SEAL's Deception (Take No Prisoners Book 8) (6 page)

Though she’d said she could manage the mission on her own, Ben refused to let her go without backup. Whoever had purchased the vials had no great appreciation for the lives of others, and probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill a woman masquerading as a princess. Since the CIA would disavow any knowledge of Yasmin, she’d be on her own. No one would question where she’d been taken or what had happened.

As a Navy SEAL, Ben knew his teammates wouldn’t leave him behind. Even if he was killed, they’d do everything in their power to bring his body home.

Four matching suitcases stood in the middle of the bedroom. Ben shook his head. Yasmin was playing the part of a princess to perfection. He assumed no self-respecting member of a royal family would be without proper garments for any occasion that might arise. Grabbing two of the heavy cases, he carried them into the living area. He went back for the others and returned as the buzzer went off again.

“Ben, darling, would you be so good as to get the door?”

He liked it when she spoke with an English accent. Her dark eyes danced with humor as he passed. “Please stand away from the entrance.” He waited until Yasmin moved out of view of the door before opening it.

The chauffeur, dressed in fancy livery, wheeled a cart through the entrance, collected all five cases and rolled them toward the door, where he paused. “Your transportation is waiting in front of the building,” he said, dipping his head.

Ben started for the door.

Yasmin put out a hand and gave a slight shake of her head. “Thank you,” she said to the bellman. “We’ll be down momentarily.” When the door closed behind the bellman and the cart full of luggage, Yasmin glanced at Ben.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No. Nothing. Just a bit of cold feet. What if the prince doesn’t approve of his bride? Our parents are living in the past with antiquated ways.”

Ben nodded without responding, recognizing a prepared speech when he heard it. She was performing for whoever might be watching through the eyes of the cameras. He assumed Princess Aliya had expressed her dismay at being promised to a man she had never met. Having grown up in the United Kingdom, she had become accustomed to living like a westerner. Her English friends would consider marrying because of a promise between parents positively barbaric.

Yasmin drew in a deep breath, let it out and straightened her shoulders. “Well, standing here won’t change anything. We might as well get on with it.”

Ben opened the door and checked the hallway before standing back to allow the princess to walk across to the elevator.

She ran her card over the scanner, shot a glance his way and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The ride down was so much swifter than the ride up the day before. As they exited the elevator, Ben’s gaze scanned the building’s lobby for potential threats. He was happy to see Stingray and Irish standing near the concierge, dressed in dark clothes and sunglasses. Unfortunately, Ben wore the clothes he’d arrived in the night before.

Stingray had a duffel bag and Irish hefted two more, one containing his own clothes, the other with Ben’s.

The men nodded to each other, keeping talk to a minimum. As bodyguards, they would be expected to be seen and not heard unless absolutely necessary.

A chauffeur in dark livery stood by the door.

Yasmin dropped her key card on the registration counter. “Thank you for the lovely stay.” Then she turned and crossed the lobby.

Ben stepped through the door first, checked left then right, searching for any apparent threats. Two large, dark-skinned men stood beside a limousine. Neither appeared to be armed. A black van was parked behind the limousine. Ben assumed the men, who looked like the Middle Eastern equivalent to bouncers, would be riding in the van. “Are you here for Princess Aliya?” he asked.

They nodded.

Only mildly convinced Yasmin was not in danger, Ben opened the door.

She stepped out into the dreary English air.

The chauffeur opened the back door to the limousine.

Ben took Yasmin’s elbow, holding her back from getting in first. “Declan,” he called out.

Irish dove into the vehicle.

“Now, you.” Ben handed Yasmin into the limousine and slid onto the seat beside her. He glanced back at Stingray. “You can ride with the driver.” He ignored the two dark-skinned man and nodded to the chauffeur.

The man closed the door, rounded the limousine to the front and got in.

Stingray slid into the passenger seat and the limousine took off.

Behind them, the two bouncers climbed into the van and followed.

The limousine crept through the streets of London until they emerged on the highway leading to a private airport where Prince Khalid’s jet sat on the tarmac, probably fueled and ready to go.

Once they stepped onto that plane, there was no going back. They had to see that mission through to the very end. Whatever that end might be.

Y
asmin’s feet
hurt in the high heels. How Aliya walked in them, she had no idea. The straps bit into her skin and being pitched forward all the time made her feel off balance, or poised and ready to sprint. Thankfully, the limousine pulled up to the steps of the aircraft, and she didn’t have to walk far to get on the jet.

Having Ben by her side made the whole ordeal that much easier to stomach. At the same time, she regretted getting him and his friends into this situation in the first place. These men were the heroes of their country. Taking them into an unsanctioned operation could jeopardize everything they’d worked for. Why the CIA had sent them in the first place, she could only guess. Perhaps, because they’d been in on the initial operation, unearthing the plot to use biological weapons against populations. She supposed that was enough of a reason to send them into the palace of a prince in the heart of Saudi Arabia. Nothing about this operation seemed easy. She hoped her disguise would be enough to get them inside. From there, they’d have to be clever enough to move around the interior of the palace undetected.

At the bottom of the steps leading upward into the aircraft, a man in traditional Arab dress of a white robe with the red-and-white headpiece waited to greet her.

As she approached, the man dipped his head slightly. “Princess Aliya, I am Muhammad Rashad, Prince Khalid’s trusted servant. It is my pleasure to escort you to his palace in Riyadh. Do you speak Arabic, or would you prefer English?”

His lip curled on one side in what Yasmin could only describe as a sneer. “My Arabic is quite rusty. I would prefer English, for now.”

Muhammad again tilted his head. “As you wish.” He waved his hand toward the steps. “Once you and your luggage are on board, we can proceed.”

Before she could move forward, Muhammad stepped in front of her and climbed the steps.

Yasmin squashed her annoyance at the man’s rudeness, telling herself he was a typical Saudi male, used to disregarding the comforts and needs of females. She would be hard-pressed to keep her temper in the male-dominant society. But, for the sake of the mission, she must. She cast a quick glance at Ben.

He nodded toward Irish, who sprinted up the stairs after Rashad.

When Irish reached the top, he ducked inside. In a few moments, he returned to the door and gave a thumbs-up signal.

Yasmin went next.

Ben followed close behind, leaving Stingray to bring up the rear.

Once they were all inside, the two security guards from the van joined them, pulling the stairs up and into the plane.

Khalid had spared no expense on the interior of the aircraft. The seats were covered in fine, butter-soft white leather. Tables were of highly polished mahogany, and all metal trimmings were gold. Yasmin would bet it wasn’t just gold paint.

Rashad waved his hand to indicate she should take the chair opposite him. If she’d had much of a choice, she’d rather have sat with the SEAL team. Rashad would likely bore her to tears within minutes of takeoff.

Then again, she hadn’t slept much the night before. Perhaps falling asleep in front of her escort wouldn’t be a bad idea. A six-and-a-half-hour nap would leave her refreshed and ready to take on the entire House of Saud upon her arrival. Settling into the seat across from Rashad, Yasmin had the urge to pull her scarf over her face.

The plane’s engines roared to life and the craft taxied to the end of the runway. A few moments later, they were flying southeast, on their way to their destiny.

Yasmin eased her grip on the arms of her seat, trying to relax. This would be one of her toughest assignments. Maintaining a cool, calm exterior would be an important part of keeping her true identity from being discovered. From here on out, she had to think, breathe and be Princess Aliya.

Rashad stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

Yasmin fought the urge to squirm. Rashad’s glance made her feel as though he could see through her to the secrets she held close.

If he knew she wasn’t the real princess, he didn’t say so.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, princess. How fares your father?”

“He and my mother are quite healthy and on their third trip around the world aboard their yacht. But, I’m certain you already know that.” She cocked her brows and gave him a hard stare before lowering her gaze. Saudi women weren’t supposed to be confrontational.

A fire burned inside her at the injustices of life as a female in a Saudi household. They got little respect, and the men could take on additional wives if the current one did not please him.

What if the husband didn’t please the wife? Yasmin believed in gender equality. Unfortunately, women had few rights in Arab society. They weren’t even allowed to drive. Of course, the men who made the rules swore they were for their own safety.

Yasmin called bullshit.

The typical Middle Eastern man could not be held accountable for his actions. If a beautiful, uncovered—meaning wearing no
abaya
—woman walked by him, he could not be tried for rape if he took her on the spot. Thus, the need for the woman to cover her body and face with long black fabric.

She wouldn’t last long in this society. Her mouth would get her into more trouble here than it did back in the States. And she’d gotten into her share back there, having started a few barroom fights.

The men who’d come on to her hadn’t understood the words
back off
.

Yasmin smiled. They did now. One had suffered a broken nose. The other had gone to the hospital with a concussion. Hopefully, they’d learned their lessons, and they wouldn’t pull that shit on other women.

“You do not resemble your father,” Rashad announced.

Yasmin stiffened. She’d studied photographs of Aliya and her parents. Rashad’s statement was spot on. “No, I don’t. Many say I look more like my mother.” She lifted her scarf and brought it up higher, covering her chin. Then she closed her eyes. “I find myself fatigued.”

“The flight is long, princess. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Yasmin tilted back her chair and pretended to sleep. For at least an hour into the flight, her act was nothing more than a pretense, her mind going over everything she needed to do once they reached the palace. Finding the vials would be searching for a certain fish in an ocean full of sea-creatures. In this case, they’d have to find the man who’d purchased them in the first place.

As a female, Yasmin wouldn’t be allowed to question men. And, as Americans, her bodyguards wouldn’t be invited into the confidences of the Saudi royals. The task ahead seemed insurmountable. Why had she thought just getting into the palace would be enough?

Taking a mental step back and thinking through her courses of action, she knew the group would have to split up and search the entire building. Perhaps they could disguise themselves as members of the family to allow them to move around the palace more freely.

She wanted to snort. Like they’d let her out of their sights for a moment. She was the next wife of Prince Khalid. The man already had two wives. Why did he need another?

Hell, she knew why. Men had stronger needs than women. Why screw only one woman when you could have as many as you like?

What about the man who’d reported the transfer of the vials to Khalid’s palace? Perhaps he had more information. Her boss had given her the name of an embedded informant who lived outside the palace but had connections within. Without her usual handler, Yasmin was flying blind. She wished she had someone feeding her the information she needed. Instead she had to rely on memory alone, rather than risk being caught with notes. If she could get out of the palace for a few hours, she might meet up with the man and see what other tidbits he had to pass on.

Between plotting a search of Khalid’s palace and connecting with the informant, Yasmin felt only slightly better about the job ahead of her. The drone of the engines, and having her eyes closed for so long, worked against her. Before she realized it, her ears popped as the plane descended into Riyadh.

Yasmin sat up and blinked. Someone had placed a blanket over her and leaned her chair back. She swept off the blanket and laid it aside. Her scarf had shifted, sliding off her hair to pool around her shoulders. She unbuckled her seat belt and stood.

The seat Rashad had occupied when Yasmin fell asleep was now empty.

“Have a nice nap, your highness?”

Ben’s deep, warm tones sent ripples of awareness across Yasmin’s skin. She turned and smiled up into his eyes. “Yes, I did, thank you. Did you get any rest?”

“Didn’t need any.” He nodded toward Irish and Stingray. Both men had kicked back in their seats, each deeply asleep. “I stood the first watch.”

“You mean the entire watch.” Yasmin shook her head and glanced at the guards sitting at attention where they’d been throughout the flight. “Rashad?”

“He disappeared into the cockpit shortly after you fell asleep.”

Yasmin leaned toward the window. “Are you sure we’re flying over Saudi Arabia?”

Ben grinned. “We are.”

The sound of the landing gear deploying made Yasmin’s heart leap.

“Are you ready to face your fiancé?”

She nodded. “Now that I’m refreshed, I can face practically anything.”

Ben looked out the window as the plane circled a private airport. “I hope so, because either they have some foreign dignitaries arriving soon, or they sent the welcoming committee to greet their new princess.”

“Gird your loins and fasten your seatbelts.” Stingray blinked open his eyes and yawned. “We’re about to land.”

Yasmin took her seat, buckled her belt and tried not to think too far beyond the welcoming committee and fooling her prospective groom. One hurdle at a time.

B
en took
his time making his way back to his seat. He would prefer to sit across from Yasmin and reassure her everything would be all right. But, how could he do that when he had qualms about their mission? In the middle of Saudi Arabia, they couldn’t just run if the shit hit the fan. Surrounded by miles and miles of desert, they wouldn’t get far before they died of dehydration, or were shot by the Saudi army or Bedouin tribes protecting their herds and families.

His gaze connected with his SEAL brothers. One by one, they nodded, each giving the other a silent acknowledgement that they had each other’s backs. That little bit of encouragement calmed Ben. He could count on his teammates to have his six if they got into trouble. And they could count on him to come to their rescue.

The trick was to make this façade of being bodyguards appear real.

During the trip, Ben had remained awake, checking out the escorts the prince had sent along with the plane. As far as Ben could tell, they hadn’t been armed while they were in London. Once on board, the guards had stepped through a door in the rear of the plane and returned with decided lumps beneath their white robes. As for Rashad, he hadn’t appeared armed. That didn’t make Ben trust him any more or less. The man had no respect for women, and he’d made it clear to his prince’s prospective bride. He’d be one to watch.

When the plane came to a halt on the tarmac, the cockpit door opened, and Rashad came out. He glanced at the passengers but didn’t say anything. Instead, he waited while one of the Arab guards lowered the stairs. When the man stood back and gave a slight bow, Rashad exited the aircraft.

So much for making certain his guest was ready to face her prince.

Ben’s experience with the Saudi culture reminded him of differences in this part of the world, but he also knew Yasmin. Though her mother was from Turkey, she herself hadn’t grown up in a land where women were dominated by men, where the men more or less owned them. She had to be stewing over Rashad’s rudeness.

Rising from his chair, he turned toward Yasmin. She’d pulled the sheer black scarf over her thick hair, freshened her lipstick and slid on a pair of dark sunglasses. In her white suit and matching stilettoes, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

Ben’s pulse quickened. For a brief moment, he had the sudden urge to block her path, to hijack the plane and take her back to London. This mission was far too dangerous. If they were caught, he and his men would be okay. But Yasmin…

She nodded. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.”

Reluctantly, Ben led the march to the exit, walked down the stairs and waited at the bottom.

Yasmin stepped into the doorway of the aircraft and paused.

His chest swelling with pride for the woman posing for the cameras, Ben wished the circumstances were different. He’d take her away and make love to her until neither of them could stand up straight. For now, he held his tongue and clenched his fists, gaze scanning the crowd of Saudi dignitaries and royalty gathered to welcome Prince Khalid’s new fiancée. For that matter, he hadn’t expected the press to be there, snapping pictures of a female.

Yasmin descended the stairs one at a time, moving slowly, allowing the cameramen time to take all the pictures they wanted. She arrived at the bottom and several white-clad Saudis stepped forward.

“Princess Aliya,” one of them spoke in Arabic, saying something to the extent of, “It is with great pleasure we welcome you home.”

Ben had studied enough of the language to get by. He couldn’t keep up in a heated conversation, but he could ask for directions and speak the equivalent of kindergarten Arabic.

Yasmin nodded and replied in Arabic, “Thank you.” She glanced over the greeter’s shoulder.

“Prince Khalid had matters of state to attend to, otherwise he would have been here to greet you.” Her escort switched to English.

Rashad had disappeared. Her new escort led her to a waiting white SUV.

Yasmin stood outside the vehicle until Ben, Irish and Stingray were allowed to catch up. They performed the same routine with Irish ducking into the vehicle first, followed by Yasmin and Ben. Stingray started to get into the front seat, but another big guy had claimed shotgun. Stingray squeezed in beside Ben

The string of vehicles pulled out of the airport, lining up on the road.

Their driver followed a military jeep mounted with what appeared to be a .50 caliber machine gun, equipped with a gunner.