Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (2 page)

They stopped in front of another large tent but as she looked back, it dwarfed in comparison to the one she was just in. The man pushed aside the flap, and with a hand on her back, urged her inside. She heard him bark something in Arabic and an older man, whose posture was slightly slumped, responded in the language before skirting away.

They were alone.

Mel couldn’t help but stare into the murky pools that seemed to glare at her. She jumped at the unmistakable sound of a switchblade. She moaned against the gag in her mouth before she took a step back. With her hands tied, her only weapons were her legs. The imposing figure blocked her exit, so she couldn’t run. If she were on her back when he attacked, she could… no, the position would make her too vulnerable.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his eyes imploring her to relax. “I’m going to cut you loose.”

Those soft revelations stopped the squeal in her throat. He spoke English. With an American accent. Mel nearly slumped to the floor in relief. She eagerly held out her wrists and the man made quick work on the rough hemp with the knife. After her hands were freed, he walked around her to release the knot that held her cloth gag in place.

Rubbing her raw wrists, she faced the man. She’d been bound and gagged for… She’d lost track of time. Days, at least. “Where am I? I’m an Amer––” Mel swallowed the rest of the word. Would it be wise to reveal her nationality? What if this man was a terrorist? Americans had been known to betray their country. She was snatched off the streets in what was supposed to be a fairly safe neighborhood bazaar. Who could she trust?

The man secured the switchblade before slipping it into a back pocket of his hunter green cargo pants. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “You know where nowhere is? Well, we’re right in the middle of it. The Rub’ al Khali desert to be exact.”

The resignation in his voice told her getting to the embassy, or even a phone, was a bit more than just a difficult task. Instead, she tried to focus on the information he provided. It would be useful when she made a report to embassy officials…if she’d ever make it back. “The Rub’ a-what?”

“Rub’ al Khali.”

“Where is that?”

“Southern Saudi Arabia. I almost didn’t find this place without Hassan’s bodyguards showing up to guide me the rest of the way.”

Saudi Arabia!
That’s miles from Dubai. Miles from an embassy
. “Why is he out here?”

“To grieve.”

Mel noted the solemn look on the man’s face. “To grieve?”

“His wife passed a few months ago. He’s just now taken time away from his business ventures to mourn her death.” He looked at her intently. “Apparently you look a lot like her, which is why you were kidnapped.”

Was that what was being discussed while she was in the other tent? She was brought here against her will to be — what? — for the man sitting on a tacky gold-plated throne? If true, then what was she doing here with this man?
I’m done with this. Doppelganger or not, it’s time to go home.
“You’re an American?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer at first; he just stared. The more time his eyes, the color of dark amber, coolly assessed her, the chillier the tent became. “I can’t tell you that.”

Mel blinked. “You can’t tell me?”

“My business is my own. You wanna tell me what you’re doing here? Where were you when Abdul took you?”

“You mean
kidnapped
, don’t you? Who is he? Why am I here with you? What—”

“Where were you?” he asked in an even tone.

Okay, so this man didn’t seem all that interested in answering her questions, which meant she was on her own.
I need a photograph or some other identifying information.
As soon as she could be returned to the US Embassy, she’d give all her information to the authorities and have this “Abdul” arrested.

Their staring match continued.
Well, if he’s not going to be forthcoming, then neither will I. How am I supposed to trust him?
“I don’t know you.”

A corner of his mouth hitched upward. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Her handsome rescuer sported a full grin in the midst of his thick, black beard; his eyes softened with humor. He pulled an ornate wooden chair from underneath an equally embellished cherry oak table and positioned it facing her. He took a seat, extended his legs out, crossed them at the ankles and locked his hands behind his head. His grin turned into a lazy one. “Do you have any idea what I just saved you from?”

Mel swallowed, and coughed at the dryness of her throat. Handsome was on his feet to pour her a glass of clear liquid. When he offered her the drink, she hesitated to accept it.

“It’s not spiked, I promise.”

She took her chances and thanked him for the drink. Within seconds, her glass was empty.

“Wow,” he said when she handed him the glass. “When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?”

Mel shrugged. “I don’t know… I don’t…” Her head spun and she put a hand to her forehead. The second she closed her eyes, her equilibrium tipped and she felt herself falling. She cried out. Warm hands encircled her arms and caught her. An arm wrapped itself around her waist and drew her close to his body. Her breath caught in her throat. His face was no more than a couple of inches away.

Up close, his eyes held specks gold, and were less intense than she’d witnessed in Hassan’s tent. His lips, full and round and nearly hidden by his beard, had a jovial curve to them and he almost appeared to be smiling. He smelled of sand and sweat, but it was a pleasant scent compared to the odor she knew emanated from her unwashed-for-days body.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly. His eyes full of concern as his gaze scanned her face. The pads of his fingertips traced her perspiration-stained face, and left a trail of heat around the curve of her right cheek and lingered at the base of her chin.

She nodded, the ability of speech lost in the hypnotic sensation of his touch. Her waist, where his thick, muscled arm still clenched, had long since gone numb and everything below it dissolved into jelly.

“Here, sit down.” He carefully moved her to his chair. The back of his hand pressed against her forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Are you still dizzy?”

From malnutrition or his touch? “Just a little,” she breathed.

“Hakeem is bringing back water for a bath and some clothes for you to change in to. He shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll order some food for you as well. There’s supposed to be a feast tonight, but that’s not until later.”

“Order food?”

The man chuckled. “It’s different, I know. I won’t question how the sheik wants to grieve…unless it’s insidious, of course.”

He knelt before her and gazed into her eyes. Ignoring the strange sense of trustworthiness she felt from him, she looked away. “Look, thanks for getting me out of there. When do we get back to Dubai?”

“When?”

“Yes, when?” She was losing her patience. His nearness made her uneasy and her inability to stand on her own two feet was an added irritant. “Again, I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I don’t know why you’re out here but I would be forever grateful for one more favor. If you can just get me back to the city, I can find my way to the embassy.”

“Really?”

His look of doubt cut right through her. “I can take care of myself.”

“You were just the victim of human trafficking, so to speak.”

“I know what human trafficking is,” Mel mumbled. “I’m in law enforcement. I know how this works.” How in the world did she let this happen? Ric didn’t respond. Instead, the look of uncertainty he sent her way made her jump to defend herself. “I’m a US Marshal,” she stressed.

“Yet, here you are.”

“Look, I was picked off the street in the middle of a bazaar! It was very Hollywood-movie.”

He rose and assessed her from head to toe. “You must really look like the sheik’s dead wife for Abdul to be so bold, but the question is why?” Mel heard him mutter to himself. His eyes took on an inquisitive look as he continued to stare at her.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. Whatever he mumbled to himself, she didn’t care unless it involved getting her back to the embassy. “This is the worst vacay ever,” she muttered under her breath.

“You’re on vacation?” He looked at her with disbelief.

“Yes.” She shuddered and rubbed her arms as if cold but the tent’s canvas blocked one hundred plus degree heat. What was she going to do? Out in the middle of nowhere? Her boss would be furious when she returned and her coworkers would
never
let her live this down.

“In Dubai?”

“Yes!” Mel tore her eyes from his penetrating gaze. She glanced around the tent. “Dubai is a city filled with history, culture, and adventure. Plus, there’s a great tennis tournament that’s happening right about now.” Why was she explaining this to him? Millions of tourists visited each year, some from America.

“Adventure, tennis… Yeah, right,” he muttered and turned to refill her glass once again. “Well, you’re certainly on an adventure, that’s for sure. Listen, you only have one option, Miss…”

Mel hesitated to give her name. Sure, she’d already mentioned where she was from and what she did for a living, but this man wasn’t exactly her friend — if not her enemy — and she didn’t know
his
name.

He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I can wait as long as you can.”

“Melody Lewis,” she blurted. He had mentioned a choice and she wanted to know what it was sooner rather than later.

“Miss Lewis, you can either stay with me and be my concubine––”

“Wait,
concubine
?” The idea had the synapses in her brain firing and the sudden impulses threatened to spin out of control. “Is that what the discussion back at that other tent was about? I… I don’t even know you,” Mel stammered. Dizziness suddenly hit her, along with a touch of nausea.

His penetrating eyes stole the breath from her lungs and turned her insides cold. “It’s either me and my bed, or by morning you’ll be with the sheik — after making a pass or two at a few of the other tents, including Abdul’s.”

Mel gasped.

“Don’t think that lackey who picked you up isn’t looking for some payback. He wasn’t too keen on me stealing you right from under his nose and in front of his boss. Right now, I bet he’s trying to convince his master that he made a mistake in letting me be the first to claim you, which means Abdul will try to steal you back. But he won’t succeed.” With a confident grin, the man took a few steps in her direction. The possessive look in his eyes thawed her chilled body and warmed every inch of her being. “Especially if you satisfy me.”

He’s kidding, right?
Mel’s eyes roamed his muscular frame before they settled back on his handsome, bearded face. His eyes sparked with amusement at her undisguised assessment. Mel blushed hot. He was teasing her and now she appeared to him to have briefly considered his offer. Staying here with him had to be better than Abdul. Mel sighed inwardly at her errant thoughts. The weight of the situation hit once more; her head ached. “I need to get to the embassy.”

“There’s something I have to do first before I can make that happen. Can you wait a few days?”

Mel’s heart sank at the news. They were probably deep in the desert. Without a map, she was lost. Without transportation, getting to the embassy would be impossible on her own. “God, please help me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into but I know you can get me out.” How did she know? She didn’t really, but whom else could she believe in? She’d made a habit of running from her troubles, but now she had nowhere to go.

Handsome, bearded man gave her a curious look. “If you’re praying, make sure you say enough for the both of us. I have a feeling this will get worse before it gets any better. We may need divine intervention.” He bent down to pick up a black, tactical backpack near the table off to the side of the open room. “If He actually has any time to spare,” he said ruefully under his breath.

Mel knew she should ask what he meant by that but she didn’t have the energy. Right now, she was trapped in some sand dune city with a man too gorgeous for words and it was either stay with him or…or… Mel swallowed back bile as her thoughts conjured up the image of the sheik. “Okay. We’ll do it your way,” she choked. Did she give herself enough time to consider those words? “But first, I want to know your name.”

“Ric.”

“Ric? Is that short for something?”

“Ricardo.”

“Ricardo…” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t as important to her as the stench in her nose. Was that her?

The man Ric called Hakeem entered the tent, followed by a group of men who carried large steaming pots. Mel gazed at the pots as they passed by her and disappeared into another part of the tent. Did they heat the water over fire?
To grieve, this sheik roughs it in the desert instead of going to some five star hotel he probably owns?
Mel’s eyes scanned the top of the tent. No wires.
I guess electricity is out.
The men emerged from a section of the tent with empty pots. How soon could she get out of her clothes and into the tub?

Hakeem reappeared a few moments later. “The food is being prepared.”

“Thanks, Hakeem,” Ric responded.

Hakeem shot Mel a quick grin. He barked something in Arabic and the men who had entered with him earlier quickly exited the tent and Hakeem followed.

Ric’s steady stare broke through her anxiety to touch her core. “I’ll leave you to your bath.” He sat down near his pack and continued his search.

“What are you doing?”

Ric glanced at her. “Your water is getting cold.”

“You said you’d leave me…”

His brows rose in confusion. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Either Hakeem or I will be with you at all times. It’s for your own protection.”

“My protection?”

Ric grinned. His eyes assessed her again, drifted over her long legs, and lingered at her hips. “You’re a beautiful woman. No doubt the men in the camp are impatient for me to be finished with you. I don’t want to risk any of them coming in here and…”