LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER ONE

      SHEIKH ZAFAR NEJEM scanned the encampment, the sun burning what little of his skin was revealed. He was as covered as he could possibly be, both to avoid the harsh elements of the desert, and to avoid being recognized.

      Though, for most, the odds of that would be low out here, hundreds of miles from any city. But this was his home. Where he’d been raised. The place where he’d made his name as the most fearsome man in Al Sabah.

      And considering his competition for the position, there was weight to the title.

      Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here. Cooking fires were smoldering, and he could hear voices in the tents. He stopped for a moment. This was no family encampment, but that of a band of highway men. Thieves. Outlaws, not unlike himself. He knew these men, and they knew him. He had a tentative truce with them, but that didn’t mean he was ready to show himself.

      It didn’t mean he trusted them. He trusted no one.

      Especially not now.

      Not now that there was certain to be unrest. Anger, backlash over his installation in the palace. On the throne.

      Back to his rightful position.

      The Gypsy Sheikh’s return had not been met with delight, at least not in the more “civilized” corners of the country. His uncle had done far too efficient a job in destroying his reputation for anyone to be pleased at his coronation.

      If only he could dispel the rumors surrounding his exile. But he could not.

      Because they were true.

      But here, among the people who felt like his own—among the people who had suffered most at his uncle’s hand—there was happiness here at least. They knew that whatever his sins, he had been working to atone.

      Zafar looked out toward the horizon, all flat and barren from this point to Bihar. There was one more place to stop and seek shelter, but it was another five hours’ ride, and he didn’t relish the idea of more time spent in the saddle today.

      He dismounted his horse and patted the animal, dust rising from his black coat. “I think we’ll take our chances here,” he said, leading him to a makeshift corral, where other horses were hemmed in, and opened the gate.

      He closed it, making sure it was secure before walking back toward the main tent.

      One of the men was already coming out to greet him.

      “Sheikh,” he said, inclining his head. “A surprise.”

      “Is it? You had to know I was heading back to Bihar.” A growing suspicion. The desert was vast and it seemed strange to intersect with Jamal’s band of thugs at this particular moment.

      “I may have heard something about it. But there is more than one road to the capital city.”

      “So you had no desire for a meeting with me?”

      The other man smiled, dark eyes glinting in the golden light. “I didn’t say that. We were hoping to run into you. Or, at least, someone of your means.”

      “My means are still limited. I haven’t yet been back to Bihar.”

      “And yet, you do find ways to acquire what you need.”

      Zafar looked the man over. “As do you. Will you invite me in?”

      “Not yet.”

      Zafar knew something wasn’t right. His truce with Jamal and his men was tentative. It was probably why they wanted to see him. He was in a position to put a stop to what they did out here in the desert, and he knew the places they

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