The Sheikh's Surprise Triplets (Azhar Sheikhs Book 3)

by Leslie North

  When the plane was airborne and stabilizing against the currents, he opened his eyes. Juliette watched him with wide eyes.

  “Does taking off scare you?”

  He shifted in his seat, wanting to get another whiff of her perfume. It might help calm him—it certainly did every other time. “A little, maybe.”

  “And taking a helicopter into an uninhabited region to survive for three days doesn’t scare you?”

  “They’re entirely different things.” He grinned, fighting the urge to scoop her hand into his, draw lazy patterns against the smooth-looking skin there. “They can’t be compared.”

  “You’re something else.” The tone of her voice made it clear it was at least partly a compliment. He ripped his eyes off the graceful arc of her fingers.

  A few moments later the pilot’s voice came over the speaker again, announcing they could move about freely in the cabin. Basri told Juliette and added, “I brought some drinks and snacks if you get hungry on the way there. And, of course, some provisions for our actual trip.”

  She watched him with a gleam in her eye. “You couldn’t have at least told me a little bit about this trip in advance? I mean, talk about my coming unprepared. I didn’t know provisions were even something to worry about.”

  “But I’ve taken care of it all. I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I wouldn’t have expected you to purchase all of the things that you’d need.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hiking poles, tent, sleeping pad, things like that. I assumed that you didn’t move to Lebanon with those things, despite the Girl Scout you claim to be.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “You’d be right about that.”

  They alternated between comfortable silence and lighthearted conversation as the plane ride wore on. After an hour, Juliette stretched and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “Time for the little girl’s cabin. Then maybe we can start packing me up like a real Georgian hiker.” She stood, stretching again, and then headed for the little cabin tucked away by the door to the cockpit. Basri uncovered the backpack he’d stowed away earlier that day, as well as the box of extra equipment he’d brought along for her. He’d purchased them himself, before she’d even agreed to come, superstitiously believing that purchasing it meant she’d eventually say yes.

  And maybe it had worked.

  He plopped the bag and box onto the floor in the center of the cabin and got to work organizing the things. He’d been packing and preparing for wilderness trips for years now, and he found something comforting and ritualistic in the process. And it was doubly nice to be introducing someone else to the experience, as well.

  Someone like Juliette, who he hoped might stick around for a long time, and not just because she worked for him.

  His forearms prickled, and the same question cycled through him, just as it had for the past week: What are you really doing with her here? On the surface, the answer was simple: showing Juliette part of his secret world, his internal process. There was no greater joy than sharing the quiet, jaw-dropping wonders of survival with someone special. It was the very thing he’d cherished with his father before he’d passed—the special getaways to reacquaint himself with the throbbing immensity of the natural world.

  But there was more to it than that.

  Juliette came out of the bathroom, her easy smile rooting him to his spot. He watched her come over and sit next to him, tucking her legs beneath her as if they were kids about to play a game. “So, this is it?”

  Basri nodded, bringing the box closer. “Here are some of the extra things I have.” He wouldn’t mention he’d picked them out especially for her, as if purchasing gifts for a girlfriend. “There’s a superlight sleeping bag in here, a canteen, a sleep pad that rolls up and weighs almost nothing…” He pawed through the box, highlighting some other items. “A jackknife, a compass, flares, a solar filtration system…”

  Juliette’s eyes widened the more he went on. “Jesus. Thank you.”

  “It’s better to be overprepared,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “I’ll show you what I packed, then we can go from there.”

  Basri tugged his backpack over, unzipping it so the front flap folded open and everything was revealed. He pawed through the contents, showing her the essentials he’d brought. “Here’s my sleeping bag, hiking socks, first aid kit…” He pointed out the items attached to the outside, like the sleeping pad and utility pan. “Oh, and underwear of course.” He held up the black boxers briefly before shoving them back into the bag. As he zipped the pack up, Juliette had averted her gaze.

  “What is it?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing.” After a moment, she said, “It’s just kinda weird seeing your boss’s underwear.”

  He laughed. “I’m not your boss this weekend, remember? If it’ll help, you can show me your underwear. Then we’ll be even.”

  Her lips parted slightly, and he wanted to kiss that pretty shocked mouth. “That’s okay. Nobody needs to see anybody’s underwear.”

  She pushed up to her knees, leaning past him to grab the handle of her suitcase. Turbulence buffeted the airplane and she gasped, losing her balance. She tumbled his way, and he caught her reflexively, breaking her fall, one hand sliding dangerously near to her breast.

  Juliette swore, then laughed. He didn’t make a move, and neither did she, remaining in his embrace, a strange version of cuddling.

  “Caught you,” he said, the heat of her clouding his head. He never wanted to let go, now that he knew how glorious she felt—the sweet softness of her sides, the scent of her from so close.

  “Thanks.” She groaned, sitting up, her warmth replaced by a blast of cool air. He blinked, still feeling the tingle of her nearness on his hands, and helped yank her suitcase closer. All he could think about was feeling that heat against him again. The reassuring weight of her in his arms, like she’d been made for him. That knowledge zapped through him like a lightning strike.

  Along with the knowledge that this weekend trip might not remain the platonic wilderness trip he’d been struggling to convince himself it should be.

  “Now,” she said, wiping a few strands of hair away from her flushed face, “Let’s get to re-packing.”

  6

  All around them spread ravines and gorges, stuffed full of spruce and fir trees, their pointy tops looking cartoonish from so high above. The loud whirr of the helicopter faded to the background as the views grew progressively more jaw-dropping. She’d never even heard of the Caucasus Mountains before. Hell, she hadn’t even been sure Georgia was really a country, but they’d certainly landed there just over an hour ago, passport stamp and all.

  Basri pointed somewhere ahead of them, his dark eyes abnormally focused. “Our drop-off point is up there. We’ll be rappelling down soon.”

  She nodded, the words not quite sinking in. Gripping the straps of her thankfully-light backpack, she scanned the direction he’d pointed out, trying to take it all in. To the north, snow-peaked mountains made an impressive backdrop. The whole place looked like something from The Sound of Music.

  “We’ll be what?”

  “Rappelling down.” He leaned forward, speaking louder. “The helicopter can’t land, there’s no good spot.”

  She nodded reflexively, but her stomach cinched tighter than a knot. He had to be crazy. There was no way they could get out of this helicopter without using a landing pad. It wasn’t…allowed, or something.

  The helicopter chopped its way through the crystal-clear afternoon. Juliette’s gaze wandered back out to the mountains, the sight calming her a little. This was already unreal. And if she were with anybody but Basri, the extent of the trip would involve looking at the mountain range from the helicopter then turning around and flying home.

  But oh, no. Not Basri. He needed to include the rappelling.

  The helicopter slowed a bit, which made Juliette’s stomach lurch. Any sudden change in speed in the air made her think a malfunction was pending. The
pilot looked back to them and gave a thumbs-up, to which Basri nodded. The flight assistant tugged at a rope that turned into a rope ladder, which unraveled a considerable length. He made a pile on the floor of the helicopter and then reached for the lever of the door, tugging it open.

  Air whooshed inside, temporarily paralyzing her. Juliette gaped out into the yawning abyss of the day, the blades of the helicopter flashing above them. She gripped the bench. No way was she going out that door.

  Basri grinned at her while the assistant lowered the rope ladder out the hole of the helicopter, like he was feeding geese at a pond on a lazy Sunday. “You ready?”

  She shook her head. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  “This isn’t as scary as it looks, I promise you. I’ll go first, then you follow me.”

  She watched as the entire length of the ladder tumbled out the side of the helicopter. Basri stood at the edge of the opening, peering out into the day, while the assistant fastened his harness. Once he was ready, he sat on his butt, legs dangling out the side.

  “I’ll start going down first. Wait until I’m about a full height’s away before you start. The ladder will reach almost to the ground, and then we’ll jump. I promise, this will be fine.”

  She gripped the edge of the bench, unable to look away from the dizzying swirl of the world beyond that open door. She nodded. “Any chance you could go and I’ll just wait for you in a hotel in the next city over?”

  He laughed, extending his hand. “Get your harness on, then sit here and watch me go down. Then you’ll come after. Come on!”

  He waited until she’d snugged up the harness straps around her hips and scooted toward him with a knot in her stomach. Then he flipped and hooked his foot onto the ladder, his grin steady and somehow reassuring. Or totally insane.

  “Here we go!” He descended slowly. Once his head cleared the door she scooted closer, peeking over hesitantly. The sheer space before them—the endless ravine, the sprawling trees, the greenery that dissolved into forever—made her wobble, and she gulped, gripping the edge of the doorframe.

  Basri looked up at her, his hair whipping in the wind, eyes squinched up into a smile against the sunlight. He waved at her, beckoning her to follow.

  She drew a shaky breath, repeating the most calming phrases she could recall—You’ve got this, nobody will die, this is normal somewhere, just make it the fuck down alive—and flipped over to scoot out of the door, grimacing as the wind buffeted her ass.

  “What the fuck.” She groped blindly with her foot, searching out the first rung of the rope ladder. She hooked it after a second and tested it, bringing down her other foot. She groaned, clutching the side of the helicopter as long as she could.

  She descended a rung, moving one hand then the other to grasp the top rung of the ladder. She looked down; Basri was pretty far down, still grinning like an idiot. Why the fuck are we doing this? She descended another step, the wind buffeting her, making her hands sweat against the rungs.

  Fuck. Move faster. She pinched her eyes shut and then stepped down again. And again. It became a tense routine—make it down one step, force another one out—and before she knew it, she’d cleared half the distance to the ground.

  She glanced down again. Basri was already on the ground, hopping up and down with a smile on his face. Her personal cheerleader. It warmed her heart for a moment, and then she plunged onward.

  Soon she was at tree level, the rich, dark foliage a balm to her nerves. Before long she reached the bottom rung of the ladder. Relief swarmed her, and she glanced down to the ground to measure her jump. Basri whooped as she took the leap, landing soft on her feet in a thicket of moss at his side.

  “You did it!” Basri laughed and hollered, resting his hands on her shoulders. She grinned up at him, exhilaration making her knees wobble. Basri made quick work of the safety harness, and the flight assistant hauled both harnesses and the ladder back up into the helicopter.

  “I can’t believe it.” She tilted her head to watch. Soon the helicopter lifted and flew away, the blades becoming a distant thrum against their tranquil surroundings.

  Silence fell between them, and Juliette looked around with wonder. Tall fir and pine trees towered around them, thick and ancient beauty, the air cleaner than she’d ever tasted in her life. She took a deep breath, feeling immediately revitalized. Basri watched her like he knew exactly what was going through her head.

  “Where to first?” He fished for something in the side pocket of his backpack, then tugged out a square of paper. He unfolded it, revealing a map. “We’re about here,” he said, pointing to a vague spot somewhere in the upper left corner of the map. “And our rendezvous point will be here.” He pointed to another spot. “So, your choice. Left or right?”

  “Um, how about forward?” She laughed, hooking her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. This would be fun. It would be the strangest thing she’d ever done on a whim with anyone…but also fun.

  “Forward it is.”

  Basri led the way, his clunky boots crunching over pine detritus and the soft mossy underbelly of the forest. The spectacular snowcapped mountains she’d seen from the air were now totally obscured. In all directions sprawled the Caucasus forest.

  She took another deep breath as they trekked forward, disbelief trickling through her. She was in Georgia. With Basri. Miles and miles away from anything resembling human civilization. After a bit of methodical crunching through the forest, she got the urge to share something about this on social media. A little picture update, with a tagline that already floated through her head. Her fingers twitched, and then she remembered—the phone was on board the jet. Exactly where she’d determined to leave it for the entirety of the weekend.

  “I just remembered I don’t have my phone,” she admitted, her voice sounding almost brash in the soothing tranquility of the forest. “I already wanted to put something on Facebook.”

  Basri laughed, glancing back at her, that boyish grin nearly bringing her to her knees. Maybe she could make an exception for the weekend. If he insisted on not being her boss, then a little Caucasus hook-up would be totally fine. What happens in Georgia stays in Georgia.

  “That’s what I love most about coming on these trips. The disconnect.” He sighed, stepping over a fallen log. “It’s too easy to get trapped in the mess of constant connectivity.”

  “Yeah. This is pretty calming, really.” She dragged her fingers over the rough bark of a tree as she walked past. “No e-mail to check, no deadlines…there’s nothing.”

  “But rather, everything.” Basri swept his arm out in front of him. “I find everything when I’m out here. I can refocus on my needs, figure out my life again.”

  “So this is always where you disappear to?”

  “Not to Georgia all the time, but trips like this, yes.” He watched the ground as he walked forward. “It’s something I learned from my father. He’d take me on these wild trips when I was growing up. It came to be our special tradition. Where we could completely disconnect and just…exist. Together.”

  “Your dad must have been quite the daredevil.”

  “Our trips weren’t this intense. We did tamer things, lots of camping and fishing. Asim and Nasir never liked it much, though. I guess that’s why it became our tradition.”

  She’d never met Nasir personally, but she’d talked to him plenty on the phone throughout her couple of weeks on the job. From what she’d gathered, both of his elder brothers were chained to their desks, and found a lot of satisfaction in it.

  “Why didn’t they like this?” She tilted her head back, gawking at the towering trees. Nothing like an ages-old tree to make you feel insignificant. “I can’t imagine.”

  “They like more high-profile fun,” Basri said. “Sports cars, gambling. They don’t get stuff like this. Actually, I think Nasir works for fun.”

  Silence settled between them again, and Basri’s sad tone echoed through her head. The thought had been churning in
side her since the beginning, but it burbled even fiercer now that she’d met Asim and had followed Basri to Georgia: nobody really understood him. Not even his own brothers. His mother did, and surely his father had while alive…but who else?

  “Have you ever brought them out on a trip like this?”

  “Not since I’ve become an adult. I already know what they’d say if I invited them. They make fun of me for coming on my own, anyway.”

  She frowned, clutching the straps of her backpack. “Do you get along with your brothers?”

  He was quiet for so long she thought he hadn’t heard her. “In our own ways, yes.”

  “I met Asim the other day. He seems so different from you.” She paused. “But very nice, of course.”

  Basri smiled back at her, making her stumble over an exposed root. “We love each other. But they don’t understand me. And I don’t know how to show them who I am. After my father died, I went a little crazy, I’ll admit. I turned to…vice. Anything, really. I became a party guy…but it was just a phase. I don’t think they’ve noticed that I stopped partying.”

  Juliette sat on his words, repeating them over and over in her mind. “Don’t you want them to know the real you?”

  “Only they can decide to do that,” he said after a moment. “I can’t convince them of something they don’t want to see.”

  They continued for a long while, until the sun started to threaten the horizon. With the forest ablaze in hues of orange and red, Basri paused.

  “We should find a place to set up camp.” He nodded in front of him. “Let’s walk a bit longer and then find a place to pitch the tents.”

  Their walk had been slow and comfortable, almost a stroll through a forest on a lazy Sunday afternoon, if she could only overlook the crushing distance between them and the nearest emergency facility.

  In front of them, the ground sloped upward, and something like a clearing opened up at the top of the slope. Basri pointed toward it. “Let’s try up there.”

  They navigated around a mess of bushes and climbed up the slope carefully, stepping around rocks and spiny plants. Juliette’s boot got stuck between two oddly-positioned rocks as she followed Basri up the incline; when she jerked to move her foot she couldn’t, and she tried again harder, grunting.