Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Read online

  Mel shrugged. “I don’t know… I don’t…” Her head spun and she put a hand to her forehead. The second she closed her eyes, her equilibrium tipped and she felt herself falling. She cried out. Warm hands encircled her arms and caught her. An arm wrapped itself around her waist and drew her close to his body. Her breath caught in her throat. His face was no more than a couple of inches away.

  Up close, his eyes held specks gold, and were less intense than she’d witnessed in Hassan’s tent. His lips, full and round and nearly hidden by his beard, had a jovial curve to them and he almost appeared to be smiling. He smelled of sand and sweat, but it was a pleasant scent compared to the odor she knew emanated from her unwashed-for-days body.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly. His eyes full of concern as his gaze scanned her face. The pads of his fingertips traced her perspiration-stained face, and left a trail of heat around the curve of her right cheek and lingered at the base of her chin.

  She nodded, the ability of speech lost in the hypnotic sensation of his touch. Her waist, where his thick, muscled arm still clenched, had long since gone numb and everything below it dissolved into jelly.

  “Here, sit down.” He carefully moved her to his chair. The back of his hand pressed against her forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Are you still dizzy?”

  From malnutrition or his touch? “Just a little,” she breathed.

  “Hakeem is bringing back water for a bath and some clothes for you to change in to. He shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll order some food for you as well. There’s supposed to be a feast tonight, but that’s not until later.”

  “Order food?”

  The man chuckled. “It’s different, I know. I won’t question how the sheik wants to grieve…unless it’s insidious, of course.”

  He knelt before her and gazed into her eyes. Ignoring the strange sense of trustworthiness she felt from him, she looked away. “Look, thanks for getting me out of there. When do we get back to Dubai?”

  “When?”

  “Yes, when?” She was losing her patience. His nearness made her uneasy and her inability to stand on her own two feet was an added irritant. “Again, I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I don’t know why you’re out here but I would be forever grateful for one more favor. If you can just get me back to the city, I can find my way to the embassy.”

  “Really?”

  His look of doubt cut right through her. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You were just the victim of human trafficking, so to speak.”

  “I know what human trafficking is,” Mel mumbled. “I’m in law enforcement. I know how this works.” How in the world did she let this happen? Ric didn’t respond. Instead, the look of uncertainty he sent her way made her jump to defend herself. “I’m a US Marshal,” she stressed.

  “Yet, here you are.”

  “Look, I was picked off the street in the middle of a bazaar! It was very Hollywood-movie.”

  He rose and assessed her from head to toe. “You must really look like the sheik’s dead wife for Abdul to be so bold, but the question is why?” Mel heard him mutter to himself. His eyes took on an inquisitive look as he continued to stare at her.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. Whatever he mumbled to himself, she didn’t care unless it involved getting her back to the embassy. “This is the worst vacay ever,” she muttered under her breath.

  “You’re on vacation?” He looked at her with disbelief.

  “Yes.” She shuddered and rubbed her arms as if cold but the tent’s canvas blocked one hundred plus degree heat. What was she going to do? Out in the middle of nowhere? Her boss would be furious when she returned and her coworkers would never let her live this down.

  “In Dubai?”

  “Yes!” Mel tore her eyes from his penetrating gaze. She glanced around the tent. “Dubai is a city filled with history, culture, and adventure. Plus, there’s a great tennis tournament that’s happening right about now.” Why was she explaining this to him? Millions of tourists visited each year, some from America.

  “Adventure, tennis… Yeah, right,” he muttered and turned to refill her glass once again. “Well, you’re certainly on an adventure, that’s for sure. Listen, you only have one option, Miss…”

  Mel hesitated to give her name. Sure, she’d already mentioned where she was from and what she did for a living, but this man wasn’t exactly her friend — if not her enemy — and she didn’t know his name.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I can wait as long as you can.”

  “Melody Lewis,” she blurted. He had mentioned a choice and she wanted to know what it was sooner rather than later.

  “Miss Lewis, you can either stay with me and be my concubine––”

  “Wait, concubine?” The idea had the synapses in her brain firing and the sudden impulses threatened to spin out of control. “Is that what the discussion back at that other tent was about? I… I don’t even know you,” Mel stammered. Dizziness suddenly hit her, along with a touch of nausea.

  His penetrating eyes stole the breath from her lungs and turned her insides cold. “It’s either me and my bed, or by morning you’ll be with the sheik — after making a pass or two at a few of the other tents, including Abdul’s.”

  Mel gasped.

  “Don’t think that lackey who picked you up isn’t looking for some payback. He wasn’t too keen on me stealing you right from under his nose and in front of his boss. Right now, I bet he’s trying to convince his master that he made a mistake in letting me be the first to claim you, which means Abdul will try to steal you back. But he won’t succeed.” With a confident grin, the man took a few steps in her direction. The possessive look in his eyes thawed her chilled body and warmed every inch of her being. “Especially if you satisfy me.”

  He’s kidding, right? Mel’s eyes roamed his muscular frame before they settled back on his handsome, bearded face. His eyes sparked with amusement at her undisguised assessment. Mel blushed hot. He was teasing her and now she appeared to him to have briefly considered his offer. Staying here with him had to be better than Abdul. Mel sighed inwardly at her errant thoughts. The weight of the situation hit once more; her head ached. “I need to get to the embassy.”

  “There’s something I have to do first before I can make that happen. Can you wait a few days?”

  Mel’s heart sank at the news. They were probably deep in the desert. Without a map, she was lost. Without transportation, getting to the embassy would be impossible on her own. “God, please help me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into but I know you can get me out.” How did she know? She didn’t really, but whom else could she believe in? She’d made a habit of running from her troubles, but now she had nowhere to go.

  Handsome, bearded man gave her a curious look. “If you’re praying, make sure you say enough for the both of us. I have a feeling this will get worse before it gets any better. We may need divine intervention.” He bent down to pick up a black, tactical backpack near the table off to the side of the open room. “If He actually has any time to spare,” he said ruefully under his breath.

  Mel knew she should ask what he meant by that but she didn’t have the energy. Right now, she was trapped in some sand dune city with a man too gorgeous for words and it was either stay with him or…or… Mel swallowed back bile as her thoughts conjured up the image of the sheik. “Okay. We’ll do it your way,” she choked. Did she give herself enough time to consider those words? “But first, I want to know your name.”

  “Ric.”

  “Ric? Is that short for something?”

  “Ricardo.”

  “Ricardo…” The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t as important to her as the stench in her nose. Was that her?

  The man Ric called Hakeem entered the tent, followed by a group of men who carried large steaming pots. Mel gazed at the pots as they passed by her and disappeared into another part of the tent. Did they heat the wate
r over fire? To grieve, this sheik roughs it in the desert instead of going to some five star hotel he probably owns? Mel’s eyes scanned the top of the tent. No wires. I guess electricity is out. The men emerged from a section of the tent with empty pots. How soon could she get out of her clothes and into the tub?

  Hakeem reappeared a few moments later. “The food is being prepared.”

  “Thanks, Hakeem,” Ric responded.

  Hakeem shot Mel a quick grin. He barked something in Arabic and the men who had entered with him earlier quickly exited the tent and Hakeem followed.

  Ric’s steady stare broke through her anxiety to touch her core. “I’ll leave you to your bath.” He sat down near his pack and continued his search.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ric glanced at her. “Your water is getting cold.”

  “You said you’d leave me…”

  His brows rose in confusion. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Either Hakeem or I will be with you at all times. It’s for your own protection.”

  “My protection?”

  Ric grinned. His eyes assessed her again, drifted over her long legs, and lingered at her hips. “You’re a beautiful woman. No doubt the men in the camp are impatient for me to be finished with you. I don’t want to risk any of them coming in here and…”

  His eyes clouded the longer he stared at her. Mel nodded her understanding. She rose from her seat and he from the floor. She hesitated at his action and nearly fell back into the chair in an effort to step back and create distance.

  “Do you need any help?”

  She shook her head no. She held onto the side of the table and started in the direction of the back room. She didn’t make it far before he was beside her, holding her firm against his side.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Stop struggling.” He grinned at her feeble attempts to push him away. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered into her ear.

  She’d heard that one before. The last time she believed it, more than her heart was damaged and she swore never to make that mistake ever again. Yet, she couldn’t deny that from the moment their eyes met, he wasn’t like other men. He was different somehow. She allowed him to help her into a back room where a tub of steaming water awaited, but her eyes scanned the room for anything sharp she could use as a weapon — just in case.

  “There are clothes for you on that chair in the corner.” Ric pointed to the chair. “Hakeem should return with food soon, but take your time. I’ll see about getting a physician to look at you.”

  “No, no doctors.” She wriggled out of his hold and moved to grip the edge of the porcelain tub. “I’m fine. I just need something more to drink…and I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll bring another glass of water in.” Ric disappeared for a few moments and returned with a full glass. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at his concerned expression. “I think I’ll be all right now.” She watched him leave before she breathed out a heavy sigh. I’ll be all right… I’ll be all right…

  As soon as I get out of here!

  Chapter Two

  “You should consider marrying her.”

  “What did you say?” Ric’s head snapped up from his equipment to see Hakeem standing before him, an amused expression on his face. “Did you say…” He glanced toward the area of the tent where Mel took her bath. “Marry her?” he whispered. “Are you insane?”

  “You want to keep her safe?”

  “And how does my marrying her accomplish that? Really, Hakeem, you’ve been out in the sun too long. At your age? Perhaps you should lie down for a while.”

  Hakeem chuckled.

  Ric narrowed his eyes at his old friend, and wondered at the seriousness of Hakeem’s heatstroke. The man must have lost his mind to suggest such a ridiculous idea. Marriage for him was out of the question: especially to a woman he didn’t know and would only be with for a few days at the most — and hopefully the very least. Ric stood and gripped Hakeem’s arms. “Look, dear friend, I need you on this. You’re the only one I can trust. Now, if you need some sleep…”

  Hakeem harrumphed and shrugged Ric’s hands away. “I need no sleep. What about the sheik?”

  The sheik.

  Sheik Hassan was an unanticipated concern. Ric dropped to his knees. “Can you believe he just tossed Mel to the men like that?” He reached for a flashlight and stuffed it into a pocket on the side of his cargo pants.

  Hakeem frowned. “Hmm. Yes, it’s troubling.” He collapsed into a nearby chair, apparently more exhausted than he led Ric to believe.

  Ric sat back on his heels and stared into space as he pondered the scene earlier in Hassan’s tent. “He’s never struck me as the type who would keep concubines.”

  Hakeem slowly stroked his long beard. “Perhaps there are shades of him you’ve not yet discovered.”

  The thought of “shades” was troubling. Sheik Hassan was a high-value source in Ric’s operations. Source handling was a delicate art; trusting a source too much could result in the handler becoming lackadaisical, making him vulnerable to a set up. Then again, not trusting a source meant having to sometimes triple-verify information, which would impede operations. He couldn’t afford not to trust Hassan if he wanted to uncover the identity of the person who shipped weapons and supplies and facilitated the movements of suicide bombers into the UAE to attack the US Embassy.

  But where Mel’s body — and possibly life — was concerned, he couldn’t trust Hassan…

  “He was so in love with his wife,” Ric continued. “I thought he was so in love with Fatima.”

  “He was. Ms. Lewis isn’t Fatima.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Ric mused. Now it began to make sense. One way to get over losing someone is to get underneath another. But the entire camp? “I’ve never witnessed this type of cruelty from him.”

  “He’s a sheik. They’re often very shrewd.”

  “When it comes to business,” Ric argued. “But this is a woman’s life.”

  “How well do you know Hassan? You know his business holdings, but what of his personal beliefs? How he views women?”

  Ric knew enough to successfully pressure Hassan if he needed information. And the man had been married to one woman for nearly twenty-five years.

  “He’s not the romantic you believe him to be. Yes, he is grieving for his wife, but he cares nothing for a kidnapped woman — an American woman — brought into his camp and will allow her to be…” Hakeem looked toward the wash area that was sectioned off by the heavy fabric of the tent.

  Ric, too, glanced in the direction where Melody bathed. He strained his ears to listen for sounds of rustling bathwater or her moving around, but he heard absolutely nothing. She’s probably fallen asleep in the tub.

  “Since you’ve had me working for Hassan, I’ve witnessed him disregard even the life of a child who was found to be disobedient to his father. The boy was severely whipped and not allowed food for three days.”

  Ric shut his eyes to Hakeem’s accusations. He believed his old friend’s story, but where would Hassan have done this? In his many palaces, no doubt.

  “If you hadn’t requested to have her first—”

  “I know, Hakeem,” Ric said, his tone grave. He might have heard her faint screams from someone else’s tent instead of silence from his own. Ric stood and moved to the dividing drape. “Melody? Are you all right?”

  More silence.

  Ric put his hands on his hips and blew out a quick breath. “Melody? Look, I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m coming in if you don’t say something.” The seconds ticked by painfully slow. The sounds of Hakeem’s breathing and the thumping of Ric’s heart blared loudly in his ears. “I’m coming in.” Ric threw aside the curtain and stepped inside. Only the faint steam from an empty tub greeted him. His eyes quickly scanned the rest of the small room before he rushed to the private entrance to his bedroom.


  Hakeem followed Ric. “Why would she be in your room?”

  Ric faced Hakeem. His heart sunk to his feet. “She’s gone.”

  ****

  Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Of course I do. I’m a Deputy United States Marshal. I’m quick on my feet; a survivor. Mel stopped to rest behind another large tent. She stooped in the sand, pulled out the large water bottle she’d found in the washroom and took a long swig. All I need to do is find some kind of vehicle and a map to get me to an embassy. She wiped the lingering traces of liquid from her lips and chin.

  And just how was she supposed to do that in the dark?

  The camp was pitch black, and clouds covered both the moon and stars. Kept blindfolded for what seemed to be days, she had no concept of the time of day, and hadn’t anticipated the sun to set so soon after she’d been taken to Ricardo’s tent. Lit torches lined the center aisle of the camp and were posted at the entrances of the tents. On the outer rim, where she remained hidden behind a massive tent, were the shadows of the night.

  I should’ve at least waited until I had something to eat. When was the last time she’d consumed any food? Days at least. Her head spun, and even though she’d been outside for a few minutes, her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. She closed them in an effort to ease the rocking of her brain. When the spinning slowed, she slowly opened her eyes and attempted to stand. More than just her head swirled. She’d grossly underestimated her strength and when she felt herself falling, she screamed.

  But she didn’t hear the sound of her voice. A hand muffled her cry. A strong arm encircled her waist and kept her from hitting the tent and the sand. Her struggles against whoever held her slacked as her strength failed her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” A voiced hissed in her ear. “Where were you planning on going?”

  The embassy. Oh Lord, I need to get to the embassy! She whimpered her response from behind his hand that was still clamped over her mouth. A flickering golden glow passed her sight. She was being dragged away from her hiding place. Where is he taking me? Mel tried to concentrate through the fog of her water and nutrient-starved brain to recall the sound of the man’s voice. Was it Ricardo? It couldn’t be Abdul; she’d recognize his raspy voice in her sleep. Whoever he was, he kept them hidden in the outlier shadows of the tent city. He doesn’t want us to be seen.