Ann Voss Peterson - Seized By The Sheik

If it was one of his men, he’d be on the next plane back to Nadar.

“You need to head back to the resort. Sunset comes early in these parts because of the mountains.” She stared him down, her jaw as set and determined as it had been yesterday.

That was it. Her jaw. The flash in her eyes. That was what drew him. He was a sucker for strong women. Being from a country where women weren’t allowed to be strong around men, this feistiness was novel and obviously the source of his fascination with Callie McGuire. “You’re worried about me?” he said in a dry tone, but he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a note of teasing interest under his words.

“You’re very important to the coalition.”

In the past few weeks, he’d heard enough about the Coalition of Island Nations, or COIN, to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t even sure it was in Nadar’s best interest to be part of it. With each day that had passed since the explosion, his doubts had grown. “Nadar’s offshore oil fields are important to the coalition. The shipping lanes are important to the coalition. Not me.”

“Then why did Prince Stefan call me?”

So it had been Stefan Lutece who’d thought he needed a babysitter and had chosen Callie McGuire for the job. Humiliating that the Prince of Kyros could see his interest so clearly, but at least he wasn’t a subordinate. “He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“If anyone knows about the dangers all the members of the coalition face, it’s Prince Stefan.”

“Or Amir. And finding him is why I’m here.”

“You think you’re going to find some sign of him out here on the BLM?” She gestured to the surroundings with her free hand.

As Efraim understood it, the barren canyonlike area he was now searching in was called Rattlesnake Badlands, a part of public land controlled by the Bureau of Land Management. The locals just referred to all of it as the BLM.

“I’m not going to cower at some luxury resort ranch while Amir might be out here dying.”

“There are people searching.”

“Who? The police? Some honest ones, or just the ones taking money from organized crime?”

She scrunched up her nose, and he noticed for the first time that she had a sprinkle of freckles across the top of her cheekbones. Fascinating.

He concentrated on a large clump of sage just past her right ear. “Amir didn’t disappear. He has to be somewhere.”

“So don’t rely on the authorities. Let your own people do the job. You don’t have to do this personally.”

But he did. It was that or go crazy. The Wind River Ranch and Resort was a luxurious place, that was for certain, but he couldn’t enjoy it knowing Amir was out there, maybe dying, maybe dead. “There’s no argument you can make that Fahad has not already made.”

The hard line of her lips softened. “I know the two of you are close. I know you’re worried about him.”

Whereas her passion had been arousing, the softness and empathy in her eyes mesmerized him and for a moment, he found himself physically leaning toward her in his saddle.

He caught himself before he swooned like a lovesick teen. “When Amir is found, I will stop searching.” He laid a spur to his horse’s side, and the animal broke into a jog. He wasn’t wild about much of what America had to offer, but he might make an exception for its quarter horses and its women.

At least this woman.

“Then I’ll help—”

A gunshot cracked through the air, cutting her sentence short.

Efraim grabbed for his pistol and tried to gauge where the shot came from. The report bounced off rock and mixed with the whistle of the wind.

So much for finding Amir. Hemmed in by canyon walls, he and Callie would be lucky if they got out of the Rattlesnake Badlands alive.

Pulse pounding so hard that her hands shook, Callie pulled her prize rifle from the scabbard on her saddle. Her throat felt as dry as the dust under their horses’ hooves. What was she thinking, rushing out here without bringing the sheik’s security detail with her? How did she think she and a rifle were going to stack up against the forces out there who would do anything to stop the COIN summit from taking place? When she’d gotten the call from Prince Stefan, she’d been confident she could talk Efraim into returning to the ranch. She hadn’t given an extra thought to what she would do if they suddenly found themselves in a war zone. “We need to get out of here.”

“We need to make ourselves smaller targets.” Sheik Efraim threw a leg back over the saddle and slid to the ground. “The echoes. Can you tell where the shot came from?”

Her boots hit the ground. The crazy way the sound bounced off the canyon walls made finding the source nearly impossible. She pointed in the direction she thought she’d first heard the sound. “There. Can’t tell for sure.”

He gestured to a formation, and they slipped behind it. Walls of red-and-tan rock rose around them. A miniature version of a box canyon. Safe, but only until the shooter decided to block off the only escape route.

“We can’t stay here,” Callie whispered. “They had to have seen where we went. We’ll be trapped.”

“I’m not planning to stay.” He squinted into the sun. Lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He looked concerned, yet calm. A man used to being in tight places. “Do you have a phone?”

“No reception out here.”

“What’s closest? Town?”

She shook her head. Dumont was a good distance by foot or by horse. Even the ranch owned by family friend Helen Jefferies would take an awfully long time to reach through this canyon. Faster to get out of Rattlesnake Badlands as quickly as possible and head in the other direction. “My family’s ranch is closest. If we exit the canyon to the south, we can probably make it by nightfall.”

The sheik arched his black brows. “Your family?”

“I grew up here.” For some reason, she’d assumed he knew that. Strange. But every time he looked at her, it felt like his dark eyes saw everything. Her innermost thoughts and feelings. Even her past.

“Then you know the land.”

“Yes. Any ideas who is shooting at us?” She’d like to think it was a local out shooting targets on the BLM, something she and her brothers did more times than she could count. But she knew that was unlikely at best.

“Russian mob? That might give us some room to work.”

“Room to work?” That was her worst fear. A sniper like the one who had tried to kill Prince Stefan. A man whose aim was to kill, ruthlessly, and who had the skill to pull it off.

“He probably doesn’t know the area. Not like you do.”

A silver lining, if only a shred of one. “You’re right. So we have an advantage there.”

“We sure don’t have one in firepower.” He held up his pistol. A nice weapon, but not much use at a distance. “Are you a good shot?”

“Won some shooting contests when I was in high school.” She held up her rifle, showing him the brass plaque on the stock proclaiming her Wind River County Champion Marksman, Junior Women’s Division. The whole idea of shooting competitions seemed ridiculous and trivial in light of the situation they were in. Fun and games in the face of life and death.

He nodded, as if it was exactly what he was hoping for. “Okay. Then you can cover me.” He handed her his horse’s reins.

His words jolted her like a slap. “Cover you? Where are you going?”

“That first shot, it wasn’t meant for us.”

“Who was it meant for?”

“Whoever is up on that ridge.” He pointed across a rough area of the canyon floor to a ridge of rock. “See him?”

She shielded her eyes with her hand.