Chapter 3
The whip whizzed past his ear before striking the naked back of the shackled man, shaving off a piece of flesh when it landed. Blood exploded from the wound, running in rivulets down the landscape of his spine. The man’s tortured scream, the howl of a wounded animal, pierced the air. The torturer tightened his hood and adjusted the mask on his face, then inched closer to his target.
The prisoner dangled above the stone floor, his hands chained to the dungeon wall of the ancient fortress. Flecks of dust, suspended in a shaft of light a hundred feet above the man’s head, inched their way to the ground. All around the hooded man, rodents scurried and gnawed restlessly in the filth accrued by decades of abandonment, and the sound was sweet music to his ears. The wail of a sandstorm outside shrieked so loudly it reminded him of a screeching woman. He smiled. The bound man would pay with his life. He deserved his fate.
Moving closer, he gripped the screaming man by his sweat-soaked hair, jerking his head back.
“Two times you have failed me, you spineless parasite!” he hissed into the man’s face, his upper lip curling into a sneer.
“No . . . Your Excellency,” the man cried, his tears mingling with the blood on his face.
“Stop your sniveling, or I’ll cut your head off and feed it to my dogs.”
He slapped the prisoner hard across his face again, the force snapping his head back and sending several of his teeth pinging against the stone wall. The hooded man smiled. “Do you take me for a fool? Do you have any idea the trouble I went through to get this girl? How I studied the sheik’s likes and dislikes until I came up with the perfect dangerous temptation?”
The wounded man whelped in agony. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect,” he said, clearly fearing more retaliation. An army of men in dark robes lined the walls around them.
The dark phantom ignored his pleas. “Who would have thought the doctor would be the hardest one to kill?” he sneered. “He’s soft, nothing like his father. He’s nothing but a young whelp playing at being a ruler.” The owner of the dark dungeon paced, his black robes flapping around him, stirring up centuries of dust. “He signed his own death warrant with his modern ideas. Hospitals, educating women, letting women dress as westerners, caring for orphans and the less fortunate, what kind of leader changes the ancient ways of our people without calling a tribal council?” Raising his fist toward heaven, he shook it. “Does he think himself above our traditions? He’s an American-trained doctor. He has no idea how to rule this land. He must die!”
Striding over to the wall, he bent down, cupped his hands, and filled them with some of the putrid water trickling down the mossy walls. He threw the contents into the moaning man’s face, forcing him to snap back into consciousness as he continued his rant.
“His father was a mighty warrior before he married and became soft. His father ruled the desert, and he knew how to mix tradition with progress. Malik strives to force us all into the twenty-first century even if we prefer the old ways. He is but a spoiled pup, yet the idiots I send to complete this simple job continue to fail me miserably.”
“Your Excellency, if you will just give me another chance,” the bound man begged, his emasculated voice breathy and anguished.
“Another chance! Ba! After your mistake placed her in Malik’s hands?” He leaned forward, jerking the man’s head toward his own so the prisoner could hear every single syllable as it was slowly enunciated. “What part of ‘put a bullet in her head’ didn’t you understand? Idiot!” He released his hold on the man unable to bear touching him for a second longer. “The very sight of you disgusts me!” He spat on him, the white foam running down the man’s battered cheek. Walking the perimeter of the dank underground prison, he unfurled the whip again and let it fly, ripping into the man’s lacerated back. “No, you let Malik capture her.” The whip whistled through the air, striking its mark. “Now I am left to clean up this mess before she reveals everything to him.”
The odor of the man’s suffering, mixed with the blood and musty essence of the thousand-year-old dungeon, produced a disgusting stench. The hooded man wanted nothing more to do with this slug who’d failed him. He drew in a deep breath, the stagnant air filling his lungs. Spying a dilapidated wooden bucket filled to the brim with mucky, moldy water, he picked it up and threw its contents on the man. “I will kill your entire family for this mistake.”
The broken man whimpered pathetically. “Please, Your Excellency, do not make them suffer for what I have done.”
He stepped back, swinging the whip before slinging it through the air once more. A bloodcurdling scream rent the air. He smiled, knowing his men’s fear of him grew stronger with every passing moment. Good! His followers needed to know the power of his wrath. He couldn’t afford for another blunder to delay his plan. Malik needed to die. The sooner the better.
“Kill him. He’s no longer of any use to me!” He turned on his heels, his black robes spiraling around him like an ebony mantle. Without so much as a backward glance, he strode up the steps, the man’s screams echoing in his wake.
~ ~ ~
Malik jerked straight up in bed as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his palms. Two-thirty in the morning. He’d barely closed his eyes. Thoughts of his patient had kept him awake for hours. His stunning patient, with tanned legs that went on forever, a wasp-like waist, and long, silky blond hair that seized the sun. He was snared—hook, line, and sinker. Oh, he’d been attracted to patients in the past, but this was different. This was intense.
His cell phone blared again. He’d left word with the charge nurse to notify him of any change in his patient’s condition. It had to be an emergency or they wouldn’t be calling him at this late hour. He shook the remaining thoughts from his head and dialed the hospital. “This is Doctor Hajjah. You called me?”
As the nurse’s excited words penetrated his brain, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “When did this happen?” Holding the phone in the crook of his neck, he stood, then stepped naked into his jeans as he said, “Calm down. What’s being done for her?”
He listened attentively before responding, “Good. Good.” Issuing orders, he jerked a white button-down shirt off its hanger and shrugged into it. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Chaos reigned in his patient’s room as he entered. Monitors blared, their high-pitched scream deafening. Nurses attempting emergency procedures tripped over each other in their haste to help. Ripped open and discarded sterilization bags littered the floor. He rushed up to his patient’s bed and froze. She was seizing, foam dripping from the corner of her mouth, but that was his secondary concern. The primary problem—her muscles were rolling up and down like the waves of the ocean. He’d only seen this particular scenario one other time, in an E.R. in Arizona. Then, the culprit had been a diamond-backed rattlesnake. Now . . .
His mind, fighting through the familiar haze of antiseptic, tried to wrap itself around the situation. How could this be? She hadn’t manifested any symptoms of a snakebite earlier. She had been stable when he looked in on her before he left the hospital. What the hell was happening? He brushed a hand through his hair, working through the possible solutions. Then, in a moment of total clarity, the answer surfaced. His lip raised in a sneer. Yes, there was only one explanation for this incredible turn of events. Realizing they hadn’t completed the job, someone had snuck in here to finish it. Damn it! He should have posted men to guard her around the clock.
“I need some antivenin.” For one long moment, everyone in the room stopped and stared at him as if he were crazy. “Stat!” he barked, losing his patience. Why were his enemies trying to keep her quiet? What damning information did she possess in the back of her rattled brain they were afraid he’d unlock?
He threw back the sheet covering her body, his hands roaming nimbly over every inch, inspecting her tanned skin like a jeweler in possession of a thirty-carat diamond.
Checking . . . checking. Ah, there it is! He’d found the angry red skin, lacerated by the snake’s fangs. Nazem appeared silently at his side. Malik had returned his call on his way into the hospital. “It looks like someone is trying to make damn sure our Jane Doe doesn’t live long enough to recover her memory.”
“What are we dealing with, Your Highness?”
“She’s been bitten by a venomous snake. Judging from the size of the bite, I’m guessing a cobra. Have your men check not only this room, but the entire hospital to see if the snake was left behind. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
As his words registered, the nurses let out a screech, their eyes widening into saucers as they surveyed the floor.
The patient reached up and grabbed his hand with surprising strength. The fear in her verdant eyes made him pause in his medical duties to lean over and reassure her. “Hey, we got this.” If only he could convince himself. Snakebites were tricky things to treat.
The tension in her muscles along with the grimace on her face told Malik what he already knew: she was suffering greatly. The need to safeguard her overwhelmed him, curling through him with a power so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet. Shocked, he realized he wasn’t only feeling compassion for his patient. A potent punch of desire hit him in his belly. God, what was wrong with him? He buried the treacherous thoughts, driving his mind back to where it belonged: saving her life.
Nothing was going to happen to her on his watch. He’d make damn sure of that, even if he had to move into the hospital and stay with her until she improved, regained her memory, and he extracted the vital information buried in her brain. He required that information, and judging from the look on her face when he’d showed her his sister’s medallion, he was positive she knew something about it. Memories of his younger sister nagged at him, and he shuddered. He hadn’t been able to save his sister, but he’d be damned if he’d lose this woman as well. Currently, she had no family to comfort her in her hour of distress. And he sure as hell knew what that was like. She squeezed his hand, focusing his attention back on her.
“Please, don’t let me die,” she begged, her voice a tortuous whisper.
He winked at her. “It’s going to be all right,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand in return. “I’m doing everything in my power to help you.”
She crooked her finger, motioning him closer. He bent down so she could speak directly into his ear.
“Help me!” Her voice was nothing stronger than a whoosh of air. For a moment, he let his gaze roam over her. Luminous eyes sunken with illness stared back at him. Glossy locks of sweat-soaked hair fell across her face. He smoothed the strands out of the way.
Seconds later, the antivenin arrived, snapping Malik into action. Drawing the liquid out of the vial with a syringe, he injected it into her IV bag. Picking up a black marker, he drew a line about five inches above the snakebite. He wrote the time in big bold numbers, right there on her leg, showing the advance of the venom. Once he was done, he glanced down at her again. His fingers trailed across her cheek. Removing his stethoscope from around his neck, he leaned over her. Placing the bell against her skin, he listened to the beat of her heart. Though elevated, the cadence was steady. He checked the machines measuring her vitals.
After a couple of touch-and-go hours, Malik’s patient finally began showing signs of improvement. Confident she was holding her own, he began shooing people out of the room. Everyone except Nazem’s men. They remained, rechecking every nook and cranny for any signs of the snake.
They were in for a long night.
~ ~ ~
He rolled the sleeves of his shirt back over his forearm and glanced at his watch—5:45 am. He could use a cup of coffee.
Picking up her chart to record his findings, he rotated away from her bed. Her soft voice drew him back. “Doctor Hajjah, why is this happening to me?”
Why, indeed? He stopped writing, focusing his attention on her. “I’m not sure. I think you may have information that’s detrimental to some sort of plot.”
“Against you?” she asked, fatigue settling in the wispy sound of her voice, her energy clearly waning.
“I believe so,” he countered, giving her his full attention.
She drew in a staggered breath, her chest rumbling with the effort. “And how will killing me retrieve this information?”
He continued to stare at her, searching her face for any clue that she was innocent in this whole dangerous game. It will prevent me from obtaining the particulars of their latest plot.”
Fear widened her eyes into a sea-green oasis he longed to dive into. Get a grip.
“Oh, I see.”
No, she didn’t. He could tell. She didn’t understand hate of this magnitude or people who killed to take over a country.
“When will my memory come back?” The drugs were taking effect —she was getting drowsy, and her voice sounded as fragile as her body. He wished he knew. Until her memory returned, he’d enclose her within the power of his station. Protect her. Keep her safe. And he’d be damned if he’d let anyone hurt her again. Not while he had a puff of breath left in his body.
He shook his head, exhaustion worming its way through him. “I don’t have an answer. It might be hours. It might be days or weeks. Sometimes it takes another shock to bring it back.”
A look of dismay spread across her face.
“Can you remember what happened tonight?” he asked gently.
He witnessed the exact moment when the memory returned to her. “I thought I was having a nightmare,” she began, her voice light and breathy, drowsy. “Two men dressed in black hooded robes carried a basket into my room.” A shudder ran over her. “A big brute of a man held me down, covering my mouth with his meaty hand, while the other took this snake, this very big snake, out of the basket. He pressed the open mouth of the snake against my leg, and it bit me. Right here.” She pointed toward the two deep puncture wounds on her leg. “The pain was excruciating, which is when I knew it was no nightmare. I screamed, and they ran from the room.” She drew a shaky breath. “Does any of this help?”
“Yes.”
Her information helped a lot. The perpetrators must have thought he knew nothing about reptiles. They’d falsely assumed the bite would go unnoticed, and everyone would think she had died from complications from surgery. Genius, really. He’d known all along he wasn’t dealing with a bunch of thugs, that there was a mastermind pulling the strings, and now he had proof.
Her eyes glistened with tears. His heart cinched in his chest, and he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her, pick her up, and hold her in his lap like a child.
“It felt like someone was holding a flame to my leg. It hurt so terribly.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek, which he caught with the pad of his finger. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this.”
She blinked. She was losing the battle to stay awake.
“Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable?” he asked, smiling as he leaned over her.
“Can you stay with me?”
She was putting up a good front, but he knew she was scared. Hell, he was scared.
He leaned in closer, his lips drawn to the plumpness of hers. She pursed her lips as if preparing to kiss him. A smile teased his lips. The drugs were doing their job.
“Get some sleep now. It’s almost dawn.” He turned toward the recliner, letting out a pent-up breath; he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight in that contraption. It looked as comfortable as a bed of nails.
“We seem to have a habit of always meeting in crisis mode.” She forced a laugh, but he could tell it was a lie. She was terrorized.
He strode back to her bedside. “Don’t you know I meet all my women this way?”
She giggled again, a sound so enchanting it nearly buckled his knees. He needed to put some space between them. He still needed that coffee.
“I’m sorry if I sounded a little cross yesterday,” she murmured. “I was confused and terribly alarmed about losing my memory. And then there was the whole thing about being in a foreign country . . . well, it’s made me a little crazy.”
Once again, he attempted to walk over to the recliner. “Forget it. It was my fault. I apologize for my boorish behavior—” he threw over his shoulder, “—but you’re safe now. So, close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I’d be lost without you.” Her voice was so muted, he thought he’d heard her wrong.
Her soft words staggered the rapid beat of his heart; he’d heard those very words from his sister’s sweet lips. “Tomorrow I’ll put all my resources into finding out who you are and why this happened to you,” he said. He sat down in the uncomfortable recliner and pulled the lever to lay the back out. “You have my word on that.”
Suddenly, he desperately wanted to see the sun rise over the desert and experience the heat of it against his cheek. To step out of this dark place he’d been hovering in ever since the death of his family. To live again.
Not going to happen, he chided himself. He couldn’t afford the luxury of having a woman in his life. No, he had to guard his heart, steel it against tender notions. Why? A nagging little voice in his head questioned. Because everyone I love turns up dead.
Folding his arms over his chest, he struggled against the glorious lure of sleep. It had been a long day and night. He was exhausted. Bone tired. He required sleep, but he wasn’t going to get any. Not after what had transpired over the past few hours. A noise jerked him out of his torpor, and he scanned the room before his gaze settled on the sleeping woman. Sensing no present threat, he settled back into the recliner. Still, his mind refused to cooperate. His challenge to unmask his family’s killers took on a new urgency. A frown pulled the corners of his lips downward. Readjusting, trying to find a comfortable position, he listened to the steady beat of the monitor, keeping track of her heartbeat. As he dozed off, he wondered again just what this attractive woman could have done to earn such enemies, or if she was something more than he had fathomed . . . something treacherous placed squarely in his path. He pinched the skin at the bridge of his nose. Was he the biggest fool on the planet? Giving up any thought of sleep, he placed Nazem’s men around the room and headed for his office at the palace, Nazem on his heels.
~ ~ ~
“How is it that my sister’s amulet found its way into her shoe? Tell me how this is possible?” Malik probed, sliding into the plush office chair behind his desk as the sun nudged the eastern horizon. Ensconced in the privacy of his office at this hour of the day maximized his productivity. The phones remained quiet and no servants scurried about. It was just him and his work. Except for today. Today Nazem paced in front of his desk, shattering the serenity of his solemn space.
Booting up his desktop, he scrolled through his email, pausing to answer the most pressing. As he leaned back in his chair, he welcomed the cool breeze blowing across his neck from the air conditioning duct. Glancing over at the huge TV monitor mounted on the wall, he glared as the local news displayed a picture of his patient.
Malik pointed at the screen. “Any luck with the media?”
“Nothing yet, but we are blanketing the news stations in hope that someone will recognize her.” Nazem answered.
“Somebody knows her. She didn’t just appear out of thin air.”
“We’re calling in all favors.”
After a long night of touch and go, his patient was finally out of the woods. He’d stayed long enough to make sure she slept peacefully. He’d return after showering and conducting some business—a lot of business—in time for her to eat her breakfast. He had advisors at an oil-well fire in the desert, the diamond mines along the river were under new regulations, and a sand storm ravaged the eastern third of the country. All this, and yet his mind drifted to thoughts of his mysterious patient.
He shook his head, clearing images of tanned skin and luscious curves.
“Tell me what you really think about our Jane Doe.” Malik implored.
Nazem leaned onto his desk, both his hands flat against the highly-polished wood.
Oh hell. Malik instantly realized his friend wasn’t telling him everything.
“What?”
“There’s more,” Nazem admitted, the lines of his face edged with worry.
“Ah.” Malik’s eyebrow shot up. “I suspected as much. Tell me.”
“We intercepted a man trying to board an airliner for the United Kingdom.”
“A man?”
“A revolutionary. His pockets lined with diamonds.”
“And?” Malik forced himself to remain calm, but every cell in his body vibrated in alarm.
His eyes followed Nazem, who shoved off his desk and began pacing the room. He knew Nazem. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“We were able to persuade him to reveal some facts.”
Malik steepled his fingers in front of him. “By persuade, you mean torture.”
“Sleep deprivation, my lord. Nothing more.”
Still staring at Nazem, Malik asked, “And I take it this persuasion revealed some interesting results.”
“It confirmed our worst nightmare.”
“I see,” Malik answered, his heart gravitating into his throat. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Nazem to sit in the chair in front of his massive desk. “Let’s have it.”
Nazem swallowed hard. “We may have gotten a break, finally. The prisoner informed us his master was livid when their attempt in the desert failed. He claims his master won’t stop until you’re dead.”
“And who is this master?” Malik burst out.
“The man didn’t have a clue. He’s never seen his face. Says he wears a mask whenever they meet.”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
Nazem’s eyes bore into Malik’s. “This ‘master,’ whoever he is, plans to make damn sure he rids the land of your tyranny.”
“My tyranny? All I ever wanted was for this nation to rise, to compete on a global scale.” Malik’s restraint snapped. “You knew all this information, and yet you kept it to yourself?”
Nazem shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to make sure of the facts before I worried you.”
“And have you determined the facts?” Malik ground his teeth until his jaw ached from the strain.
“I have my best men scouring the country for any clues about the timeline of this new plot.”
Malik jumped to his feet, his desk chair flying out behind him, hitting the wall. “They will not find me so easy to kill. And the woman? What part does she play in all this?”
“We’re working on it.”
Rubbing a hand over his face, Malik sighed. Nazem’s answer did nothing to reassure him. “It appears an elaborate plot is under way, and we don’t have a clue as to the time, place, or who is involved. Do I have the gist of it?”
Nazem rose and straightened to his full height, pulling his shoulders back into a military position. “I will not let anything happen to you, sire.”
Malik shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, apprehension turning his shoulder blades into stone. “My fear is not for myself, but for this country and the chaos that will envelop it once the royal family has been fully exterminated. We live in dangerous times, in which anarchists are destroying country after country like an unstoppable plague.”
“That’s not going to happen. Not as long as I have breath in my body! I swear, Your Majesty,” Nazem vowed.
Malik patted the air, motioning his friend back into the chair. “Calm yourself. Your loyalty is not in question, but we must find out how the woman fits into this mess.” He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall window that stared out over the blue-green Arabian Gulf ten stories below. He sighed heavily, dropping his shoulder as he leaned against the glass.
“I think she may be a pawn in someone’s nasty game of intrigue,” Nazem said.
Must his life be one of constant upheaval? Staying alive proved to be a full-time job. “A pawn?” He sniffed in disbelief. “But you can’t be sure she’s not directly involved. Right?”
“Agreed.”
Nazem shook his head “They never meant for her to be taken alive. I think the assassin failed in his mission to eliminate her. They needed her to die to cover their tracks. In fact, I bet heads rolled when they found out she’s still alive.”
“That puts her in a very dangerous position.”
“Yes, it’s quite possible she can identify these men, which would explain the attempt on her life last night.”
Malik blew out a long, slow breath. “If they are unaware of her amnesia, they won’t stop until she’s dead.”
“Exactly, my lord.”
Malik pushed away from the window and turned to face Nazem. “I can’t allow her to stay in the hospital. We may not be so lucky the next time they attempt to kill her . . . and there will be a next time. I’m positive they already know of their failure.” He dropped back into his chair, picked up a pen, and rubbed it between the palms of his hands, waiting for Nazem’s reply.
“I agree. What are your plans?”
“I can’t put her up in a resort hotel—that would make it even easier for them to get to her—and I can’t contact any of her relatives due to her amnesia. I’m really at a loss. Do you have any suggestions?” Rising, Malik walked to the window, taking in the view of an oil-tanker leaving port. Towering sky scrapers dotted the landscape, along with a harbor filled to capacity with billion-dollar yachts. He felt a swell of pride in his accomplishments at making this nation, his nation, a fierce competitor in the Middle East and the world.
“Why not allow her to stay here, at the palace?” Nazem suggested, snaring his attention. “Our security can protect her day and night.”
Malik blew out a frustrated breath, leaning heavily against the window as he squared his shoulders. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I have confidential meetings here every day, and we don’t know where her loyalties lie.”
Nazem crossed his legs. “I’d ask Interpol for help, but I just don’t feel that this woman is a big threat.”
How could he not be cautious of this woman who had turned up half-dead in his desert? Maybe he was just being paranoid . . . but still, the question lingered—why was she here? Wanting some answers, he pressed on. “Then why was she in that car? Stop me anytime you don’t see the risk of having this woman close to me.”
“Really, I believe her to be harmless,” Nazem said. “She’s such a little thing. It seems to me that she just got caught up in a trap. Maybe she overheard the details of the plot and the perpetrators needed to silence her.”
Malik turned his palms up. “And ‘a little thing’ can’t wield a gun or design a bomb?”
Nazem blushed. “I don’t think so, not in this case. My lord, have you ever known me to let you down?”
Malik stared at his friend and bodyguard. “No, your instincts have always been right.”
“Then trust me to do my job. Besides, it is better to have her where we can keep an eye on her, don’t you think?”
“I’m not convinced of that.”
Nazem gave an exaggerated shrug. “Someday you’re going to have to quit chasing those monsters and begin to live again.”
Malik narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes the monsters chase you.”
Malik paced back to his desk, let out a frustrated sigh, and dropped down in his chair. Images of all that tanned skin and luscious curves teased his mind. Her . . . here . . . within his reach? All the blood in his body rushed south. He grimaced, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
Nazem shook his head. “We can’t turn her over to the authorities until we know her name.”
“Have we checked with the Americans? She has a distinct accent.”
“Yes, I submitted a picture to immigration and to the American DMV. In the meantime, she needs to be secreted away to prevent her death.”
Waving the words off with a flick of his hand, Malik said, “I know . . . I know.” He tapped his pen nervously against the desk. “I’ll have to make arrangements to move all my meetings here so I can keep an eye on her and keep her company for her meals.”
“I think she would appreciate that, my lord,” Nazem added.
Maybe, but could he handle the situation? He doubted his ability to think clearly when she was around.
He gave a short, nervous laugh. “Should be interesting. I’m not used to having a woman underfoot, let alone living here.” Not that they would constantly cross paths. The palace had one hundred and thirty-two rooms. Seventy-two of them were bedrooms. He could spend a year without ever intercepting her in a hallway.
Nazem continued to laugh. “It will do you good to have a woman around.”
Malik pointed the pen at Nazem. “Watch it! I have plenty of women in my life.”
“I’m not speaking about the bimbos you have your picture taken with for those scandalous magazines. This woman is different. When I spoke to her yesterday, she showed concern for you.” Nazem’s eyes widened as if a light bulb had turned on in his head. “This might be just the woman you need to melt that hard heart of yours.”
For the first time in the past twenty-four hours, Malik’s lips lifted into a smile. “Match making, Nazem? Are you trying to marry me off?”
Nazem’s smile widened. “Would that be so bad?”
Malik straightened in his chair, puffing out his chest. “I’m not looking to settle down, if that’s what’s going on in that head of yours. I don’t need or want a woman on a permanent basis. I have enough trouble managing this country. You throw a woman into the mix, and I’m finished.”
His friend’s smug smile and the way he kept chuckling under his breath bothered him. Come on. Nazem was way off base. He loved women—the way they smelled, their softness, the tinkle of their laughter, and of course sex. Especially sex. But he didn’t want to be tied down. He’d worry about finding a partner when it came time for him to produce an heir. But not now, not with this hanging over his head.
Nazem’s voice interrupted his musings. “You spend too much time alone.”
This conversation was getting way too personal. “Excuse me,” Malik said. “I didn’t realize your expertise included the field of psychiatry.”
A wide smile broke across Nazem’s face. “You could use a good woman in your life. Someone to talk to and confide in.”
“Oh, really? Should I reactivate the harem?” Malik’s sarcastic tone gave Nazem pause, but only for a moment.
“All I’m saying is that it would do you good to have a special woman in your life.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t need,” he sputtered, flipping through a stack of folders on his desk. “Right now, I’m not looking to get married. The women I see socially are fine, and you, my friend, need to leave my sexual conquests to me.”
Still, Nazem wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about his patient that kept teasing the edges of his mind. When he was with her, he experienced that ancient primal need to throw her over his shoulder and have his way with her. But he also wanted to protect her, which was stranger yet.
Nazem put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Point taken, my lord.”
“Let’s get back to my concerns about my patient. If she stays at the palace, I’m going to want her protected around the clock. Can your forces handle that on top of all these threats?”
“It will not spread us too thin. I believe we are capable of protecting her with little effort on our part.”
Malik glanced up from the files he’d been studying. “She will need an escort wherever she goes, and someone will need to provide her with clothes and toiletries. She has nothing.”
“I’ll see to it immediately upon her release from the hospital,” Nazem responded.
“Good. She’ll probably be well enough to be released tomorrow.”
“There will be gossip. Can you handle that part of this situation?” Nazem queried.
Could he? Newspapers and magazines would immediately link her to him sexually. Would all that publicly take a toll on her recovery? The paparazzi were relentless when it came to his love life. They’d been hounding him for years, and each year it grew worse—always hiding in bushes and chasing his car as they snapped away with their intrusive cameras. He had no private life outside the palace. His pictures appeared in magazines around the world, and half the time the photographers used telephoto lenses, and he wasn’t even aware he was being photographed. It was a damnable situation.
“My concern is that we may be doing more harm than good with this plan,” Malik suggested. He knew how she affected him. He’d make sure to create distance between them while she was staying with him.
“I believe you are the right person to protect her.”
“Because I’m a doctor?” Malik smirked, one eyebrow hitching up.
“No, because you have honor.”
Malik laughed, shaking his head. “When it comes to women, I’m not so sure I’m any different from any other man.”
“I have total confidence that you will do the right thing.”
If only Malik harbored the same amount of confidence in himself.
“Oh, there is one more crumb of information I uncovered with the nurses. Your patient speaks Arabic.” Nazim admitted.
“What the hell?” Malik shouted.
“Yeah, the nurses were discussing something among themselves in her room, and she answered them in fluent Arabic.”
Malik pointed a finger at his friend, “This little tidbit of information should have been your lead in for this meeting. Don’t you think?”
“Not really. She could have learned the language anywhere. Traveling, college, California.”
“You think the teaching of Arabic is prevalent in California, do you?”
The knock at his office door startled both men, the heat of their conversation put on hold until they were once again alone. At this point they couldn’t be too careful. Malik signaled Nazem to answer it. When the door flung wide, a man in his late sixties walked in.
“Uncle, this is a great honor,” Malik said, rising to his feet. “What brings you to my office so early in the morning?”
The man walked around Malik’s desk and pulled him into a bear hug. “Nephew, I’ve heard so many rumors about your safety. I wanted to check on you and get the facts.”
Safwan was Malik’s father’s illegitimate older brother. There had always been a haze of resentment between his father and his uncle due to the circumstances of Safwan’s birth, but Malik and his uncle had formed a close relationship, particularly since the passing of his family.
Malik watched as Safwan took in the modern decor of his newly remodeled office. Malik could swear the renovation bothered Safwan, perhaps because the office appeared so different from when it belonged to his father. Gone were the gold in-laid walls and fancy furnishings, replaced by cream-colored walls and mahogany wood.
“So tell me about this woman you found amid a shoot-out in the desert. I’m told your medical heroics saved her life. How thankful she must be that you came along when you did.”
Safwan slid into the other chair in front of Malik’s desk, waiting for an explanation of the events over the past forty-eight hours.
“There’s not a whole lot to tell. The facts are still sketchy.”
Safwan leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “And has she told you what she was doing in the desert?”
Nazem’s cell phone beeped, and he quickly muted it, glancing at the screen.
A tap at the door had Nazem on his feet. From the corner of his eye, Malik caught a glimpse of a man in a dark suit motioning to Nazem. Malik returned his attention to his uncle as Nazem followed the man down the hall.
“My patient has not been able to tell us anything about the incident in the desert.”
“Really,” his uncle interrupted, “and why is that?”
“She’s suffering amnesia from a blow to her head, along with a bullet wound to her side. I retrieved the bullet, but the memory loss will be a wait-and-see thing.”
“So she has told you nothing.”
“No, she doesn’t even remember her own name.”
Safwan rose and strolled over to the window. “When do you think she may regain her memory?” he asked, staring at the gulf below.
“There’s no way of knowing at this point.”
Safwan returned to Malik’s desk. “I should let you get back to work. Based on the stack of folders on your desk, you must be very busy today.”
“Yes, yesterday was a nightmare. Between the time I spent in the desert in the morning, to the woman’s surgery, to what happened last night, I haven’t been able to focus on much else.”
“Last night?” Safwan asked, as he dropped back into the chair. “What happened last night?”
Malik dropped the folder he’d been reviewing and focused on his uncle. “Someone tried to kill her.”
Safwan jumped out of his chair. “What? Who would do such a thing? The poor girl. What steps have you taken to protect her?”
Malik blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Nazem is moving her into the palace.”
“I think Nazem may be onto something. No one would dare make an attempt on her life here. Not with the top-notch security forces you have.” Safwan stood and moved toward the door. “Dear nephew, I will leave you to your duties. If you need any help, please give me a call. I intend to spend some time at the desert encampment, but I’ll have my phone with me if you need me.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“Any time, my son. After all, we are all that is left of this family. We need to help each other whenever we can.”
“Thank you, Uncle, for all your support. I appreciate everything you do for me.”
Moments after Safwan left, Nazem returned to the room. One glance at the worried look on his face told Malik there was more trouble.
“What?” Malik asked.
“We’ve identified the men in the cars.”
“And?”
“They were part of a special ops force. They’d notified their superiors that they had captured the person in charge of a new assassination plot against you.”
“Let me guess. The other perpetrators got wind of the capture and ambushed the caravan, freeing the assassin?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Malik spun his desk chair away from Nazem and stared out the window. “So, they have outsmarted us once again.”
Nazem shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, “Your Highness, we will capture and destroy your enemies. You have my word on it.”
“Thanks for all your hard work, Nazem. Now, I really need to get to this stack of problems on my desk.”
Recognizing his dismissal, Nazem turned for the door. He halted in his tracks when Malik spoke again. “And you might find out why those desert diamonds were buried in her bra while you’re at it.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”