Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  “Fuck, Kadar! You’ve got Zoe Baker there? Jesus fucking H Christ!”

  “You know of her?”

  “Everyone does! Well, just about everyone does who’s not deaf and blind, and even they probably do as well by now. Everyone’s on the lookout for her; there’s an enormous fucking reward for information on finding her. How the fuck she’s kept under the radar for this long is unbelievable. She must be one very smart cookie.”

  “She’s terrified, Ben.” I have my answer; she wasn’t exaggerating.

  “And she’s right to be. If he finds her, I have little doubt he’ll kill her. He’ll get away with it too.” Ben’s voice goes hard, “Insider info says he’s done it before.”

  “Shit and bugger it.” I’m repeating myself, my expensive Eton and Oxford education flying out of the window as I find myself lost for more adequate words. Zoe Baker is in real danger. “She doesn’t seem to have involved the police? Is it worth her reporting him?”

  “Not sure who’d be brave or stupid enough to take him on. He’d wriggle out of anything, and she’d just be putting herself at risk if she came out into the open.”

  If I had any doubt before it’s gone now; she’s coming back to Amahad.

  “He came to Club Tiacapan once, Kadar. You should ask your brother about that. Ignored safewords and Nijad had to pull him off a woman before the Dungeon Monitors could get there. He was barred after.” I don’t bother telling him I remembered the incident that had got both Nijad and St John-Davies banned. Nijad’s had been lifted, though. Ben continues, “Understand he made a bit of trouble for Jasim afterwards, but with the kind of clientele the club attracts he didn’t get far.”

  I’m not surprised, the carefully preserved privacy of the club meant that Jasim’s contacts are probably as widespread and of the same calibre as St John-Davies’. I think quickly. “Have you got anyone available to put on Zoe until I leave on Saturday? I need to get a passport sorted for her. She left his house leaving all her papers behind.”

  “You want help with the passport?”

  “I’ll get an Amahadian one for her.”

  “Okay. Well, Sean Cooper’s available? You know him from the club I think, and he’s one of my best. I know you’d probably prefer Jon, but he’s not doing close protection work anymore. I’ll make sure he takes the lead from the office side, though.”

  “Sean would be great.” Jon Tharpe used to be Nijad’s CPO until the incident, and after that would often provide his bodyguarding duties for myself or Jasim. Until he met Mia, of course. Ben’s right, I would have liked to have Jon working with me again, but someone else would do. To be honest, all of the Grade A close protection officers are well trained and efficient.

  We conclude the conversation with Ben sending best wishes to Cara and Nijad, hoping the birth of their baby goes well.

  Putting down the phone, I’m relieved Ben’s got someone available. I know Sean, he’s a good guy, albeit with a rather unique deviant sexual slant, even in the world of kink. I’ve met him at Club Tiacapan and seen him in action. It’s as if the guy can’t make up his mind what he wants to be. He’s a switch, can top or bottom, and is bisexual to boot. Even I, as a man, can admit he’s extremely good looking with charisma which makes him attractive to either sex, he can dominate the ladies, or be submit to the men. Or vice versa. He’s also a skilled fighter, excelling in hand-to-hand combat using his martial arts. A sharpshooter and sniper.

  Yes, Sean’s a good guy to provide protection to Zoe. Except… I feel a strange burning sensation inside me as the thought slams into me like a twenty-ton truck; I’d rather he didn’t come within a hundred miles of Zoe. A blind man would be able to see she’s submissive. Shame Ben didn’t suggest Harry; he’s happily married and in his forties. Perhaps I should ring him back and insist he assigns someone else.

  I just about manage to pull myself together before I reach to pick up the phone to request a replacement officer to provide close protection. Last night’s Dom space must still be affecting me, otherwise how on earth could I be feeling possessive of a woman I don’t even know?

  Chapter 13

  Zoe

  Who is this man? I know he’s Kadar Kassis, the Emir of Amahad, but who is he underneath all those trappings of state? And why am I so confused about him?

  As I sit in the outer office, worried who he could be calling, my fears that he’s in league with Ethan may have dissipated, but I’m still scared that even an innocent enquiry about my name could trigger alarm bells and somehow lead to giving away my whereabouts. That huge reward―half a million fucking pounds!―for information would be tempting to many people. And I know nothing about Kadar, only what he’s shared with me.

  As I wait and wonder, my mind goes back to that day when I first met Ethan, and how he took me in so completely. A shiver runs down my spine. Is history repeating itself? There’s a magnetism about the emir which lures me in. And when he mentioned the harem…heaven forgive me, but I felt such a sudden strong desire. And when he offered me his protection I could have melted into a puddle at his feet. Shit! Am I forever doomed to find wealth and power a turn on? Is that all it takes to ensnare me?

  Sitting, hunched up in the comfortable visitor’s seat, my arms around my knees I wonder why on earth I’m worrying about my reaction to Kadar. He’s hardly likely to have even noticed me, except as a problem he’d like to solve. He’s an emir, for goodness sake, so far out of my reach, it’s laughable. It’s not going to be a repeat of Ethan; I’m not that naïve to believe I’ve so much appeal that I could catch the attention of any wealthy, powerful man. I’ve got real problems to deal with rather than worrying about something that will never happen. No, what I should be more concerned about is now he knows my secret, what’s he going to do with the information?

  Once again seated behind his assistant’s plaque, Richard looks at me curiously as the tension and worry clearly show on my face. I can’t seem to stop wringing my hands together in my lap; I only just managing to hold in my scream of frustration. And now there’s him to worry about, too, Richard, another one who knows my real name as Kadar had let it drop. Is he trustworthy? Is his loyalty to the emir worth more than the reward for revealing where I am?

  My eyes keep flicking to that closed office door, concerned I haven’t a clue what’s going on behind it. Is Kadar contacting the authorities? If he calls the police I’m done for, they won’t believe my word over Ethan’s. They might not give me straight back to him, but he’ll find out where I am, and somehow I’d soon find myself in his clutches again. I’ll never be safe in this country, not with such a large bounty on my head. But I’m stuck here; without a passport, there’s no way I can leave. Putting my head in my hands, I feel like a mouse in a humane trap. I’m not dead yet, but I’m at the mercy of others to set me free.

  It seems like I’ve been waiting forever, but the clock tells me it’s only twenty minutes when Richard leaves the reception area, quickly returning with a selection of sandwiches and places them in front of me. I don’t think I’m hungry, but my stomach growls at the sight of food and without giving it too much thought I start to eat.

  I’m halfway through the plateful when the outer door opens once more and in walks one of the most good-looking men I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s tall, not broad or muscular, but his face has an elegant and symmetrical bone structure with high cheekbones, drawn in cheeks and an angular jaw covered with designer stubble. I can see his long dark eyelashes from where I’m sitting; they’re the type any woman would die for. His blue eyes twinkle as he crosses the room, and his blond hair, a shade darker than my own natural colour, reaches to his collar in a shaggy but expensively styled fashion. His face could easily grace the cover of a woman’s magazine, and I’m curious why he’s here. He’s not dressed for a meeting with a monarch; he’s wearing tight dark blue jeans, a light blue shirt and a casual blazer left unbuttoned. I have to acknowledge he’s utterly gorgeous as he gives me a wink and a friendly smile, and as I no
d back at him, I find I’m comparing him to the ruggedly handsome sheikh. My assessment awards preference to the other man. I give myself a mental slap.

  Richard uses the intercom to alert the sheikh of the newcomer’s arrival, and to my surprise, he then ushers both the stranger and me into the inner sanctum. The emir gets to his feet and shakes the stranger’s hand warmly, clasping it as though greeting an old friend.

  “Sean Cooper. Thank you for coming over so quickly. Please, take a seat. And you, too, Miss Baker.” His manner seems to have changed. Now there is no doubting he is a ruler, in charge of a whole country, his tone is commanding. He waits until we’ve complied with his instruction. “Sean, you’ve been briefed?”

  Not wasting time, Sean answers with just a quick nod. The emir turns to me, his dark eyes piercing, “Miss Baker, I’ve been putting some plans in place, and I hope you will approve. You will be coming to Amahad with me when I return on Saturday, and you will take up employment, as previously discussed with my sister-in-law, managing the project to renovate the harem. We’ll be flying by private jet, and you’ll be will travelling on Amahadian papers. I trust that is acceptable?” He asks the question, but it comes out as more of a statement.

  I close my eyes briefly, trying to assimilate he’s just told me. In just two sentences, Kadar has thrown me a lifetime. I take a moment, allowing myself to enjoy the immense relief that I’ll be out of the country in just a couple days. After the stress and strain of the last few months, it seems unbelievable that I’ll be away from Ethan’s clutches and doing a dream job I’ve been trained for. When I open them again, I can see he’s still waiting for me to speak. “Thank you, Your Excellency. You don’t know how much this means to me,” my voice is breathy; I can feel tears pricking in my eyes. Happy tears this time. Maybe there is an escape for me.

  “You have made a bad enemy,” the emir tells me. All at once his face grows fierce. “I have no time for men who hurt women, Miss Baker. Unfortunately, this is not my country, and I can make no retribution for you. But rest assured you will be safe in Amahad. I give you my word.”

  The ferocity of his statement and tone in which it’s delivered surprises, but also comforts me, and makes me reconsider my belief that all men who wield power are the same. Something in his voice, the way he holds himself as he gives me his promise, makes me believe it’s not an empty one and that his word is something I can rely on. I meet his eyes, and nod my thanks, hoping I’m conveying my gratefulness sufficiently without words which, for the moment, seem to escape me.

  The emir is now all business. He accepts my thanks with a sharp nod, but no particular warmth in his eyes. With relief, I acknowledge if there’s any attraction it’s all on my side, and I need to bury it now. He’s saving my life, and I couldn’t ask more of him that that. Quickly I pull my attention back when I realise he’s still speaking.

  “This is Sean Cooper, he’s a Close Protection Officer, and he will be providing protection for you until you are safely on the private jet.”

  That makes me look up. He’s a bodyguard? Never! “You’re arranging protection for me? But Ethan…” I was going to explain Ethan was more than a match for one man, particularly this one sitting next to me who seemed more suited to use his assets to sell aftershave.

  The man in question smiles and leans towards me as he sees my confusion, “You’ll be safe with me, Zoe. I’ll make sure you arrive at the airport without any problems.” He oozes confidence, and when I open my mouth to try and get him to understand who he’s dealing with, he pre-empts me, holding up his palm to face me. “I’m well aware of St John-Davies,” he tells me, “And I know what he’s capable off. Don’t worry; I’ll keep you out of harm’s way. That bastard won’t get near you.” He even reaches over and pats my hand in reassurance.

  For some reason the Sheikh frowns at the gesture, his eyes alighting on the back of my hand before his gaze moves up again, “I’ll make sure you have all the flight details, Sean.”

  I look from the incredibly beautiful apparent bodyguard who evokes no reaction from me to the stern-faced Sheikh, and the thought of going with him to his homeland gives me butterflies in my stomach, and once again my nipples harden, betraying my attraction. What the hell is wrong with my libido today?

  The emir is looking at me strangely, and I feel my cheeks reddening as I hope to God he can’t read the thoughts going through my head. After a moment’s steady appraisal, he turns back to Sean. “I have another meeting; I’ll leave you and Miss Baker to acquaint yourselves.” He stares at him for a moment, his face becoming fierce, almost threatening, “I’m leaving her in your capable hands, Sean. I trust you will treat her appropriately.” Was it my imagination there was an emphasis on the last word?

  And with that, we appear to be dismissed. I leave the room with my new bodyguard, the person who tells me he’ll be my shadow until I reach the safety of Amahad, reassuring me yet again of my safety under his protection. In the reception area, he pauses to scrutinise me, examining me so intently that I shuffle my feet and look down.

  “That’s a wig.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I confirm it anyway.

  “I know he can access the CCTV, he’ll be using the software that analyses faces too,” I tell him, my fears suddenly taking over from my more jaded thoughts. “I have a hat and pull it down. It’s worked so far.”

  Sean nods, “We’ll take a cab back to my office, and then I’ll take you to a safe house for a couple of days. I’ll be staying there with you.”

  I hadn’t got as far as thinking what I’d do in the unlikely event I was offered the job. Now I realise I can’t just disappear without seeing the person who, for the last two months, had become so vitally important to me, like a second mother. I can’t leave Ida without saying goodbye. And I also belatedly realise I’ve nothing with me for an extended trip. So I say, a little desperately, “I’ve got to go back to Ludlow, I need to pack my things and see my friend who’s been keeping me safe.”

  With his head on one side, he considers my request, “I can’t promise that, pet. Let me think on it for a while and see if it’s possible to sort that out.” Asking Richard to organise a cab to come directly to the embassy, he makes a couple of calls while we’re waiting. I try to eavesdrop, but can’t hear everything, though it sounds like he’s arranging for somewhere we can stay. When the taxi arrives he gently rests his arm on my lower back to guide me, and I jump, my heart beating furiously. And when we sit side by side in the cab I move as far away as possible, unconsciously rubbing my wrist.

  My bodyguard throws me a look of sympathy, “He really worked you over, didn’t he?” He stares for a moment, concern in his eyes, “You’ve nothing to fear from me; my job is to keep you safe. And I’m excellent at my job.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr Cooper.”

  “Don’t apologise, pet, and for God’s sake call me Sean.” His twinkling eyes are still on me; I look away and out of the window as if interested in the cars, lorries, and buses surrounding us. “I’ve sorted things out. We’re going up north and can stop off at Ludlow. We’re not staying there, but as long as we can do so without risking your safety, you’ll be able to see your friend for half an hour or so.”

  It’s more than I’d been hoping for, so I throw him a grateful smile. He refrains from touching me again during the short journey, pointedly keeping his distance as we collect his car—a nondescript SUV belonging to his company apparently—and begin the drive out of town. I breathe a sigh of relief once the metropolis is left far behind and we’re driving along the M40 heading north. There are roadworks, and delays which seem to have no reason, as we swap onto the M42 and then take the M5. Sean doesn’t talk much. He drives competently and takes the holdups in his stride. He’s always alert, and I can see he’s constantly checking to make sure no one’s following us. At one point he turns off the motorway into a service station and then straight out the other side, remaining vigilant the whole time. When he does speak his voice is firm and confident
, and I begin to relax, recognising his proficiency in his assigned role, and starting to believe he’ll be able to keep me out of Ethan’s clutches.

  It’s nearly six o’clock before we pull into onto the driveway in front of Ida’s house. Getting out of the car I stretch, all my muscles feeling knotted from the long drive as well as the tension of the day. I glance around; the closed sign is on the shop door as it should be—the nursery closes at five. The greenhouses behind are quiet with only the soft sounds of the automatic irrigation system murmuring through the air. I beckon Sean to follow me as I walk around the side of the house which has been my home over the past couple of months.

  Approaching the front door, I get my key out ready and open my mouth to call out a greeting to Ida, but Sean reaches around and takes the key from my hand, and indicates I should remain quiet. Entering the house first, he signals that I should stay outside. But I’m not used to this cloak and dagger stuff, and eager to tell Ida my good news. I’m only a step behind him as he softly walks across the hallway and into the small sitting room.

  “Who the fuck are you?” a male growls from the inside.

  I immediately realise that I’ve made a mistake as I move into the room alongside Sean, but curiosity overruled me. My bodyguard throws out his arm and tries to push me behind him, but it’s too late, I’ve already seen Ida sitting frozen, her face white as chalk and the man standing over her with a gun in his hand.

  The gunman’s seen me too; I can’t get out of sight now. A slow grin spreads across his face, “Zoe Baker. The ticket to my fucking fortune.” He waves me in with his gun. Sean holds me back, but the unknown man menacingly points the barrel at the head of my friend, his threat palpable. Sean releases his hold on me, and I step forwards. “Fucking bitch!” He slashes the gun across Ida’s face, “I knew you were lying when you said she’d gone.”