The Black Sheep Sheik (8 page)

Right here was the reason why action flicks rarely featured pregnant women. No movies called
The Gestating Spy
or
Mission: Maternity
ever topped the box office.

This battle clearly wasn’t going to be won on physical ability.
Think.
She turned to the desk and went through the drawers again one by one. Didn’t find as much as a paper clip. Whoever owned the house might be a murderous bastard, but he sure was tidy.

She looked around again. There had to be something she wasn’t seeing. There had to be a way out of here—

Something she wasn’t seeing. Her hands flew to her ears and she just about ripped out her new earrings. She straightened the hypoallergenic surgical steel hoops as best she could and headed for the door. Even the baby kicked in excitement. The lock wasn’t complicated—it was an average double-sided lock they sold at The Home Depot. Figuring out how to bend the metal just right was the trick. Good thing she had clever surgeon fingers.

She inserted the bent thicker end of one earring and tried to manipulate the tumblers. Something clicked, but the door wouldn’t open. Footsteps sounded upstairs. She pushed harder. Too hard. She broke her makeshift pick. She tossed it on the floor and bent the other earring into a zigzag shape, tried the lock again.

“Come on, come on. Work, please.”

And as if that had been all the encouragement the door had been waiting for, the lock popped again, opening this time.

She peeked out. Couldn’t see anyone in the basement. Couldn’t see a direct exit to the outside, either. She kept close to the wall and tiptoed to the stairs, listened. Nothing. If there was anyone at the top of the stairs, he was staying silent.

She put her foot on the first step, then held her breath when it creaked. Still no sound from above. She made her way up step by step, barely daring to breathe on the way, wishing that Amir was here with her. And not caring whether that made her less self-reliant or weak.

The next door blocked her way. Her hand shook as she put it on the knob. Twisted the metal. It didn’t give. She could have cried when she realized this door was locked as well. She’d left her earring in the previous door. Should have thought of that. She tried the knob again. Definitely locked. Which meant that she had to sneak back down for her makeshift lock pick, then up again, risking noise and the possibility of being discovered.

By the time she made that nerve-racking trip and was ready to put the zigzag-shaped piece of metal to use, her forehead was beaded with sweat.

She tried to be careful, but this lock was as tough as the first. The tip of her pick broke off within seconds. “Okay, don’t do this. Just work. Please,” she whispered, using the piece she had left. And the lock clicked open at last, at the same time as the pick snapped in half. She waited for her heart to slow before she opened the door a crack.

The door to the garage she’d come through earlier was closed, but the door that led to the rest of the house was open. The men were arguing about money, although she couldn’t see any of them, just an empty hallway with peeling wallpaper.

She waited, trying to decide what to do, nearly jumping out of her skin from nerves every time someone raised his voice. They were out of her line of sight for the moment, but who knew how quickly that would change once she stepped out into the hallway? Still, she had no choice but to try. She flattened herself against the wall, hoping her belly wasn’t sticking out too far.
Okay, kiddo, pull your legs in.

She didn’t dare look back as she inched forward. Then she was at the door that led to the garage. If it was locked, she was trapped. She had nothing left to open another lock with.

She put her hand on the knob and prayed. It turned smoothly under her hand. Whoever had kidnapped her must have felt safe in this place, having no concern about being discovered and busted in on.

She pushed against the door, cringed at the soft creak. Stopped and waited. Nobody came.

In seconds she was in the garage. The only exit was the automatic garage door. If she opened that, the men inside would hear for sure. They would rush out, and she wasn’t going to win a footrace with this belly.

She moved to the van and glanced in through the window. The keys dangled in the ignition.

“We are so out of here,” she told her son. “You just watch your mother.”

“C
OPS ARE ON
the way.”

“We didn’t even deliver the ransom note yet.” The man swore to himself. He didn’t want to end up like the previous team leader. The money was good, but not enough to die for.

“Get out. Take her with you. Alive.”

“Ain’t she supposed to be disposable?”

“Not until we have the sheik.”

He didn’t ask questions.
Keep your head down and collect the money
—that was the game he played.

T
HEY HAD THE
house surrounded. Amir squatted behind a row of boxwood bushes across the road in a neighbor’s yard—waiting for the signal.

“We go in. You observe,” Wolf was saying next to him, his tone all business. “Maybe take this time to give Wade Freeman a call. He’s been checking in with me every couple of days for news of you. He’d been concerned.” Wolf’s tone said he knew of the secret brotherly connection.

“Who else knows?” Introducing his long-lost half brother to the public had to be done delicately. His existence was going to bring about some political complications no doubt.

“Only Saida.” He shifted. “It’s time. You sit tight.”

“I’m going in.”

“With all due respect, Sheik Amir, you’re not.”

He fixed the man with his most authoritative glare. “You cannot stop me.”

“I can handcuff you to the mailbox.”

“And marry my sister?” He gave the guy a level look.

Wolf shot his own level look back. “Are you blackmailing a sheriff?”

“A simple conversation between potential family members.”

“I cannot officially authorize a civilian joining a takedown.” Wolf looked at the house. “Wait at least a minute before you follow me, despite an express order to stay here.”

Amir was starting to like the man. He had a backbone and a sense of humor. Of course, he should have known that. Saida couldn’t abide weak-lings. But before he could give more thought to his sister’s chosen mate, the sheriff gave the signal and rushed forward in a crouch, along with the rest of his men, who were closing in on the disheveled rancher from every direction.

The house was silent and looked abandoned, and for a moment Amir worried that they might have gotten here too late, but then shouting sounded from inside even before Wolf’s men reached the entrances. Then the cops were breaking down the door, pouring in.

To hell with a full minute. Amir stood, ready to charge, just as the black van exploded through the closed garage door, dragging some of the paneling with it. His gun was raised before he realized who was behind the steering wheel.

“It’s all right. It’s her. It’s Isabelle!” he shouted to some of the cops who came rushing back out, and they went back in where gunfire and shouts indicated full-out battle.

The van was next to him, slowing.

He tore the passenger door open and jumped in, not caring one bit if he tore out a couple of stitches. “Keep going!”

She stepped on the gas like she meant it, the tires kicking up gravel behind them, the garage door paneling coming loose as they shot forward.

“Are you hurt?” He was inspecting every inch of her, worried even if there was no visible injury.

“Fine. Where to?” Her hands were shaking. She winced. “I’m not cut out for this. I’m a surgeon, for heaven’s sake. My hands
never
shake.”

“To the end of the street. I don’t want to switch seats here. Too many bullets flying.” He glanced back. The old him would have never left a fight in progress. The new him…

She was safe. He was content to let the police handle the rest. All right, not content, but willing. He would have liked nothing more than to stand face-to-face with his enemies and teach them a couple of important lessons about messing with him and the people he cared for.

Bloodlust rose in him.

But he cared more about Isabelle than he cared about revenge. His need to see her safe was stronger than his warrior ancestors’ blood, which sang in his veins.

Yes, he cared that much about her. And not just as the mother of his son. Feelings he wasn’t familiar with had taken up residence inside his chest, feelings that squeezed his heart with worry when they were apart and filled him with joy at the sight of her. Feelings that, he suspected, were going to complicate everything.

She drove to the corner, then pulled over, laid her arms on the steering wheel and her head over them. Her face was a shade paler than usual. “That was…close. Just give me a second.”

“Did anyone hurt you?” He put his gun on the dashboard so he could pull her over and into his arms. They could afford a brief pause. Wolf had brought enough men to take care of whomever had kidnapped Isabelle.

She came willingly to his side, sliding over on the bench seat. “They only took me because they thought you might come for me.”

“Of course I would. I know you think that counting on a man is a bad thing. But I am an honorable man. You can count on me.”

He would take her back to the resort, to safety, then go down to the police station and watch as Wolf brought the bastards in, pull whatever strings he could to make sure they stayed incarcerated permanently. He would know who was behind this by the end of today, a thought he found immensely cheering. “Did you recognize any of them?”

“They are the same people who came to the cabin.”

“Hired men. Did you overhear anything?”

“They didn’t talk much in front of me. I was locked up in the basement alone.”

The need to interrogate and punish those men was overwhelming. For the sake of international relations, however, he would leave them to Wolf. But the man who was behind these thugs would answer to him personally; he would see to that. He had every confidence that his friends were on the same page and would put their influence behind him.

The thought that Isabelle could have gotten hurt was unbearable.

“How did you even find me?” she asked. “I didn’t think you would. I had the key to the car.”

She didn’t have those keys now, or her purse, he noticed. “Just as well. They probably put a tracker on the car after we left it in that alley. They couldn’t have tracked us to the hospital otherwise. I found you with some help from my friends. I had the van’s license-plate number.”

“Are your friends back there, in that fight?” A fresh load of worry filled her voice.

“Back at the resort. I’m here with the sheriff’s department.” She felt wonderful in his arms, like she belonged there. And she did. He would do whatever it took to make her see it.

She lifted her head to look at him. “You decided to trust the police? Doesn’t that risk your life and the lives of the other royals? I thought nobody was to be trusted.”

“A risk we had to take.” He had found that he was willing to risk just about everything for Isabelle.

“But you’re all sheiks and princes. I’m just a plain everyday person. I’m not worth all that.”

He held her gaze. He couldn’t understand why nobody had told her yet how far she was from plain. “You are worth everything to me.” The staggering truth of that simple statement caught him off guard.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to wrap me in cotton. I was kidnapped and I got away. I did it.” She bit her bottom lip, making him want to kiss the spot. “Okay, fine, I do admit wishing that you were there with me. I do understand the importance of teamwork. I rely on it in the O.R. to keep patients alive. You and I together managed to keep ourselves alive in the past two days. I can’t argue that we don’t make a decent team.”

That last sentence pleased him inordinately. He might have even grinned. “You’re getting used to me. You’ll barely notice that we’re married.”

She arched one dark, feminine eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that very sincerely.”

“How about we try and see?”

Before she could shoot his proposal down once again, the small window separating the cab from the rest of the van opened and a gun emerged, the barrel pressing against her head.

“Throw the gun out the window,” a disembodied voice said from the darkness.

Amir’s body clenched. This was not how it was going to end. He silently swore to that.

The blood ran out of Isabelle’s face, leaving her skin so light, it was practically translucent. Her blue eyes were wide, her gaze hanging on his face.

His first instinct, as always, was to fight. But Isabelle and her son were too important to him to put at risk. “Everything is going to be fine,” he told her. “We are going to do whatever he says.”

He took his gun with his right hand, rolled the window down and tossed the weapon out. And while the man’s attention was on that, with his left hand Amir surreptitiously pocketed a cell phone that someone had left in the cup holder.

A police car flew by them, sirens blaring, heading toward the house. It was gone way too fast for either of them to catch the driver’s attention.

“Pull slowly away from the curb and drive,” the man behind the partition told Isabelle. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

She’d been so close to making it. Fear mixed with frustration inside Isabelle as she drove. She’d made it out of the house unseen. She’d gotten the van. Amir was with her. But they were in even more trouble than ever before. She wasn’t sure there was an out this time, any way to escape.

“How badly were you shot?” she asked Amir under her breath, noting the bulging bandages under his shirt.

“It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” the man in the back yelled, then instructed her to take the first road out of town, and from there an insignificant country road she was barely familiar with.

They even left that after a couple of miles, moving on to dirt roads Isabelle had never seen and that led deep into the woods, probably used only by trappers and hunters. Some Texicano family had moved up from the Austin area and had a farm out this way, on the other side of the woods, she thought, but wasn’t sure.

They were in the middle of nowhere with an armed kidnapper, in a van that smelled like stale beer and cigarette smoke. He had to have been in the back all along. In the excitement of the moment, she had never thought to check. This was so not her world. She didn’t think like some action movie super spy heroine or a Special Forces soldier. She was a soon-to-be mom, bloated and tired, with swollen ankles.

“I demand that you let her go,” Amir said in a tone that would make most men want to automatically obey.

It even made Isabelle snap to.

“I demand that you shut up.” The jerk in the back sneered at him, obviously not affected. He held the only weapon. He had every reason to be cocky.

“She has nothing to do with this. You don’t need her for anything.”

Amir was right about that. They’d kidnapped her in that parking garage in the first place only to draw him out, and now they had him. They wanted him dead. They wouldn’t have blown up his limousine a month ago if they didn’t. And now they wanted her dead, too. She was an asset that had outlived its usefulness, a cumbersome witness. She had no illusions about what would happen next, why they were being taken to an abandoned area. If they survived the next couple of hours, it would be a miracle.

“Faster,” the man barked at her.

Fingers in a death grip around the steering wheel, she pushed harder on the gas pedal, but then eased off again little by little, playing for time. “The road is too rough. If I go any faster, I’ll bust a tire and then we’ll be stuck out here.”

She needed to be ready to grab the slightest opportunity, so she kept her eyes on their surroundings, hoping that they would run into someone, the bird-watcher club, those Texicano farmers, anyone she could use as a distraction, anyone who might help.

Unfortunately, no such opportunity presented itself. Not many people ever came out this way, the road little more than a trail.

Then they came around a bend and she spotted a wooden shack up ahead. The worn wood-plank walls and moss-covered roof completely blended into their surroundings. Looked like the structure had been standing here for decades, overgrown with vines and weeds, forlorn in a spooky kind of way.

All she could think of was,
Unabomber’s cabin.

“Stop,” the man in the back ordered. “You get out,” he told Amir. “One wrong move, you camel-jockey terrorist bastard, and I shoot her. You wanna make my day, huh? You wanna make my day?”

“I will do whatever you say.” Amir was the picture of calm, opening the door slowly and leaving it open behind him.

“Inside. Now,” their captor shouted at him.

Amir did as he was told, disappearing from sight into the darkness of the shack.

Blood thrummed loudly in Isabelle’s ears. Why were they being separated?

Keep calm. It’s not over yet.
Stress and elevated blood pressure were a danger to the baby. She focused on staying composed. She couldn’t afford to let the fear rule her. She put a shaky hand on her belly.
Mommy is going to handle this. We’re going to be fine.

“Don’t you move.” The man kept his gun on her. “I’m getting out the back and comin’ around. Don’t even think about runnin’.”

She wasn’t. She could never outrun him on the uneven ground, not nine-months pregnant. But even if she could outrun
him,
she couldn’t outrun a bullet.

She used the time while he went around to search the glove compartment, hoping for a weapon of her own. All she found was a Phillips-head screwdriver. Better than nothing. She hid it under her dress just as the man appeared outside her door.

“Get out,” he ordered, revealing stained teeth. His lower lip stuck out from the wad of tobacco he was chewing.

He brushed his thinning, greasy hair back with his free hand in a nervous gesture, his red-rimmed eyes darting around. He was nearly as tall as Amir, but Amir was a lot less gaunt, even with his recent illness. This guy had the look of a man who got most of his daily caloric intake in the form of alcoholic beverages.
Completely unstable,
was her thought, not exactly reassuring.

She slipped from the car, keeping an eye on him, holding one hand on her belly, surreptitiously clasping the screwdriver in place under her shirt.

“Get inside. Now!”

A fallen branch or a good-size stone in her path to hit him over the head with would come in handy. She could see neither within reach. Of course, whether she could bend over in a hurry was questionable. She waddled to the shack, eager to be with Amir. His presence had become a comfort to her. Was that wrong? Did it mean that she was slipping into the dreaded dependency trap?

No, she decided. These were extraordinary circumstances. The regular rules of conduct could take a break when you were in the middle of the woods, have been kidnapped and were about ready to have a baby.

She stepped into the semidarkness of the shack, was shoved forward impatiently past Amir, who’d been standing by the door. Before she could take a good look around, the door slammed shut with force. The padlock clicked with a grim finality.

A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine. “Oh, God.”

Then Amir was by her side, pulling her into his arms before she could stumble over something. She melted into the familiar scent and shape of him, and remained in his arms, breathing him in, leaning against his strength. They were still alive and the baby was unharmed. For now that was all that mattered.

She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, trying to come up with a plan and failing.

“I got him,” the man said outside their locked room.

So he wasn’t alone. Someone must have been here, hiding, waiting for them. Escape just got another notch more difficult.

The man kept on talking, swearing deliberately. Nobody ever answered.

“He’s talking on the phone,” Amir whispered next to her ear.

She sagged against him in relief as she listened, hoping for a clue, something they could use to get away from this place.

“Damn police raided the house. The pregnant bitch snatched the van. I was sleepin’ in the back, mindin’ my own business. With everyone yappin’ in the house, too damned loud to get any shut-eye in there.”

A moment of silence.

“That’s what I’m sayin’. I hear someone get in, and next thing I know, the witch is goin’ through the garage door. Then the sheik bastard jumps in. I recognized him from the picture you been showin’.”

Another moment of silence.

“Out at the old McClusky shed. Can I kill ’em yet? No sense in waitin’. Hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night out here.” He waited for the answer.

Amir pushed her behind him with a gentleness that touched her, standing between her and the door, ready to face imminent attack. Ready to take a bullet for her. Her heart turned over in her chest. She pulled out the screwdriver and gripped it in her hand, prepared to help him fight whatever would come next.

“Don’t worry,” the man was saying outside, his tone betraying that he was disappointed with the response he’d gotten. “They ain’t goin’ anywhere. They’ll wait.”

Then there was nothing but silence.

She swallowed hard, lowering the screwdriver as her heartbeat slowed. They’d been granted a reprieve.

She stepped away from Amir, and after a minute or two, when her eyes adjusted to the minimal light, she looked around her new prison. The place was worse than the basement office, dirtier and full of spiders. A nasty, dusty camp bed took up the far wall, the only place to sit. A rusty woodstove hid in the corner. Cigarette butts and candy wrappers littered the floor, along with other indistinguishable old garbage.

She so didn’t want to die in a place like this. She wanted her baby to be born, for them to have a future. She wrapped her arms around her belly and blinked back her tears.

A
MIR PULLED OUT THE
phone he’d lifted from the van earlier and dialed. He asked for Prince Efraim’s suite in a whisper when the other end was picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” Darek asked.

“We’re out in the woods, at the end of some country road. At the McClusky shed. Jake Wolf should know where it is. If you can’t reach Wolf, get a GPS on this phone signal.”

He wanted to say a lot more, but he didn’t want the kidnapper to hear him, figure out he had the phone. That phone was their lifeline for the time being.

“I’ll tell the others. They just went down to the conference room. Stefan called a meeting with the security we still trust and the police. I was about to head down there myself.”

“Hurry. Only one armed guard here now, but reinforcements are coming.” Frustration was eating him from the inside out.

Were he alone, he would kick the door open and rip the bastard’s head off. But he needed to stay calm so Isabelle wouldn’t be injured in any fight. A stray bullet could easily find her. So he gritted his teeth and resolved to bide his time, no matter how much he hated hiding in the shed.

“Thank God you grabbed that phone,” Isabelle said as he hung up. “Who did you reach?”

“Prince Darek.” He shoved the phone into his pocket, then moved to the wall and began systematically searching every square inch of wall and floor. Just because he couldn’t fight, it didn’t mean he was cursed with complete inactivity.

“One of the princes for the summit?”

“Another friend. We all grew up together, actually.” Then Darek’s father went mad with greed. His country, Saruk, was the largest in the region. A few years back King Kalil had decided it would be a good idea to annex the smaller island nations to gain more power for himself. Darek wasn’t like him, but all that tension had soured their friendship. Until recently. It seemed they could still count on him when they were in trouble.

“I thought the news said only five princes came.”

“He only arrived recently.” And probably in secret. “He heard about all the difficulties and flew over to help. True friendship is proven when one is in trouble,” he said, quoting an old Jamalan proverb, as he squatted to look under the bed, feeling guilty that he had, on occasion, doubted Darek’s sincerity. But the man did stand up to the test. He was here, ready to do whatever was needed.

“You don’t know how I envy you.” The words flew from Isabelle’s lips on a sigh.

He looked up. “For my friends?” Was she lonely? At that masquerade at the resort where they’d met, she’d been surrounded by a group of friends. For the first time, it occurred to him that she might have missed those friends while she’d been taking care of him at her father’s cabin. He would make sure they had an open invitation to visit his palace whenever they pleased. He wanted Isabelle happy.

“I envy your ability to squat. Or move freely in general,” she said in a wry tone. “These days, I’m happy if I can bend over to fasten my sandals in the morning. What are you doing down there?”

“Looking for a way out, and for any tool that could help.” Plan B. They were running out of time. He needed to be ready for whatever might happen next, especially if something happened before Darek and the others arrived.

T
HEY WERE FINE
. They had made contact. Help was on the way.

Isabelle held out the screwdriver. Amir must not have seen it in the dark. “How is this for a tool?”

He grinned as he came over. “Amazing.” He put his hands over hers but didn’t take the tool. Instead, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

His lips were firm and warm on hers, knowing. He was an excellent kisser. She certainly hadn’t forgotten that. And he seemed even better now than she remembered. Her pulse raced. Her mind turned to mush in less than two seconds. She placed her hands on his chest, and he must have correctly read that as a sign of surrender, because he deepened the kiss.

Her whole body tingled. She had dreamed of him often in the past nine months, but this was so much better than any of her dreams. He was real, his chest solid under her fingertips, his heart beating fast against her palm.

She wanted him. Nine-months pregnant and she wanted him so much she moaned his name. She probably should have been ashamed of herself, but she couldn’t manage an emotion as complicated as that at the moment. Primal need ruled her. Yes, she wanted him. This was what she wanted.

But how long could this tumult of emotions and need last?
her last sober brain cell asked. She didn’t want to fall into some fantasy of the two of them together forever, unreasonably happy and all that. Things like that weren’t real. Trouble was, she could see it. She really could.

“I don’t want to fall in love with you,” she whispered against his lips without meaning to, the words bubbling up from her subconscious. And scaring her. She pulled away.

He watched her from under hooded eyelids, desire etched clearly on his face. She would be a goner if he kept looking at her like that. She turned from him in an attempt to hang on to the last remnants of her sanity.

“It would be too easy to fall for the whole ‘protected by the powerful sheik’ thing,” she said quickly. “Who doesn’t want that? But then, eventually… And life isn’t meant to be a search for safe, anyway. You have to face the challenges and grow.” Exactly why she’d gone to medical school and become a doctor instead of marrying one, like her mother.