low,” he whispered.
She ducked her head down, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She hadn’t put it back up. She was beautiful and sexy, with an incredibly hot body that made him ache with wanting. But there was so much more to her. Beauty alone couldn’t distract him this much. The world was full of beautiful women, and there was no shortage of sexy bodies happy to press up against a sheik who owned a couple of oil wells.
He wasn’t proud of the fact that in his youth he had taken advantage of that.
It’d been only over the last few years before he’d returned to Beharrain that the emptiness of his relationships had begun to bother him. And since he’d been here, he’d barely had a relationship at all.
Spending a day and a night with Sara Reeves made him wish for things he hadn’t given much thought to before. And he couldn’t afford to now. The task at hand required his full attention.
“Watch out.” He pointed toward a scorpion that skittered across the ground a few inches from her feet. He kicked sand at it. The scorpion lifted its tail, but turned and moved off in the opposite direction.
Sara’s lips tightened as she stared after it, but she didn’t make a noise or any sudden movement that might betray their presence. “Poisonous?” she whispered.
“Yes.” At the beginning of construction they had done an extensive relocation project, capturing scorpions and transporting them to the Rub al-Khali, the Empty Quarter, the uninhabited part of the desert.
Out of the dozens of species of scorpions in his country, only a few were poisonous. None had been found when they had surveyed the area, then shortly after work began, contractors came across several nests of them. It made Tariq wonder if they’d been brought in, yet another insidious form of sabotage. But as with the rest, nobody talked, nothing could be proved.
He moved forward again, creeping along the wall when they reached the building they’d been heading for. Sara came up close behind him the next time he stopped to listen for noises inside, their bodies separated by only an inch or two. He was aware of every soft breath she took, her every move, and wondered if she was as acutely aware of him as he was of her.
Back in the villa, she had pulled away. Probably the smart thing to do—not that he’d liked it. The instant connection between them had probably taken her off guard as much as it had him. So he would give her time. As much as he could. He would plan a slow seduction. It hardly seemed possible, and yet he must, because he wasn’t ready to walk away from her. He wanted more. A lot more. As soon as they were both safe and away from danger.
He moved on to the next window hole and glanced inside. “Two trucks,” he whispered.
She stiffened, probably thinking about the attack. But she drew her back straight in the next second, and he knew if it came to that, she would be ready to fight.
“Not the same ones,” he told her.
The trucks stood in the shelter of the walls, the one closest to him a Russian-made Kamaz. He couldn’t see enough of the other one to identify it, but they didn’t look like the beat-up military trucks that had attacked them on the way to the well. These were later models, in better shape.
Men slept, some snoring, on the sand that covered the floor.
“A single sentry,” he whispered as he watched a youth of maybe twenty sitting facing the entry. His back was propped against the wall, and his head bobbed as he fought sleep.
Tariq focused on the trucks. “I want to see what they are transporting.” It might provide the clue to why his convoy had been attacked, why his oasis project was regularly visited by people who had no business being here.
“Be careful,” Sara said.
With her on his heels, he ducked to keep out of sight, then rounded the building to get to the other side. Coming in the front would have been too conspicuous. But the structure had plenty of gaps in the walls. The best point of entry was a window hole on the other side, where the trucks would keep him out of sight of the guard.
Suddenly, the hair prickled at Tariq’s nape. He wasn’t consciously aware that he’d heard something, but he must have, because all of a sudden he knew without a doubt that they were no longer alone. He held up a warning hand for Sara as he stopped midstride and looked around slowly. A small sound came from behind a pile of bricks a few yards away. He flattened Sara against the wall and stepped in front of her, keeping the tire iron ready.
A shadow stretched forward in the moonlight. Was somebody crouching there? Tariq prepared to lunge. But then the shadow moved again and separated from the brick pile. The hyena. The animal growled at them.
Sara grabbed on to his shirt from behind.
“Keep still,” he whispered.
“Over there,” she whispered back.
He glanced around and spotted another, much larger shape between two buildings.
A camel? “How did that get here?”
Got lost in the sandstorm, most likely. Or it could be here with its rider, hiding out from the storm as Sara and he were, although Tariq would have expected the animal to be tied up in that case. Camels were notorious for wandering off, not something someone whose survival depended on the beast was likely to forget.
Encouraged by Tariq’s attention being drawn elsewhere, the hyena crept closer. Tariq tried to shoo the damn thing toward the camel, but of course, the hyena was interested in him and Sara, smaller targets that would make easier prey. It eyed Tariq with a leer, not looking particularly impressed by the tire iron. Understandable, when its powerful jaws could easily snap in half the wrist that held it.
Tariq swung the length of metal, anyway. The hyena danced back, but didn’t run away. And they couldn’t shout, couldn’t throw anything at it, couldn’t make a noise. Tariq strode forward, keeping his body between Sara and the beast.
When he reached the next window hole, he looked in and took stock of the men inside from this different point of view. There were about two dozen of them, all sound asleep, apparently. But going in through this opening was still too risky. Tariq ducked down again and kept moving, turning back every few steps to keep track of the hyena, and of Sara.
When he reached the window he’d been aiming for, he looked inside and searched the dim interior carefully. Everyone in his line of vision seemed asleep. The trucks blocked his view of the guard.
He turned and handed Sara the tire iron. “Over there,” he mouthed, pointing to a nearby stack of bricks that towered over their heads. He helped her up on top, trying not to get too distracted touching her. He kept his hand on her arm for a long moment, then reluctantly pulled away.
She would be safe here, out of the hyena’s reach and out of sight if any of the smugglers wandered outside. Plus, from her higher position, she had a good view of the surrounding area, and could keep an eye out for anyone approaching. He stepped back to the window and leaned into the building, checking to make sure he wouldn’t be stepping on anyone when he climbed in.
“Don’t take any chances.” The soft whisper came from behind him.
He nodded without looking back.
Silently, he pulled himself
