by Milly Taiden
The animal was stunning. Solid black, with a thick mane and tail, the stallion's coat shined from many brushings.
He laughed. “This is my personal mount, Faisal, and yes. This is the horse who will gain me a new member to the family here.”
“On the contrary, I can't wait to get him home. He'll be an excellent addition.” Privately, Sessily thought it would be a travesty to part the man from the horse. They fit each other well.
“Well, here's the 'race track'. Let's get you familiar with it so you have your fair advantage.” He walked Faisal forward, following the path straight for ten yards. It curved after that, winding through a few more low dunes. Here and there, tufts of grass jutted up from the sand.
Sessily took careful note of the race track. She could tell it had been used over and over and over. The sand along the path itself had been flattened into the harder ground beneath, giving the horses decent traction. Some of the turns would be a challenge to navigate, especially with a rider at her side.
Ahsan never coaxed Faisal past a brisk walk. He said, “There are no rocks or holes in the track, so you don't have to worry about your steed going down. We check it periodically to make sure it's sound.”
Sessily turned her face to the sun as they walked through a gentle curve, then squinted ahead. There was something healing and pleasant about the dry heat and the sun's rays beating on her skin. “That's good to know. Are there any other rules? You're not going to shove me off behind a dune, are you?”
He rumbled an amused laugh. “Not unless you want me to. The only rule is to get across that finish line first.”
'That finish line' turned out to be nothing more than a stake in the ground to the side of the path. A red ribbon fluttered from the top, the ends frayed from the wind. The track, shaped like a tear, with all its curves and straightaways, led right back to the same area as the start.
Bringing her mare to a halt just past the 'finish line', she surveyed the palace and stables and the endless miles of desert stretching to the far horizon. The sun was sinking lower by the second, turning the sand a deeper orange as she watched. Despite the lack of trees and rugged mountain terrain she was used to, there was beauty in the sloping dunes and receding blue sky.
“Like what you see?” he asked at her side.
Sessily glanced away from the sprawling palace and studied Ahsan's face. “It's different than what I'm used to, but there's a certain peace here I've not experienced anywhere else.”
She could have said she liked what she saw very much—and not meant the sand or the palace or the horses. Sticking to the safer answer, she looked toward the stables in case he was as good of a mind reader as he sometimes appeared.
“It's a harsh climate in the middle of summer, when temperatures can reach a hundred and ten. The dust storms are no fun either, but in the cooler months it's a decent sanctuary away from the rest of the world.”
“I get the impression sometimes that you're very dismissive of your home. Do you not like it?” Coming from a poor background, Sessily couldn't conceive of not liking such a home. The space, the opulence, every amenity one could wish for.
He studied the palace, one wrist laying over the other, the reins dangling from his fingers. “I don't spend a great amount of time here. It's excellent for hosting certain types of parties, and a good place to retreat when I want privacy and silence, but I don't consider this my full time residence.”
Shocked to hear it, Sessily observed the man while his attention was elsewhere. “Where is your full time residence, then? This is the only home you have in your country—or are there others?”
“No, this is my only home here. I have apartments in my father's palace in the city that I rarely use, but they're hardly mine and hardly a residence.” He paused to look her way, then said, “I shift between homes all over the world. It just depends where I'm needed or where I want to be at the time.”
He was so different from the expensively attired playboy she'd met at the gala. This Ahsan was no less enigmatic, yet there was a down to earth quality she suspected not everyone got to see.
“Where you're needed?” The wording tripped her up. She wondered if he'd mistakenly referred to any extracurricular activities that had to do with the women mentioned in the text.
“Yes. Business, social gatherings, like that.”
Sessily thought there was more to it. The way he seemed to draw back from the conversation, the way his eyes hooded, led her to believe it wasn't as simple as he made it sound.
Perhaps 'business' encompassed any illegal activity.
“I see.” She moved her attention to the stables then, and gently kneed the mare forward. “I suppose it's time to return. I feel fairly well prepared for tomorrow.”
He matched her pace, easy and loose in the saddle.
The extended silence caused her to glance over. He stared at her with fathomless eyes, as if he knew there was more she wasn't saying. Unnerved by his intensity, she smiled and brought the mare to a halt before several stable hands who'd gathered outside to accept the horses at the end of the ride. Dismounting without aid, she handed the reins off, patted the sleek mare on the neck, and fell into step with Ahsan after he'd likewise dismounted.
“How are you feeling about a swim?” he asked on approach to the palace.
“Would you mind if I begged off for the evening? I'd like to do a little work myself and rest up for the race.” What she meant to do was work up a plan to get the harem women away from the palace.
“I don't mind at all. Just dial down if you need anything, or if you need me. Someone will let me know.”
“Thank you. I will. Good night, then, until tomorrow.” Just inside the palace doors, she touched the back of his elbow with her fingers before she thought better of it, then headed away for the stairs. The feel of his warm skin sent a tingle along her arm, his scent lingering even after she'd made the second floor and her bedroom.
Closing the door, she eased the bolt into place and prepared to put the Sheikh from her mind while she concentrated on important business of her own.
Namely, an escape plan for the women and herself.
*
“So tell me what happened,” Ahsan asked Leander over the phone. Now that his guest was ensconced away for the evening, he took another call from his brethren, anxious for details of the raid.
“After the gala, we picked up a trail that led to the docks in Afshar and flew out on Mattias and Sander's jet. To be honest, Ahsan, it was almost too easy to follow the trail, if you know what I mean,” Leander said.
“So you think no one tried to hide it, maybe even led you there?” he asked. If so, then perhaps Chayton's idea that it was a trap was right on.
“Maybe. There were women locked in a room and we got them out of there. A few people died, though none of ours. I think we caught them by surprise, got there earlier than they expected. Before they could set any kind of trap. But that's what it appears to be to me—a set up. We had no trouble tracing the location back to your country.”
“Could it be that you guys are just that good?” Ahsan knew that wasn't the case. As good as the Royal Elite were at finding information out, it still took some digging, many phone calls and leaning on their various contacts to get what they needed. Ahsan had thought it might take several days for the group to suss out any leads, yet people involved with a trafficking ring were already dead and more women rescued.
“I wish, brother. I wish,” Leander said. “I think Chayton's right. I think Bashir set you up. We just managed to get the jump on them before they could spring their trap.”
Ahsan said nothing for long minutes. Sitting at his desk in his private office, he toyed with the edge of a paper, flicking the end over and over. He couldn't figure what Bashir's angle was with all this, what his intentions were. It wasn't like there was any challenge to Bashir's title as Crown Prince. Ahsan hadn't even been in the country often the last few months, preferring travel over pacing the palace in restl
ess agitation. There was no reason for Bashir to take the chance that he would be discovered plotting to kill another brother. There was no doubt in Ahsan's mind that Bashir had been the one to take out the other siblings, although there was not one lick of evidence to prove it.
“All right. I'll take the necessary precautions until this blows over. Tell the others thanks for getting on the problem. You, too, Leander.”
“Hey, you know we don't mind. The women are safe, and now we just need to make sure you stay that way, too.”
“I can take care of myself,” Ahsan assured him.
“Many dead men have said the same thing. We'll be there tomorrow with the girls.” Leander hung up.
Grunting, Ahsan set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Folding his hands behind his head, elbows askew in the air, he considered the situation. Considered what steps he should take to make sure none of his friends or employees got hurt. Bashir would be taking a huge risk to try anything in the palace, so the likely plan was for his brother to strike when he was out and about. Or, Bashir might attempt another lure like the last one, leading Ahsan to a designated place.
Just as he was about to get up and go find his personal security team, his phone rang again.
“Yeah.”
“Ahsan.”
He sat up straighter when his father's voice came down the line. The Emir rarely called him. “Yes?”
“I would like you to reconsider your stance.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
His 'stance' was a total opposite ideal than his father's. Ahsan wanted many different things, believed many different things, all of which went against the grain of the Emir. Of his culture and religion. Ahsan's views were more worldly and open, views that troubled the Emir and his council to the point they had banished Ahsan from the city. He hadn't moved to the far side of the country on his own—he'd been driven there by his father's advisors.
“Why?” he asked.
“You know I am continually hearing things in my position as ruler here. Things that make me proud to call you my son. Then there are the things I know, your 'views' on how to run this country, and they are not acceptable to me or my council.”
“We've been through this before,” Ahsan said. “Extensively. And my opinions haven't, and won't, change.”
“I'm asking you to reconsider.”
Just what was the Emir saying? Ahsan frowned. “Again, I ask why. It matters not what I do on my own time, or what I believe. I'm barely a member of this family any longer.”
“Because if your views were on par with mine, son, then I think you would make the best choice to ascend the throne after I'm gone.”
Shocked to his very core, Ahsan at first couldn't speak. It wasn't often he was struck for words. For his father to suggest such a thing after the banishment meant something serious was going on back in the city.
Or, his father had fallen ill and had neglected to tell anyone.
“Are you well?” he asked first.
“Will you consider it?” the Emir asked, pressing the issue without answering. “I offer you a great gift, a greater honor. Your brothers would fight for the opportunity I have the power to hand you.”
After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I'm sorry, father. But no, I will not change my beliefs, alter my views. I am who I am, and that will never change.”
*
Sessily spent the time between dusk and full nightfall sketching out a generic map of the palace while it was still fresh in her mind. The structure was too large and complicated to draw in its entirety, but all she needed were the main arteries, doors leading out, and access to the large rooms that she might use as shortcuts from one part of the palace to another. As the evening wore on and her plan solidified, she tucked the map into her suitcase, took a long, hot shower, and changed into a fresh pair of clothes.
The dry heat of the day had eased into a mild evening of slightly cooler temperatures. Barefoot, she departed her room just past midnight and, with an ear for movement in the palace, made her way to the staircase. Padding to the first floor, she paused to glance along the broad halls, then struck out for the back door leading to the courtyard and pool.
To achieve a successful escape, she thought she was going to have to drive out of Ahsan's home herself. Stealing a vehicle was out of the question, but maybe she wouldn't have to steal one at all.
Maybe, if she asked nice enough, he would allow her to borrow one and take it to the private airstrip herself. If she worded it right, and mentioned leaving very early in the morning the day after the race, he might cave to her wishes and let her do as she pleased. She could say all sorts of things about wanting to drive herself to reflect on her time there, or to memorize the road for a future return. She didn't want to put his drivers out, or jar his household into motion before dawn. Not very elaborate reasons, sure, but she thought if she was persuasive enough it just might work. One by one during the wee hours, she could have the harem women pile into the back of the vehicle and hide until she got there.
She had few other alternatives. Sending the women away on foot was foolish and dangerous. They were too far from the airstrip and the heat of the day would catch up to the ladies long before they reached safety. If Bashir sent a car, she would have to leave during daylight hours and there would be no way to sneak the other women in without being seen. Never mind Bashir's driver would call it in and then she'd really be in trouble.
Taking a different hall, she tried to find the right door to the garage attached to this side of the palace. She'd glimpsed a car pulling in and out during the ride and knew it was here somewhere.
The first two doors in the hallway led to a small living area and what she thought was a reading room. It was difficult to tell from the spill of light coming in from the corridor and she didn't want to flip on the lights in the room for fear of drawing attention. Workout equipment filled a third room, and a cozy mini-theater with rows of plush chairs lurked behind the fourth door.
How many rooms were there, anyway? She had to find the correct garage door so she didn't lead the women astray.
“Lost?” a masculine voice said behind her.
Startled, she chirped a noise of shock and flipped around, hand over her thundering heart. Ahsan stood less than two feet away in the dim glow of the corridor, wearing only a loose pair of black lounge pants. His dark hair was loose around his neck, just brushing the top of his shoulders.
“You scared me half to death,” she said, unable to temper the accusation in her tone. “I couldn't sleep and thought I'd go for a walk.” Her heart continued to hammer and it wasn't entirely related to his unexpected arrival. Built broad across the chest and shoulders, Ahsan was a vision of masculine strength and ripped muscle. Her gaze yanked upward after grazing the waistband of the pants, which sat low enough on his powerful hips to almost expose the bone.
He regarded her steadily, something amused in his expression. “Are you any sleepier now?”
The knowing lilt to the question sent a shiver along her arms. He knew she was affected—or perhaps he was just that cocky and confident of his charms on every woman he met. And really, what woman wouldn't appreciate a well put together man with a jaw that appeared chiseled out of stone and eyes that were too easy to get lost in?
“Not anymore, thanks to you.” She allowed him to be the reason she wouldn't be sleepy any time soon, except she made it about his stalking rather than his captivating physique.
“Any time. Would you like company while you snoop through my house?” he asked ever so casually.
Sessily gasped. “I'm not snooping.”
“Yes you are.”
“I'm investigating.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not. I wouldn't ever get into your personal things.” Affronted, even though snooping—and worse—was what she'd been up to, she about-faced and continued her...search.
“If you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I'll
guide you in the right direction.”
That would be handy, she thought. And ironic. She couldn't hear his bare feet on the floor, but she knew he was pacing behind her. Like a stalking lion taking its time pursuing prey.
“I'm not looking for anything in particular. Just investigating, like I said.” If she repeated herself enough, maybe she'd start to believe it.
“The only things left down here that you haven't explored are a sauna—which you're free to use if you'd like—an extra office for guests, an overflow collection room and the garage.”
Sessily's skin tingled all over. She wanted to glance back to see him again but didn't dare. Instead, thinking of her plan, she asked, “Do you collect cars as well?”
“I have a few, but not an extensive collection.”
“Care to show me?” Pausing, given an excuse to finally glance back, she discovered he'd closed the distance by half. At least. He was so close she could feel the heat from his swarthy skin.
“Last door on the right.” He came even with her, shoulder brushing hers, and led on toward the mentioned door.
The urge to put her hands on his biceps and along his back overwhelmed her. She wanted to touch all that tempting skin and the hard sinew beneath. To see if it jumped or twitched in response. Careful, Sessily, this is dangerous territory.
“I know you own a jet, but what about yachts and things like that?” At the door, she fell back a step to let him lead on. That was when she caught sight of a vicious scar just under his shoulder blade. The jagged shape curved toward his spine, pale against his darker flesh. Drawing in a surprised breath, she reached out to trace the scar with her fingertips. Later, if asked, she wouldn't be able to say what compelled her to do such a thing.
He hesitated in the act of opening the door and tilted his whiskered chin toward his shoulder. Staring back at her with just one eye.
