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A sudden silence echoed, stillness clouded by faint groans, puffs of latent gun smoke, and the screaming, high-pitched squeal of the racecars that continued to skyrocket around the track.
We’d killed every last one of the sukas.
Through the entire gunfight, the Sheikh had done nothing but whimper and wince and wheeze.
Useless piece of pompous shit.
Hurrying to Roya, I only exhaled when I saw that she was in one piece.
“Thank Christ,” I uttered in a gruff tone.
“Aris?” Wild eyed, she reached up to me with hands that trembled.
“Are you hurt?” Concern rattled through my bones.
Lifting her up and over the table, I set her cautiously on her feet. I kept hold of her, doing a quick visual inspection. Though her legs were wobbly and her teeth chattering, there wasn’t a single scratch on her.
She looked around the busted-up, bloodied scene and blanched.
I drew her focus back to me. “Keep your eyes on me, Roya. Okay?”
By then, I could hear incoming shouts from the racetrack’s security. Fucking took them long enough.
But their interference wasn’t needed now, and I had no idea whose payroll they were really on.
“Call off the rent-a-cops,” I muttered to the Sheikh who’d only just come out of his cowering crouch.
“What?” Blood from one of his own splattered his shirt, and he appeared to be in a daze.
“Call off the security,” I demanded. “I assume you have people to clean this shit up and clear it away no questions asked.”
“I don’t . . . What?”
Then one of his guard forces took over the matter, the one with the KA-BAR tucked into one of his boots. He headed off down the corridor, speaking into what had to be a dedicated coms system connected through an earpiece.
Good man.
I might just try to poach him.
But then I turned bleak eyes on the Sheikh.
“You know, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” A frosty smile forged across my lips. “Actually, I never thought you were smart, just greedy. Too many wives. Too many offspring. Too much money and idle time on your dirty hands.”
At that, his thin chest got all puffed up. “You do not talk to me in such a manner.”
I ignored his ridiculous demand, asking, “What does your brother want with her?”
“My brother? You mean Abdullah?” Disbelief contorted his features. “Those men had to be part of your mongrel outfit.”
“The way I see it, me and my mongrel outfit just stopped an attempt on your life and your daughter’s and rescued your guards.” Then I glanced at one of the dead. “Most of them anyway.”
He sputtered out nonsense. It was clear no one had ever had the guts to tell the plain truth to the jackass before.
“This is the second fucking time your brother sent a squad for Roya, you useless idiot.” My lips curled off my teeth in a snarl.
“Roya?” For the first time since the gunfight started, the Sheikh looked at his daughter. “What do you know of this preposterous idea?”
She stood straight and did not lower her face under his regard. “It looks like the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Nasir sputtered.
“Abdullah has some weird plan to marry me off to Rafiq with or without your consent,” she added.
And my stomach clenched hard.
Nasir the Sheikh frowned then shook his head. “Your cousin? I’d allow no such thing.”
I got between the pair—father and daughter—and gnashed my teeth together. “It looks like your fucking brother doesn’t really give a shit what you think or what you’ll do. Clearly you can’t protect her . . . or don’t even care to.”
“Aris, don’t,” Roya hushed out, her voice thin, her body shaking and barely brushing against me.
“You know what? I’ve decided today is not a good day to deal, after all.” Walking backward to the entrance, I ushered Roya behind me.
My soldiers dropped in around us, creating a black wall between her and her father.
“You cannot just take her!” he bleated, his wan face turning purple.
“It looks like I can until I can be certain you’ll take the security risk your brother presents as a real threat against the princess.”
“Roya! I order you to stop this madness,” he shouted.
“Given a choice between you or Aris, I choose Aris.” Her steely voice shot out more forcefully than any of the bullets, and I swallowed down a gut-twisting reaction to her words.
When she stumbled, I turned and lifted her into my arms. Then I took long strides to the exit, exchanging a nod with Happy Knives when I came across him talking to some Dubai Autodrome official.
After scoping out the expanse of the parking lot and deeming it safe, I got Roya settled in my car. I joined her, hit the ignition, and sped the hell out of there.
Once we hit the motorway, I peered at her.
She sat stiff and straight, her hands clasped so tightly I could tell she was trying to stop her fingers from shaking.
Lifting a hand, I gently folded my large palm around those cold fingers. “Are you all right?”
