Dana Marton - The Sheikh Who Stole Her - Sheikh Seduction / The Untamed Sheikh / Desert King, Doctor Daddy

Her fingers closed around it and she pulled it from her waistband, just as a dark shape appeared in the doorway.

Looked like she wasn’t alone, after all. The hyena was here.

“Go away,” she yelled, and glanced around desperately. She had nothing to defend herself with, so she grabbed a fistful of sand and threw that at the slobbering beast. That didn’t seem to faze it. She drew a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Animals could smell fear. She raised herself to her full height, hoping to look more formidable. Easy . She could handle this. She had to, because she wasn’t going to let Tariq die.

The repulsive scavenger meandered in, keeping its beady eyes on her, giving a bark. The sound reverberated across the room and bounced off the walls, sounding like deranged human laughter.

She stepped back, her heel striking something: the tire iron, half buried in the sand. Sara said a prayer of thanks as she used it to fend off the intruder.

The shah gripped his cell phone so hard the plastic squeaked in protest.

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“It is Sheik Abdullah. He said so himself.”

The man had as many lives as a cat. The attack on the convoy had not been meant for him, hadn’t been planned at all. The oilmen had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

One of the men had recognized him after the fight, had thought him dead, but was too stupid to make sure. Had the sheik died, it would have been a bonus. But he seemed to have survived, after all, to interfere once again.

Was it a sign? Maybe Sheik Abdullah could be used for something. He was the king’s cousin. No love lost there, but honor would demand that the monarch ransom him. For money or other advantages. It bore thinking about. And then there was the treasure.

The ex-king, Majid, Tariq’s half brother, had amassed incredible wealth, not all of which had been found after his death. Speculation ran wild about where all the gold must be. Who would know better than Tariq, who had succeeded Majid as sheik of their tribe?

“Bring him to me,” he said into the phone, before he flipped the lid closed. He didn’t expect the shipment for another three days. They weren’t far away, but there were no roads where they traveled, which slowed things considerably.

Sheik Abdullah. The shah grinned. Plenty of time to send for Abbas, who was an expert at getting men to talk. If Tariq knew anything about the gold, they would get it out of him. If it turned out he didn’t, they could still ransom him to his cousin, the king.

SHE WAS INSANE. She belonged in a zoo along with the camel and the hyena. Preferably in a separate cage.

Sara held on for dear life as the camel she’d somehow managed to mount swayed under her, progressing forward with undulating movements. Why anyone would ever ride one of these beasts escaped her. They were slow, stinky and uncomfortable in the extreme. And this one had spit on her! Had had to show his disapproval before they’d been able to come to terms.

Every inch of her skin was covered to keep the murderous rays of the sun at bay. Luckily, one of the saddlebags had been full of brand-new kaffiyehs, the traditional headdresses men wore. Maybe the animal’s owner had been on his way to market.

She followed the tire tracks in the sand instead of taking the shortest way out of the desert. She couldn’t leave Tariq.

He had saved her life. She wasn’t the type who could turn her back on him now and live with that decision. The bandits had an hour’s head start. She would follow and see where they took him. Once she had a location, she would call Karim again. He was searching the desert for them already, thanks to the satellite phone. She had called the last number dialed, as soon as she had managed to outwit the hyena.

Beharrain wasn’t a huge country. The desert wasn’t as endless as it seemed. Help would come; she had to believe that. And she would do whatever it took to survive until then. She glanced at the water jugs, at the blanket, the saddlebag where she’d stuffed the food Tariq had brought from the vending machines. Good thing that had been buried under sand, or the bandits would have taken everything.

She looked back and sighed. The hyena was following close behind. Probably waiting for her to fall out of the saddle. A distinct possibility.

“Go away!”

She had hoped to leave the beast in the proverbial dust, but the camel was so slow it would have lost in a race with a snail. Race . Didn’t she read something in her guide book about camel races? Come to think of it, she was sure she’d seen camels on the National Geographic channel that moved faster than this one. So it could go faster. But how to make it?

She kicked the animal in the side gently. “Go!”

It ignored her.

She jiggled her body up and down in the saddle. “Go! Go! Go!”

The animal picked up speed. Marginally.

“Faster!” She slapped its side.

And to her surprise, the camel actually broke into a run. Time to hang on. If she thought her perch in the saddle had been precarious when the animal was walking, this was a hundred times worse. She needed all her skill and concentration to stay in place. She didn’t dare turn and check on the hyena.

“Faster!” she yelled each time the camel thought about slowing, and the animal listened, responding to the tone of her voice.

She might have a chance to catch up with the bandits yet, depending on the camel’s stamina. The trucks had been driving slowly when they’d left, probably due to the uneven terrain. The sandstorm had left drifting dunes behind.

An hour of galloping brought them to a rocky area, one that sloped upward, with mountains in the distance. Sara was fine while there was sand mixed in with the rocks, but once the rocks won out, she could no longer see any tracks.

The camel was slowing now, too, since the ground was harder to run on. It was probably tiring. She untied a new bottle—she had drained one already—and took a long drink, then glanced back. The hyena was a dot in the distance. But it still followed.

“Let’s go.” She urged the camel forward, scanning the mountainous region ahead. Then she noted movement on a ridge far ahead, and made out the silhouette of two trucks against the sky.

Maybe she could catch up a little before they completely disappeared. The camel could go through narrow passages that trucks couldn’t. She gripped the reins with one hand, the saddle with the other, dark spots dancing before her eyes all of a sudden. She blinked them away.

The heat was strong enough now to kill. And there was little shade among the rocks, not even higher up the mountain. The sun was almost directly overhead.

She had two choices. To sit out the noon heat, hiding in the shade of the camel, letting that damn hyena catch up with her, and risk forever losing Tariq. Or to keep going, risking sunstroke and becoming hyena lunch, anyway.

“WHERE IS THE GOLD?” The man sitting by Tariq’s prone body asked the question for the hundredth time, hissing the words through his yellow teeth.

Tariq closed his bloodshot eyes. Maybe he’d already died and was in hell. It seemed unlikely that pain such as this would exist anyplace but there. He turned his face from the blistering heat and blinding light of the flames next to them. Better. That spoke against hell. He didn’t think a place like that would afford any relief.

The man kicked him. “Wake up and talk.”

He opened his eyes and glared into his torturer’s face, until the bastard turned toward the fire to pull out a stick that glowed red at the end. He lowered the hot tip to Tariq’s exposed thigh, and there was nothing Tariq could do. He was bound tight, the man’s foot holding his ankle to the ground. His pant leg had been ripped away a long time ago. Red welts lined his skin where he had been repeatedly burned.