“Whoa. I’ve got you,” Diyari exclaimed, swinging her into his arms. Even in the darkness, she could feel her face heat with embarrassment.
Diyari strode toward her bedroom, throwing over his shoulder to Taj, “Get down there and meet with Khalid. Find out what information he’s gathered.” His head swiveled back. “And you, Ms. Danvers, I’m sorry to say, need to get some sleep. You’ve been up thirty-six straight hours.”
Sleep? Who the hell could sleep with everything breaking around her? Sleep? No, there wasn’t going to be any sleeping tonight. This was crunch-time. She had work to do. But first, she had to get rid of Diyari, so she could investigate on her own.
Tucking her under the thick down comforter, she marked the contrast of the dark length of his tanned fingers against the milky white of the divan as he pulled the soft material up to her chin. She yawned as fatigue whooshed over her. Yes, she was tired, but she’d have to work through it.
“This has been quite a day, hasn’t it?” His voice, soothing and low, reminded her of a man addressing a frightened child. Hell, she was no frightened child. This was crazy, she needed to get to work. She tried to sit up. He gently pushed her shoulders back into the mounds of fluffy pillows behind her.
“Not so fast. You’re exhausted. We’ll continue our discussion in the morning.” He bent forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. That simple kiss burned through her like a live wire.
“Now get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
All of the sudden she didn’t want him to leave, the urgency to find out what those signals meant twisting inside her. Definitely some encrypted message that his brother and he understood.
She swallowed her fear, refusing to let him see it in her eyes. Did he realize he was in the direct line of fire? Was he taking precautions? She feared for his life. If these radicals threatened the king, what would stop them from targeting Diyari as well? God, she didn’t want anything to happen to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down, anchoring his lips to hers. This might be the last time he glanced at her with love and affection. If he found out about her mission . . . He tasted of sea salt, sex, and excitement, and she craved more, so much more. “Stay with me.” She whispered into his ear, knowing he would refuse. He, like her, had work to do.
He groaned the mournful sound of a frustrated male. “Now you want me to stay. When I have pressing matters to attend to.”
The sound of marching men, their boots slamming into the marble of the hallway, came closer. She glanced at the doorway as a group of heavily armed, burly guards dressed in blue and gold army uniforms waited with Taj. Suddenly she was very afraid of losing another man to DUTY.
“Diyari, we’ve got to go. Now.”
Diyari’s head swiveled in the direction of Taj’s voice.
He held up one finger. “Give me a moment.”
Taj would not be put off. “Khalid has important information.” The urgency in Taj’s voice stiffened Diyari’s shoulders.
His gaze swung back to her. “Information that can wait another minute, I’m sure.”
She heard the muffled curses spill from Taj’s lips as he paced the palatial hallway, waiting for Diyari. Whatever information Khalid knew, it must be vital if he couldn’t wait to tell Diyari.
Diyari’s breath shuddered through him as he chewed on his lower lip in indecision. He wanted to stay but knew he had to go.
“Sorry, duty calls.” His fingers continued to play with her hair, soothing her. “Relax now. Try and put all this out of your mind. Think happy wedding things. Or better yet, think about us.”
He disengaged her arms and repositioned the comforter firmly around her neck, and leaning forward, he rubbed his nose against hers like she was a little girl. Then he rose and prowled toward the door. He turned suddenly and salaamed, touching his chest, mouth and forehead in a sign of respect.
As he reached the door, the bodyguards fell in place on either side of him. After a few steps, he raised his hand, halting the entourage. Speaking rapidly in Arabic, two of the guards took up their posts at the entrance to her room. Then, he was gone, closing the massive wood door behind him.
Chapter 5
Waiting until the cadence of marching faded in the hallway, she threw back the bed covers and sprinted out of the bed. Grabbing her suitcase, she dug out a pair of black slacks, a black T-shirt, gym shoes, black leather gloves, and her thick black hoodie. Quickly, she shrugged into them. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and covered it with a black knit cap. Using caution, she checked the magazine in her gun and slipped the Beretta into her shoulder holster. She withdrew her knife and slid it into the case on her upper thigh. Time was of the essence. If she lost Diyari’s trail, she’d never find her way in this massive palace. She tugged on the thick grape vines swirling around the balcony, testing to see if their thickness would hold her weight. With two swift tugs, she was satisfied. Throwing her leg over the edge of the stone railing, she climbed down the nine foot drop before letting go and jumping the last three feet onto the sandy beach.
Crouching, she moved stealthily across the palace grounds, hugging the wall for the added shadows and following the sounds of the guards escorting Diyari. She pulled the Beretta from her holster. Her fingers tightened around the stock of the gun as the quick and disturbing thought of being discovered rushed through her. If she was found out, they wouldn’t stop to ask questions—labeled as a spy, she’d be executed on sight. Halting before a window she presumed was in the northern wing, she listened for any sound that she was being followed. The rustle of the palms, the waves breaking against the sandy shore, and the buzzing of bugs echoed through the night like firecrackers. Hunkering down into a tight ball, she blended into the night. She peered into the window . . . and froze. Through observation, she counted thirty-five men, all wearing black desert robes with generous hoods to hide their faces, the emblem of the Black Scorpion encased on the flowing sleeves. Armed to the teeth, with AK-47’s and giant scimitars at their waist, a more malevolent group she’d never seen. They looked like phantoms out of her worst nightmare. Unzipping her hoodie, she withdrew a small listening device and plugged in the earphones.
~ ~ ~
The man stood on the cliffs high above the palace, night-vision binoculars raised to his eyes with a smile spreading across his scarred face as he watched Candace track along the palace grounds. So, the bitch was here. Good. He’d hoped and prayed they would send her. After all, he owed her. He rubbed the ill-healed deep scar slicing his face and lips in half. Yeah, he owed her big time. He’d taken care of Agent Bob Danvers. Ordered a hit by his new associate Asad. Then, he’d embedded him in the glorious Black Scorpions so he’d know when and where to hit the king. Candace Danvers, on the other hand, was his. He’d take his time killing her, enjoying the satisfaction of peeling her skin from her body with his knife. When she begged for her life, he’d ignore her and continue to torture her until he’d gained satisfaction.
His men behind him shifted on their horses as they waited for his orders. Well, he had orders for them all right. To apprehend her. Her incompetence had led to his capture, and it was only by the grace of God he’d survived the barrage of bullet wounds. Then, the torture began. No human should have to endure the trial he did. No one. Wasn’t she going to be surprised to see him? But not yet, not yet. He had work to do before he took his revenge and killed her. Yes, he’d make her suffer like he suffered before he ended her life and that of the king’s. Then, he’d take control of this miserable country and unleash the fury of hell on the CIA and the United States. His smile widened as he continued to follow Candace’s movements.
~ ~ ~
“Diyari!” Khalid shouted. Encasing him in a bear hug, he patted his brother’s back, savoring the moment. “I’ve obtained some important info you need to hear,” Khalid whispered for Diyari’s ear
s only.
“Give me a minute to address the men, and then we’ll get down to business. We have information also.”
Diyari’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since Taj had called him about the rumors of an assassination plot. It was good to be home. Here he could keep watch over his dad and safe-guard him as he pursued Candace. Naturally his thoughts drifted to another wing of the palace. Her bedroom. It had taken all his strength to walk out of that room when she’d asked him to stay . . . all his strength. His body still hadn’t had a chance to calm down.
She was tempting, her beauty intoxicating, nestled in that huge bed with her golden hair fanned out over the pillow. He envisioned those luxurious strands entangling his body . . . his hips. She was a siren, whose heavenly song he could not ignore. Her curves were made for his hands to explore, her tanned skin flawless. In the candlelight of the dinner they shared on the jet, it appeared warm and satiny soft. His erection surged against the fly of his jeans. Good thing these robes were loose fitting. Every time he thought of Miss Wedding Planner he got a hard on . . . every single time.
She could say something as simple as ‘hello,’ and his hormones bounced into overdrive. His breath rushed out as he struggled to settle himself. Tonight, when she’d uttered the invitation to share her bed for the first time, he’d been tempted to abandon his royal duties. Hold on, lover boy, you better snap out of it, you have work to do. Serious work, deadly work. After this crisis is averted, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know her. He’d take his time to arouse her to heights neither of them had experienced before. Sweat broke out on his forehead as the erotic mental picture anchored in his mind. Damn it! He blinked several times, forcing the image away. It was hopeless. He was hopeless. He wanted her. Wanted her with a fierceness that gnawed at his libido. Damn! He had it bad.
As they continued to thump each other’s backs, Diyari’s attention shifted to the Black Scorpions in the massive room. Every man a seasoned warrior. Every man armed to the teeth. Every man ready to die for their king.
Warriors . . . who awaited his command.
Diyari strode deeper into the room, moving among his men. His gaze rifled from one man to the next. These men were his backbone, his lifeblood. Fierce pride surged through him. Dressing in the traditional black robes of his ancestors always invoked this type of energy. He wandered down the line of men, his robes swirling around him like a stationary tornado. Greeting each man individually, he patted them on the back, shook their hands, and inquired about their families. Strong men, faithful men—his men. He smiled. Viper, they’d nicknamed him because of his ability to strike without warning. They’d long ago earned his respect, and he’d prayed he’d earned theirs. They were his line in the sand when anarchy threatened. And anarchy was at his door.
He trusted these men with his life, and more importantly, the lives of his family. His father. Thoughts of Candace wormed their way into his conscience . . . his family. She was now his responsibility for the duration of her visit. He’d offered his protection on the plane, and he aimed to fulfill that promise. He’d protect her with every fiber of his body, like family. His thoughts slipped back to their incendiary meeting on the balcony. Every time he got near her, his body burned with need. When she touched him . . .
“Diyari?” Taj’s voice drew him back to reality. He’d have to be more careful in the future. Try not to zone out with reflections of Candace. It would be hard. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. So was he, whenever his thoughts drifted in her direction.
Taj cleared his throat. “Diyari, the men. You do remember the men, don’t you? I swear this woman has you all tied up.”
For a second the carnal image of Candace having him tied up flashed. Breathe buddy, just breathe, he instructed, as he dispelled the sensuous picture out of his head.
“Knock it off, Taj. It’s jet lag, that’s all. It’s been thirty-six hours since I’ve slept.”
“Jet lag?” Taj broke into laughter. “That’s a new name for it.”
“Taj. Seriously, I’m warning you.” He pointed a finger right into Taj’s face.
Taj just batted it out of his way, laughing at Diyari’s discomfort. “Let’s get to the pressing business of the night.”
Yes, Diyari mentally agreed. Back to the signal lights. They were puzzling. Puzzling and troubling. How informed these traitors must be to know his whereabouts as soon as he arrived in the palace. He trusted no one but the Black Scorpions. No one.
“Word has come down to us that The National Resistance Group is planning not only the assassination of the king but also a coup to remove the royal family from power.” Diyari exclaimed, holding his hands up for quiet as a loud grumbling surfaced among his men. “Our friends in the United States have embedded a CIA agent among us to help with the intelligence.”
Angry, the men yelled their support as they waved their guns and knives into the air.
“Tonight, we discovered signals flashing out to sea and into the mountains. Accordingly, they were acknowledging my arrival. Who is responsible for monitoring my movements is our primary concern, only after we determine the seriousness of the threat to the king.”
Bile rose in his throat, the acidic taste vinegary on his tongue, as bitter as the thought of someone wanting to dispose of his father. Anger spiked his blood as grim determination to find these men and execute them became a priority. He’d make them pay. Pay with their lives. But right now, his main concern was protecting his father.
Diyari glanced around. He’d grown up with these men, respected their principles, rose with them through the ranks. He loved them as brothers. If anyone could protect the king, these men could. He swallowed the lump of terror clogging his throat since they had witnessed those signals.
“This is our time. Time to rise up and protect this country we love so deeply. We have our work cut out for us. They are working to destroy us, but we will not be deterred in our promise to defend the king and our country. It is our solemn vow to save this kingdom for future generations. We will eradicate these vermin from our shores.” His voice shook as emotion spilled into his words. “Your assignments have been planned out by Taj. Please check with him before you leave this room.” Diyari paused, his gaze bouncing from man to man. “We will prevail, this I promise you.”
Amid the cheers, the men surrounded Diyari, shaking his hand, patting him on the back, and thanking him for keeping their homeland safe. When the chatter died down, Taj moved next to him. With a mischievous smile plastered on his lips, he questioned, “Everybody’s talking, Diyari. Really. What’s up with this woman? You in love or what?”
In love? Was he?
Diyari chose to ignore him. His sex life wasn’t for public consumption. Especially after those scandalous pictures blanketed every newspaper in the world. He let out a long sigh. He didn’t need to explain himself, his blossoming relationship with Candace was between the two of them. Nobody else mattered. He chose to divert the conversation.
Knowing the entire room was listening, Diyari laid a hand on Taj’s arm before turning toward Khalid. “So, Khalid, what spooked you out of the desert?”
Khalid, third in line to the throne, smiled. “Well, it sure as hell wasn’t anyone as beautiful as the wedding planner. Woo wee, Diyari, you lucky son of a—”
The room around him erupted into rowdy masculine laughter. Diyari planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. No, no, no, he wasn’t going to address this right now. He let out the breath he’d been holding for several seconds. Tension skittered up his spine. There was a precarious undercurrent in the room he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Over his shoulder, one of his men asked, “So tell us Diyari, have you made her yours yet?”
Diyari sputtered, laughing as he held his arms up in a questioning gesture. “I have not. I value my skin too much. There’s only one perso
n I fear worse than all of you, and that’s my sister. If Nina thought I had imposed on her wedding planner, you’d be looking for a new heir.”
Once again, the room broke out in hearty laughter as Diyari’s stern gaze drifted to Taj, knowing his brother had been talking about Candace and him. “For the head of security, you have an awfully big mouth, Brother.”
Taj laughed, slapping Diyari on the back as he spoke. “Come on, don’t keep us in suspense.” Taj slapped him a little harder this time, and Diyari let out a grunt. “You’ve been on the cover enough lately.”
From the back of the room someone threw out, “Tell us about your new taste in Candy.”
Heat seared into his cheeks. Embarrassed, Diyari groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “She is here to help Nina plan her wedding. That’s all.”
“Ha! That’s not what it looked like about an hour ago. She clung to you like a lifeline.” Taj egged the men on.
Diyari’s smile widened. “I should be so lucky. She’s just frightened because of the mishap with the jet . . . and then you almost shot Khalid.”
Khalid’s head shot up. “What the hell?”
“Yeah, your brother here almost shot you on the sea wall.”
“Taj.” Khalid playfully punched Taj in the shoulder with his fist. “You better be making damn sure you know who you’re aiming at!” Khalid shoved Taj. “In the future, watch it. I have enough people gunning for my hide without my own brother shooting me.”
Directing all the attention to Khalid, Diyari said, “Yeah, women’s angry relatives.” He supplied, glad the focus had slipped off his love life and onto Khalid’s. Though usually he didn’t mind being the center of attention, the connection he was forming with Candace was different. Reserved for them alone.
For the Sheik's Pleasure (Sheiks in Love Book 2) Page 13
