Sheikh Protector. Dana Marton

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far as he could reach, but he couldn’t stretch all the way. Next item. He leaned forward carefully, and spent precious seconds inspecting the bottom of the dashboard.

      “Mr. Abdullah?” The voice was richly melodic and completely feminine, utterly out of place in the charged tension of the moment. “Excuse me, Mr. Abdullah—”

      He drew his attention from what he was doing to watch, with dismay, the foreign beauty who strode toward him, full of purpose.

      Since she’d spoken English, he responded in the same language. “Go back inside.”

      “They told me I could find you here.” She flashed a nervous smile and proceeded without pause, although the blood did drain from her face as she came closer and got a better look at him. “Look, I’ve come a long way. You wouldn’t believe the plane ride. Forget the plane. You wouldn’t believe the food,” she babbled on. “I know you must be busy, but—”

      “Get out of here.” He didn’t bother with the half turn to hide his scar, but looked her full in the face. That ought to scare her off.

      “Listen, I—” Her voice wavered.

      “You listen.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. The air was well over a hundred degrees outside, and even warmer in the car. He had run up to his office for only a few minutes to grab some papers before he headed off to the camel races, so he hadn’t bothered to pull in to the climate-controlled underground parking garage. He let loose the frustration and anger that churned inside him. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

      The woman stopped, but only momentarily. Her wide brown eyes flashed with determination, and her deep auburn hair swirled around her face in the dry breeze that’d been blowing from the desert all day. Hair that flowed in soft waves well below her elbows. Her soft linen skirt fluttered around her ankles, the light color matching her modest top—clothes that accentuated her tall, slim figure. She looked as beautiful as an angel and as determined as Satan’s handmaiden.

      Few men would have remained standing there when he had that glare on his face and that edge in his voice. But incomprehensibly, instead of running the other way, her delicate chin came up. She was maybe four feet from him and not budging.

      “All I want—”

      Oh, hell. “There’s a bomb—” Karim saw movement in one of the windows behind her, and acted on instinct.

      He vaulted out of the car and flew across the space between them, crashing her to the hard pavement, doing his best to break her fall. He didn’t stop, but rolled and rolled.

      She screamed the whole time and beat on his shoulders, resisted with all the power in her slim frame, her long hair entangling them. Then the car finally blew, shaking the parking lot.

      Heat.

      Smoke.

      Fear.

      She screamed even louder, but it barely registered now over the ringing in his ears.

      Head down. He kept her covered as best he could, protected her from the burning debris that flew across the air like projectile missiles. As strong and determined as she had looked a moment ago, she seemed scared and fragile as she clung to him now.

      “Don’t move,” he said near her ear, unable to hear his own voice, half-deaf from the explosion. “It’s okay.” He made an attempt to reassure her anyway. They would assess their injuries and face reality in a moment. For now, he was still trying to catch his breath.

      The air swirled blazing hot around them. But even the acrid smell of smoke couldn’t completely drown out the scent of the woman in his arms: jasmine and vanilla.

      In his peripheral vision, he registered security personnel running from the building.

      “Ambulance. Now! Cover his position.”

      “Secure the grounds! Secure the grounds!”

      “Are you all right, sir? Sheik?”

      Karim let the woman go and nodded, the ringing in his ears diminishing with each passing second. She looked wide-eyed with shock, staring at the car a few short yards from them. Her fair skin was now positively white, to the point of being translucent, save a few smudges of dirt.

      “What happened?” She pressed a hand to her abdomen, breathing in quick gasps.

      He’d probably knocked the air out of her.

      After checking her over for visible injuries and not finding any, he followed her gaze, clenching his teeth at the sight of the twisted metal behind him. That had been close. Too close. Aziz’s death still filled his mind, dulling his attention to other things. He had to separate himself from the grief, had to block the memories of the burning well—a fire a thousand times larger than what burned in the parking lot now. He couldn’t get distracted and be taken out. He had to find who killed Aziz.

      The company’s private ambulance was racing through the parking lot toward them. For him.

      “I’m fine. You take her.” Whatever she wanted from him, he had no time to deal with her now.

      He’d spoken in Arabic, but she must have understood his body language, because she began to protest.

      “No, I’m fine. Really. I don’t need to see a doctor.” She was rattled and scared, more than a little bewildered, fighting to hide it. Her chin came up, trembling slightly and smudged with dirt from the pavement. “I can’t go.” She backed away a few steps. “I’m not going.”

      The woman showed a deep-seated aversion to do as she was told. Even if it was for her own good.

      He wasn’t in the mood just now to humor her. “Get in.”

      Even his own security stilled at the growl in his voice.

      “No,” she said, oblivious to danger once again.

      His eyes narrowed. Did she just stomp her feet or had she been flexing her knees?

      He had been careful with her when he’d taken her down. She didn’t look hurt. She was breathing normally now. Her clothes were barely rumpled and only slightly stained. Her hair looked the worst, tangled and with a fair amount of sand in it. The desert winds had been blowing for days, dusting the parking lot and everything else in the city.

      His security force closed in a circle around them and awaited his orders. They would remove her forcefully; all he had to do was give the word. He should. He had a million things to do at the moment and no time for the distraction of a stubborn woman.

      “Fine. No hospital,” he said instead. “Just get in. Whoever did this could be still out here.”

      She paled even more, if that was possible, and stepped up into the back of the ambulance. He went after her, on second thought, not because he was scared for his life, but because if whoever was out there decided to shoot at him, the bastard might hit one of his men instead. Better to remove himself from sight.

      “We can drop you off at your hotel. Please, sit.” He gestured to the gurney. He remained standing, holding on to one of the restraints as the vehicle moved out. He nodded toward the lone paramedic’s cell

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