The Sheik's Command (19 page)

When Nikki reentered the palace, all was disturbingly silent.

She peeked in at the kids. They’d had dinner and were either reading or climbing into bed, their bags still packed
and under their beds. Solomon came up to her door. “What happened, Miss Nikki? You have scrapes on the side of your face.”

She forced a smile. “
De rien. Je suis bien.
Thank you for holding the fort, Solomon.”

“Where is Samira?”

“She…she’s on her way. I just have a few things to do first.”

“Are we to remain all packed and ready to leave?”

“Yes. And thank you, Solomon. You have no idea how much of a help you are.” She kissed the top of his head and made her way to the physician’s examining room. Closing the door quietly behind her, she leaned against the wall, head back, eyes closed. Cold nausea swirled in her stomach.

She’d been pushed right up to the edge. This was far worse than she could ever have imagined. Both Zakir’s and Samira’s lives were in danger. And she was in the middle. She had no doubt that Gelu was working with these men. He was probably planning for her to take the blame if the king died. Now she
had
to tell Zakir that his enemies were planning to assassinate him. And she had to do it very, very carefully, because if Gelu found out, it would be death for Samira. Nikki would have to somehow convince Zakir to play along and feign ignorance at least until Samira was safe.

But would he do it? Especially after she told him that she’d spied on him, drugged him, stolen a critical document?

Even if he did, she doubted he could ever forgive her. He’d have her tried for treason.

Telling Zakir she’d spied on him might just help save Samira, but it was going to come at a huge personal cost. She’d lose her own life. But what other choice did she have?

Because there was no way in hell she’d ever even think of giving him the poison.

Nikki exhaled shakily, her body wet with perspiration.

She had to do it. Now.

She had to make the sacrifice—lose everything, including her precious children—to save his life and hopefully Samira’s.

She had to take the capsule of poison to him and confess it all.

Nikki leaned up on tiptoes and felt with her fingertips along the top of the cabinet for the pill bottle she’d stashed there. For a terrifying moment she thought it was gone, then her fingers brushed against the bottle. She had to fetch a stool to reach it. She must’ve pushed it farther back than she’d realized.

Nikki retrieved the capsule and slid it into her pocket.

She exited the room and stepped into the marble corridor. “Nikki!”

She jerked stiff, spun around. In shock she saw Zakir marching down the passage tightly flanked by Gelu and Hasan. He held on to his dog as he strode, tall, unfaltering. Impeccably dressed, scimitar gleaming.

Nikki’s heart leaped against her chest.

Up until now, Zakir had done without his bodyguards in the private living quarters of the palace. Something had changed. She wiped damp palms against her skirt. “Still…still no sign of Samira?” she asked.

“My men are searching everywhere and everyone,” he said curtly. “I am sure you saw the helicopter activity, all the troops arriving and going?”

That was more than a search and rescue mission for Samira.

She nodded.

“They’re going through the outlying village now. House by house. And—” he paused, eyes narrowing “—where were
you
going?”

From behind Zakir, Gelu’s eyes caught hers in warning,
his hand moving surreptitiously to the hilt of his kukri knife. Fear balled into Nikki’s throat.

“I…I was just coming to look for you. I…needed to talk to you…about something.”

“Good,” said Zakir, taking her arm brusquely. “You can talk while you dine with me.”

Something had changed in the king. He had to have noticed the scratches and blood on her face, her state of disarray, yet he said nothing.

And Nikki was suddenly terrified of him.

Gelu and Hasan slotted the bolt across the inside of the dining hall door and took up positions in front of it.

Panic flared in Nikki’s eyes as she saw this, and she turned to Zakir. “I…was hoping we could dine in private,” she said, her voice thick.

Zakir pulled out a chair. “Things have changed. Take a seat.” She did, nervous, her gaze flicking to Gelu and Hasan.

It hardened Zakir’s heart. He saw her fear as just another sign of her guilt. Flipping out his napkin, he poured wine into two crystal goblets. “You will join me tonight, Nikki. Partake of my fine cellar collection.”

“That…doesn’t sound like a request, Zakir.”

“It’s not.”

Blood drained from her face. “I…don’t understand.”

Zakir smiled harshly at her, hating her for her beauty, for breaking his heart, for killing his family, for making him taste the intoxicating pain of need.

But he’d regained the upper hand.

His other Gurkhas had seen her in the grove tonight, and they’d followed the man she’d met with. That man had led them straight to a large military-style bunker dug into a cliff
wall. The Sheik’s Army was now busy surrounding it. Without Nikki’s betrayal, Zakir would never have found it.

This was exhilarating news. It was, however, tainted by the fact Zakir had then watched Nikki from the cameras in his office as she returned to the medicine room. He’d watched as she retrieved her capsule from the jar atop the cabinet and slipped it into her skirt pocket. And she had it with her now.

Thanks to his pathologist, Zakir now knew what the powder was—a highly toxic cyanide compound.

She wasn’t just a spy.

She was an assassin.

N
ikki stared at the burgundy liquid Zakir was forcing on her, fear rearing like a horse in her heart.

He didn’t blink. Not a muscle in his body moved. “I must concede, Nikki, that you ply your craft exceedingly well.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned forward suddenly. “Did your people compile a psychological profile of me, assess my weaknesses? Then send in someone specifically selected to target my vulnerabilities? Is that why you came up with the idea of playing a mission nurse? And where did you get the children for your ruse? Steal them from some orphanage?”

Panic licked through Nikki. She shot a glance at the door. The Gurkhas blocked access, their hands on their knives.

Zakir waited for her gaze to meet his again. When it did, Nikki’s mouth went bone-dry. His face had turned to dark thunder, eyes crackling with aggression and hatred. There was no sign of the man she’d been falling in love with, the man who’d asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

“What is your name?” he said very quietly in Arabic. “Your
real
name.”

Blood leached from her face. It was over. This was it. Her brain raced—she’d take whatever punishment he chose to mete out, but she
had
to find a way to make him help Samira. And she could not do that with Gelu standing there listening to every word. “Zakir, I—”

“Damn you!” He slammed his fist on the table, making silver cutlery jump. “You are the worst kind of traitor to a man.”

“Zakir, please—” Nikki reached out, covering his bunched fist with her hand “—this is not what you think.”

He glowered at her, vibrating under her touch. And she caught a sudden glisten of emotion in his fierce eyes. Her heart crumpled, and a lump wedged into her throat.

“I was falling for you,” he whispered darkly. “In the way that I had fallen for only one other woman. I knew you had something in your past that you wanted to hide, but I suspected it was some personal pain over a lost child, a broken relationship. But I did
not
believe you to be a cold-hearted, calculating enemy!” He paused, watching her. Dark silence vibrated through the room. “I watched you with those orphans in the Rahm Hills. I listened to you sing to them. I talked to the Berbers about the shepherd you’d saved. I came to believe your lies. Instead, I find you are a spy.”

Tears burned into her eyes. “Zakir…that is not true.”

Zakir slowly got to his feet, jaw tight, neck muscles cording, eyes narrowing in aggression. He came to Nikki’s side of the table, clamped his fingers in a cuff around her wrist. Nikki’s heart skittered.

Drawing her forcibly up from her chair, Zakir’s eyes tunneled into hers. Nikki couldn’t breathe with fear. She felt dizzy.

Abruptly he yanked her body hard against his, thrust his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and gripped so tight it made her eyes water. He bent his head, pressed his lips on hers, forcing her mouth open, his tongue entering angrily. Tears rolled down Nikki’s face as he pulled her even closer, cupping her buttocks. Then he caught her lip between her teeth and applied pressure. She froze, tasting blood, sensing danger. Slowly he released her lip and whispered over her mouth, “Is this how they trained you to do it? To go for the groin? To work my libido? To kiss and screw someone you plan to kill?”

She swallowed, tried to pull back. But he increased his grip. Her pulse jackhammered. Sweat prickled over her brow.

“And what kind of woman puts children into danger, using them as props for an espionage game?”

Nikki tried to open her mouth to speak, but he covered it with his own, silencing her while he moved his hand around the side of her hip. She felt it slipping between the folds of her robe and into her pocket.
The pill—he knew it was in there.

Her breath caught, and her heart stopped.

Slowly he extracted the capsule from her pocket. He brought it up to her face, held it right in front of her nose.

Nikki went ice-cold.

“What’s this?” he whispered. “Zakir—

“Tell me!”

She tried to swallow. “That…that’s cold medication. I…was feeling ill.”

“You have a cold?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” He held the capsule over the goblet of red wine he’d set in front of her. Zakir split the two halves of the capsule apart, spilling a dusting of fine white powder into the burgundy
liquid. Nikki gazed in horror as the poison dissolved into the dark wine.

He forked his index and middle fingers around the stem of the crystal goblet, lifted it. He held the poisoned drink out to her. “Drink, then. It’ll make your cold better.”

“I…I told you…I…I can’t…don’t drink Zakir. I…”

“I will believe
nothing
you say until you drink that medicine!” He shoved the glass into her hand. “Take it!”

She did, her hand beginning to shake. “Zakir, please, listen to me. I am not a spy—”

“You—” he said very quietly, darkly “—were captured on camera stealing a document from my office. And you say you are not a spy?”

Her eyes flicked to Gelu. “I…I never wanted to deceive you, Zakir. You have
got
to believe that.”

“Your deception—” his voice was dangerously quiet “—cost the lives of my men. You cost me millions in equipment. Your deception has destroyed military communications in my country. Now drink that wine.”

The poison inside will take between eight to twelve hours to work.

And then where would that leave Samira?

“Zakir, please listen to me. I never intended to hurt you. I am deeply sorry about what happened. More sorry than you can ever imagine. But I am
not
a spy. I’m not your enemy. I came into Al Na’Jar by mistake, seeking only safe passage for my orphans. You were kind. You helped us, and…and you made me believe I could fall in love with you,” she whispered, emotion pooling hot in her eyes. “Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to accept your proposal, Zakir,” she whispered. “To stay here with my children. To be your wife. But…I couldn’t.” Her voice caught. “Because you are right. I am hiding something. But it’s personal. Not political—”

“What is it?” he snapped.

“I…I’m not Nikki Hunt.”

A muscle began to quiver at the base of his jaw, and his body crackled with dark energy. Hatred filled his eyes. “Who are you? And,” he said quietly between clenched teeth, “if you lie to me now, my wrath will know no bounds.”

Nikki inhaled shakily.

If she could get Zakir to believe her real background, maybe she could buy back a measure of trust. Maybe she could still find a way to save Samira.

But she could feel Gelu’s eyes on her.

“Before I tell you who I am, I ask for just one thing, Zakir. No matter what you decide to do with me, please do not punish my children. Please promise that you will give them safe passage to the mission on Tenerife.”

“I make no promises to you,” he said coolly. “But I also don’t harm innocent children.”

Nikki nodded, moistened her lips. “My real name is Alexis Etherington, and I’m not a nurse,” she said very quietly. “I’m a doctor, an ophthalmic surgeon, and the reason I won’t drink this wine, Zakir—” she glanced down at the glass still in her right hand “—is because seven years ago alcohol nearly killed me. At the time I wished it had.” She wiped her upper lip with the base of her thumb. Zakir saw she was trembling.

“I’d experienced a terrible loss, and I didn’t know how to go on. I was using any substance I could find to self-medicate, to numb the unbearable agony that ate at me.”

“What agony?”

She inhaled deeply. “My husband hired someone to kill me. The man tried to run me off the road on Christmas Eve seven years ago. He didn’t know that my twins, Hailey and Chase, were sleeping in the back of my car. He hit my vehicle on an icy bridge. I went into a spin. It was snowing heavily, and I went right through the railing and plunged onto the highway below, where we were instantly hit by a semi.”

She fell silent, a haunted look entering her beautiful eyes. “My daughter, Hailey, died on impact. Chase took a little while longer. He died in hospital. I…I was trapped. I couldn’t get to him, to help him.”

Surprise streaked through Zakir.

This angle he did not expect. But he cautioned himself against showing sympathy. This woman had come to him with a highly toxic poison in her pocket—a uniquely prepared cyanide compound designed to kill him. Yet he couldn’t help wanting to hear the rest of the story that she was now spinning. And she was doing it with such apparent honesty in her clear, sad eyes that he desperately, achingly, wanted to hear it. And to believe it. And he detested himself for this need.

“Carry on,” he said coolly. “Why would your husband try to kill you?”

“Because he’s a sick man. He’s been diagnosed as a narcissistic sociopath and he keeps it well hidden. He is also very smart, very ambitious, and he can be exceedingly charming. He dupes people, uses them for his own gain, and then spits them out when he’s done. And he was done with me. He was having an affair. I found out and was going to file for a divorce, and he knew he’d lose access to my inheritance and trust fund if I was successful. He’d also lose custody of the children if I got my way. So he tried to have me eliminated instead.”

“How do you know this?”

“I…can’t prove it, but I suspected that I was being watched, followed by someone in a black SUV. It almost ran me off the road once before.”

He raised an eyebrow, but Zakir said nothing.

“Then, after a Christmas party, the same black SUV was waiting outside my friend’s house. I’d gone for a drink after work, but my sitter was sick, so I took the kids with me. The
vehicle followed me from the party and the driver managed to send me into a spin on the snow- and ice-covered bridge.”

“Why,” said Zakir slowly, “would your husband want to kill his own kids?”

“He
didn’t.
That was a mistake. The driver of the SUV didn’t know my children were in the car that night. And when Sam learned what had happened he lost it. He was beyond furious, and he tried everything in his considerable power to blame me for ‘killing’ his children.”

Zakir thought of her scars. The Caesarean. Twins. It was possible. He shook himself. She was smart. It could all be lies. She could be sucking him in again.

“While I was still recovering in hospital, Sam leaked information to the press, claiming that I had been driving drunk, that I was an alcoholic and drug addict and that I’d cancelled surgeries in the past because of it. My blood tests confirmed that there was a small amount of alcohol in my system because I’d had one glass of wine at the Christmas party. The cops dropped it, but a journalist ran with the story anyway. I had my privileges at the hospital suspended, pending investigation. Zakir,” she said, her voice thin, “I didn’t even have the will or energy to fight him, or the hospital, or the cops or my friends who weren’t sure whose side to take. I was injured myself. But more than anything I was devastated beyond grief over the loss of my two babies.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke.

Zakir’s heart torqued. Yet again, he chided himself to be cautious.

“I drowned in bottle after bottle of alcohol. I lost my medical license and my practice. But Sam wasn’t content to just let me drown like a pathetic lush. When the cops dropped their criminal investigation, he slapped me with a civil suit of his own, claiming I’d killed his children. I was a pariah. I
was a shaking, stinking mess. I got to a point where I didn’t care whether I lived or died anymore.”

She swayed slightly, glancing at the chair. “Stand,” he commanded. “Tell me who your husband is. Why should he hold so much power? Why would the press be so interested in his and your lives?”

She lifted her eyes to his and his heart spasmed. Zakir swallowed, at war inside in his own body.

“My husband is Sam Etherington. He’s a senator being groomed for a run at his party leadership. He’s after the top office in the U.S.”

Something in Zakir stilled. “And you say your name is Alexis Etherington?”

She nodded. “Dr. Alexis Etherington, an ophthalmic surgeon from Washington, D.C.”

He digested the enormity of this revelation. Could this be why she’d blanched at the mention of Tariq? His brother’s interests lay in a similar field. They came from the same city.

“How did you end up in Africa?” he asked.

“I was saved by a television commercial for Mercy Missions. It showed two children, a boy and a girl, about the same age as Hailey and Chase. I…I was suddenly riveted by the image, their big eyes. The innocence. And then I heard the ad saying that Mercy Missions was a foreign organization that sets up bases in troubled countries where children are forgotten. They send in priests, nuns, teachers and nurses.” Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and Nikki fell silent for several beats, trying to compose herself. “This ad was looking for volunteer nurses. Those two children spoke to my heart, Zakir. They told me I still had a role to play in this world. And somehow it gave meaning to this terrible spiral I had descended into. I took it as a sign that I was not supposed to kill myself. I was supposed to get
this
message. I was destined to help save lost children.
Which is what I’ve been doing in Mauritania for the past six years.”

“You still haven’t explained your new name, your passport, your papers.”

“My husband and I had a lot of parties over the years, attended by a lot of government employees. One of them was an ex-CIA operative who once drunkenly told me if I ever wanted to buy a fake ID, he knew how. I laughed it off back then. But I remembered, and I looked him up. He organized the forgeries for me, including fake nursing papers. I paid him a small fortune. As soon as I had them, I left the country.”

The story rang so true. The emotion in her eyes, in her face appeared so real. He longed to believe her…

“Remember, Nikki,” he said softly. “I will verify this. If I find one word of what you say now to be false—”

“It’s the truth, Zakir.” She sounded completely resigned, as if all energy in her body had been spent. And again compassion curled into the fire raging inside him.