“I will, I will,” he promised. “But right now, I’m not leaving your side. I’ll inform Taj the moment I get you to the hospital.” He pressed her head into his chest. Holding on to her for dear life.
Only when the emergency room physician pried his fingers from hers did he relinquish her.
~ ~ ~
She’d been in surgery for hours. The waiting room seemed to shrink with each pass he’d made along the perimeter. He was literally wearing out the carpet. Taj had hopped on another helicopter heading for Caythi as soon as Diyari told him about Candace’s warning. If he sat, he’d collapse. The full weight of this tragedy weighed on his shoulders. If he hadn’t gone off with her, if he’d waited, like Taj warned him, then Taj would have been in Caythi with their father.
He’d screwed up. This whole fiasco was his fault. He’d been careless and put the lives of his family, and Candace, along with the fate of the kingdom at risk. Stupid! He should have known better. He had to lay the blame of this whole unpleasant incident where it belonged—right at his feet.
He continued pacing, waiting to hear from either the doctor or Taj. Time slowed to a crawl. Finally, his cell vibrated against his hip. It was Taj.
“We have a problem.” Taj’s voice sounded weak and held a distracting tone of fear. “And it is far worse than any of us could have guessed.”
Pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose, Diyari asked, “What’s going on?”
“Someone just shot up dad’s limousine in route to Caythi.”
Diyari’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “When . . . who? Was he hurt?” Diyari demanded.
“No, he’s uninjured, just a little shaken. We’re not sure who is involved, but my men are on it,” Taj informed him.
Diyari let out a long breath. “So Candace was correct.”
“Yes,” Taj acknowledged. “What other information did you learn about her mission?”
Diyari shook his head. “She’s here to help protect dad and to uncover the identity of an American who is the master mind of The National Resistance Group.”
“Without her information and help, we might have lost dad tonight.”
Diyari stopped his pacing. “I know.”
When the surgeon came out to meet him, hours later, he’d been prepared for the worst.
“Your Royal Highness, we were able to remove the bullet and clean and suture the wound. She’s lost a lot of blood but should recover nicely.”
“Allah be praised.” Diyari said, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.”
At Diyari’s audible relief, the doctor paused before continuing, “We’ll keep a close watch over her tonight.”
“When can I see her?”
“Let’s give her a couple of hours to fully recover from the anesthetic and then you can sit with her.” The doctor bowed his way out of the waiting room.
Hours later, Diyari walked into her room. The machines around her were humming with their medical beeps. An IV dripped into her arm. The area where the IV attached was bruised and purple. Being cautious not to disturb it, he bent over and kissed her, first on her forehead, then, he brushed his lips across hers. He frowned as he realized the scent of roses he loved so much was semi-replaced by the caustic smell of antiseptic.
He’d already made up his mind to give her up. The events of the past few days made him realize he didn’t have any right to impose his love on her, to treat her this way. It was time for him to be a man, a prince, and stop being so selfish and self-serving while other people suffered the consequences of his decisions. If the events of the past hours taught him anything, he knew it was time to step into his role as Royal Highness.
Besides, it was time to face facts, and the fact was, she could never be his. He wasn’t free. He closed his eyes as the pain of never being able to hold her again burrowed into him. By far, this would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. Saying good-bye before they even had a chance to soar together. He blinked as tenderness welled up inside him. He hated this. Hated his position, hated the sacrifice he was about to make. But he had to do it. This was what duty to family and country was all about. And how many times did he reassure people duty meant everything to him?
But, how could he do this? How could he walk away? Damn, he loved her. Had since the first time he met her in the restaurant. After the gun battle this afternoon, he knew one very important fact. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, stand and watch her die trying to save him.
He struggled all night with his feelings, and as the first rays of dawn layered the sky, determination stiffened his resolve.
When she opened those gorgeous eyes, he stepped to the side of her bed.
“Candace,” he soothed, wincing when he saw her tense. She probably knew what he was going to say, realizing their love had been doomed from the start. “Tomorrow the doctors say you can go home. I feel it would be better for your recuperation if you stayed in my father’s tent.”
Her lips formed the perfect O before she formed her protest. “But—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. He backed away from her, tapping down the intense urge to hold her, touch her, kiss her. He wanted her so bad he could taste it. Taste the sweetness of those incredible lips of hers.
Moving to the far corner of the room, away from temptation, he folded his arms across his chest and nudged his hip into the wall. “I’ve given our situation a lot of thought, and I have to do what’s right for you and my country.
He witnessed the second she comprehended what he was telling her.
She gripped the bed rails, her knuckles turning white under the pressure. “Bullshit! None of this was your fault.”
He pinched the skin at the crest of his nose, ignoring her comments, steadfast in what he had to do. “Taj has already contacted your superiors, informing them of your mishap in the desert. As soon as you’re feeling better, my jet will take you home.”
“You had no right to do that. None.”
He pointed a finger at her, “That’s where you’re wrong. I have every right to safeguard all of those under my protection.”
“I don’t need your shielding. I’m a CIA operative who’s on a mission.” Agitated, a wave of red anger rushed up her neck and into her cheeks.
“You don’t have to prove to me your ability to do your job. I know. I’ve seen you in action. But this . . . this thing between you and me has got to stop.”
“Just like that . . .” She snapped her fingers, staring at him.
“Yes.” His tone had a finality about it that scarred his soul.
Using the hospital bed’s railings, she struggled to pull herself up. “Your father is in extreme danger.”
She was becoming agitated. The weighty sign of fatigue in her voice reaffirmed his intention.
“Settle down,” he warned, fearing she’d harm herself and reopen her wound if he didn’t wrap up this conversation swiftly, the need to leave bashed by every molecule in his body screaming for him to stay.
She began to thrash around in the bed.
“Candace, calm down, you’re working yourself up.”
She brushed the hair from her eyes. “Of course I am! You’re not listening! The threat to your father is real.”
He stepped closer. “And Taj and I will handle it,” he reassured her. “This doesn’t mean we won’t keep you in the loop. But you must give yourself time to heal.”
He walked to the foot of her bed, his fingers gripping the foot rail. “I’m going to tell you a secret I’ve not trusted anyone out of my inner circle with.” That halted her movements. “About three years ago, my father came to me and wanted to abdicate the throne. I was not ready. I begged him to give me more time, and he agreed.” He took a deep breath before continuing, his index finger tracing his upper lip. “I’ve been secretly running B
’Quara ever since. My father will keep making appearances as the king until I tell him I’m ready to publicly take over. I think now would be the appropriate time for a changing of the guard.”
Candace shook her head. “All that will accomplish is making you the target. These people don’t give a damn which one of you in the royal family rules this country. They want you gone. Dead. All of you. They want anarchy to rule.” She pushed a small hand through her tangled hair. “I won’t leave.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Oh yes, you will. You’re getting out of this. I’ll not be responsible for your death.”
She pointed a finger at him. “You can’t stop me from working on this. I don’t answer to you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his feet into his most imposing stance. “Really . . . Is that a fact?” he challenged, his eyes boring into hers. “I’ve been putting you at risk since we arrived in B’Quara, not only with your mission, but with the notion having a fling could work for people like us. People from two completely different worlds.”
She stared up at him, her mouth wide open. “Fling?” she spat, her hands flying into the air, her IV straining against movement. “Damn you. I fell in love with you, and now you cheapen it by calling it a fling.” She coughed from the strain of her stirring. He rushed to get her a glass of water and held it to her lips for her to drink. She took a long sip, then pushed it away. “Your family, your precious Black Scorpions were correct all along. Are you telling me to my face that you wanted me for sex and nothing more?”
The anger within him rose to fever pitch. He hated the position he was in. Picking up the pitcher of water, he threw it against the wall, “I love you with all my heart! Damn you!” he shouted. “You know I can’t have you and my kingdom. I have to do my duty.”
“Damn both you and your duty! Run to your Princess and let me do my job!” she shouted at him.
“No. I forbid it.” His fingers rolled into fists at his side.
“Your Royal Highness, you don’t have the power to forbid me to do anything,” Candace fired back, her gaze raking over him.
It was for her own good he theorized. Couldn’t she understand that? Why was she being so hardheaded? He’d almost gotten her killed with his careless actions. He wouldn’t allow that to happen again, no matter how much he coveted her. Besides, it was better this way. End it completely. Sever all claims on her. Let her find a man she could be with forever. Oh God, that stab to his heart hurt tremendously. Holy shit! The mere thought of her in another man’s arms produced a filmy haze of anger and jealousy.
“You can stay in my father’s tent until you’re well enough to travel.” His heart was breaking. His shoulders slumped. “And for the reminder of your visit, Ms. Danvers, I think it’s better if we retain a strictly business relationship.” Her growl sounded like a wounded animal. Having delivered the devastating news, he was set to flee, to be alone with his heart-wrenching resolve. He turned to leave, his black robes billowing with the swift motion. An abyss of blackness settled over him.
Candace’s soft voice swiveled his attention back to the her. “My getting shot was an accident. Nobody could have foreseen those bandits. No one.” The pain in her voice stabbed into him like a knife.
He turned, his head falling forward, refusing to face her. “What is the point of this debate? I put you in danger. I’m the one responsible for you almost dying. Allah forgive me! I nearly got you killed.”
He heard her sniff back tears, but he steeled himself. He wouldn’t waver in his commitment to her safety.
“But look at me, I’m okay,” she reassured him.
He didn’t want her defending him. He didn’t deserve her kindness. It was him who had decided to escape into the desert without an escort. The blame lay at his feet. Him alone. “This just can’t go on. I won’t allow this to go on.”
Reaching for the handle of the door, her next words, like a stake, punctured his heart.
“Coward!” She raved. “You are destroying the best thing in our lives.”
Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “I know. I’m so very sorry I ever let this get as far as it has.” He winced, closing his eyes as the hurt and remorse centered in his chest. Without looking back, he pulled the door open. This was for her well-being, he repeated over and over like a litany. If he repeated it enough times, maybe he’d believe it. No, that was wishful thinking. If he lived to be a hundred years old, he’d still be in love with her. He shut the door behind him and walked straight out of the hospital without glancing back.
~ ~ ~
The man in the flowing black robes glanced at his watch. It was well after midnight when he slipped unnoticed into the hospital room. He strolled up to the side of the bed where his prey, Candace Danvers, lay sleeping in a drug-induced slumber. He reached over and fingered the soft down of the pillow, clutching it within his grasp. His fingers tightened, smashing the pillow within his fists. It would be so easy to place that pillow over her face and suffocate her. So easy.
He released his strangle hold on the material and walked over to the other side of her bed all the while continuing to stare at her prone body. Or, he could slip some poison into her IV line. He had some cyanide for just that purpose. Yes, then he could watch as she struggled to take her last breath. And that would be oh-so-satisfying.
“What are you doing in here? It’s way past visiting hours,” the nurse behind him barked.
“Sorry, wrong room. I’ll return in the morning.” He threw at her as he moved past her toward the door. Damn his luck. The bitch would have to wait. But not too long. Soon he’d have her in his clutches and then, well then, he’d kill her.
Chapter 10
Three weeks later, with his insides still tied up in knots for lack of being able to take her in his arms, Diyari stood before his father’s tent and willed his body to calm down. “Candace!” He yelled, pushing the tent flap across the portal. “Candace!” he called again, furrowing his eyebrows, as he received no response. Moving through his father’s tent, he searched the tent room by room. He needed to see her. Damn it! Where was she?
“She’s gone.” Mustafa said, stepping into the room. He stared directly into Diyari’s face. Diyari sniffed at the disrespect.
“Gone. What do you mean gone?” Diyari countered, raising his chin at the snub.
“She’s left you.”
“Really? I wasn’t notified the jet was in use.” He tried to swallow the boulder of apprehension jamming his throat.
“She didn’t use the jet.” Mustafa replied in a smug tone.
He didn’t believe him. He was lying. She couldn’t be gone. She wouldn’t leave without telling him. He walked around the tent, searching for any sign of her presence. Nothing. Not a toothbrush, comb, or that bottle of rose scented perfume she was so fond of. Yet the hypnotic fragrance lingered in the room. He inhaled the bouquet. Candace . . . Candace . . . Candace the love of my life, why would you leave me without saying good-bye? Where was she? No, no, no, she had to be here. He spied the empty space atop her desk where her computer normally sat. Foreboding, like a shroud, surrounded him. Deep in the marrow of his bones he comprehended the gravity of the situation. He pivoted and strode over to Mustafa. “How’d she leave? Car, horse?” When Mustafa didn’t immediately respond, Diyari’s patience snapped. “Damn you, I asked you a question.” He spat into Mustafa’s face invading his personal space.
“She ran away, drove off in your car.”
“Ran away, did she?” Diyari sneered, cinching the front of Mustafa’s robe so tightly, the force lifted Mustafa’s feet off the ground.
“Into the desert?” Not a chance. She wouldn’t take those kinds of risks, not with her injuries not completely healed. Nope, something was up, something cold and devious. Candace was too sensible to venture into a desert without preparation
s. Without telling me. Within an instant, fear replaced anger. She wouldn’t survive in the desert for very long. Did she obtain pressing intel and needed to act on it immediately? Again, she would have informed Taj or him.
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“I’m not sure, Your Highness. Two, maybe three hours.”
He stared at the man in front of him. A man he’d trusted as his personal aide for ten years. A man, who at this very moment, he didn’t recognize. “And you let her go?”
A nasty smile drew Mustafa’s lips into a sneer, “I encouraged her to go.”
“You what?” Diyari bared his teeth as fury consumed him.
“You let a woman drive out into the desert alone?” He tightened his hold on Mustafa’s robes, choking him.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Diyari hated his droll, nonchalant tone, hated it so much, he longed to knock his teeth down his throat.
This man was a fool. Or—he froze, as a horrible speculation crawled into his mind—a man with an agenda. His eyes narrowed on Mustafa as Candace’s recent advisory flowed over him. You have a traitor in the Black Scorpions. Was Mustafa that traitor? Unbelievable. He’d been in front of him the entire time. Stupid, stupid idiot, why hadn’t he put two and two together?
Dumbfounded by the events of the last minutes he asked, “why . . .?”
“Why?” Mustafa questioned, “If you have to ask, then you are as clueless as the rest of the royal family. We want our country back. We are sick of all your modern ideas. We want to return to the ways of our ancestors. And he promises we will as soon as we purge our land of royal vermin.”
Allah be merciful.
For the Sheik's Pleasure (Sheiks in Love Book 2) Page 21
