The Black Sheep Sheik

She hadn’t had time to think about that yet. She considered his question as she took the next exit, heading for Dumont, hoping to lose her pursuers in a maze of narrow streets and alleys.

“I made some calls yesterday,” she confessed. It was the only possible link she could come up with. “This baby could come any minute. You couldn’t be left alone at the cabin while I went into the hospital to give birth. You needed someone to run the medical equipment.”

He thought that over. “How did you get all that equipment together with short notice?”

“My father recently passed away from cancer. He wanted to die at the cabin, so I had everything set up for him.” Including two generators, plus the sun panels on the roof. “He had a twenty-four-hour nurse, and I went out there every day after my shift ended.” Her father had desperately tried to hang on long enough to meet his grandson.

Moisture gathered in her eyes. She blinked it away. “With the funeral and all, I hadn’t had a chance to call for pickup yet when you showed up.” It hadn’t been an easy summer.

“I’m sorry about your father.” His tone was subdued.

She nodded, driving as fast as she could while still keeping control of the vehicle.

“You made sure your father was taken care of. Then you cared for me. You are an extraordinary woman.”

Probably trying to butter her up for something. But when she glanced over, she saw only surprise on his face. Which irked her. “Did you think I would abandon my father at the end of his life? Or that I would leave the father of my child bleeding on the road?”

“I was giving you a compliment. We didn’t have sufficient time to fully discover each other before. Many things about you are new to me. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.” He looked surprised at that, too, as if the words coming out of his mouth were a revelation to him.

They were finally in Dumont and she took the first bigger road to the left, heading for a more densely populated area where enough smaller streets crisscrossed each other for a car to disappear.

“You can be part of your son’s life without us having anything to do with each other.” She didn’t like the idea of sharing her baby—it hadn’t been the way she’d planned things—but, fine, he had the right, and her child would want to know his father. She could be flexible. To a point. “Once he’s old enough to be in school, he could go to Jamala for a week each summer.”

“My son will not grow up in a broken home,” he said in a tone he must have used for royal decrees, authoritative and final.

How did they get back to the subject of marriage again? “Let’s talk about something else before my blood pressure sends us hurtling into a phone pole, okay?”

“Do you have problems with your blood pressure? You said the pregnancy was going well,” he accused her.

“No problems whatsoever before you woke up.” She gritted her teeth. He got to her like no other, pushing all the wrong buttons.

Funny how nine months ago he’d been pushing all the right ones. And then some. She bit her lip. She so needed to stop thinking about those insane two days.

She glanced at the rearview mirror. No black van in sight. She careened into a back alley and slowed, surveyed the row of back doors, which she knew led to kitchens and laundry rooms, swerved to avoid the garbage cans lined up by the road. Not a person in sight, only a cat sauntering in front of her.

She brought the SUV to a complete stop. “Do we try to find a phone and call the police?”

He shook his head.

“Who then? FBI? CIA? Department of Defense?”

“No.”

“Of course not.” Because that would have been easy. “Then what?”

He looked darkly ahead.

“Did you talk to anyone on the phone before the battery went dead?”

He nodded.

“Bad news?”

He nodded again.

“Can I just remind you that you recently decided to trust me? Some information would be nice. We’re in this together.”

His face darkened further. “I apologize for that.”

She didn’t want apologies. She wanted a plan. “Why can’t we call the police?”

“Efraim said… The phone gave out before he could explain. No police.”

“Fine. Then we find a phone and you can call this Efraim again.”

“Yes. That would be best. My friends will send a team for us. We’ll be safe at the resort. Once the royal physician arrives, he’ll take you to Jamala under guard. I might have to stay here for a day or two. There are international relations to consider. I might have duties left still with things we came here to accomplish.”

She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of his security staff arriving and taking control of her. “Or, how about this? Why wait for anyone? With armed madmen looking for us out there, I’m thinking time is of the essence. I can take you to Wind River and your friends. Then we part ways. I’ll drop you off at the gate.”

“We must not fight about this. Stress is not good for you or my son. You should be reasonable.” He had the gall to reproach her.

Enough steam gathered in her head to fill the steam bath at the resort’s fancy spa. She gave Amir her sweetest smile. “If you don’t like my plan, you can always get out of the car right here.”

He didn’t have the chance to respond. The black van appeared at the other end of the alley, flying toward them, motor roaring.

No room to turn the SUV around.

No time to inch out of the narrow alley backward, slowly.

They were trapped.

BEFORE ANY BULLETS could fly, Amir bolted from the car, Isabella right next to him. He hated, absolutely hated, that he’d brought danger to her. He couldn’t believe she had the wherewithal to grab her purse first, but she had it with her as they busted in through the back door of the nearest house. They ran through a small, empty kitchen, then a living room, a half-dozen cats scattering from their path and giving them dirty looks.

“Is that you, Brian?” a woman called from upstairs, hardwood floor creaking as she moved around. “Where have you been?”

They burst through the front door without answering, then scrambled across the road, into a crowded bar that smelled like smoke and beer, the Jukebox blaring a country song he wasn’t familiar with. They slowed to make their way to the back without drawing too much attention. In seconds they were in another alley. His muscles were shaking; his breathing was heavy. He cursed his weak legs, which slowed them both.

“You made it this far. You can do it.” Isabelle took him by the hand to pull him after her.

Male pride said he should pull away and make his way unaided. But her small hands felt incredible around his fingers, the feel of her warm skin giving him a jolt, bringing back memories. He left his hand in hers and ignored his screaming muscles.

The faces of their pursuers danced in his mind. This time, he’d made a point of taking a good look. He didn’t recognize any of them. They didn’t look Jamalan. They looked American.