Chapter 6
Jane jerked awake, but the vivid flashback refused to fade. Checking her watch, her eyes widened at the time. It was past two a.m. She glanced over at the sheik. Malik slept peacefully beside her, well sated and oblivious to her troubled dreams. As carefully as she could, she pulled back the purple silk sheet covering her naked body. They’d made love again and the recollection of his passionate lovemaking curled her toes. Her shoulders slumped—she was exhausted and her body craved sleep, but her mind had other ideas. Picking up Malik’s discarded shirt, she bunched it together before slipping it over her head, letting it fall to mid-thigh. She strode over to the open French doors and stepped through.
Air . . . she needed air . . . great gulps of fresh air to chase away the lingering nightmare. She was still shaking with fear when she realized she remembered that boy in her dream. Jimmy Walters, her first love. She might not know her name, but she now knew Jimmy’s. For a moment, she felt as close to him as she’d been to the sheik moments before. But as the cool night air blew across her face, reality sunk in, and the missing pieces of her teen-age years in California slid into place. She registered that Jimmy wasn’t with her. She’d been inseparable from Jimmy and his friend Jimal, a foreign exchange student, in high school.
OMG! Jimal was the reason she understood Arabic. He’d taught her his language for the entire summer. She was still fluent, which had come in handy lately with her work at the orphanage. Jimmy and Jimal had died a long time ago in a plane crash. Sweet Jimmy and Jimal. Their lives had ended at eighteen before they had even began. But that was a long time ago. How long? Her brain struggled to spit out her age. Damn it! Why couldn’t her name and age come as easily as the long-ago memories of sunny days at the beach? The burning need to know who she was churned in her stomach, and she pressed her fingers to her temples, increasing the pressure as she endeavored to remember more.
Nothing. She was doomed. She feared she’d never recover her life. Hot, scalding tears slid down her cheeks, and she reached up and swiped them away. It was hell not knowing where you belonged, where you came from, what small accomplishments you’d achieved in your life. Pure hell.
Fully awake now, she moved across the balcony, her cold toes warmed by the heat of the sunbaked tiles still warm from the sun’s rays hours ago. Sighing heavily, she leaned against the stone balustrade and stared out across the dark sea. Apprehension hummed at the back of her mind, a remnant of the dream. The dark hooded figure who’d replaced Jimmy had been tormenting every dream since she’d awakened in the hospital.
Silvery moonlight reflected off the crashing waves, which hypnotized her with their rolling motion, a gentle lullaby of the sea. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the gentle night breeze caress her hair, blowing it across her face. If only she could forget the tormentor who haunted her sleep. Dread gnawed its way up her spine, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Fear of the uncertain racked her with shivers.
Turning around, she assessed a sleeping Malik, his dark head resting peacefully against the purple silk of the plush pillow. Her eyes drifted down his body. The rumpled sheet rode low on his hips, exposing his flat stomach. Her eyes traced the line of hair until it disappeared beneath the sheet. She smiled. Malik was an excellent lover—an unexpected combination of hard masculinity and tenderness. For a split second, she toyed with the notion of going back to bed and waking him up. Shaking her head, she quickly dismissed the idea. No. She’d let him rest. She needed a few moments alone to let the serenity of this perfect place chase the nightmare away. She shivered again, unable to dispel the darkness. Would she ever be able to tell Malik her true identity? And once again those silent questions arose. What if she had a husband? What if she had children? Tears sprang into her eyes once again, and this time, she allowed them to free fall down her cheeks. Doomed. She felt the weight of the world closing in on her and her handsome sheik.
Time suspended as she turned back to gaze at the ocean, letting the peaceful night enfold her. How long she stood there she had no idea.
She jumped when strong arms encircled her waist, jerking her back to the present.
“I woke up and you weren’t there, habib albi. I missed you.” He nuzzled her neck, pressing quick kisses against her flesh that rekindled her yearning for him. She leaned back against him, content to be in his strong arms. She noticed he was wearing a different pair of jeans, this pair ripped and worn, the ones he wore earlier still lying in a heap in the bathroom. She already wanted him again, and from the evidence probing into her backside, she could tell he felt the same way.
They continued to stare out at the sea, the lustrous reflection of the moon changing the terrace into a haunting hideaway. Private. Secluded. Perfect.
“You look so beautiful out here in the moonlight . . . so enchanting and inviting.” His fingers deftly maneuvered the shirt over her head.
She spun into his arms, desperate for his touch . . .
Something whizzed past them, missing them by only millimeters, and shattered a vase on his dresser. The sound was deafening. He slammed into her and rolled onto the ground, covering her with his body. Her mind was a swamp of panic and confusion. She had no idea what was happening, but apparently he did. Pressing a hand over her head, he held her down as another object flew by, this one closer than the last.
“What is it?” she screamed, clinging to him for dear life.
“Bullets. Someone is shooting at us. Stay down.”
“Good God, we were nearly hit!” She started to shake with fear, and he ran a calming hand down her back. “Shh . . . calm down.”
What? Not a chance.
He crawled over her. “Wait here,” he rasped over his shoulder as he inched his way along the floor toward the doors. The image reminded her of soldiers under fire in boot camp. Reaching out, she snagged the shirt and struggled to get back into it without making herself a target, the tranquility of a few moments ago crushed so completely that the air around them tightened with tension.
Another bullet streaked by, missing Malik’s creeping form by mere inches. She shrieked, and he glanced over his wide shoulder to make sure she was all right. His tense smile did nothing to alleviate her fear. Then she lost sight of him.
“Malik,” she called softly, but her plea was only answered by the wind and another bullet swishing by, this one exploding the large potted flowers above her head. Dirt rained down on her. The next one hit the balustrade mere inches from where she lay. God help me! she silently pleaded, as she squinted into the distance attempting to make out who was doing the shooting. An eternity passed before she heard the nightstand drawer open and close in the bedroom and Malik barking orders into his phone.
Within seconds, Malik was back, using the door frame for protection, a Glock pistol clutched in his fingers. Pressing a finger to his lips, he signaled for quiet. Not possible! Her chattering teeth roared in her own ears. When he reached the balustrade, he inched his way up, leaning just above the stone, his eyes searching the night. The next bullet bit into the stone adjacent to his head. Searing pain slammed into her cheek a second later. Touching her cheek, she felt blood. A splinter of stone shrapnel slashed her cheek just below the eye. She was bleeding! If she got shot again, she feared she’d never survive the trauma. Her eyes followed Malik’s dark form as he stood for a split second, gun extended, both hands wrapped around the stock of the gun. The weapon’s muzzle flashed fire into the night. Pop! Pop! Pop! Panic descended again like a shroud. She had to get out of here. She wasn’t going to die out here on a terrace in the middle of the Arabian Peninsula wearing Malik’s shirt and nothing else.
Back in his crouching position, Malik flicked his gaze to her. Spying the blood, his eyes widened. “Habib albi, were you hit?” She heard the concern in his voice. He started to move toward her, but she halted him with a raised hand.
“I’m fine, but a fragment of stone cut my cheek,” she stuttered, fear playing havoc with her vocal cords.
He nodded and returned his attention to the dark beach.
“Stay down . . . I don’t know how many are out there.”
One question kept swirling in her brain. Were they after him or her?
Malik stuck his head up again for another look and a barrage of bullets made him dive across the terrace, landing flat on his back. Covering his head with his arm, he avoided the shards of stone that were showering down from above, but there was no avoiding the choking dust that filled the air. She realized the sound piercing the night was her own high-pitched scream. Malik jerked to a sitting position, aimed, then fired between his knees—once, twice, and then multiple shots in rapid succession. She counted sixteen shots, which meant his magazine was empty.
She froze.
Magazine? How do I know that term? And how did I know he’d have fifteen bullets in the magazine and one in the barrel?
It seemed like a lot of information for a person to have about guns.
Still puzzled, she heard him eject the spent magazine, the sound cold and deadly as metal hit stone. Almost instantly he slid a new one into place, the distinct click signaling it was primed. He raised the gun and fired again. Out in the darkness, a man’s primal scream shattered the stillness. His bullet had hit its target. He’d killed someone or injured them badly.
Unable to cope with the death surrounding her, she cupped her hands over her ears and wrapped herself into a fetal position. Still, it wasn’t enough to protect her from the stark reality of what was happening. Automatic gunfire filled the air, along with voices shouting sharp commands. She hazarded a glance and could see Malik’s troops running out onto the beach below them.
At the sound of the bedroom doors slamming against the wall, she scampered on her knees toward Malik, slivers of stone ripping into the tender flesh. Warm blood dripped down her cheek. Muscular arms encircled her, and she began to breathe again.
Nazem crashed into the room, his automatic weapon drawn.
“Your Highness!” he shouted, his eyes searching the room.
“Out here, Nazem,” Malik returned, still holding her tightly against him. She’d never been so happy to be in a man’s arms.
“Hold your fire! The threat is over!” Nazem shouted into his walkie-talkie.
She just wanted to feel safe again, to be able to draw a breath without worry. But how could she when so many unanswered questions were plaguing her mind? Malik’s concerned voice interrupted her musings.
“Let me see your face.” He held her at arm’s length, looking her over from head to toe. Turning her cheek up to the minimal light, he assessed her wound. “My heart stopped when I saw the blood.”
Before she could answer, he closed his lips over hers, only pulling away when Nazem walked out onto the terrace.
“Your Highness, may I have a word with you?” Nazem’s eyes avoided hers, but she noticed the calculating glance he gave to the rumpled bed. Heat seared into her cheeks.
“It will have to wait.” Holding her elbow, Malik helped her rise.
“I’m afraid it can’t, Your Highness.”
Malik tore his eyes from her and fastened them on Nazem.
“Then by all means, speak.”
Nazem shifted from foot to foot. “In private, Your Highness.”
Malik nodded and followed him into the bedroom, stopping only when they’d reached the damaged wall. She watched them with interest. Tension mounted as their taut whispers escalated into severe hand movements. Finally, holding up his hand to ward off any more discussion, Malik strode back to her as Nazem exited through the door.
“I hate to leave you, but Nazem needs my help.”
Leave her. He couldn’t leave her, not after this! Not after they’d almost been killed. No! Absolutely not!
“But . . .” she tried to object, her eyes searching his face.
“I promise I’ll be back in a little while.”
Her hand braced his chest. “Don’t go, not now.”
He covered her hand with his. “Sorry, duty calls. It comes with the territory. You’ll be safe in my room until I come back. I’ve told Nazem to post guards at the door and on the terrace.”
Their eyes met, and he silently pleaded for her understanding. She did understand. Truly she did. He was king. He had a job to do, even when it interfered with his life. Still, she wanted him to be with her for at least the next hour. They’d almost been killed, after all. He kissed her forehead, his warm, moist lips settling some of her fear. And then, still holding her hand, he ushered her back to the bed. He held the covers up so she could scoot under them before tucking them under her chin. Her heart stalled at his unselfish tenderness. This man, this wonderful caring man, had stolen her heart.
Sitting on the side of the bed, he kissed her forehead again. Why her forehead? Had she done something wrong? She wanted his lips against her own, reassuring her.
“I won’t be long, I promise.”
“Don’t leave me.” Her fear surged back with undiluted intensity, and the sound of her teeth chattering filled the air. Maybe she was in shock. Maybe she wanted to get the hell out of here.
With a weak smile of acknowledgment, he kissed her again, this time tenderly on the lips, sending a deluge of heat surging through her.
“My men are swarming the beach below. The threat is over.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she begged, clinging to him, knowing she was acting like a coward.
He smiled, dissolving her fears. “You’ll be asleep in minutes. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
“I already do.” She slid her fingers up the hard wall of his chest. His masculine scent swirled around her. “I want you to stay.”
“You are making this impossible for me. Do you think I want to go? I don’t. Please try to understand my position, my obligation to my people. I have to go.”
“I know,” she whispered against his ear.
“Your Highness . . .” Nazem called out, breaking the spell. Damn that man!
Planting a quick kiss against her lips, Malik disengaged himself from her. “Later,” he promised with a small smile.