by Diana Palmer
"You must go."
she whispered shakely.
"In a moment, he agreed."First, though, chérie, I want to be certain that your nightmares are gone."
"They are..."
"Let us make sure of it." He looked somber, very adult and mature. "The best way to stem a nightmare is to create an experience to supplant it. Do you not agree?"
"The depends... on the experience...you have in min,." she managed breathlessly.
"Something very innocent. Like you ma chérie," he added with a tender smile. "There is nothing to be afraid of, only a contact which will prove to you that innocence can be as arid as my desert."
As he spoke he lifted Brianna from the pillow and smoothed the spaghetti straps of her gown down her arms...
A Note from Diana Palmer
Dear Reader,
One of the first novels I ever read as a girl was The Sheik by E.M. Hull. I loved sheik (or sheikh, as it is sometimes spelled) books, and after I discovered romance novels, I wanted nothing more than to write a sheik book of my own.
Well, the way it turned out, my hero is definitely Arabic, but he doesn't have a desert tent to his name and he hasn't kidnapped the heroine. She is forced to live with him because he is being protected from potential assassins by government agents.
The government agent in this one is with the CIA. I used a little poetic license here, because actually it's the Secret Service that usually protects foreign dignitaries. But I already had Lang Patterson in place and I had established him as a CIA agent when I wrote this sequel to Night of Love. I have the greatest admiration for the CIA and the FBI. I always did, long before I became addicted to watching the exploits of fictional agents like Mulder, Scully and Skinner (my favorite!) in "The X-Files" on TV.
So in this book I got to do two of my favorite things―write a sheik book and root for the intelligence community. I hope I accomplished both without undue embarrassment to either. (Note to the CIA: I spent four years on & college campus waiting for you to recruit me, and you never showed up. Come on, guys, I'm only forty-nine, and I could lose weight, honest!)
Love, Diana Palmer
ISBN: 0-373-08971-6
KING'S RANSOM
Copyright ©1993 by Diana Palmer
All Rights Reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, or mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocoping, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, 10017,U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existance outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incedents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprise B.V.
® and ™ are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprise B.V. and under license. Trademarks with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed in the U.S.A.
Chapter One
It had been the longest three weeks of Brianna Scott's life. She had enough trouble as it was, with her twelve-year-old brother in a coma. Tad had been in the unconscious state for three years, since the tragic death of his and Brianna's parents in an automobile wreck.
Brianna's fingers stilled on the computer keys as she fed a letter into the machine's memory. She didn't like thinking about how much longer Tad might remain in the coma. His full name was Timothy Edward, but he'd been Tad since he was born. She was ten years his senior, and she'd taken to giving bottles and changing diapers immediately after he was born.
Their mother had never been in very good health, and Tad's birth had been a major setback for her. Brianna had been handy around the house, thank goodness, or the advent of a new child into the family might have been a disaster. With Brianna's help, her mother was able to regain her health and take proper care of the little boy.
"You look thoughtful," Meg Shannon Ryker mused, pausing beside Brianna's desk with Daphne, her husband's secretary.
"I was just thinking about something," Brianna said. She smiled up at the lovely blond woman who'd married the top executive of Ryker Air only two days ago. It had been a stormy courtship, and a long-standing one, but the marriage hadn't really surprised anyone. The way Steven Ryker and Meg looked at each other was enough to set off major fireworks.
"I'm taking Daphne out for lunch," Meg said. "Can you cope?"
"As long as he isn't around," the younger woman said grimly.
"Steven took him out for lunch," Meg assured her. "He'll probably go right back to his hotel afterward. After the shoot-out he endured a while ago, it's a miracle that he's still alive. Steve and I can't even take a honeymoon until we get this mess straightened out."
"Aha," Brianna said merrily. "You hate him, too, don't you?"
"Not really." Meg chuckled. "He's very nice."
"Not to me, he isn't," Brianna said shortly. "He looks at me."
"You're very pretty, you know," Meg said, noting Brianna's exquisite complexion and big blue eyes in their frame of short, straight black hair.
"That isn't what I meant," Brianna corrected. "He...glowers at me. Glares at me.
Stares daggers at me. That sort of looking."
"I see. Well, you did throw a paperweight at him," Meg pointed out.
"He insulted me," the younger woman muttered. "It wasn't my fault! I love barbecue. Everybody I know loves barbecue. How was I supposed to know that all his colleagues who were also cabinet ministers from Saudi Mahara were Moslems and they can't eat pork?"
"We didn't tell you, so we get to share the blame," Daphne offered, smiling.
"I'm sorry. I meant to, but we got busy."
"We've never been so busy before," Meg agreed. "This new contract for Saudi Mahara's jets has been one long headache, although I certainly don't blame Ahmed for it. I'm glad we got the job. It means a stable budget for the company for years to come."
"I know that," Brianna said silently. "But..." Her eyes bulged. "Isn't that Lang?" she asked.
"Oh, Lord, don't let Steven see him," Meg squeaked, because she'd spotted the tall, husky government agent, too. Lang was well built, in his early thirties and handsome enough to turn heads. He was a wild man, though, and Steven Ryker didn't appreciate his devil-may-care attitude.
"What is he doing here?" Daphne wondered.
Lang noticed the three women staring at him. He moved toward them with a grin on his face that was reflected in his dark eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie. The conservative look was a bald-faced lie. Lang was a law unto himself.
"I know, you can't resist me," Lang said, nodding. "But you're a married woman, now, Meg. Control those urges. Your husband already offered my boss a bribe to send me to Antarctica on a fact-finding mission."
"Inside a whale, if I remember correctly," Meg mused.
"Why are you here?" Brianna asked worriedly.
He evaded her searching gaze. "You'll find out soon enough," he promised. "I'm waiting for your husband," he added to Meg.
"Steven didn't mention that you were expected," Daphne said curiously.
"I asked him not to. We're very cloak-and-dagger about this," he explained. "No leaks. No loose lips."
"It's something to do with Ahmed, isn't it?" Brianna asked coolly. "Go ahead, tell me it isn't."
"He's trying to avoid being assassinated," Lang reminded her. "He's a foreign dignitary and we're sworn to protect him. We can't le
t somebody take him out here in Wichita. Bad for our image," he added.
"Can't you send him home and let his own people protect him?" she asked plaintively.
"Not really. Two of the ringleaders of a terrorist squad that we captured before they did him harm got loose on the way back to Saudi Mahara. Their colleagues have organized a second coup attempt in as many weeks. This is going to be one touchy issue until we resolve it."
"But I thought Ahmed was being sent home, too," Meg began.
Lang shook his head. "Too risky now. We've come up with a way to keep his identity secret and to protect him and his king. We're installing a man impersonating the king in the Hilton with armed guards on the whole floor. He won't leave his room, and if they make a try for anybody, he'll be first. He's one of our men, of course," Lang added with a grimace. "Getting the royal treatment. Lobster tails every night. Full breakfast served in bed every morning. I volunteered, God knows I did, I'd never have minded the risk. But they thought I was too eager," he said with disgust.
The women tried not to laugh. He flexed his broad shoulders. "Anyway, I'm going to have my hands full. Speaking of full hands, guess who just walked in?"
Steven Ryker and Ahmed ben Rashid were about the same height, both dark haired and dark skinned, but Sloven's eyes were a light silvery color and Ahmed's face showed his Arab heritage. He had a mustache, too, unlike Steven. He smiled at Meg and Daphne, but the look he gave Brianna could have fried an egg.
She gave it back with interest.
"Daphne and I were going to lunch," Meg began.
"Go ahead, darling," Steven said gently, pulling her close to kiss her. "I can't turn loose yet. We have some business to discuss."
"You aren't leaving?" Lang asked Brianna suddenly.
She hesitated a minute, startled by the question. "Well, no, not yet...."
"Good." He turned to Steven. "We'd better get to it."
"All right. See you tonight, sweet thing," Steven told Meg, and the smile they shared made Brianna faintly envious.
She turned her attention back to her work, while Daphne and Meg called their goodbyes and Lang went with Steven on into the executive office.
"Yes?" Brianna asked Ahmed with a glare. "Did you want something?"
"You are obnoxious even before you speak," he said curtly. "In my country, you would live on bread and water forever with such an attitude."
"I'd rather live on bread and water than sit at an elegant table eating lobster with you," she said with smiling malice.
"As if you would ever receive such an invitation from me," he returned with faint contempt. "I have my pick of women, you see."
"The Sheik of Araby," she said under her breath.
"I beg your pardon?"
She lifted her eyes to his. "I do hope you enjoy your trip back home when you go, and the sooner the better."
He gave her an indifferent appraisal. "A woman with a tongue such as yours should welcome even the most casual conversation from a man. I am certain that you are unmarried."
"Yes, I am," she agreed happily. "Did my happy expression give me away?"
He frowned. "Give you... away?"
"Did it betray my state of unbridled bliss?" She corrected.
He didn't seem to find her comment amusing. "Women in my country delight in marrying and producing children."
"Women in mine don't have to get married and have children if they don't want to, or wear a veil, or join a harem, or become the property of their husbands," she replied sweetly.
He glared at her. "You are insulting. Such an undisciplined tongue will one day cost you any possibility of making a good marriage."
"One can only hope," she agreed with a sigh.
He said something in his own language. It sounded musical and insulting, and Brianna glared at him.
"Uh, Ahmed, could we see you for a moment?" Lang called, trying to avert a disaster.
Ahmed glanced at him and back at Brianna. He was standing stiffly beside her desk and reluctant to leave the field. The woman made him angrier than anyone in this country ever had. The death threats, the assassination attempts were all insignificant beside making this woman treat him with the respect that was his due. Women usually fell over themselves trying to catch his eye, get his attention. This one only insulted him, making a joke of his status. He couldn't remember feeling such rage.
"Ahmed?" Lang called again, more insistently.
"Oh, very well," the Arab said irritably.
Chapter Two
Brianna didn't see Ahmed again that day. But the next morning, he walked past her desk and gave her a look so icy that it made her shiver. She returned it with cold dislike as he passed through the office where she did her secretarial duties. If she disliked him, the reverse was also patently obvious.
Brianna found the tall Arab something of a puzzle, as many of the other employees also did. He'd been introduced as Ahmed ben Rashid, a cabinet official of the Arab republic of Saudi Mahara. But he had the arrogance of an emperor and a temper to match. She wondered if Lang was somewhere close by. The CIA was much involved in his protection, and there was something going on. Ahmed had been in the office just yesterday. Why was he back today? Wasn't it a risk for him to be seen in public?
If the bodyguard he carried around with him was any indication of the esteem in which his country held him, the United States government would do well to keep him safe, Brianna thought. But for her part, they could guard him on Alcatraz. She tried to imagine his regal presence sitting in a damp cell and her blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Nothing to do, Brianna?" Steven Ryker asked dryly from behind her.
She turned to face the president and CEO of Ryker Air, red faced. "Oh. Certainly, Mr. Ryker," she stammered. "I was just, uh, just, uh..."
"He doesn't like you any more than you like him," Steven pointed out. "The difference is that he hides it better."
"He doesn't, you know," she returned stiffly. "He called me names, he insulted me, he had me in tears..."
"You got even," he reminded her, smiling reflectively. "Do you have any idea how close you came to causing an international incident?"
"One can only dream, sir." She sighed, and smiled, pushing back her short black hair.
"You're hopeless," he murmured, laughing. "Stop glaring at him. He's one of our best customers."
"He's buying jet fighters to kill people with," she began.
He held up his hand. Since his marriage to pretty Meg, he'd mellowed just a little. "His government is," he countered.
"Same difference." She glared after the Arab's retreating back. "Why is he here again today?" she moaned.
"It's a secret," he said with an odd look. "But it has something to do with the fact that somebody blew up his Jet last night."
Her eyes widened. "Who?"
"We don't know. Fortunately it was deserted at the time. The pilot was just on his way across the tarmac. But the government has decided to conceal him here until his people back home catch the two conspirators who escaped from custody.
They think he may still be a target."!
"Oh, brother," she said heavily, remembering all too well that Ahmed had almost been killed, and Steven and Meg and his private secretary along with him.
"The only good thing is that they don't know exactly what Ahmed looks like. The men who could have recognized him are in tight custody in Saudi Mahara."
"Are they going to take him to Washington to protect him?" she asked hopefully.
"Why would they want to do that?" a deep, amused voice asked.
Brianna and Steven turned to face the newcomer. It was dark, handsome Lang. The CIA man had saved Steven's new wife from would-be kidnappers a short while ago, but Steven was still irritated at him because of the manner in which he'd saved Meg. Steven thought Lang was reckless.
"If it isn't the secret pain-in-the-neck agent," he muttered. "Hello, Lang."
"We meet again," the other man said with a grin. "Hi, Brianna, how about lun
ch?
Or would you rather skip all the picky stuff and just get married now?"
She laughed. "You'd run a mile if I said yes."
"Probably. You could try and see."
"No, thanks. I have work to do."
"Indeed you do," Lang said, taking her arm. "Come along, Ryder. You're in on this, too."
"I am, but I don't like it."
"We've found the perfect place to hide Ahmed," he said, hurrying them toward Steven's office. "It's great. It's safe. It's the last place in the country they'd ever look for him."
"Where? Can I ask?" Brianna queried.
Lang paused at the closed door with his hand on the knob. "Why, in the bosom of his deadliest enemy, of course. Figuratively speaking," he added, and arched his eyebrows several times at Brianna.
She felt her jaw drop. He couldn't be thinking... meaning...
"Come in, and I'll explain."
Lang opened the door. Ahmed was standing at the window, his hands neatly folded behind him, his profile sharp and aristocratic as he gazed down on the parking lot below. He turned as Steven and Brianna came in with Lang, and his liquid black eyes made threatening flashes lit her.
"Ahmed," Lang said brightly, "look who I've brought with me. It's your cousin by marriage, with whom you'll be living in your guise of a poor migrant cowboy."
Brianna pinched herself, but it didn't do any good. Ahmed glared viciously at the government man. Steven Ryker had to smother laughter.
"Stay with that she-cobra?" Ahmed asked haughtily. "I have told you already, I should rather live in the zoo!"
"That would suit me, too. You can stick him in the cage with the snakes!"
Brianna said. She glared at Lang. "I live alone. I'm a single woman. I don't live with men. I don't like him. I especially would not live with him." She pointed at Ahmed.
"Everybody knows that. Which is why nobody will look for him at your apartment.
And to make it even better , we're going to give him the credentials of a Mexican ininerant laborer, a cousin of yours from Chihuahua who kit lost his job in Texas and needs a place to rest up and look for more work. Where better than with his favorite cousin?"
