The Sheikh's Tempted Protectress

  somewhere, and I need you to find him. This is madness, Connor. You have enough money; you don’t need to do this!”

  Connor stared at her, his expression cold. He glanced at the wall the Sheikh’s cries had come from, then back at Beth, and his eyes grew hard and calculating. “Poor Beth. Always falling in love on the job, aren’t we? Well. I really would have returned “His Highness” to his family unharmed, but this little turn of events changes things a bit, doesn’t it? Now he just might have to have a few pieces missing upon return, eh?”

  He walked towards the door, turning to face her with nothing but hatred in his eyes. “I’ll leave you here to have some time to think about your decision, Beth. The offer is on the table for a short while longer. After that, what happens to you both will be entirely your fault.”

  Connor strode out of the room then, locking the door with a resounding click.

  Beth was beside herself. Connor was going to hurt Osman because he was jealous? She froze as she heard a door open next door, and Connor’s muted voice. He seemed to be speaking loudly for her benefit.

  Beth thrashed against the chair. Finally, as her wrists began to bleed from the effort, Beth forced herself to calm down.

  She stared around the room, taking in every detail. There wasn’t much to see. The room was clearly designed for one purpose: keeping people inside. There was nothing that could be used as a weapon.

  Beth slumped back against the chair, her chin pressed tightly to her chest, fighting back despair. She squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them, looking down at her now filthy dress. Then she saw the sash, and remembered.

  The broach.

  Tucked deeply into the bow at her back, the broach was pinned in the perfect spot for her to reach for it and unclasp it. She fought the tremble in her hands, the slickness of blood and sweat, as she painstakingly pulled the broach out from behind her back and aimed it for where she knew the keyhole to the handcuffs would be. She stabbed into the hole over and over again, trying desperately to find the right spot, until finally she heard a click. Pulling the handcuffs off, she rubbed her wrists, swinging her arms to get feeling in them once more.

  Beth knew she had very little time. She bolted for the door, taking her pin and pressing it in the lock, desperately seeking the keyhole’s chamber to set it free as well. After a few moments, she got her second click, and carefully pushed the door open, looking out into a poorly lit hallway. It was empty. Connor was cocky enough to think he wouldn’t need a lookout.

  What an idiot.

  Beth tiptoed over to the adjoining door, barely able to hold herself back.

  She waited until he yelled again before she pulled the door wide open and slid her leg across the floor, tripping the guard. With a swift kick to the head, he was out, and his gun was safely in her hand.

  Connor turned in surprise, a burning hot iron in his grip. Beth spared a glance at Osman, who was bruised in the face and sporting a hot burn mark on his arm, but who otherwise seemed to be all in one piece.

  Beth aimed the gun at Connor. “Your weapon, please,” she said, her voice cold as ice.

  Connor was staring at the barrel, and she clicked the safety off, making him jump. He dropped the poker.

  “You know the drill, Connor. Hands up,” she said.

  Connor looked up then, slowly lifting his hands to shoulder height. “You’re making a huge mistake, Beth. We could have been together. I would have taken amazing care of you.”

  Beth laughed at this. “Are you serious? You were the biggest mistake of my life! We barely dated, and I regret it even going that far,” she said, keeping her gun trained on him as she reached into his pocket and used her free hand to pull out his cell phone. Flicking it on, she dialed the police.

  “The police here are corrupt, Beth. There’s no point in calling them,” Connor said, but a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and she knew he was lying.

  “I’m pretty sure we’re about to solve the problem of police corruption right now,” she said, as someone answered the phone and she informed them that she and Osman were being held hostage by a group of corrupt officers.

  “Do you know your location, miss?” an accented voice asked.

  “I don’t,” Beth answered.

  “We can track this call, please just stay on the line.”

  Beth, Connor and Osman waited in a frozen tableau until shots could be heard from somewhere above them.

  Beth’s smile was grim. “I imagine that’s the sound of your corrupt police force being eliminated,” Beth said.

  “I am not going to jail for this!” Connor shouted, making a desperate lunge for Beth.

  Seeing him coming from a mile away, Beth dodged to one side and tripped Connor up. Spotting a pair of handcuffs next to the still unconscious guard, she pinned him down with one knee and slapped the cuffs on his wrist.

  Hearing an officer coming down the stairs, Beth shouted out their location. A moment later, with a rush of relief, she saw a man in uniform enter the room and assess the scene. Beth rose with her hands raised, and explained what had happened.

  The officer looked at Osman, who was slumped against the chair with his head down. “Is this true, Your Highness?”

  Hearing his title, Osman looked up, his eyes bloodshot, and glared at Connor. “That is the man responsible for everything. Take him in,” the Sheikh said, meeting Connor’s eyes as he was pulled up and dragged out of the room, along with the hulking frame of the guard.

  The officer stopped at the door. “Are you two all right down here for a few more minutes? We need to make sure that the building is secure,” he said.

  “We’ll be fine,” Beth replied. “I just need some keys for the cuffs.”

  The officer reached into one of his pockets and threw her a small pair of skeleton keys before dragging Connor away.

  Finally, Beth turned to Osman. His eyes burned into hers as they stared at each other from across the room. She walked behind him, making quick work of the handcuffs. Slowly and carefully, she began to inspect his wounds. The burn would leave a scar, but that was about it. His cuts were fairly minor, and his bruises would heal in time.

  As she inspected Osman’s injuries, she realized that he was staring at her. She stopped looking anywhere else, gazing instead into the warm brown eyes she had come to adore.

  Without uttering a word, he lifted a hand and gently traced a thumb along her jawline, cupping her chin. Beth gasped as he pressed his lips to hers, gentle at first, then deeper, more passionate. There, on the floor of the prison cell, Osman kissed the woman he loved with every ounce of his being, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as she dared.

  They were safe.

  FOURTEEN

  Beth

  The next day, Beth and Osman were sitting in the back of a police car, on their way back to his city estate. They had spent some time at the station giving testimony and statements about their experiences. It hadn’t been a particularly pleasant experience, and frankly, the two of them were filthy, exhausted, and in desperate need of rest. But it was over. And they were going home.

  As they drove up the winding road to the mansion, Beth sighed with relief at the sight of the manor house, stately and perfect, just as they had left it. Osman wound his fingers through hers, and she gave his hand a happy squeeze.

  Adil rushed out of the house to greet them, opening the car door. Osman slid out first, holding out a hand for Beth to take, which she did, gladly.

  “Your Highness! We were all sick with worry! Are you both all right?” Adil said, his words coming out in a rush. His accent was stronger with his fear, Beth noticed.

  Inside the main hall, the whole household was lined up with worried faces, and Osman smiled at them as the chatter was instantly silenced by their arrival.

  “Thank you all for your concern. It was a harrowing experience, but thanks to Beth, we have come out unscathed and ready for some peace and relaxation,” Osman said to the crowd, and
Beth marveled at how easy these words came to him.

  There was a collective sigh of relief among the staff. After a brief pause, everyone scurried to get back to work, and Osman took Beth’s hands in his.

  “I’ve got a couple of calls I need to make, but can we meet for dinner later, in my room?” he asked, his eyes aglow.

  “I’d be delighted, Your Highness,” Beth said with a grin.

  “Osman,” he said, the corner of his lip tilting upward.

  Beth’s smile widened. “Osman,” she agreed.

  He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek before heading down the hallway towards his rooms. Beth watched him until he was out of sight, and then turned toward her own quarters. Never in her entire life had she been more excited to take a shower.

  FIFTEEN

  Osman

  Osman stared at the phone, sitting on its receiver on his dresser. This call had been a long time coming. He knew he’d have to make it now, before the news really spread about what had happened.

  Taking a deep breath, Osman picked up the phone, and dialed a well-known number.

  “Hello?”

  Osman paused. “Mother?”

  Silence, and then, “Osman! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Hearing rumors, completely unable to reach you, beside myself with worry…”

  Osman let her have her say, which took about as long as he’d expected. He deserved nothing less. Finally, when his mother decided to take a breath, he cut in.

  “I know, Mamma. I know. I deserve all of this and more. I’ve been terrible to you, and I’m sorry.”

  This was met with stunned silence. Osman took advantage of it.

  “I know I haven’t been the best son I could be to you, and I know that things have been difficult with dad gone, but I want you to know that I miss you and I love you, and if you would like to come back to live at home with me, that would bring me more joy than you could possibly know.”

  To his surprise, he heard his mother weeping quietly into the phone. This was all very new. His mother was not normally an emotional person. After a few more sniffles, he heard her compose herself.

  “I would like that very much, Osman. But there’s something I’d like to know, first. What happened to you and that American woman?”

  Osman told her the story from the beginning, finally explaining Connor and his plan to torture him and send him home in pieces. Osman’s mother then said some very nasty things that he pretended not to hear.

  “Before I come back, I’m going to make a few phone calls. We’ll make sure this kind of corruption never touches the house of Al-Haddeni ever again,” she said, her voice firm.

  Osman smiled. “Whatever you want, Mother.”

  “Now tell me more about this bodyguard. What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking it’s time to recruit a new one,” he said.