The Sheikh Who Stole Her: Sheikh Seduction / The Untamed Sheikh / Desert King, Doctor Daddy

“Do you have anything I can wrap around the iron so it’ll make less noise?” he called.

She stripped off her suit coat and passed it to him. The muted sound was a lot quieter. Hopefully, it wouldn’t carry as far as the smugglers.

He was done in a couple of minutes and crawled out, handing her back her jacket. Then he brought an earthenware jar filled with oil from the rear of the Hummer. When had he put that there? Probably when he’d been scouring the site for the satellite dish and carrying in water for their bath.

He filled up the oil pan, checked the level, then closed the hood. “Let’s get some water, then head out of here.”

She moved toward the door, stopping to look around before she stepped out. No one was in sight, except the camel, which was licking a discarded brick about two hundred feet ahead. Nobody said camels were smart.

She and Tariq moved quickly between the buildings without talking. He was carrying the tire iron again. Dawn was breaching the horizon. As soon as daylight arrived and the bandits could look around the construction sight, they would notice the boarded up windows and come searching.

“I need to go back to the trucks,” Tariq said once they were inside the villa. “I need a gun. I almost had it when the hyena came in, and then they were all awake, every gun in hand.”

“You got out. Don’t you think that’s enough of a feat? You can get a gun from your brother.”

“We’ll need one before that. No matter how quietly we move, there’s a chance that they’ll hear. I want to be able to defend you. And if I could find a knife and slice their tires, they couldn’t follow us at all.”

And as an added bonus, the smugglers couldn’t leave before he got back. That was part of his plan, too, no doubt. She stared at him, slack-jawed. “This is insane. You know that, right?”

“Most of them should be asleep again by now.” He shrugged. “They came in late last night.” He held her gaze, his mind obviously made up.

The only thing she could do was help. “What can I do?”

“Get the water to the Hummer and wait there. If anything goes wrong, drive north.” He pointed to show her which direction he meant. “As fast as you can. Even if you miss the meeting point, Karim will find you from the air.”

He meant if they killed him. Sara’s blood ran cold at the thought.

“You’ll make it,” he said in a reassuring tone.

She didn’t want to think about having to make it through the desert without him. She didn’t want to think of him dead. He was little more than a stranger, but he had saved her life. And there was some undeniable connection between them, a zing of electricity that she couldn’t begin to comprehend. She cared about him, felt as if she knew him, a lot more than she would have thought possible, given the short time they’d spent together. Of course, she’d seen him tested more than once, watched him endure incredible hardship. That had revealed his character and strength more than several months’ worth of a casual relationship would have.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” she said.

“Not if I can help it.” He came back to her and drew her into his arms. “I’m going to find you when this is over.”

His head dipped slowly toward her. He was giving her plenty of time to pull away from the kiss. She rose to meet him instead. He didn’t waste time with being tentative. He kissed her with full passion and need, taking her breath away.

Through the mist that obscured all coherent thought in her mind, three things became increasingly clear. One: Tariq was a man like no other she had ever met, and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted another. Two: they would be lucky if either of them lived through this. And three: life was incredibly unfair. They could have met while he’d lived in California. She went to California on business all the time.

I will find you when this is over. Considering the kind of man he was, she believed that nothing but death could keep him from that promise. She clung to him, aware of the precarious nature of their situation, of the fact that he was injured, of the incredible odds.

She fisted her hands in his shirt and kissed him as if it was the last time they would be together. He kissed her back with the same desperate need.

And would have kept kissing him, but a small sound outside penetrated the haze of pleasure in her mind.

She froze.

Chapter Six

The sound came again. Tariq listened, reluctant to end the kiss. Probably just the hyena coming to try its luck again. The damn beast was nothing if not persistent. Tariq had the tire iron somewhere at their feet. He figured he had another second or two of savoring Sara before he had to pull away and chase the stupid animal off again.

But with Sara in his arms, he couldn’t spare much thought for anything else. He wanted to protect her himself, and not trust her to Karim, even though he would trust his brother with his own life.

“Who the hell’s been out here?” a heavily rasping voice said in Arabic, just outside the villa.

Sara froze in his arms. Tariq held his breath.

“Probably some camel herd. Better look around,” another man grumbled.

They had about a second to hide. Tariq pushed Sara to the sand and draped a blanket over her, kicked sand over it, then dropped to the ground and wiggled in next to her. He barely had time to pull the satellite phone and the tire iron with him before the men came in.

SARA LAY WITHOUT MOVING, barely daring to breathe. Bandits scourged the villa, walking not a foot or two from them on occasion. If it weren’t for Tariq’s calm, solid presence next to her, and his restraining hand on her arm, she would have freaked out and betrayed herself a hundred times by now. She inhaled his masculine scent and soaked up the comfort of his strong, lean body, which he kept like a shield in front of her.

The men were talking excitedly in Arabic. She wanted to ask Tariq what they were saying, but would have to wait until they were alone again. The arm she was lying on went numb, but she didn’t move. If anyone was looking their way, the slightest shifting of the blanket would betray that someone was hiding beneath. How long could they hold out?

Not long, it seemed. The following moment something hard connected with her shoulder. She didn’t think she made a sound, but she must have, because someone yelled, a single shrill word. The next few seconds passed in a blur.

The blanket was lifted, and she saw two men. The one who must have kicked her in the shoulder was staring at her with a frightening grin on his dirt-smudged face.

Tariq rose with a roar, sand scattering all around him.

By the time she blinked most of the sand from her eyes, he had the guy who’d kicked her disabled. She could barely glance at him, where he lay on the ground with his head bashed in. Tariq, pipe held above his head, was running for the other man, ignoring the gun pointed at the middle of his wide chest.

“Run,” he yelled to her.

He was never going to make it.

She lurched forward on instinct, knowing there was nothing she could do, knowing that as soon as Tariq was gunned down, she would be next.

But he threw the pipe, knocking the gun aside, then lunged at the man, flying through the air and landing heavily on his target. A mountain lion, indeed. He could have been an action movie stuntman, except nobody yelled, “Cut!”

The men rolled on the sand, evenly matched. She hoped. How much would Tariq’s injury slow him down? Was the other guy smart enough to notice it and use it to his advantage?

She dashed back to the dead man and snatched his weapon, aimed it at the other bandit’s head as she moved toward him. “Stop!”

The men rolled, paying her no heed.

“Don’t shoot,” Tariq grunted as he flipped the guy again.

What did he mean, don’t shoot? Of course she was going to shoot. Just as soon as her target stopped moving.

“Too loud,” Tariq said on the next breath.

And she lowered the gun. He was right. It would be best if they kept quiet, so the rest of the bandits didn’t come rushing to join the fray.

Great, so she couldn’t use the gun. Okay, to be truthful, she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to hit the right man, anyway. But she wasn’t going to stand here, just hoping for the best. She tossed the gun out of reach of the men and looked around for a quieter weapon. The tire iron would have been perfect if they weren’t right on top of it.

Her gaze landed on the heavy pot made of some sort of tarnished metal. She retrieved it, and when the men turned again so that the bandit was on top, she swung it, whacking him over the head with all her strength.