The Black Sheep Sheik (6 page)

“Assassination attempts? Hardly ever.”

Once was too many for her. “How many times so far?”

“Twice,” he said without the least emotion on his face. “And the second one might have been just a misunderstanding.”

“How can an assassination attempt be a misunderstanding?”

“Long story. There are plenty of misunderstandings in politics. Along with misinformation that’s spread maliciously. People have agendas. They spread lies. Others are looking for a cause to take those lies up as banners, whether or not they understand what’s going on. I was shot at once when I took the throne, based on the rumor that I would raise taxes. I had no intention of doing that. Still don’t.”

“How can you take this so stoically?”

He executed another hair-raising turn, then looked at her. “I’m the sheik. Not every decision I make for my country will be popular. When you rule, you must sometimes decide between a course of action that will make you popular and a course of action that will be best for your people in the long term, even if in the short term they won’t like you for it.”

Another small glimpse into his life,
she thought. So yes, he was overbearing and bossy beyond belief, but there were also things that she admired about him. He did have strength of character, and honor. And courage.

Snap out of it.

“I hate politics.” She forced herself to look at the road ahead instead of at him. She was so not falling under the spell of the dashing sheik of Jamala. Absolutely not.

He whipped her car into a gap between two buildings, jumped out and pushed one of those big community trash containers in front to block the sight of them from the busy street.

A shed blocked the other end of the alley. If they were found, the car would be trapped here. They would have to escape on foot, and she wouldn’t make it far that way. She got out, wanting to at least give herself a running advantage.

He came around to her side. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” The cramps had gone away, almost as if her body had been scared straight by the chase.

She watched through the gap between the container and the wall, holding her breath, as the black van sped by. When she did breathe, the stench of rotten food threatened to turn her stomach inside out. She backed away.

“You would like Jamala,” Amir said out of the blue. “It’s all clear skies and endless sea. We were always at the crossroads of history. We have Egyptian ruins and remains of Roman forts. Turkish invasion left its mark, too. We belonged to the Ottoman Empire during Suleiman the Great. We have olive groves on the west side of the island and orange groves on the east.” His tone was wistful.

Standing in the dank alley with the stench of garbage all around, she could see why. An orange grove on some jewel of a Mediterranean island sounded pretty good at the moment, even she had to admit. She tried to picture him there, in some palace, as sheik, in flowing white robes instead of her father’s jeans and shirt. The image came to her pretty easily and stole her breath away.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by squealing tires. The stupid black van was back again.

Amir took her hand, and they ran for the other end of the alley as fast as they could, which was not very fast at all. They made a pitiful couple at the moment, neither of them exactly ready for the Olympics.

“I can’t go too far,” she warned him.

“You won’t have to.” He opened the door of the first building to their left, some sort of government office. He grinned at her. “Perfect.”

They went through the metal detector without trouble.

“Where to?” the security guard asked, eyeing Amir, whose Middle Eastern heritage was unmistakable.

She glanced at the board behind the guard. “Judge Schwartz’s office.”

The guard nodded and sent them on their way.

They walked leisurely down the hall, turned the corner, then picked up speed.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Away from the enemy.”

She glanced back but couldn’t see them. Since they were armed, no way could they get through the metal detector. She couldn’t see them giving up their guns, which meant they would have to find another way into the building, or wait until Amir and she exited. Except, a building this size had many exits.

Amir strode straight ahead, keeping to his true aim, and they were out on the other side of the building, bursting through a delivery entrance that opened only from the inside. The alley where they’d left her car was to their right. The black van blocked their way, but it was empty.

Amir pushed the garbage container out of the way. “Don’t get in yet.”

She waited as he jumped into her car, revved the engine and plowed into the van, shoving it out of the way. Then, when he was out in the street, he opened the door for her.

She felt like crying as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I really liked this car.” With the baby coming, she wasn’t going to have money for another.

“I’ll buy you another car,” he told her again as he pulled into traffic. “I meant it when I said I was going to take care of you.”

“And I meant it when I said I didn’t want any of it.” Fate sure had a sense of humor. Here she was, with her weird phobia of powerful men, and she had to get tangled with an extra-super-alpha male who wanted nothing but to protect her and take care of her. No way was she going to let him.

“We can go to the resort. The cramps have passed.” The sooner they parted ways, the better.

“I want you to see a doctor. I don’t like it that you’re having pains. Where is the hospital?”

She told him, but added, “I’m a doctor.” She preferred going to her ob-gyn without him. And she would, as soon as she dropped him off at the resort.

“I’m taking you to the hospital. Then, when the royal physician gets here, he’ll check you, too, just to be safe.”

“I can take myself.”

He looked over, holding her gaze for a long second. “Why do you insist on fighting me at every turn, even when what I propose is to your benefit?”

“Because if I didn’t, you would take over. You would want to help me with everything.”

“Why do you fear that?”

“Because I would come to depend on you. Little by little, I would change. I wouldn’t be the independent woman that I am now. Then, when I was weak, you would lose interest and leave me, and I would be so dependent by then that I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Was that your mother’s story?”

She hated that he got right to the truth. She didn’t want to think about her mother right now. She looked down at her lap. “Yes, it was. And I’m not going to repeat it.”

“You won’t.”

She looked back at him. “How do you know?”

“You are the strongest woman I know, bar none, and believe me when I say this, since my sister Saida is really something. She’s one big royal headache.” He gave a brief sigh. “You took care of your dying father. You have single-handedly kept me alive for the past month. You’ve been on the run with me for the past day, dodging bullets while nine-months pregnant. Not only are you fiercely independent, but you’re brave. Nothing scares you.”

“
Everything
scares me,” she admitted for the first time, surprising herself.

As much as she wanted to be strong and independent, deep down she was scared of living the rest of her life alone, scared of raising her son alone, scared of what would happen if all she could give him wasn’t enough. What did she know about being a mother? Her own mother had never been around, never been available.

“Fine, you’re scared sometimes. But you don’t let that stop you. That’s true courage.”

The honest admiration in his voice made her heart turn over in her chest.

He took the street on their right and she saw the hospital was at the corner. He pulled into the underground parking and went all the way to the lowest level, parked in a far spot, but didn’t get out.

He took her hand and kept it enveloped in his. “Do you think me a weak man?”

She nearly laughed. The words
weak
and
Amir
didn’t belong on the same page. “Hardly.”

That seemed to please him. “Yet I depended on you like a small babe for weeks. I needed you. I need you still. It would be all right if we needed each other, don’t you think?”

The image was tempting, but him needing her for anything, now that he was recovered, was difficult to believe. “You would rule me.”

“We would rule our country together. Marriage is a partnership, not a dictatorship.”

“That’s what you say now,” she replied, fighting back, weaker than she wanted to be. He was so earnest, she could almost believe him.

He went quiet for a few long seconds, watching her closely. Then he asked with all seriousness, “Do you love another? I ask only that you answer this one question honestly.”

“There’s no one else.”

Her immediate, sure response seemed to please him thoroughly.

“But I’m not in love with you, either,” she added quickly. “And you’re not in love with me. Wouldn’t you want that in your marriage? A whole life is a very long time to spend with a person you weren’t meant to be with.”

He paused, giving himself time to think it over, and she liked that. He wasn’t mindlessly pushing his agenda on her. He listened to what she had to say and was carefully weighing it.

The overhead lights cast his regal features in a glow. “Love will come. I respect you and admire you for who you are. If you can accept me for who I am, that is not a bad starting point.”

His dark gaze enveloped her, mesmerized her. The knowledge that he saw her differently than anyone else, differently even than she saw herself, that he thought her somehow special, was intoxicating, even without a heated declaration of love.

Vanity,
she told herself.
Nothing but vanity.

But…

Respect and admiration. A marriage could be built on worse things. His words held truth, even if she wasn’t ready to accept that truth yet.

She felt a small bond form between them as he held her hand, strengthening the one that had already existed, the bond of their baby. A bond that, she understood now, was much stronger than she had thought. She would have to plan for that, accommodate it.

“Isabelle?” His gaze heated, his head tilting toward hers.

Her lips tingled at the thought of another kiss. Leaning into his waiting strength was tempting. It would have been too easy. So she made sure she didn’t. She pulled away. “We better get going.”

He hated the sight of her hooked to machines. He would have much rather faced enemy fire than stand helplessly by her side, not knowing what to do to make her better. She claimed all the pain was gone, but then why were those machines beeping?

Amir had always enjoyed good health, could not recall ever spending time in a hospital. Dumont General left him with a sense of unease, even if Isabelle’s doctor appeared competent enough. Because of that, he’d decided to allow him to continue her care until the royal physician could take over.

He didn’t like it, but he would allow it. He was a reasonable man. He couldn’t fathom why Isabelle would call him stubborn. Nobody had ever referred to him that way before. Maybe Saida, his little sister, once or twice. Both women were wrong, of course. He was decisive and firm in his opinions—both qualities an asset in a ruler.

He crossed his arms in front of him, his shoulders growing more tense with every passing minute as he waited for the doctor to say something.

“Looks like what we have here is some Braxton Hicks. Practice contractions.” The man read from the display on the machine that Isabelle had been hooked up to for the past hour. He was older, probably close to retirement, with sharp eyes but a kind voice, reminding Amir of his father’s favorite advisor.

“I’m going to order an ultrasound, just in case,” the man told Isabelle.

Didn’t seem like Isabelle was going into labor immediately. And whatever practice contractions were, they didn’t sound life-threatening. Amir relaxed a little. He wanted to take her home for the baby’s birth. He needed time. He just found out yesterday that he was going to be a father. He could use a day or two to prepare before meeting his son.

“I’ll be coming along.” He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight.

“No need to go anywhere. I’ll have a machine brought in here. Let me quickly check her for dilation first. Just to be safe.”

Amir did step outside for that, scanned the hallway for anyone suspicious who might have followed them here. When he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, he strode to the end of the hall and used the pay phone to call Efraim. He had seen the phone earlier, but had refused to leave Isabelle’s side until he knew that whatever was causing her pain wasn’t serious.

“I’m coming to the resort and I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Are you joking?” Efraim wanted to know on the other end. “All this time, we’ve been worried about you, investigated your disappearance, feared that you were dead, and you were shacked up with a woman? Of all the crazy, irresponsible things you’ve ever done—”

“The circumstances—”

“There are always circumstances with you when there is a beautiful woman involved,” Efraim said, exasperated. “And here I was, thinking how you’d matured lately. Who is she? Another actress?”

“That was before.”

“When you were the Black Sheep Sheik?”

He was starting to get annoyed. “A friend wouldn’t call me that.” Bad enough that the tabloids had tagged him with the infernal nickname. He had a feeling that he could live a lifetime with exemplary discipline and still not be rid of it.

“A friend wouldn’t take off and leave the summit hanging by a thread for a set of pretty eyes and a pair of nice legs.”

“I did no such thing.” He tried to keep his voice down but only partially succeeded.

“She doesn’t have pretty eyes and nice legs?”

He ground his teeth.

“I thought so.” Efraim was infuriatingly smug.

Time to change the subject. “I heard you had trouble at the resort.”

“Not a subject for the phone,” his friend said, now somber. “I’ll fill you in when you get here. Don’t talk to anyone else in the meanwhile. Not your security, not even the local police.”

“I see.” Isabelle had mentioned trouble with the local police, and his secretary had told him about Fahad. He’d been hoping that maybe they were wrong, but it didn’t look like that was the case. Nor did it make much sense.

If his security was involved, which Fahad’s betrayal indicated, that meant the threat came from home. But if the local police could not be trusted, that would mean his enemies were from here, from the United States. He knew precious little, and the information he had was conflicting. The sooner he got to the resort and heard the details, the better. The more he knew, the better he could protect Isabelle.

“Are you going to tell me what kept you so busy that you couldn’t call us before now?” Efraim drilled him. “Was it this woman? You never lost your head like this, Amir. Not to the point of forgetting your responsibilities. I’m worried about you.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight.

“And angry.” As if Isabelle being angry at him wasn’t enough.

“Yes. Things have been…difficult here. For all of us. Also, there’ve been other, personal changes…. Never mind that now. I can tell you later.”

“And I’ll explain everything when I see you.” Right now, he wanted to be back with Isabelle. But he did have one more question. “Are you and the others safe?”

“Probably not, but we’re holding up our end. Tell me where you are, and we’ll come and get you.”

“No.” They would only draw attention. The safest thing was for him to take Isabelle to the resort himself, sneaking in unseen. “Have you heard from my royal physician?”

“Should we have?”

“He’ll be arriving later today.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I need to go.” He didn’t want to miss anything important back in the examining room, so he hung up the phone, then headed back to Isabelle and their baby.

“A
RE YOU SURE
you can handle it this time?” the caller asked darkly.

“Yes, sir. We have their car tagged. All we have to do is follow the signal.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dumont General.”

“Busy place.” He wanted results, not publicity.

“We have a plan,” the man said proudly. “We can take him with minimum exposure.”

They’d said that before. He was seriously beginning to doubt the local crew he had recruited. “How about a plan B?”

Silence on the other end.

He sighed. Idiots, down to the last of them. “See that the chase ends this time. I don’t handle disappointment well.” A clear warning.

“Yes, sir.”

A
MIR STRODE BACK
into the examining room and ran his disjointed theories about the attacks through his mind while the doctor squeezed some bluish jelly on Isabelle’s belly, then began the ultrasound. A shapeless blob twisted on the black-and-white screen. Fuzzy. Then two blobs, one bigger, one smaller.

Her doctor’s opinion aside, the royal physician was going to check her out the second they were all at the resort. And as soon as he pronounced Isabelle fit to fly, she would be on a plane to Jamala, away from all danger. Not that he had a firm grip on where that danger was coming from, or who exactly wanted him dead. Which drove him crazy.

He was a warrior at heart. He wanted a clear-cut enemy he could fight. He needed a target to direct his anger against. He needed to do something other than escape and evade, which went against his basic personality.

“There. Already positioned with the head down. Good strong heartbeat.” The doctor was smiling.

But Amir could barely hear the words. The world stopped spinning all of a sudden. Because he could make out the shape of a baby’s head at last. The eyes, the lips, the mouth, the chin.
His
chin! That was the Khalid chin for certain.

He wasn’t prepared for the emotions that flooded him, bowled him over where he stood. Until now, the baby inside Isabelle had been a concept, some little boy who would be his heir one day, would take over the country in the distant future. The uppermost emotions he’d felt were possessiveness and protectiveness. But now came love, an instant, forever kind of love that took the breath right out of his chest.

His son.

The two short words were suddenly full of meaning. He looked at Isabelle, wanting to know if she understood what an utter miracle this was, truly felt the significance of it. Her blue eyes swam with tears as they met his.

“Textbook perfect,” the doctor was saying. “You’re pretty close. From now on, I’d like to see you every day if you can come in.”

“I will. I’m ready for this. Carrying this little peanut is backbreaking work. Not that I’m complaining.” She turned to smile at the screen, blinking hard a couple of times. “But he can come whenever he wants. Thank you, Dr. Szunoman.”

“I’ll let you get dressed. See you tomorrow then. Same time would be good for me. I’ll be on call for the next two days.” The doctor wiped off her belly, then congratulated Amir on his way out, but Amir’s eyes were still on the monitor.

“That’s my son.”

Isabelle tugged her shirt down and sat up, rolling her eyes, blinking away her tears. “Our son. I think I had a little something to do with this pregnancy.”

He caught her up in a hug and swung her around, unable to stop grinning. “My son and my wife.” He sure hadn’t expected that when he’d come back to Wyoming. He wasn’t sure if he deserved being so richly blessed.

“Amir.” Her tone held as much warning as a Wild West gunslinger’s as she pushed against him with determination. “No.”

He set her down but kept his arms around her. “Give me one good reason why not. You can trust me. I will take care of you,” he said before he could stop himself, knowing immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. It was the taking care of part that she hated and feared the most. “Or I’ll ignore you,” he offered. “I promise to be too busy taking care of the country to take care of you properly.”

She ignored that last bit, not even bothering to point out how badly he was faking. “You can’t take care of me. Nobody can take care of me. I have to take care of myself. I’m not going to end up like my mother.”

He stepped away from her, his own frustration rising. She was carrying his child. He wanted to marry her. Why was she resisting? “What does this have to do with your mother? What did your father do to her?”

“It wasn’t my father.” She walked out of the room and down the hallway. “My mother went from, well, trailer trash to one of the first women golf champions, always trying to get someone to take care of her on the way. First my father…” Her voice faltered. “Marrying a doctor at eighteen was a big deal to her. Like a prize or something. He was another one of her trophies.”

He stopped her, turned her to him, then reached out to push a few stray locks of hair back from her beautiful face. “Marrying a doctor is not a crime, Isabelle. In fact, a lot of women out there wouldn’t mind being married to a sheik, either.”

She swatted his hand away. “She wasn’t happy with him for long. After I was born, she moved on to her manager. Then her sponsor. She was always looking for the next more powerful man who could take her even higher. They used her, then cast her aside. Then… Never mind. We should be going.” She looked away and began walking toward the elevators.

Sounded like her mother had been taken advantage of sexually by these powerful men in her life. And now Isabelle didn’t trust men in power. His hands fisted as he followed her. “Then?”

“She started drinking and doing performance-enhancing drugs and her career disappeared. Her liver gave out at the end.”

They stopped in front of the elevators.

He took her hand and wouldn’t let her pull away. “You’re not your mother.”

“No.” She gave a sour laugh. “She used people and allowed them to use her. I try so hard not to be like her that I make even worse mistakes.”

He lifted her chin so he could look into her amazing blue eyes. Her soft black hair framed her face. He had known his share of beautiful women. She was the most beautiful of all. Of course, he could be biased. But even if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, she certainly was the one from whom he couldn’t look away. “This is not a mistake.”

“I don’t let anyone close, for fear of starting to depend on them too much. I work too hard at the hospital to ensure I’ll never have to depend on anyone. The first man I let near me in years was a complete stranger at a masquerade ball, a man whose name I didn’t ask to make sure there could be no possible entanglements. And now here we are.” She tugged her hand out of his.

She went on. “I don’t regret being pregnant. But I wasn’t looking for commitment. I wasn’t looking for any of this. We used protection.”

And this time he let her go. “I see.”

She viewed a relationship with him as some sort of prison. The thought brought a strange tightness to his chest. As a very eligible prince, he hadn’t experienced too much rejection. His usual response to failure was to try harder, but pushing her now didn’t seem the right thing. If she didn’t want him, he couldn’t force himself on her. He did care about her happiness. He would not be the source of her misery. “We’ll talk about this some more at another time.”

“I’ve been talking.” She stepped onto the elevator. “I can talk all I want, but will you listen?”

That she was right stung. He hadn’t been listening very well until now. He hadn’t realized how strongly she felt about her independence until he’d heard her mother’s story. “I will,” he promised as the metal doors closed behind them.

She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. “You have no idea how wretched saying that made you look.”

“Sheiks don’t look wretched. Noble. Aristocratic. Devilishly handsome. Those are the usual adjectives, I believe.” He wanted to make her laugh.

She rolled her eyes, the smile growing a little. “Whatever.”

Why was it so hard for them to make each other understand? “The strange thing is, even though I’m a sheik, you…make me feel like an ordinary man.” She’d said she wanted an ordinary man, if any. Maybe they were going in the right direction.

She tilted her head. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Probably not. I suppose it’s a learning experience. I’m not always certain what to do with the way you respond to me.”

“You mean you don’t know how to handle it when your every word isn’t taken as a command?”

He flashed her a dark glare.

“I’m guessing you would know better how to react if I just fell at your feet and told you to do with me as you wish.”