Hide-and-Sheikh

by Gail Dayton

  Voices rose about them, shouting. "Call 9-1-1!"

  "He's crazy! Somebody stop him."

  "He's kidnapping her!"

  The horse's stride shortened abruptly, then it whirled and galloped back the way it had come. Ellen clung to the man to keep from flying off during the sharp turn, noticing despite herself the lean, almost familiar strength of his body. Who was this nutcase? She was afraid she already knew.

  She batted the windblown robes out of her way and looked up into the face that had been haunting her dreams. Rudi.

  If the cops arrested him, it could create an international incident. It could get her fired.

  "It's okay," she shouted past his shoulder at the video crew. "I know him. He's a friend."

  Her words apparently reached them, because the frantic shouting and rushing slowed. The horse didn't.

  Its rocking gait bumped her against Rudi in a matching rhythm, a rhythm that came too easily to mind in connection with this man. No wonder the body beneath the robes had felt so familiar. Hard as she tried, she hadn't been able to forget the feel of him under her hands. The muscular thighs that had teased her in that blood-boiling dance now flexed and shifted beneath her, guiding a thousand-plus pounds of horseflesh, pushing their way back into her memory.

  "Am I truly?" He grinned at her, his teeth flashing white in the afternoon sun as the horse thundered on across the park.

  "Are you truly what?" Ellen pried her brain away from the legs beneath her backside and ordered it to get busy with thinking.

  "Your friend. You said I was a friend."

  "I—" Think. She wanted to bang her head against something to see if she could knock a little sense loose, but the nearest something was Rudi's chest, and she knew beyond any doubt that would only make things worse. "I didn't want you arrested."

  "Ah." His Day-Glo smile dimmed a fraction.

  The horse came to a skittering halt at a signal from Rudi that Ellen missed. He dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting child before lifting Ellen from the horse's back. But instead of setting her on her feet, he carried her in his arms to a car at the curb. The driver opened the door, and Rudi put her inside, much the same way Ellen had once inserted prisoners into her patrol car. Before following her inside, Rudi called to the girl with the horse.

  "Blessings upon you, child." He tossed her a coin that glinted gold as it spun over and over in a high arc. Ellen saw the girl miss the catch and bend to pick it up before Rudi got into the car and signaled to the driver.

  "What was that you threw?" Ellen asked.

  "A ten-fiat piece."

  "It looked like gold."

  "It is." Rudi stretched his arms along the seat and the door, looking completely at ease in his exotic garb. He seemed a different person somehow. Strange, foreign, exciting.

  "Gold." She had to get a grip on this situation. She had to get a grip on herself.

  He made an affirming hum. "I wanted to reward her for the loan of the horse."

  "With a ten-fiat gold piece."

  He mmm-ed again in agreement.

  "How much is that in real money?"

  Rudi laughed. "Some people would say that the fiat is real money, since it is actually gold and not your paper greenbacks."

  "How much?" Ellen didn't know why she persisted, only that she wanted to know. Maybe her brain was trying to get warmed up.

  "Depending on a number of factors, between thirty and fifty dollars, American."

  Resentment swelled inside her. Did he think he could impress her by throwing his money around like that? Or did he think to buy her, the way he'd bought the use of the horse?

  "What do you want?" Ellen didn't care if her attitude sounded in her voice.

  "A bit of your time." Rudi's voice seemed calculated to soothe, and so rubbed her resentment raw. "You did promise me we could talk, remember?"

  She did, and resented even more being put in the wrong. "If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was call the office and say so."

  "I did. You have not been taking my calls."

  He was right again. Another mark against him.

  "So talk." She slouched in the seat, tugging at the hem of her dress. It drew his eyes to her legs where they emerged from the short skirt, and his gaze heated the atmosphere.

  "I want more than a few stolen minutes in the back of a car," Rudi said.

  I just bet you do. Ellen shot him a sideways glance and met his gaze looking back. He knew how guilty she felt, the rat, and was playing it for all he was worth. She wanted to kiss that smirk—no. No, she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Wipe. She didn't dare think of Rudi and kissing in the same thought.

  "I have received a call concerning some business I must take care of out of the city this afternoon. I want you to come with me." Rudi watched her like a cat near an active mouse hole.

  Ellen was already shaking her head. "No, I'm sorry. It's impossible."

  "Why?" Rudi slid a finger across the curve of her bare shoulder.

  She shoved his hand away as she repressed her shuddering reaction. "I have responsibilities. A job. And you have other bodyguards." Her eyes narrowed. "Speaking of which, where are they?"

  "Omar is sick, the others are with Ibrahim. The driver is driving."

  "That's no good. You should have at least one other guard with you at all times."

  Rudi's smile glistened in the car's dim light. "You are with me."

  "I'm not your bodyguard."

  "Why not? Come with me. I have cleared it with your company. I have cleared it with my family. All is prepared." He paused and gave her a little-boy-pleading-for-a-treat look. "That is, if you agree."

  "What if I don't?" Ellen fought against the temptation. If she wanted something this much, it had to be bad for her. But what if this was the new job Campanello wanted her on?

  "I will have the driver drop you wherever you want to go." The teasing grin was back. "Preferably after lunch. Grant me at least that much."

  She eyed him, all her suspicion sensors on alert. "What about you? If I don't go, who will you take on your trip?"

  "Myself."

  Scowling, Ellen decided not to argue with him. He was just contrary enough to do what he threatened. If she didn't go, he'd go alone, and that was absolutely out of the question. "I want to call my office, make sure this is okay with my boss."

  Rudi's expression didn't change, didn't even flicker as he gave a nonchalant shrug. Either he really had cleared it with everyone, or he was a consummate actor. "Of course. Whatever you think you need to do." He handed her a cell phone from somewhere inside those voluminous robes.

  "Thanks. I have my own." Ellen pulled her phone from the bag she'd somehow hung on to when Rudi snatched her up on the horse. She had to think a minute to remember the office number. How could this man interfere so with her thought process?

  "Swainson Security." The phone was answered on the first ring.

  "Hey, Marco. Is Campanello in?"

  "Oh, hey, Ms. Sheffield. No, he's out meeting with those guys about that string concert in October."

  "String?" Ellen racked her brain trying to recall any violinists the company had contracted with. "Do you mean Sting?"

  "Maybe that's what he said. I just know it was some old guy. But he did tell me to tell you those sheikhs wanted you to head up the detail for—uh—" The rustle of paper shuffling came through the phone. "For one of them. I can't find the paper with the guy's name on it. It was here just a minute ago." Marco sounded stressed.

  Ellen glanced at Rudi. She hated being pushed into things. But he was the client, and clients had the right to do a limited amount of pushing. "Tell Campanello I know about it, and I'm on the job."

  It had to be Rudi they wanted her with. Campanello had been bugging her about it ever since she'd found the man. Ellen didn't do guard details anymore if she could help it, but it didn't look as if she could help this one. Rudi had boxed her in.

  "Got it, Ms. Sheffield."

  "I
'm going to try to reach the boss on his cell phone, but if I can't, tell him I'll check in again as soon as I can. Everything's under control. I've got Rudi with me."

  "I'll be sure to tell him. Rudi."

  "Thanks." Ellen flipped the phone shut and tucked it away.

  "Marco—another hulking brute like Frank or George?" Rudi's eyes twinkled at her. "Or someone more interesting?"

  "Definitely more interesting." Ellen chuckled. "He's sixteen. A friend of one of Campanello's kids. It's his first summer job. He might be hulking someday, after he gains a hundred pounds. He's a good kid. And he only answers the phones during lunch."

  "Ah." Rudi leaned forward and gave the driver an address. Ellen didn't hear it clearly. "Speaking of lunch, do you mind if we eat on the way? It will save some time."

  "Sure, why not? What's a few crumbs on the upholstery?"

  The driver let them off at an uptown building Ellen wasn't familiar with. She got on the elevator with Rudi, forcing herself to go into bodyguard mode. She hadn't done this kind of work in a while, but it had been even longer since she'd been in date mode. Besides, this wasn't a date.

  As they traveled upward, Rudi excused himself and stepped away to make a few calls. He was still talking when the elevator stopped at the top floor, and Ellen stepped out first, like a good bodyguard, into the small, glass-walled enclosure.

  Correction. This wasn't the top floor. They were on the roof, in the lobby area of a heliport. Ellen had been in most of New York's heliports, but not this one. Rudi shut off his phone and strode to the desk, Ellen at his elbow.

  "Your helicopter is waiting, Mr. Ibn Saqr," the clerk said, gesturing out the window.

  There it was, a shiny white helicopter just settling to the pad as if conjured up by a genie's magic.

  "Shall we?" Rudi bowed slightly, offering his arm.

  Ellen ignored it, striding to the door. "Don't waste your gallantry on me," she said, pushing the door open.

  The roar of helicopter blades vibrated through the little lobby until Rudi pulled the door shut again. Ellen let him. Let him have his say without shouting.

  "Gallantry is never wasted on a beautiful woman," he said with a little bow.

  Ellen rolled her eyes and shoved at the door again. She was sick of being beautiful, sick of people who could see nothing else. Agreeing to come on this trip was a mistake. She should have known Rudi would be just like all the other men she'd ever met. She stalked out the door and climbed into the helicopter. Just do the job. Ignore the charm. It wasn't for her, but for the mask she wore.

  Three

  Wind whipped Rudi's djellaba into a tangle as he hurried behind Ellen to the helicopter. He almost shivered in the sudden chill emanating from her. What had he said, what could he possibly have done to plunge her into this icy mood?

  He had called her beautiful. What woman could object to that? She was beautiful. Stunningly so. She was also clever, responsible and determined. But beyond that, Rudi thought he had seen a vulnerability in her. A softness beneath the polished surface waiting for someone—the right man—to find it. He wanted to be that man.

  The helicopter landed at the airport outside the city where he kept his private plane. Ellen balked as he led her across the tarmac to where the plane waited, engines thrumming.

  "Just exactly how far is this place we're going?" she demanded.

  "Not far. Wink of an eye and we will be there." He urged her onward, and reluctantly she came.

  "Then why do we need to take a plane?"

  "So we can get there in the wink of an eye. Without the plane it would be four winks and a snore, at least." Rudi tried teasing to pull her out of that icebox.

  She humphed and climbed on board. The plane's opulent appointments irritated Rudi less than usual, because he hoped they might soothe Ellen's mood. Technically the plane belonged to the family, for ferrying various members here and there, but practically it belonged to Rudi. He was, for the most part, the only one who used it. Everyone else preferred to use the larger, even more luxurious model. Rudi liked this one, the smallest jet the company made, because he could fly it himself if he wanted.

  The lunch basket was in place on the table, he noted as he paused to pull off his robes. He draped them over one of the seats and headed forward, wearing only the dark slacks and white dress shirt that were his usual attire beneath the djellaba.

  "Samuel." Rudi clapped his hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Is everything ready?"

  "All set. You're flying yourself?"

  "I am." Rudi took the clipboard from the other man. "Take the day off. Take the week off, if you prefer."

  Samuel laughed. "Maybe I'd better. You're skipping out again, aren't you?"

  Rudi kept his expression bland. "I have a bodyguard with me."

  Disbelieving, the pilot bent and looked into the passenger cabin. He straightened with a low whistle. "Some bodyguard. I wouldn't mind guarding that body any day."

  "That body is guarding me, and from what I hear, she is very, very good at it."

  "You'll have to tell me all about it when you get back."

  Rudi gave the other man a look calculated to intimidate. It did not work as intended—nothing much intimidated Samuel—but at least he fell silent. "Did you get the flight plan filed for me?"

  "Barely. You didn't give much notice." Samuel paused. "Santa Fe again?"

  "That is what the flight plan says." Rudi bent over the instruments, beginning his preflight checklist.

  "So how come every time you file a flight plan to Santa Fe, you never get there?"

  Though his heart pounded with nerves, just as it had when Ellen called her office, Rudi refused to let it show. He trusted Sam with his life, but not with his privacy. No one knew where he was going, and it would stay that way. He had somehow made it past Ellen's phone call without catastrophe striking. He would survive this, too. "I get there. Sometimes."

  "Not often."

  "Often enough." Rudi straightened and turned to face Samuel. "It is no business of yours, is it?"

  "It is if I get fired for not doing my job. You know I'm supposed to stay with the plane, even if you're flying. I belong in the right-hand seat."

  "We have done this for years. No one has ever caught on, and no one will now. If they do, if they fire you, I will hire you."

  "You can't afford me." Samuel met Rudi's gaze for a long challenging moment before he looked away. "But it's your business. Just don't get me caught up in it."

  "I am doing nothing illegal, nor is it immoral. I simply need room to breathe every now and again."

  "Okay, okay. With these terrorists running around back in Qarif, you can't blame a guy for worrying."

  Rudi winked. "That is why I am taking a bodyguard with me this time."

  Samuel winked back. "Sure it is. Right." He drew the word out long with skepticism. He left the cockpit then, and Rudi followed.

  "I will see you in a few days," Rudi said quietly, as Samuel stepped off the plane.

  "There's a thunderstorm brewing beyond Harrisburg," Samuel said. "Better keep an eye on it."

  "Thank you. I will." Rudi hauled up the door and dogged it shut, then turned to see Ellen watching him.

  "Isn't he the pilot?"

  "I am." Rudi plucked an apple from the basket and bit into it. "Fully qualified with all the required certificates. I learned to fly during my military training several years ago. I flew this plane here from Qarif."

  Ellen eyed him as if she were having second thoughts about agreeing to the trip.

  "Do you want me to call you a cab?" he asked. "I am going, whether you come or not. So do I go with a bodyguard or without one?"

  She sighed and tugged at that wonderfully short skirt. "Go fly your plane. I'm not getting off."

  Rudi nodded briskly, careful not to allow any of his triumph to show. He was getting much too good at dissembling. Sometimes it disturbed him, how good he was at it. But not today.

  He finished his flight check, radioed the tower
and received takeoff clearance. Moments later he was in the air flying west. When he was out of the airport traffic pattern, he engaged the autopilot and stepped back into the small cabin.

  "Who's flying the plane?" Ellen looked startled to see him.

  "Autopilot. Just long enough for me to get a sandwich and some coffee." Rudi poured from the insulated carafe into his lidded cup. "There is a storm ahead I want to keep an eye on."

  "The one past Harrisburg."

  "Correct." Rudi winked at her, wondering how much else she'd heard. "I cannot keep anything from you, can I?"

  She didn't answer.

  He stirred sugar into his coffee and snapped the lid on the cup. "Come up to the cockpit if you like. The view is much better up there."

  He picked up a sandwich wrapped in plastic and headed back up front, hoping Ellen would take him up on his invitation. He wanted to talk to her. He would rather have let Samuel stay and do the flying, but he had never allowed anyone to go with him to Buckingham. Until now.

  Ellen sat in the soft velour-covered seat staring out the window at fat, fluffy clouds floating past and wondered what in heaven's holy name she was doing in this airplane. She'd been in private corporate jets before, but none so sybaritically luxurious as this one, with the ornate rugs laid over the utilitarian gray carpet and the intricate inlay on the wood-paneled half walls. Nor had she ever been in one alone.

  Not that she was exactly alone now. Rudi, her client, the body she was supposed to be guarding rather than lusting after, was on the plane with her. He was just in a separate part of the plane, in the cockpit, flying it. A rich man's self-indulgence, she told herself.

  She picked through the lunch basket, mostly to see what was there. She'd been hungry earlier, but no more. Rudi upset her stomach. It couldn't be the combination of guilt, resentment and desire he stirred up in her. But if it was, it was still his fault.

  Ellen unwrapped a sandwich and sniffed it. Chicken salad. Very fresh chicken salad. Maybe she could eat a bite or two. She poured a cup of coffee. The first sip set her back on her heels—it was strong enough to stand up and walk out of the cup on its own. But it was good. She added cream and sugar to tone it down a bit, and made up her mind.