LITMIR.BIZ

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      “But he’ll be fine?” Anna asked.

      “Yes. He’s fine.” Sandra stroked Rashid’s forehead.

      “But you aren’t.” Elizabeth’s gaze took in Anna’s mud-caked clothes, her bare feet. “You’ve been injured.”

      With a frown, Anna followed Elizabeth’s gaze to the floor. For the first time, she noticed the blood-smeared footprints behind her.

      “You are bleeding?” Quamar noticed the red marks on the floor. “Where are your shoes?”

      “Slippers. I lost them running in the tunnel. Going back for them would’ve slowed us down.”

      Quamar swore. He opened the door, gave Anna a hard stare, then disappeared into the hallway.

      “What was that about?”

      Anna sighed. “That’s his ‘Don’t you dare move while I’m gone’ look.”

      “Really?” Elizabeth mused. “I’ve known Quamar since he was a child, and I’ve never seen more than a ‘I’m not going to let my feelings show’ look.”

      Anna would have laughed, but she couldn’t figure out if Elizabeth was being serious or not.

      Before she could ask, Quamar stepped back in and shut the door. “The rug is red, which covered your marks. But the stairs are a different matter. One that worked in our favor. I cleaned them down to the fifth floor.”

      He glanced at Sandra. “Who placed the guard outside your door?”

      “Hassan,” Elizabeth replied with derision. “At least that’s what the guard said. Under the ruse of protecting us, of course. He is keeping us safe in order to force Omar to help his soldiers.”

      “The guard is dead. We have very little time before he is discovered. I had no choice, he saw me. But I took him down to the fifth floor also.”

      Sandra nodded toward Anna’s feet. “We’ll clean up our floors, too.”

      “All the communication lines are down.” Quamar walked to the bay window, eased the curtain barely an inch and studied the street. “I am taking you to my father’s camp.” He turned back to the women. “But first I need your satellite phone, Sandra.”

      “I don’t have it,” Sandra replied. “It’s at my office. I only use it for my field research.”

      “Then we go to your office,” Quamar stated. “Right now, I need you both to get ready.”

      “No,” Sandra said. “I have a better chance of retrieving the phone if I stay. If people are injured or dead, they are going to need me and I am going to need my office. Just tell me who to call.”

      “You are not staying.”

      “Yes, Quamar, we are. If they come to our door, I will tell them the guard never reported to us. The worst they will do is assign another man,” Elizabeth argued. “I’m not leaving my husband.”

      “Quamar,” Sandra said. “Hassan won’t harm us. He needs us too much.”

      Quamar looked at her for a moment. “All right, I will give you the number to an associate. And a message. Memorize both.”

      Sandra brought him a pen and paper. Quickly, he wrote the information. “Roman D’Amato. Talk to no one else,” Quamar added.

      Anna didn’t recognize the name. “Will your man be able to contact my father?”

      “Yes.”

      “Tell him to say ‘no worries’ when he reaches my father.”

      Quamar’s eyebrow arched. “A code?”

      “A confirmation.”

      “When were you going to tell me about this?”

      “It’s not like I didn’t mention it on purpose, Quamar,” Anna retorted. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

      Anna turned to Sandra. “When I refused having a Secret Service detail, my father devised this alternative,” she explained. “It will confirm you are a friend.”

      Sandra nodded. “That’s easy enough.”

      “Tell us, Quamar, how many have died?” Elizabeth asked.

      “Many Taerians. Not near enough of the Al Asheera,” Quamar commented with a chilling finality.

      “Your responsibility is to the prince and now, Miss Cambridge. Not revenge, Quamar,” Elizabeth advised.

      Quamar’s features hardened. “First one, then the other.”

      Chapter Five

      “Yes. It is always that way, isn’t it?” Elizabeth commented.

      Quamar’s features hadn’t changed, but the set of his jaw moved, tightened ever so slightly.

      Watching, Anna understood. Quamar Bazan was enraged. He just did a damn good job hiding it.

      He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want the responsibility of her or the prince. What he wanted was to destroy the Al Asheera. To avenge the dead. His family.

      But wasn’t Rashid his family, too?

      “Sandra, you take care of Quamar while I tend to Miss Cambridge.”

      “Please call me Anna.” But as she made the request, Anna’s eyes flickered over Quamar. Fate had tossed them together, taking the decision of survival away from both of them. Prince Rashid came first.

      “She stays with me, Elizabeth. They both do.” Quamar crossed his arms over his chest.

      “I have been a doctor’s wife for thirty-five years and have learned something during that time. She won’t come to any harm. We’ll just be down the hall, Quamar,” Elizabeth said, the hard line of her statement leaving no chance for argument. “I will keep the door open.”

      Elizabeth led her down the hallway to the last bedroom. “I have met your mother, Anna. You are very much like her.” Elizabeth’s lips tilted ever so slightly, but her voice softened. “Smart, diplomatic. But be careful, don’t underestimate Quamar. Now—” she walked to the adjoining bathroom “—let me help you and the prince get cleaned up. We do not have much time. And we’ve wasted too much already with talk.”

      “The airports will be controlled, so will all the main roads,” Quamar stated grimly from behind. Anna jumped. The man moved like a jungle cat.

      “See what I mean?” Elizabeth murmured to Anna. “He does like his way.”

      “We’ll be crossing the Sahara, Elizabeth. To my father’s camp.”

      “And the baby?”

      “He is Taer. He will be fine,” Elizabeth said. “Quamar will make sure.”

      Sandra entered the room with her medical bag. She caught Anna’s eye and smiled. “Looks like we’ve moved to the bedroom also.”

      Anna took one look at Quamar and shook her head. “You’re worse than the Secret Service.”

      Quamar merely lifted an eyebrow over the insult.

      “Let me have a look at you, Quamar.”

      Without argument, Quamar sat on the corner of the bed.

      “How bad is the headache?” Sandra asked, before flashing the light at his right eye.

      “Bearable.”

      “Do you have your pills?”

      “Yes. But it does not matter.”

      “No. I guess it doesn’t,” Sandra responded somberly.

      Sandra’s light slid from one eye to the next.

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