all the way, and he held it in place with his strong arms. The little light in the fridge stayed on, and for one pristine moment the crazy thought entered Irene’s mind that they were a little family, weren’t they, the three of them!
The Sheikh looked down at his son, then up at his woman. “Oh, by the way,” he said calmly, as if they were sipping tea at a roadside café. “Your horse Beauty is just fine. They used a high-powered tranquilizer gun to bring her down, but she didn’t break a leg or anything, and I believe she is with the other horses and being taken care of by the state of Wyoming.”
“Oops,” whispered Irene, snuggling up to her baby and man.
“Yes, oops,” said the Sheikh, leaning in and kissing her as if it was nothing, as if he knew her, as if they were man and woman and child, one family.
He kissed her again, and everything went boom, inside and outside.
23
“I was thinking,” said the Sheikh as he pulled a sliver of blood-stained metal from his right arm, looked at it disdainfully, and tossed it into the rubble. “That it would be best if we remained dead for the moment.”
“And when did you do all this thinking, pray tell,” said Irene as she checked Sage once again for any signs of injuries. Even his hearing seemed to be fine, and she thanked whoever might be watching over them for getting them through this—or at least this far.
“Are you sure he isn’t hurt?” said Bilaal, ignoring his fresh wound and walking over to Irene and Sage. He touched his son’s head gently, looked into his light brown eyes, delicately pressed his pudgy arms and legs to check for breaks, bruises, or the slightest signs of discomfort. Then the Sheikh turned his gaze to Irene. “And you?” he whispered, touching her hair as she blinked and smiled. “Here, let me check you,” he said, smiling when it became clear that she was fine too.
She slapped his hand away as he pressed her arms, her back, and then rubbed her tush without any hesitation. Her face was bright red when she turned to him accusingly. “How dare you?” she scolded.
“I am checking for broken bones,” he said stoically, reaching for her ample buttocks again as she swatted him away with one hand, holding Sage tight with the other.
“Broken bones in my bum?” she said. “Is this the time or place? And in front of our son?”
The Sheikh smiled, and then grimaced when Irene reached out and touched his bleeding arm.
“You seem to be making a habit of getting torn up in my presenc
e,” she said. “Do I need to patch you up again?”
He shrugged, looking at her in a way that made her almost uncomfortable. Almost.
“Perhaps,” he whispered. “And perhaps I will need to repay you the same way I did three years ago.”
Irene opened her mouth wide as she blushed involuntarily. Sage was smiling, like he could pick up on the happy energy of his parents, even though the three of them were trudging through the debris of a mostly demolished building with at least one dead body in the ashes. Could anything be more surreal than what she was feeling now, the warmth and happiness, the electricity between her and the father of her child?!
The Sheikh came close, and Irene could feel his heat even as she felt her own heat rise. But this really wasn’t the time or place, and she gasped and took a step back, shaking her head when she realized that she almost gave in to . . .
“What were you saying about staying dead for awhile?” she asked quickly, not looking into his eyes because she knew she might not look away.
The Sheikh cleared his throat and went serious—dead serious. “It occurs to me that my niece is in less danger with me being dead for now. If what Blackbeard said about his brother is true, then if it is known that we survived the blast, it might force his hand. And who knows what he will do. As it stands, both he and my niece are in a well-monitored, regimented environment with all kinds of safeguards. My niece is no fool. If he tries anything . . .” The Sheikh clenched his fist and swallowed hard. “If he tries anything, then she knows to report it immediately, and that will be the end of his career and his freedom. The Swiss laws are very strict about this sort of thing.”
Irene nodded. She could tell that the Sheikh was trying very hard to be rational, that a part of him wanted to get on a plane and fly to his niece’s school and bludgeon this second brother to death in the courtyard. But the truth was, this second brother had not done anything. He hadn’t committed a crime. In fact, he might not even be intending to commit a crime. Blackbeard could have been bluffing, as far as they knew.
“You could pull her out of the school,” said Irene.
The Sheikh nodded, taking her hand and guiding her through the rubble and towards the front lawn, which was littered with smoldering debris. They could hear sirens in the distance, but there was no sign of any traffic yet. They still had time to get out undetected.
“I thought of that,” said the Sheikh. “And the thought of what Blackbeard implied haunts me. I want Mala as far away from that man as possible. But at the same time, if I contact anyone to have her removed from the school, it will alert this brother that I might be alive. As it is, they will not find our bodies in the rubble, so he will suspect we got away.”
Irene frowned as she stepped over a half-charred dressing table, carefully avoiding the shards of a broken mirror. “That’s true. So how will we convince this man we really are dead?”
The Sheikh took a breath and scanned the horizon. Beyond the grounds of the estate they could see wilderness. Thick forest with green hills in the background. It was mid-summer, and it appeared that Canada had gotten good rainfall, because the distant hills were decorated with the trickles of waterfalls, which meant there were healthy rivers flowing fresh, bringing water and life to the land.
He turned to Irene. “One year,” he said.
“One year of what.”
“One year of that,” said the Sheikh, gesturing across the land. “We stay off the grid for one year, until the second brother grows convinced we are dead. Then I will have the advantage of surprise, and can get to him before he has a chance to kidnap or threaten Mala.”
Irene cocked her head and closed one eye. Was this man insane? “Are you insane?” she said quietly. “And if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you probably are insane.”
The Sheikh folded his arms across his broad chest. “You do not think I can keep you and my son safe for one year?”
“In the woods? Have you heard of this curious phenomenon known as winter?!” Irene smiled and looked around like she wanted to hail a taxi. “Good luck, Mountain Man, but my son and I are getting off here.”
“He is my son too, and neither of you are going anywhere,” the Sheikh said firmly, stepping in front of them and standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders back, his towering physique at full height—all of which would have been intimidating if Irene wasn’t fed up of insane men from the Middle East with cockamamie ideas. “If the other brother finds out that you are alive, he will guess that I escaped as well. Then he will kidnap or perhaps even murder my niece before my bodyguards have a chance to get inside the school grounds.”
“Then tell your bodyguards to grab his ass and throw him into some dungeon in your castle before anyone figures out we’re alive,” Irene snapped. “But I’m done here. It’s a miracle that Sage is unharmed, and I’m not going to traumatize him any further. Certainly not by even considering living in a goddamn tree house and eating snails for a year. Holy shit you are unhinged. I guess that’s what happens when you’re so disconnected from the real world in your royal kingdom in the clouds.”
“How does living off the land for a year make me disconnected from the real world?” he said with a smile. “Besides, I did not expect for us to survive the winter in an ice cave in the Canadian Rockies. I have a cabin not far from here. It is very much off the grid, as they say. No way to tie it back to me. There are ample supplies. Stocks of firewood and medical provisions. Fresh water on the land. Hunting and fishing all year round. I thought you were a frontier woman, Irene. Raising our son to be self-sufficient and comfortable in nature. Is that not true? Are you afraid of the mosquitoes? Crocodiles? Dingoes? Do not worry. I will protect you from the beasts of the forest, little girl.”
Irene snorted as she glanced up into his eyes. Those green eyes of his were dancing with mischief, but there was a seriousness in them too. Like he wasn’t just messing with her. And you know what, she thought as she glanced past him at the beautiful, free land. You know what . . .
No, she told herself when she realized that she was actually considering it. Don’t lose your mind along with everyone else. Think of your son, even if this madman isn’t thinking clearly. She knew she should walk away right then, but she couldn’t. Something in her heart kept her going on, asking more questions, letting him lead her towards the forest when she should be shutting him down and waiting for the police.
Still the thoughts kept coming as those woods beckoned. She had no one to go back to in Wyoming. Her horses were safe. Her ranch and land wasn’t going anywhere. And the Sheikh did have a point about his niece perhaps being safer if they stayed off the radar for some time. Yes, it would seem like his bodyguards or the Swiss police or even just the school principal and security could make sure his niece was safe before the other brother found out they’d survived. One phone call might do it. But perhaps not. Perhaps the other brother was already close to the niece, ready to do something drastic the moment something didn’t seem to go as planned. Perhaps he already had an emotional hold on the seventeen-year-old girl. Perhaps she wouldn't believe he could hurt her until it was too late. Who knew. The risk was small, but there was a risk. Certainly it would be hard for the Sheikh to let his niece think he was dead for a year. But ironically, the more broken up she was over losing her uncle, the safer she’d be! Shit, he was right. And hell, even though she was putting her son at risk, there was also the risk to another child that she couldn’t ignore. What was the right choice?!
“Where’s your cabin?” she asked softly as she smelled the pine and cedar as the wind blew through the trees. Those sirens were getting closer, and soon the cavalry would be here. If she had any sense she’d run back to the front gate of the estate and wait for help.
She looked at her son, and she looked at his father. She looked into the woods, and she glanced back at the road, where the flashing lights were finally visible.
&nb
sp; “Three days,” said the Sheikh quietly, holding out his hand to her, the invitation in his eyes, the call to adventure in his voice. The split between two choices was never more clear to her, and her feet felt numb as she took a step his way and then stopped. “Three days to get to the cabin. It is summer and we will not freeze to death. We will pick up supplies to get us there, and follow the river to my cabin. Will you come?” He paused, hand still held out. “Come,” he said quietly, glancing at his son, who seemed strangely eager to head into the woods with a stranger. “Come,” he said again, his eyes hardening, his tone suggesting that this was no longer a question in a way. “Come with me, woman. Come with me, my woman.”
With a sigh she closed her eyes and pushed away the thought of how stupid she was, and she took his hand and went with him, baby and all.
She went with her man.
24
TWO DAYS LATER
The Sheikh watched her clean his wound with fresh spring water, and his breath caught when he saw Sage staring up at him with those big ocher eyes. His mother’s eyes, he thought. Though he has my nose. He will be a handsome boy. Not that there was any doubt.
“He is beautiful,” the Sheikh whispered into Irene’s hair as she leaned over towards him. “We must make another.”
Irene jerked back and stared up at him. “What did you just say?”
The Sheikh blinked hard and looked away, almost embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He didn’t even remember thinking it. The words just came out, like how spring water bubbles up spontaneously where the ground can no longer hold it in.
He stayed quiet, and Irene spoke. “Why did you come to Wyoming three years ago, Bilaal?”
The Sheikh shifted uncomfortably. “To offer my . . . sympathy. It was the right thing to do.”
“When we made love,” she said softly, dabbing at his wound, “you said something about keeping a promise. Did you promise Dan you'd come see me? Did he ask you to come see me?” She looked at Sage, then back into his eyes like she knew even though she couldn't know for sure.
Shelter for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 9) Page 8
