The Sheik's Lost Princess Page 15

  William. He was all she could think about now.

  She and Shakir eased into the maze of hallways once again. Following in his steps for only a few seconds, she stopped as he listened at one door. He tried the knob but it was locked.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Shakir used his knife point and picked the lock. The man was simply amazing. She was still shaking her head at his versatility when she entered the room—and saw William. Her baby.

  She ran to him and shook him awake.

  “Maman? Is it really you?”

  Taking him in her arms and hugging him to her breast, she had to fight off the tears. “Yes, William, it’s Mummy. I’m here to take you home, but you must be very quiet. Can you?”

  “Is it a game?” He leaned away from her and opened his eyes wider. “I don’t like it here.”

  Shakir stood behind her, working to free William from his chain. “This isn’t a game,” he whispered to the boy. “But you must do everything your mother says. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Papa. I will. I’m a good boy.”

  Nikki knew her son would probably call any man “Papa” if he felt comfortable in his presence. But she’d noticed Shakir stumble at William’s use of the term. However, the glorious man never stopped working for one second. Soon all the boys were freed and then Shakir checked the hall again.

  “Everything looks quiet.” Shakir took a breath. “But…”

  “I know what I must do, Shakir.” She gathered all three of the boys to her. “I’m leaving first, children. You must follow Shakir. Walk out on your own, going the way he shows you but without saying a word. He will make sure you can all go home. Back to your mothers. Okay?”

  Two of the boys nodded solemnly though one of them began weeping softly. William wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head and grabbed for her neck. “No, Maman. I want to go with you.”

  She closed her eyes, praying for the strength to do what she must.

  Prying her baby’s thin little arms off her neck, she spoke softly. “You have to go with Papa. Do what he says. Maman will come for you as soon as she can. Be a good boy now and remember to be very quiet.”

  Shakir gently took William’s hand. “He will be a good boy for you. He promised.”

  The loving look on Shakir’s face nearly broke her in two. But she bit her lip and stepped away, going straight for the hallway door without looking back. Time was not on their side and she had made a promise, too.

  “Brother. This child…” Tarik pointed to William. “He looks like… Is it possible?”

  Still astonished at the resemblance between Nikki’s son and his own childhood pictures, Shakir could barely answer. “I… Yes, it is a possibility. Take him. Hurry.”

  “But you’re supposed to come with us. Now, Shakir. We don’t have…”

  Tarik’s words were cut short as the floor under their feet shook. The first underground explosion! No. It was too soon.

  “Take these three to safety with the others. I’m going back for Nikki. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Shakir had no doubt that Tarik would save the boys—his son. His son. The idea was almost too much to accept.

  But he should’ve known Nikki would never lie to him. Their past experience should have told him as much. Of the two of them, he was the one who stretched the truth or left out enough of the truth to qualify as a lie. Not her. Never her.

  A little queasy, Shakir bent down and embraced his son. “This is your uncle Tarik, William. Go with him. Remember what your mother said.”

  “Yes, Papa. But I want my maman. Will you get her for me?”

  With blurry eyes, Shakir bit down on his lip before speaking. “I’ll bring her to you, son. I promise.”

  “Shakir.” Tarik put a hand on his arm and whispered in his ear. “You’re out of time. Nikki will have to find her own way out. The elder Umar is on his way down in the public elevator. We have to leave before we’re discovered.”

  He shook off his brother’s hand. “I’m not going without her. Take these last three children and go now.”

  Tarik grabbed William’s hand and started for the back stairs but Shakir stopped him momentarily. “If we don’t make it, raise my son to be like you. Swear it.”

  “I will take care of him for you, brother. I promise.”

  For one more second, Shakir stood and watched as William went up the stairs with Tarik. His child. His son.

  Choked with emotion, Shakir turned and walked back into the unfinished room, heading for the open air duct. He thought it was a very good thing that he didn’t have time to wonder what being a father would be like. It was beyond his imagination so he managed to clear the dream from his mind, concentrating instead on developing a plan to reach Nikki and bring them both to safety.

  He refused to let her die at the hands of the Taj Zabbar. Not a chance in hell. He had too much to tell her. To explain.

  As he lifted himself into the open air duct and swung up to the next level, Shakir’s mind was racing. Where was she? What had…?

  The sound of a distant shouting put him on alert as he crawled toward the offices where he’d spotted the soldiers congregating earlier. He couldn’t move fast enough. He felt as if he were crawling through water.

  And then it happened. The thing he had most hoped to avoid. The one thing that could change everything.

  A shot rang out. And his heart stopped.

  Chapter 14

  With her hands raised high above her head, Nikki slowly turned around in the hallway to face the shooter. She’d almost made it as far as the stairwell. Just a few more steps and she would’ve been gone. She knew the shot had only been a warning, the bullet whizzing over her head. But she was obviously finished with being a decoy.

  She’d spent at least fifteen minutes racing through the maze of hallways, teasing the guards by showing a glimpse of herself and then disappearing. Nikki prayed Shakir had managed to save William and the other boys in the time she’d given them. She hadn’t really expected to save herself.

  But she had expected that one of the soldiers would’ve used his rifle to try stopping her long before now. As she turned to face the shooter, she realized what was different about him. The soldier holding the rifle trained to the middle of her chest was some kind of officer. She could tell by his uniform and medals.

  He yelled at her in the Taj language. But when she kept staring at him, he tried speaking in French.

  “Do not move.” The officer came closer, peering at her down the barrel of his rifle. “Who or what are you?”

  “I am…” Before she could answer, the whole building shook and the lights flickered.

  The officer glanced up toward the fluorescents and then narrowed his eyes as he looked back to her. She closed her own eyes, quite sure her end was on the way. While waiting for the bullet she was sure would kill her, thoughts of Shakir and her son flashed in her mind.

  Would they miss her? Would Shakir tell their son what she had done to save his life? Would Shakir eventually find another lover to be his wife and care for their child?

  Moments passed and nothing happened. Then the sound of elevator doors sliding back caused her to blink open her eyes and take a breath. She couldn’t see the public elevators from where she stood. But the officer with the rifle turned, saluting to someone out of her line of sight. Should she try running again?

  Before she could make the decision, heavy footsteps pounded down the hall, coming in her direction.

  More words in Taj were spoken. Questions asked and answered. The officer turned and gestured to her.

  A middle-aged man walked into her view and stood beside the officer. The new man was well dressed with a salt-and-pepper beard and sideburns. He looked vaguely familiar.

  Nikki was trying to place him when he turned and spoke. “Ah, there you are,” the man said in English. “Somewhat the worse for wear, I see. I have some questions for you, my dear.”

  Trying to swallow, Nikki’s pulse raced and h
er mouth went dry. She suddenly knew that this must be Umar, the man who had kidnapped her and her son and then put them both into prisons.

  Hatred sprang up in her heart. Cold and gray and dangerous.

  But she fought the life-threatening emotion, knowing that hatred would make her sloppy. She needed to remain calm and think clearly. Thinking was the only possible way she would ever make it out of here alive. And she desperately wanted to live long enough to see Shakir and William, to tell them that she loved them once more.

  Umar spoke arrogantly. “Where are the children?”

  Nikki shrugged a shoulder and raised her eyebrows. The elder wouldn’t like not getting an answer to his question, she knew. But she wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next.

  He pulled a handgun from his jacket pocket. Again she held her breath and waited for her fate.

  But Umar spun around and calmly pulled the trigger, hitting his officer squarely in the forehead. The man crumpled to the ground. Dead in that instant.

  What on earth? Had the officer so disappointed the elder that he deserved to die? Was she next? Her shoulders came up and she fisted her hands, ready to run.

  Umar turned back to her. “You feel sorry for Captain Baghel? Don’t. Before the end of today you may wish for such an easy a death. Take heed.”

  Umar made a threatening move in her direction. “Now, back to where you were ready to give me answers. I was not pleased about losing you and the other females from my harem. And I was extremely unhappy that one of my wives was taken out the country against her will. But the children—that is another matter altogether. I will have those children returned. Or else.”

  “Why should I know where they are?” She wanted to smile at him. To make him believe she was telling the truth and wasn’t worried. But her lips trembled so badly that she couldn’t make them do as she commanded.

  “You think I am stupid?” Instead of roaring his anger, Umar’s voice was low and cool like a rasp of the snake.

  “You think I can be fooled into imagining this is some sort of coincidence? I should kill you right now for being disrespectful.”

  She shook her head hard enough to give herself a headache. “Not at all. I know you are a smart man. But children can be so difficult. Perhaps we can make a deal.”

  Umar’s eyes turned black and narrowed into slits. “What kind of deal?”

  She opened her mouth to offer her own freedom and the possibility of the return of his wife in exchange for the children’s freedom. But before she could get the words out, the building rolled under her feet again and the sound of underground rumbling made it clear what was happening. Little pieces of plaster and a fine dust sprayed down on both of their heads.

  Umar ducked then looked up, assuring himself that the ceiling was not coming down upon his head. But at that very moment the air vent behind him exploded. When the plaster dust cleared an instant later, Shakir appeared at the hole where the vent had been and jumped down into the hallway.

  Shakir? Oh, no. He’d promised to stay away and rescue the children. The only reason she wasn’t already hysterical was because she had believed he was long gone and safe. She was stunned and immobilized by the sight of him.

  But Umar wasn’t immobile. He moved fast. Reaching out, he grabbed her around the neck and pulled her close to his chest. Backing them both down the hallway away from Shakir, he jammed the barrel of his gun into her temple.

  “One of the Kadir sons?” Umar growled his disapproval. “I should have known your family would be behind this. And I should have smelled the stench long before you appeared. It will be a pleasure to kill you where you stand, dog.”

  Shakir’s lips narrowed into a grimace. “Don’t be hasty, you may need me, Your Excellency.”

  Those last words were spit out with obvious sarcasm. But considering the tight way Umar was holding her, Nikki didn’t dare open her mouth to make a remark. Had it been otherwise, she would’ve told Shakir to be quiet. He was asking to die, and she didn’t want him dead before she could get her own hands on him for lying about leaving her.

  “Let her go.” Shakir took a threatening step in their direction.

  In a blink, Umar turned the gun toward Shakir and fired.

  Ohmygod! He shot him!

  Shakir felt the sting of a bullet entering and leaving his upper right arm. He stopped moving forward as blood oozed through his shirtsleeve. Putting the fingers of his left hand to the wound, he assured himself of what he’d known to be true. It was merely a flesh wound. The bullet had gone right through. The wound would bleed, but not badly.

  He decided not to let Umar know that the bullet wound was only superficial. Making a big show of wincing in pain, Shakir cradled his perfectly fine arm to his chest.

  “Don’t be impatient, Umar,” he said through gritted teeth. “Can’t we talk? I heard you say you might be willing to deal. Deal with me.”

  “Deal? With what? You have nothing I want.”

  “I have the children.”

  Umar’s face went hard. The anger shimmered off him like a cool summer shower against heated rocks. Shakir was glad the man was pointing his gun at him and not at Nikki.

  “Where are they?” Umar’s voice shook. “I have been promised a large fortune if I deliver those boys to eastern Europe by tomorrow. A deal is still possible. You Kadirs are supposed to be such wonderful traders. How much do you want to take the children to the buyer?”

  “I want the woman.” Shakir tilted his head toward Nikki.

  “This piece of skin and bones?” Umar jerked her tighter against him and put the gun back to her temple.

  Shakir drew in a breath, fighting the testosterone raging in his bloodstream along with a reckless urge to kill the elder. The man with his hands on Nikki. Hurting her.

  Shakir’s vision blurred into a red haze. His palms itched to squeeze the life out of the asshole Umar.

  But Shakir knew he couldn’t jump the elder and kill him without the possibility of Nikki dying, too. Trying to still the savage beast within him scratching to get out, Shakir kept his mouth shut and his body quiet.

  “Oh, is that how it is then? This entire debacle was my mistake for taking the wrong woman? But how was I to know she belonged to a Kadir when she showed up in Zabbarán looking for work? But then again,” Umar added with a wry grin, “knowing about her might not have mattered very much in the total scheme of things. She was a very beautiful woman, after all. However, in retrospect, I certainly would have added extra security.”

  Umar actually let out a giggle. The blighter. His crazed laughter sounded much like that of the jackal. The noise made Shakir’s skin crawl and the temptation to jump the elder grew nearly impossible to ignore.

  Shakir sidestepped like a prizefighter and inched backward, worried that Umar would simply kill Nikki outright just to spite him. But then Shakir made a huge mistake. He held out his hands, palms up, trying to keep the elder calm. It was a sure sign of weakness and Umar spotted it immediately.

  This time when the elder’s weapon exploded, Shakir took the bullet in his right thigh. The pain was white-hot and searing. When he looked down, all he could see was blood.

  The bastard had shot Shakir again! Nikki screamed and screamed. She couldn’t stop. Watching the man she loved in horrible pain and slowly dying was much worse than dying herself.

  “Shut up, whore! You’ve caused me enough trouble.” Umar struck her in the temple with the butt of his gun.

  She stumbled to her knees, seeing blinding white spots in front of her eyes. Once again she expected the end of her life to come next. Instead, the tile beneath her suddenly rolled with another one of Tarik’s explosions. This time, the whole building rumbled and large chunks of ceiling plaster dropped on top of all of them. She put her hands over her head to protect herself.

  When the haze cleared a bit, she saw Umar dropping to one knee and lifting his gun. Looking up, she realized Shakir was limping steadily toward them through the chaos. Why was Shakir stil
l coming at him? The man she loved had a big, bleeding hole in his thigh. Why didn’t he go the other direction?

  Nikki fumbled at her waist for the gun Shakir had given her. By the time she had it out and ready to fire at Umar, though, she could see Umar’s finger already on his trigger and he was pointing the gun toward Shakir.

  She watched in horror as the elder pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun misfired. Umar looked down at the weapon in his hand and swore. But it was too late.

  Shakir was upon him.

  Roaring with anger, Shakir picked Umar up and lifted him over his head. It was a stunning feat of pure power and Nikki was amazed that any human could have such strength after having been shot twice. Umar looked like a rag doll, limp limbs and arms askew. Then Shakir slammed the elder up against the wall with such force, the building shook again.

  Nikki winced as she heard Umar’s bones cracking.

  Shakir groaned and dropped the elder to the tile floor. The limp man skidded a distance down the hall. After his body stopped sliding, Umar made a small noise, then fell silent. Shakir took a step toward the heap of vile humanity on the floor as though he would like to make sure the job was finished. But then, thankfully, Shakir stopped, turned again and rushed to kneel beside her.

  “Are you hurt badly?”

  “No.” Her voice was as shaky as she felt. “But you are. The blood is pouring out of that wound on your leg.” She could barely look at it. The sight of all that blood made her stomach roil.

  She could hear the distant explosions coming one after another now, but her thoughts centered on how to stop the bleeding before Shakir lost too much blood. She tried ripping the slashed bottom of her dress. But before she made any headway, Shakir pulled the Bedouin scarf from out of his pack and handed it to her.