23
“I was thinking,” said the Sheikh as he pulled a sliver of blood-stained metal from his right arm, looked at it disdainfully, and tossed it into the rubble. “That it would be best if we remained dead for the moment.”
“And when did you do all this thinking, pray tell,” said Irene as she checked Sage once again for any signs of injuries. Even his hearing seemed to be fine, and she thanked whoever might be watching over them for getting them through this—or at least this far.
“Are you sure he isn’t hurt?” said Bilaal, ignoring his fresh wound and walking over to Irene and Sage. He touched his son’s head gently, looked into his light brown eyes, delicately pressed his pudgy arms and legs to check for breaks, bruises, or the slightest signs of discomfort. Then the Sheikh turned his gaze to Irene. “And you?” he whispered, touching her hair as she blinked and smiled. “Here, let me check you,” he said, smiling when it became clear that she was fine too.
She slapped his hand away as he pressed her arms, her back, and then rubbed her tush without any hesitation. Her face was bright red when she turned to him accusingly. “How dare you?” she scolded.
“I am checking for broken bones,” he said stoically, reaching for her ample buttocks again as she swatted him away with one hand, holding Sage tight with the other.
“Broken bones in my bum?” she said. “Is this the time or place? And in front of our son?”
The Sheikh smiled, and then grimaced when Irene reached out and touched his bleeding arm.
“You seem to be making a habit of getting torn up in my presence,” she said. “Do I need to patch you up again?”
He shrugged, looking at her in a way that made her almost uncomfortable. Almost.
“Perhaps,” he whispered. “And perhaps I will need to repay you the same way I did three years ago.”
Irene opened her mouth wide as she blushed involuntarily. Sage was smiling, like he could pick up on the happy energy of his parents, even though the three of them were trudging through the debris of a mostly demolished building with at least one dead body in the ashes. Could anything be more surreal than what she was feeling now, the warmth and happiness, the electricity between her and the father of her child?!
The Sheikh came close, and Irene could feel his heat even as she felt her own heat rise. But this really wasn’t the time or place, and she gasped and took a step back, shaking her head when she realized that she almost gave in to . . .
“What were you saying about staying dead for awhile?” she asked quickly, not looking into his eyes because she knew she might not look away.
The Sheikh cleared his throat and went serious—dead serious. “It occurs to me that my niece is in less danger with me being dead for now. If what Blackbeard said about his brother is true, then if it is known that we survived the blast, it might force his hand. And who knows what he will do. As it stands, both he and my niece are in a well-monitored, regimented environment with all kinds of safeguards. My niece is no fool. If he tries anything . . .” The Sheikh clenched his fist and swallowed hard. “If he tries anything, then she knows to report it immediately, and that will be the end of his career and his freedom. The Swiss laws are very strict about this sort of thing.”
Irene nodded. She could tell that the Sheikh was trying very hard to be rational, that a part of him wanted to get on a plane and fly to his niece’s school and bludgeon this second brother to death in the courtyard. But the truth was, this second brother had not done anything. He hadn’t committed a crime. In fact, he might not even be intending to commit a crime. Blackbeard could have been bluffing, as far as they knew.
“You could pull her out of the school,” said Irene.
The Sheikh nodded, taking her hand and guiding her through the rubble and towards the front lawn, which was littered with smoldering debris. They could hear sirens in the distance, but there was no sign of any traffic yet. They still had time to get out undetected.
“I thought of that,” said the Sheikh. “And the thought of what Blackbeard implied haunts me. I want Mala as far away from that man as possible. But at the same time, if I contact anyone to have her removed from the school, it will alert this brother that I might be alive. As it is, they will not find our bodies in the rubble, so he will suspect we got away.”
Irene frowned as she stepped over a half-charred dressing table, carefully avoiding the shards of a broken mirror. “That’s true. So how will we convince this man we really are dead?”
The Sheikh took a breath and scanned the horizon. Beyond the grounds of the estate they could see wilderness. Thick forest with green hills in the background. It was mid-summer, and it appeared that Canada had gotten good rainfall, because the distant hills were decorated with the trickles of waterfalls, which meant there were healthy rivers flowing fresh, bringing water and life to the land.
He turned to Irene. “One year,” he said.
“One year of what.”
“One year of that,” said the Sheikh, gesturing across the land. “We stay off the grid for one year, until the second brother grows convinced we are dead. Then I will have the advantage of surprise, and can get to him before he has a chance to kidnap or threaten Mala.”
Irene cocked her head and closed one eye. Was this man insane? “Are you insane?” she said quietly. “And if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you probably are insane.”
The Sheikh folded his arms across his broad chest. “You do not think I can keep you and my son safe for one year?”
“In the woods? Have you heard of this curious phenomenon known as winter?!” Irene smiled and looked around like she wanted to hail a taxi. “Good luck, Mountain Man, but my son and I are getting off here.”
“He is my son too, and neither of you are going anywhere,” the Sheikh said firmly, stepping in front of them and standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders back, his towering physique at full height—all of which would have been intimidating if Irene wasn’t fed up of insane men from the Middle East with cockamamie ideas. “If the other brother finds out that you are alive, he will guess that I escaped as well. Then he will kidnap or perhaps even murder my niece before my bodyguards have a chance to get inside the school grounds.”
“Then tell your bodyguards to grab his ass and throw him into some dungeon in your castle before anyone figures out we’re alive,” Irene snapped. “But I’m done here. It’s a miracle that Sage is unharmed, and I’m not going to traumatize him any further. Certainly not by even considering living in a goddamn tree house and eating snails for a year. Holy shit you are unhinged. I guess that’s what happens when you’re so disconnected from the real world in your royal kingdom in the clouds.”
“How does living off the land for a year make me disconnected from the real world?” he said with a smile. “Besides, I did not expect for us to survive the winter in an ice cave in the Canadian Rockies. I have a cabin not far from here. It is very much off the grid, as they say. No way to tie it back to me. There are ample supplies. Stocks of firewood and medical provisions. Fresh water on the land. Hunting and fishing all year round. I thought you were a frontier woman, Irene. Raising our son to be self-sufficient and comfortable in nature. Is that not true? Are you afraid of the mosquitoes? Crocodiles? Dingoes? Do not worry. I will protect you from the beasts of the forest, little girl.”
Irene snorted as she glanced up into his eyes. Those green eyes of his were dancing with mischief, but there was a seriousness in them too. Like he wasn’t just messing with her. And you know what, she thought as she glanced past him at the beautiful, free land. You know what . . .
No, she told herself when she realized that she was actually considering it. Don’t lose your mind along with everyone else. Think of your son, even if this madman isn’t thinking clearly. She knew she should walk away right then, but she couldn’t. Something in her heart kept her going on, asking more questions, letting him lead her towards the forest when she should be shutting him down and waiting for the police.
Still the thoughts kept coming as those woods beckoned. She had no one to go back to in Wyoming. Her horses were safe. Her ranch and land wasn’t going anywhere. And the Sheikh did have a point about his niece perhaps being safer if they stayed off the radar for some time. Yes, it would seem like his bodyguards or the Swiss police or even just the school principal and security could make sure his niece was safe before the other brother found out they’d survived. One phone call might do it. But perhaps not. Perhaps the other brother was already close to the niece, ready to do something drastic the moment something didn’t seem to go as planned. Perhaps he already had an emotional hold on the seventeen-year-old girl. Perhaps she wouldn't believe he could hurt her until it was too late. Who knew. The risk was small, but there was a risk. Certainly it would be hard for the Sheikh to let his niece think he was dead for a year. But ironically, the more broken up she was over losing her uncle, the safer she’d be! Shit, he was right. And hell, even though she was putting her son at risk, there was also the risk to another child that she couldn’t ignore. What was the right choice?!
“Where’s your cabin?” she asked softly as she smelled the pine and cedar as the wind blew through the trees. Those sirens were getting closer, and soon the cavalry would be here. If she had any sense she’d run back to the front gate of the estate and wait for help.
She looked at her son, and she looked at his father. She looked into the woods, and she glanced back at the road, where the flashing lights were finally visible.
“Three days,” said the Sheikh quietly, holding out his hand to her, the invitation in his eyes, the call to adventure in his voice. The split between two choices was never more clear to her, and her feet felt numb as she took a step his way and then stopped. “Three days to get to the cabin. It is summer and we will not freeze to death. We will pick up supplies to get us there, and follow the river to my cabin. Will you come?” He paused, hand still held out. “Come,” he said quietly, glancing at his son, who seemed strangely eager to head into the woods with a stranger. “Come,” he said again, his eyes hardening, his tone suggesting that this was no longer a question in a way. “Come with me, woman. Come with me, my woman.”
With a sigh she closed her eyes and pushed away the thought of how stupid she was, and she took his hand and went with him, baby and all.
She went with her man.