Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  She was going straight to Ahsan and take a chance that he was as upstanding as she thought. Trotting down the stairs, she struck out toward the center of the palace, intent on tracking him down through one means or another. Someone would know where he was.

  Before she could get ten steps, movement ahead in the giant foyer snared her attention. A group of women in rag-tag clothes stood there, heads bowed, hands clasped before them. They weren't the same women from the dancing harem, Sessily could see that immediately. Stepping aside, Sessily obscured herself behind a broad column, peering around the edge to see what was going on.

  It didn't look good, that's what she knew. It didn't look good at all. And then there he was, pacing a slow circle around the women like he was a buyer at market, sizing up the quality of meat for purchase. Ahsan, head and shoulders taller than anyone else present, gestured with one hand, speaking in a low voice to the women.

  Sessily couldn't hear what he was saying. The fact that the women were here at all was a blow of monumental proportions, and the more she watched him pace around the obviously fearful women, the angrier she became.

  He'd lied. Not just to her, but to everyone who thought he was heroically busting up trafficking rings when in fact he was organizing everything behind the scenes. Oh, he deserved some kind of acting award for all his feigned disgust at the harem the night of the ball. He'd likely had the women 'entertaining' him after everyone went to bed at night.

  The venomous vein of her thoughts surprised her. She was furious, however, at being used by one brother, and lied to by another.

  A few minutes later, the women moved on from the foyer, encouraged by several staff members. Ahsan followed, giving orders to his men in Arabic. She didn't understand the language well enough to know what he said.

  She just hoped no harm would come to the women. Now there were twelve under Ahsan's roof, not including herself. The trafficking ring was alive and well.

  Only when the foyer and halls were clear did she break cover. Walking through the palace with brisk steps, as if she'd been doing that all along instead of spying on people, she made her way toward the back doors and out into the courtyard. Late afternoon heat seared the landscape, the temperature hotter than the day before. It felt good after the cooler atmosphere of the palace, at least for now.

  Later, during the race when she was bathed in sweat, she probably wouldn't think so. Navigating her way free of the palace grounds, she headed for the stables, spotting a truck with a horse trailer attached. Someone had already unloaded her steed and led the gelding into the shade of the stable.

  Sessily found the animal to be of good stock with a decent disposition. She accepted authority over the gelding and got busy grooming him before checking the supplied tack. It kept her hands and mind busy, gave her something to do other than obsess about how to escape the Afshar brothers.

  And she would be escaping. One way or another, she and the other women would leave this house intact.

  ***

  Chapter Nine

  “I can't get them to tell me anything,” Ahsan said to Leander. “I tried several languages, too.”

  “Well, they're scared half to death and probably think they'll die if they give up any information.” Leander, sitting next to Mattias and Chayton, rubbed his hands together between his knees.

  “Just like the others. But we need it. I need something solid to confront Bashir with. Yes, you traced the trail back to Afshar shores. That's not enough, though.” Ahsan had little desire to sit. Instead he paced the sitting room, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a tumbler of cognac.

  “We're still chasing leads. The women could probably give us many more, but we're following what we can. It'll just take longer to get any answers,” Mattias said. The Prince of Latvala reclined into the sofa, getting comfortable.

  “That, and Bashir doesn't like to get his proverbial hands dirty,” Chayton said. “So I bet that even if the women talked, all they're going to be able to tell us is that they were grabbed off a street here or there by so-and-so man, none of which will admit to being hired by Bashir. He's got a chain of command with this, I'm guessing, so that it would take a while to unearth his position in it all.”

  Ahsan nodded agreement with all that he heard, pointing a finger around his glass to Chayton. “Yes, yes, and you're right. Bashir has never liked to get his hands dirty. It'll take something more to wind the trail all the way back to him.”

  “I still don't get the why of it. You don't even see him that much, do you?” Leander asked.

  “I think I know why. The Emir contacted me with an offer for the throne—if I would change my wayward ways.” He gave his brethren a thin smile. To a man, they knew what his preferences were, they knew how he lived his life. It was polar opposite of his brothers and father, which was why all three men arched their brows and made small noises of surprise.

  “Never saw that coming,” Mattias said in a low voice.

  “What did you tell him? No wait, let me guess,” Leander said, chuckling. “You said something along the lines that you were you, and that you wouldn't change for anything. Take it or leave it.”

  Ahsan, amused that Leander knew him so well, inclined his head. “Exactly. And I won't change, because I don't want the throne or the title. Even if I did, I still wouldn't live against what I believe in. But I'd bet my best stallion that the Emir had a chat with Bashir.”

  “Ah, now we're getting somewhere,” Mattias said. “That makes excellent sense.”

  “It sure does explain a lot,” Chayton added.

  “So, the Emir told Bashir that he's been unhappy with the reputation Bashir's been obtaining around the globe lately, and if he doesn't straighten up his act, there could be severe repercussions. Not exactly coming right out to say he might offer you the title, but everyone knows the accolades you've been receiving,” Leander said. “Bashir could be setting you up from several angles, you know. Trying to discredit you in public was step one, the trap we just uncovered is step two or three. Who knows what else he's got in store. He's not taking any chances, so he's striking first.”

  “You're in a bad spot, my friend.” Mattias smiled a grim smile at the understatement.

  “You've got that right,” Ahsan said after Mattias's assessment. The more details that came to light, the more he realized how complex the entire situation was. His brother and the Emir probably had a talk a week or two ago, and had made plans accordingly. Bashir, known for his vicious determination to ascend the throne, would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.

  “What would you like us to help you do?” Chayton asked.

  “I'm thinking. It makes sense for the rest of you to try and keep tracing things back, get what information you can. I might need proof that he's trying to dishonor me or...worse. Besides that, those women need help. However deep the ring goes, we need to dismantle every layer.” Ahsan would throw himself back into the mix as soon as possible. He had a guest he couldn't leave, wouldn't leave, especially now with Bashir acting up.

  “We can do that. Or do you want one of us to remain here to help you with the women? You've got quite a collection, none willing to talk yet, that you need to either return home, or find a new home for,” Leander said.

  “I've got enough staff to help me with the victims. Eventually I'll win their trust and they'll talk. It's only been a few days for the first batch, and a few hours for the last. I don't really blame them for being so scared,” Ahsan replied. “Also, keep an ear to our contacts to see if there's any chatter about a hit on me.”

  “Count on it,” Mattias said, standing up. “You know to call us any time, for anything. We can be back here in short order if need be.”

  Ahsan finished his drink and set the tumbler down. He shook each of his brethren's hand. “Thanks. I'll let you know what else I find out. Maybe, just maybe, it's time to take a trip to the city.”

  “Damn. Be careful, Ahsan. You're walking straight into the lion's den.” Leander clap
ped Ahsan on the shoulder and headed for the door.

  “I will. You all watch your backs as well. If Bashir gets wind, and he will, it won't just be me that has a target on his back.” Ahsan loathed getting his brothers involved in a private, family affair. Yet this is what they did; they helped their own in times of need, and he was definitely in a time of need. Leander, Mattias and Chayton would get answers, even if the process took several months time.

  Once the men were gone, he surveyed the dying day through the window. Cursing under his breath, he pivoted on a heel and exited the room.

  He was late for a race.

  *

  Sessily had the gelding curried, saddled and bridled in good time. Stable hands came and went, leaving her to her task. She mounted the steed and took him for a brief ride in front of the stables, getting used to him and the saddle. He was a responsive animal and relatively easy to control. Once she thought she had a good feel for his gait, she dismounted and tied him up inside the shade of the stable again, wanting to keep him from the heat. Likely, being from the desert clime, the gelding was used to it. Nevertheless, Sessily left him right where he was.

  She hadn't seen Ahsan yet, and contemplated the delay. He knew the race was supposed to happen late in the day, before dusk. Where was he? Bothering the women?

  Her lips thinned and she smacked a pair of leather gloves on her thigh before setting them on a bale of hay. With a sudden yank and pull, someone turned her by the shoulder and pushed her up against the stall. Sessily had no time to do anything; a hand clamped over her mouth and another trapped one of her arms to her side. A body crowded her into the stall door so that she had no room to move at all.

  “Scream and I'll make sure you regret it,” the man said.

  Sessily, heart pounding hard in her chest, recognized him as one of the men who'd delivered the horse. There had been a driver and two passengers. This was the brown haired one with a rugged, slightly craggy face. She shook her head to indicate that she wouldn't scream. He was covering her nose, too, making it difficult to breathe.

  “Good. You have until sunrise to do your job here. If word does not come by the time the sun is up, your sister will pay the consequences. Do we understand each other?”

  By sunrise. That was less than a day. Not nearly enough time for her to figure out a new plan to rescue all the girls and herself. The addition of the five new ladies meant she needed a change in plans. Not everyone would fit into an SUV, and she couldn't very well ask to drive the limousine. For now, all she could do was nod in an attempt to get him to release her.

  “You've been warned,” he added, his hand tightening over her mouth.

  As suddenly as he'd spun her around, the craggy-faced man lurched backward, off balance. A surprised look crossed his face as Ahsan slammed him against the opposite set of stalls, startling a few horses down the way.

  Taller by a handful of inches, broader across the shoulders, Ahsan loomed over the man with one arm shoved tight against his throat. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

  Sessily gasped for breath, terrified Ahsan might have overheard the 'instructions'. Terrified, too, that the man would accidentally give the game away. She should have known anyone Bashir hired would play it off better than that.

  The man shoved against Ahsan, which had no effect at all. “You have no business coming between us—what we have between us. Let go of me immediately.”

  Sessily wanted to evaporate on the spot. That wasn't the route she expected him to take. And what could she do? If she argued the point, Ahsan would get suspicious. But it galled her to pretend the beast meant anything to her.

  “I don't care what you have between you. You'll cease to manhandle her on my property. That may be the way you do things where you come from, but I won't tolerate it here.” Ahsan's gravelly voice was rife with warning. He added more pressure to the arm lodged against the man's neck.

  Sessily, struck by an idea, said, “He's upset that I wagered 'pink slips' with the horses. It's truly nothing.”

  Ahsan didn't so much as glance her way.

  “Are we clear?” Ahsan asked the man again, enunciating each word. Anger made his accent thicker.

  The man gave Sessily a hard, pissed-off look, then muttered what sounded like agreement.

  “No, I want to hear you say it.” Ahsan didn't relent one inch.

  “I'm clear! I won't touch her while she's on your property.” The man struggled, clearly no match for the taller, stronger Ahsan.

  “Good. You can spend the rest of your stay in the truck.” Ahsan shoved the man to the side, forcing him to stumble until he got his balance back.

  “But it's a hundred degrees—okay, okay.” The man held his hands up in surrender when Ahsan stalked forward, intent apparently on 'helping' the stranger find the truck.

  After the man disappeared outside, Sessily faced Ahsan. Wringing her hands, she tried to gauge his mood. He didn't look at her immediately, watching the entrance to the stall as if making sure the man didn't reconsider and come back. Finally, he met her eyes.

  Sessily shuddered inwardly at the aggressive, dominating wall of flesh Ahsan made. He exuded discontent from every pore, eyes dark and hard.

  “Thank you for intervening. His temper got away from him,” she said.

  “Do you always allow him to handle you that way?” Ahsan asked. A muscle flexed in his whiskered jaw. He leaned against the stall door that he'd slammed the man into, arms hanging at his sides.

  “No, of course not. He doesn't usually...he's not usually so abrupt.”

  “Abrupt is too kind. Bastard works better. Do the other men of your stables take such liberties?”

  Sessily didn't want Ahsan thinking her countrymen were anything like Bashir's hired hand—who wasn't even Romanian. He was some hired thug doing Bashir's bidding. Then she remembered Ahsan circling the helpless women in his own foyer, and stopped herself just in time from telling him that he had no room to be talking.

  The nerve.

  She didn't want to consider why Ahsan came to her rescue if he was a man of questionable caliber. It was only because she was a guest, his guest, and he'd made his attraction to her fairly clear. That's all it was. Ahsan was thinking with his second head.

  Shaking off the bundle of nerves that had set in, she said, “No, of course not. He was just someone the manager hired on—and someone who will obviously not have a job when we return home.” Sessily paused, then added, “Are we having our race, or not? The day is growing shorter by the second.”

  He studied her with a calculating gaze, the same muscle flexing again in his jaw.

  Sessily hated when he stared at her like that, as if he was slicing straight to her core to expose any and all lies. She arched a brow, desperate to get his mind off the incident.

  “Let me saddle up. I'll meet you at the starting line.” He pivoted away before she could answer and stalked down the center corridor of the stables, ignoring the outstretched muzzles of several horses along the way.

  Taking several deep breaths, Sessily tracked Ahsan deeper into the stables, then turned to collect her steed.

  The time for the race was at hand.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  The fury over seeing some strange man abuse Sessily lasted until he pulled Faisal up beside her mount. Any other day, he would have made a show of examining her horse, probably teasing her about made-up faults, but right now he wasn't in the mood. He could tell with one glance that she wasn't in the mood for teasing, either. Her jaw was set, gaze unreadable.

  “Ready for this?” he asked, giving her one last chance to opt out.

  “Oh, I'm more than ready.”

  “If you have a problem at any time during the race, just pull up.”

  “I will.”

  “See you at the finish line.”

  “I'll have tea waiting.” She looked forward, shifting the reins in her hand.

  Unexpectedly, he barked a laugh. It wasn't a playful kind of
laugh, but he was darkly amused nevertheless. Settling Faisal—who knew a race was imminent—Ahsan got serious, leaning slightly forward in the saddle.

  One of his men stood to the side of the track out of harms way with a yellow handkerchief in hand. He raised it with no fanfare, waited exactly three seconds, then flashed his arm down in the traditional signal to start a race.

  Faisal surged forward, gaining a full gallop almost immediately. The stallion was so well trained that Ahsan could have let go of the reins and allowed the horse to finish the race on his own. He maintained control of the reins anyway, guiding the stallion down the short straightaway toward the first curve. Sessily was somewhere behind him already, probably eating his dust.

  The sun, slanting low toward the horizon, painted the landscape a darker orange with shadows collecting at the base of the dunes. Ahsan squinted his eyes against the glare, speeding through the first curve and into another straightaway. He thought he heard Sessily behind him, a steady pound of hooves past the rush of wind in his ears. Not bothering to look back, he got low over his stallion's back, encouraging the animal onward with thick whispers that made the horse flatten his ears. There was such freedom flying over the sun-baked terrain, as if nothing else mattered but the heat and the arid wind and the surging muscles beneath him.

  A cry or call caught his attention. Sessily. Faisal's ears flickered and his stride slowed as Ahsan sat up to glance back, concern that she'd taken a fall contorting his features.

  *

  The horse looked like a black devil, flying over the sand with shocking speed. And his rider, equally devilish, was the epitome of a wild man with his hair whipping at his shoulders, body moving as if horse and human were one. For such broad shoulders and tall stature, Ahsan was as graceful as the wind on Faisal's back.