Chapter Two

Riyadh was an urban jungle, just like Max remembered—tall buildings in a grid pattern. It was both a modern metropolis and a historic treasure. The city was a juxtaposition of modern shopping malls and traditional souks, hundred-story skyscrapers against the Masmak Fort, a century-old, mud and clay palace—a distinctive heritage and cultural melting pot. Expensive cars whizzed past Max as he moved along in the crowd. 

Max glanced at the Casio G-Shock Solar watch on his wrist. He was early. If Joanne kept the same ritual, she was due to arrive in an hour. He preferred being early. Now, he could find the perfect, inconspicuous spot to wait and watch.

He blended in perfectly with his naturally dark skin, blue jeans, black shirt and a red and white checkered keffiyeh on his head. His electric blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of black aviators. He blended well with the crowd and no one gave him a second glance. He had a clear view of the street corner where he expected Joanne to arrive. As the time drew near, the steady summer sun became increasingly unbearable, even in the shadow of the large billboard he was standing next to. Sunrays licked at his face like a hot-blooded serpent. The black tar road smoldered and heat wafted up in a haze.

“Joanne must hate it here. She always loved the winter, especially the snow.” Max said sotto voce.

A smile curved his lips in memory of how she used to love playing in the snow when they were younger. Even though he and Jack were ten years older than her, they could never resist her cute dimpled smile. They’d always ended up playing ‘angels’ in the snow with her. His brows drew closer.

Maybe she’d crawled into his heart then; with her sweet smile and her sassy attitude. His hands fisted. He’d royally fucked up with her. When she’d agreed to become his sub, she’d been new to the lifestyle. He had been a seasoned Dom by then already. He should’ve known better and kept patience with her. On the other hand, he shouldn’t have caved in to her at all. Not when he wasn’t ready for an exclusive Dom/sub relationship. Their breakup had almost cost him his friendship with Jack, who had been away on an assignment for six months and hadn’t known about them. He had come back to find his sister heartbroken.

“Yeah, regret always comes too late,” he muttered to himself.

She’d walked away from him and never looked back. He’d often wondered if she’d come to hate him. He hoped not. He would never admit it to anyone, but he’d silently wished they would get back together. He’d missed her, this last year, even more so. During the endless nights, he would try to recapture their tender lovemaking, the intense scenes at the club that had ended in wild sex. It was then that he’d come to realize that Joanne had given herself to him like no other sub could. 

Max recognized the swagger he’d watched so many times on the satellite feed, before he realized it was her. He didn’t move from where he slumped against the board. His eyes were drawn to the taut line of her lips. He stiffened when he noticed the two bulky men who were flagging her on either side, which was obviously the source of her irritation.

They entered a diner further down the street. Max remained still. He had a clear view of the entrance. He waited. Joanne would find a way to get back to the crossing and perform her little ritual. Once she set her mind to something, come hell or high water, she achieved it.

Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared and walked briskly to the street corner; looking around before she performed the same ritual in front of the street cam. Max squinted. There seemed to be urgency in her face, but before he could approach her, she turned and sprinted back to the diner. The third time she took the spot in front of the street cam, Max straightened and walked toward her. His strides were long, confident and carried his large frame with ease.

Joanne turned around. He saw the shock register on her face before she could hide it. A small smile played on his lips. He wished she wasn’t wearing the sunglasses so that he could see her expression. His eyes dropped to her full, cupid-shaped lips. He watched them move to whisper his name.

“Maximilian.”

Max may have physically prepared himself to come face to face with Joanne, but he hadn’t counted on how it would affect him emotionally.

His limbs moved on their own accord and he found himself a hairbreadth away from her. The sound of the traffic and people milling around faded into the background. He disconnected from everything but the ever-present sound of his drumming heart, his body suddenly broke into cold sweat as he felt the heat from her body flowing through him.

“You found me,” she whispered. Her hands brushed lightly across his chest before she clamped her fists by her sides. She looked around but neither of them stepped back.

He was captivated by the emotions playing across her face. His eyes flashed as her pouty, delicious lip disappeared between her teeth. A desire to be the one—the only one—to mold and shape her to his own needs filled his mind with visions of debauchery, as well as tender desires. His cock flexed unexpectedly in his pants.

“Did you doubt that I would, Jo?”

* * * * * * * *

Joanne blinked. She couldn’t believe that he was standing in front of her—as big and as gorgeous as she remembered. His words were like cold water in the scorching desert.

How was it possible that he still had such an effect on her? After all the years, of shutting her heart to this compelling man who’d given her the first taste of domination. He had tapped into her submissive side and in the process given her the power to find the strength within herself to let go of her inhibitions.

Only, it hadn’t been enough. Not in the end. He’d made that abundantly clear.

Joanne could feel his eyes on her and wished he would remove his sunglasses. She’d always admired his electric blue eyes. In her opinion, his unflinching gaze was a sign of confidence that oozed from his persona. Her eyes dropped to his broad shoulders, arms and ripped chest.

He always appeared larger than life because of that.

“You look weird with that keffiyeh on your head,” she murmured, wondering if his black hair still had the same tousled look as years ago. She used to know he was agitated or angry when he’d dragged his hands through it. Her eyes moved over his broad forehead, high cheekbones and a square, sculpted jaw. His aquiline nose sat above a wide, very kissable mouth that appeared wicked, framed by his neat scruffy beard. His lips curved upward in enjoyment. He had the audacity to chuckle. His expression was a mix of amusement and admonishment.

“Horny, baby?”

Joanne felt the blush heat her cheeks. Horny was putting it mildly.

His closeness and his familiar smell caused hot shards to tingle her loins. It had been too long since she’d had sex and her body was reacting to his overwhelming charisma. The black shirt hugged his wide chest, hinting at the six-pack underneath. Joanne licked her lips—awed by the sinewy strength in his broad shoulders as he flexed his arms under her regard. She swallowed and tried to tame the burgeoning lust that amplified even more when he reached out to brush his long fingers over her cheek. He exuded power and dominance without making any effort.

“Even dressed as a scruffian, you’re as beautiful as ever, baby. I can’t believe these assholes haven’t realized that there is a sultry and luscious woman hidden beneath these loose clothes. But, you need to curb the desire to jump my bones, baby. I’m sure it would be frowned upon for two men to hump each other on the street corner.”

The rush of heat that suddenly swirled inside her loins reflected the warmth flooding her thundering heart. The feeling was disconcerting to say the least. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in this man. Not again. He’d hurt her too much in the past.

“Are you trying to blow my cover, Maximilian?” Joanne asked in a chilled voice.

Max cocked his head to the side. He removed the sunglasses and his eyes shifted to her lips. Her heart missed a beat. She could barely breathe. She stared at the pristine sclera that surrounded his blue eyes in fascination. Max’s eyes always mirrored his sincere emotions. This time was no different. Max was out to score, and she was the prize.

“Would it matter, Jo? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To take you back home.” His voice softened. The resonance of his dulcet-tone caught her off-guard. A tremor shuddered through her vulnerable core.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, Mr. Shaw. And I better get back . . . fuck! It’s too late.”

“Jarrah? Who is this man?” A guttural voice grated in Arabic from behind Max.

“Ugh . . . fucck!” Max gasped when Joanne stepped into him and brought her knee up hard to slam into his balls.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his cheek as he doubled over. She looked at the two men who stood watching with suspicion in their eyes. Her voice turned deep and gruff. “Bring him. He’s the spy Sheikh Juhayman has been searching for.”

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Max gritted through clenched teeth.

“Keep your trap shut, bastard,” she snapped and for added effect, kicked him against the shoulder so that he tumbled back onto his ass from his hunched over position. He was still clutching his crown jewels with a painful expression on his face. Joanne worried that she might have kicked him a little too hard. His eyes seared her with a promise of retribution.

 The two men grabbed him and dragged him toward the green jeep parked around the corner. Joanne got behind the wheel and took off with a screech of tires.

“Keep your cool, Max. We’ve got your coordinates and will be close.” Rhone's voice came through the tiny earpiece that he and Richard had designed. It was flesh colored and attached to the inside of the ear, which made it completely unnoticeable. It was also a GPS enabled device.

Max had decided against telling Jack that he’d found Joanne. But, his sixth sense had warned him that he would need backup. Because he had to get into the country undetected and fast, he’d asked Rhone and Bruce for help. They’d agreed that the two of them would stay with the chopper, a Sikorsky S-97 Raider, to ensure they didn’t draw attention, seeing as it was designed to prevent being detected by radar. Max, on his own, could get away pretending to be an Arab but two or more of his size, would’ve stood out like a sore thumb.

“Are you sure this is him, Jarrah?” The man sitting next to Max asked. He stared at Max with a disbelieving frown.

“I’m not an idiot, Akil. Of course, it’s him,” Joanne clipped icily over her shoulder. She was deliberately talking in English, which was the trade language in Saudi Arabia and most people understood it.

“This man looks Arabic. I thought the spy was an American,” Akil cut back.

“I suppose you’re a tad short sighted then, Akil,” Max taunted him and batted his eyelids at him. “I’ve got baby blues, mate. Not something you’d find in your DNA. Well, very rarely, that is.”

“Shut your trap, American,” Joanne snapped, but kept her attention on the road ahead. They had left the city behind and were traveling toward the desert.

“And who's gonna make me? You? With your puny little body?” Max continued to taunt her. He noticed Joanne bite her lip. He was in his element. He loved to tease and always used humor to break down his opponent’s defenses.

“So, by the way, where are my shades? I paid an arm and a leg for that pair. I’ll be fucking pissed if you left them on the curb back there,” he continued in a serious tone.

Joanne flashed an irritating look in his direction. He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed as she cursed.

“What rubbish are you saying?” Akil growled. He slapped Max’s arm. “Your arm and leg are still attached to your body.”

“It would take too long to explain that idiom, Akil. I doubt you have the astuteness to grasp it.”

Joanne choked back a laugh and coughed to cover it up.

Akil glared at Max. “You talk funny. You, shut up.” It was evident that he didn’t understand half of the words Max had used and suspected that he was being ridiculed.

“My father—bless his soul—used to say that he’ll shut up when he’s dead. I agree with him. Silence is completely overrated.” Max kicked the seat, turning his sights to the man in front of him. “What do you think, mate? My name is Gregorian Alexandros, so by the way. What do you answer to?”

Joanne broke into another cacophony of choking coughs.

The man turned in his seat. His stare was cold, filled with hate. “You talk too much, American. Shut the fuck up or I’ll stuff my boot into your trap.”

“Whoa! An Arab with a sense of humor. I like that. Give me five, mate! I think you and I will become friends.” Max turned his back toward Akil. “C’mon, untie me so I can high five Mr. Grumpy over there.”

Joanne cleared her throat. The amusement was clear in her voice when she said, “I would heed Hamal’s warning, American. He has a short fuse. You don’t want to lose your front teeth, now do you?”

Max had been contemplating Joanne’s strategy since she’d kicked him in the balls. For someone who wanted out of the country, she was making it rather difficult to leave. They could’ve been well on their way already if she hadn’t incapacitated him.

Little hellcat. She’s gonna pay for that. My fucking balls are still hurting.

There had to be something else on the line that he didn’t know about. He just prayed it wouldn’t cost their lives in the process.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Jarry but from—”

“Jarrah. My name is Jarrah Farooq,” Joanne barked irritably. She wished Max would just shut up and stop goading them.

“Jerry, Jarry, Jarrah . . . all sound the same to me,” Max responded. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, from what I’ve seen, you’re the only one with balls in this jeep—considering that you’ve almost cracked mine.” He snorted loudly. “I don’t think either of these two bozos have the guts to take me on; even tied up as I am.”

Hamal had had enough and turned around between the seats. He aimed a fist at Max’s head, which he easily avoided. He swung his body forward with a twist of his waist and slammed his head into Hamal’s temple. He slumped between the seats with an “umph”—and was out cold.

“What the fuck—” Akil’s surprised cry was cut short as he too fell victim to Max’s hard head connecting with his forehead.

“Jesus, Max! Are you fucking crazy?” Joanne shrieked as she slammed on the brakes. She twisted in the seat and glowered at him.

“Take off those shades, Jo,” Max ordered. He felt a rush of elation when she instinctively reached up to do his bidding. She cursed softly when she realized what she was doing. “Ah, there’s my baby,” he cooed.

As always, he was entranced by her long, sweeping eyelashes; like a brush of black paint against the perfect canvas of her face, shadowing the dark amethyst glimmer of her irises. They fluttered as she blinked, her gaze turned as cold as the winter snow.

“Number one, I’m not your anything, Maximilian Bartolomeus Shaw, least of all, your baby! Secondly—”

“I beg to differ. See, we—”

“Differ all the way to hell for all I care! Secondly, you are screwing up everything with your desire to control, as always! Can’t you, just for once—just fucking once—trust me and go along?”

“Sure, baby,” he said congenially. “As long as I know what the fuck it is you’re doing. You got me here to bring you back home and instead of allowing me to do that, you kick me in the balls! Doesn’t add up, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby,” Joanne gritted through clenched teeth. “And just shut up for a second. I need to think.”

“Think later. For now, tell me why we’re on the way back into the hornet’s nest.”

“There are other women we need to rescue.”

Max stared at her. She didn’t blink, just returned his gaze.

“How the hell do you think we’ll do that, and not get caught, Joanne? You, I might get out safely and without being detected but . . .?” His gaze sharpened. “Just how many are we talking?”

“Twelve.”

Joanne winced as Max erupted in a curse.

“Max, I need to knock you out before they come too. It’s the only way we can get you into the compound without raising their suspicion.”

“You’re not fucking knocking me out. I’m not going to be left defenseless while who the fuck knows what is waiting for me. You told these fucktards that I’m a spy, Joanne. What do you think they’re gonna do to me? Kiss my fucking feet?”

“You don’t have to curse so much, Max. And stop glaring at me. This is all your fault.”

“My fault? How the—ugh!” Max grunted and slumped into a dead faint as she unexpectedly jabbed the handle of the gun against his temple.

“Yes, your fault and all because you always have to be such a . . . a DOM!”

Giving the passed-out man a final searing glare, she jammed the sunglasses back in place, kicked the jeep into gear and pulled away. Just a few minutes before Halam and Akil woke up.

“Let that be a lesson. Don’t fuck with an American Black Ops spy. They’re not scared to get hurt,” she snapped briefly.

They were obviously disgruntled that Jarrah, the smallest among the sheikh’s guard, had managed to put the American in place.

“Just wait until we have him in the stocks. I’m going to break every one of his white teeth!” Hamal growled. He patted the lump on his head. “He’s gonna wish he never did this.”

Joanne didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to strategize how to keep Max from getting killed.

Fuck! If only I had a prior warning. Now, we have no plan. Brilliant, Joanne!

The end was in sight; of her harrowing experience and the life of disguise she’d been forced to live for almost a year. She shivered at the thought of what lay in store for Max if she failed to find a way out of this muck.