Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Page 3

  Ricardo had mentioned saving her from the men in the camp. She hadn’t asked what was going to happen to her. What would a group of men want to do with a woman? Maybe this is one of the men. Ricardo had claimed her for a few days — at least as many as was needed to complete whatever mission he was on. This guy is cashing in too early. Would Ricardo be able to claim her again? Why would he want to? I snuck out; he’s probably done with me.

  Although Ricardo hadn’t touched her, Mel wasn’t certain she could trust him. Men always had a way of breaking their vows, crushing her dreams, and taking from her what wasn’t theirs. The only man she’d had grown to trust was her former partner, Alejandro Santiago, and he was half a planet away.

  You can do this, Melody. Just fight! Just fight!

  A soft light blinded her eyes. The man ushered her underneath a tent flap and into the arms of…Hakeem!

  “Here, take her,” the man said.

  Over her shoulder, she could see the glittering eyes of Ricardo. He secured the tent and returned his hard gaze to her. “What do you think you were doing?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Where were you planning on going?”

  “The embassy,” she croaked. “Water, please.”

  Hakeem moved her to a chair and retrieved a familiar glass filled with water on a small table. She was back in the washroom. The soft, white towel on the table with the glass hadn’t been moved, and the bathwater was lightly steaming now. I couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes. Although time seemed to have stretched since she’d left the tent.

  “Are you trying to get yourself caught?” Ricardo continued with his interrogation.

  Mel accepted the water from Hakeem and eagerly drank. Where was the bottle she had with her? I must have put it down in the sand. Mel closed her heavy lids briefly before she forced them up again. I’m losing my mind. Not only had she had barely eaten anything and was rarely given water by her captor, she had refused to sleep. Her fear of attack forced her to mitigate as many of her vulnerabilities she could possibly have control over as a captive.

  “Do you know what would’ve happened had I not found you?”

  The back of her eyes stung, but she kept them open. The air dried away the sign of impending tears. Ricardo had moved to stand in front of her, hands on hips. His glare had Mel shifting in her seat.

  “Do you think you’re safe out there?”

  “Maybe safer than in here.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Mel smarted as she turned away from his infuriated gaze. She wouldn’t second-guess herself, not now. Not when she was hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away from any source of aid. Out here, she was subject to the men who had kidnapped her, and the man with familiar eyes who held her — compelled her to place her trust in him when he could be just as nefarious as the others. What was this “mission”? Who did he really work for? Did the US government sanction his work or was he with a rogue group? Too many questions and not enough answers. And I’m so tired!

  “In case you missed the memo, I’m the only one in a thousand miles who can keep you safe, but you have to trust me.”

  You have a choice, honey; you always have a choice. You can either trust God or trust man — and you know what man can do and what he can’t. Her grandmother’s words of wisdom were always timely and full of truth. Regardless of how well Ricardo was treating her, her trust was better placed in herself than a man she barely knew.

  Hakeem cleared his throat. “I will get more hot water and see about the food.”

  Ricardo waited until Hakeem had disappeared before he spoke again. “Melody,” Ric squatted before her, his eyes entreating as he gazed up at her, “you’re weak from lack of food and water. You need to rest. Take a bath, and by the time you’re finished, Hakeem will be back with food.”

  Mel stared at the metal tub. The inviting water called out to her dirt-filled pores and crusty crevices. A fresh set of clothing wasn’t a bad idea, either, as the jeans and tank top she had on needed burning immediately.

  “If you leave the tent… If someone catches you, I can’t protect you.”

  Her eyes met his. If he was a spy, then he was a well-trained liar and all her truth-detecting skills were useless. He sounded sincere and there was no mistaking the genuine concern in his eyes.

  Ricardo stood and leaned against a nearby table and crossed his arms. When she raised a brow at his silence, he swept an arm toward the tub. “Be my guest.”

  “Not with you in the room.”

  He snorted. “If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight after what you just pulled, you’re more delirious than I thought. I’ll turn my back, but until you’re willing to trust me and stay in the tent, I don’t have a choice.” Through his thick beard she saw his smirk. He crisscrossed his arms over his chest again. He shifted his rear on the edge of the table as if to get comfortable. “Do you want to continue stinking up the joint, or do you want to bathe?”

  Mel refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush, so she stood and with her back to him, moved toward the tub. “I promise I’ll stay.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he replied sarcastically.

  Well, I can’t blame him for that. She fingered the water, which was now unfortunately lukewarm. Hakeem did say he was going for more…

  “But, I’m willing to take a leap of faith that you’re more interested in a bath and some food than running around blind in the dark.”

  She nodded. He was right. Her head still swam and her stomach was so empty she was convinced her body had begun eating what little fat she possessed on her lean frame, and that meant her shapely behind was about to deflate.

  “So we have a deal? I leave the room and you stay?”

  The lids of her eyes slipped down in tired annoyance. Her chances of escaping would be better served if she had the energy to run. Might as well take a bath before the food arrived. “Yes, you have a deal.”

  “Good. I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”

  She looked over her shoulder at the man and wondered how much she’d really need him. As soon as she was able, she’d find a way out of the camp, across the desert, and back to the UAE. She turned her attention once again to the cooling water in the tub. The journey ahead of her seemed daunting and she only possessed enough energy to think about scrubbing her body with soap.

  Ricardo left the room. Within seconds, Mel was de-clothed and in the tub, making good use of the tepid water. Not long after she had rinsed her hair, the smell of curry floated into the room and her starved stomach rumbled with hunger. She quickly towel-dried and dressed in a loose top and pants covered by a traditional black abaya adorned with fine gold threading Ricardo had provided. Cautiously, she stepped into the main area of the tent.

  “They are anxious, Ric. You might have to marry her.”

  “Hakeem, no. They’re just…extremely aroused. They’ll have to wait their turn. A couple of days is all I need and we’ll be out of here.”

  Hakeem’s facial expression turned grave. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t have a couple of days. You might not have a couple of hours.”

  Although Ric’s back was facing her, his rigid stance with his hands on hips displayed his aggravation. “What do you mean? You think they’ll storm the tent for her? Do these men not have any self-control?”

  “It is not the men so much as it is Abdul. He is angry that you have taken a woman who was his to give. He now wants her back if the sheik will not have her.”

  “And he’s not a one-man army…”

  Hakeem shook his head. “If your mission is to succeed, you must give her to Abdul and not concern yourself with her protection, or…”

  “Marry her, and end this.”

  The air in her lungs died. Marriage? To her? To him? Body frozen, Mel couldn’t do anything but stand and listen in silent protest. Marriage was the last thing she ever wanted in life. Scratch that; she never wanted marriage. Plac
ing a tender, fragile heart in the hands of an incredibly fallible man wasn’t her idea of romance and happily ever after. She was a-okay with her trust issues; at least she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone for anything. At thirty-two years of age, she figured she was halfway through with life and if she made it this far without a mate, the rest of the way wouldn’t be too difficult. To love someone, unselfishly give herself to him, her desires shaped by an insatiable need to please her man — none of it appealed to her, and she had worked hard to keep herself out of the pathway of eligible men. Who would’ve guessed she’d find one in the middle of the Arabian Desert? This world is just too small!

  “Yes,” Hakeem spoke. “They will be less inclined to challenge you for her if she was your wife.”

  “But it might tempt them to use her as leverage against me.”

  “You will have the sheik’s blessing and his protection.”

  “Will that be enough? Abdul’s men are numerous.”

  She could attest to this fact. Although blindfolded during her captivity, she counted multiple voices. At any one time, she was surrounded by at least ten men.

  “But Hassan’s are more. You are a favorite of his, Ric. Use that leverage.”

  “Perhaps you should join my line of work. You’re good at it.”

  Mel heard the humor in Ric’s voice. Hakeem responded with soft chuckles. “You know I am too old, although I love our adventures. They have given me life and I will be forever grateful. After this job, I will retire.”

  “It’ll be well worth it, my friend.” Ric gripped the man’s shoulder.

  Mel caught Hakeem’s eyes. “You look beautiful. A true princess of the desert.”

  She blushed, but said nothing. Ric faced her. His gaze scanned her form and lingered longer than truly necessary. Now her whole body heated.

  He kept his expression unreadable. “There’s some food for you on the table. Hakeem was able to snag a bowl for you before the dinner feast, which should be here soon.”

  “I want you to explain to me about this marriage plan.”

  Ric visibly swallowed. “You heard that, huh?”

  “Yeah, I heard it. And I’m not doing it. Whatever you’re hatching, it’s not gonna happen.”

  Ric’s dark brows slammed together. “Even if it’s for your own safety?”

  “You don’t seem too eager to walk down the aisle — even if it is for my own safety.”

  His eyes sparked and Mel rallied the strength she’d recovered from her warm bath to dig into the trenches against this man. Hakeem lounged on a pile of large plush pillows; he gingerly chewed on some dates and watched the action as if it were a movie on a screen.

  “I’m just not so sure it’s an effective strategy against Abdul.”

  “Abdul would never challenge the sheik,” Hakeem said around a thick date in his mouth.

  Ric moved to the table where the bowl of curry and rice sat waiting for Mel, and pulled out a chair. Imploring eyes locked with hers. “Please, sit. Eat.”

  Her stomach growled loudly and drew Ric’s smirk. She eyed the bowl of food. Hakeem had mentioned a “feast” was on its way. She could starve a few more minutes if it meant they’d continue the conversation about their upcoming nuptials. Her stomach wasn’t about to derail her attention from what could be a momentously lamentable occasion, simply because it was a tad bit hungry. She didn’t budge from her spot near the opening to the washroom. “I’m not done discussing this.”

  “I’m sure you’re not, but you are going to be done in a minute if you don’t eat.” He rounded the table, and stood close. “You’re losing color and you look like you’re about to pass out. Sit down and eat a little and we’ll continue to talk.”

  His fingers brushed her elbow, tempting her, but he waited for her to draw back. After a few tenuous seconds, they gently closed around her joint and, with a slight pull, he guided her to the table. The rich brown color of the curry, mixed with colorful vegetables over long-grain rice, had her imagining her face in the bowl. She was so hungry her mother’s home training almost gave way to a primal, ravenous urge. Ric turned out to be her saving grace, as he took a seat near her and snatched her fork before she had a chance to reach for it.

  “A little at a time.” He gathered food with the fork. “I don’t want you to overdo it and get sick.”

  “Have her start with the fruit,” Hakeem said.

  “No, I want the curry.”

  Ric chuckled. “How about both? A forkful of meat and then some fruit?”

  Mel wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t eat my food like that.”

  Ric raised curious brows. “Like what? Don’t tell me you eat one thing at a time.”

  Mel nodded and took the fork from Ric’s hand.

  “Well, that’s just boring.”

  Too famished to argue now with the food so near, she opened her mouth and engulfed all the food on the fork.

  “Hey, hey, take it easy.”

  Mel shot Ric an annoyed glance. She ignored his concerned expression and instead gathered more curry onto her fork. The meat was a bit spicy for her taste, but it was warm, flavorful, and would provide much-needed nutrition.

  “Eat some fruit,” Ric ordered.

  Mel reluctantly reached for a slice of pineapple. Gratitude instantly flooded her the moment the sweet, juicy treat was in her mouth. The sweet taste mixed with the spice of the curry was a wonderful sensation. Mel closed her eyes and relished the taste of her meal. When had food tasted this good?

  “You’re enjoying it, I see.”

  By the tone of his voice, Mel imagined a smile on the face of the man beside her, but she kept her eyes closed and chewed the fruit slowly. She suspected a long night was ahead of them and she didn’t want to be nauseous because she overindulged too quickly. Although Ric and Hakeem both behaved like gentlemen, so far, she would need to be more vigilant as the night wore on — especially if wine was to be served at this “feast.”

  “So, like I was saying, my marrying you might not keep Abdul or any of his men away. Honor and respect doesn’t deter them from any indecent act.”

  That last part was definitely true. Abdul hadn’t treated her with the least bit of respect, and she was sure that being kidnapped and trafficked into Saudi Arabia wasn’t at all honorable. “But you, Hakeem, think that Ric marrying me would deflect attention off me and then, what?”

  “The what, my lady, is that Ric can finish his mission and we can all go home. You are a lovely distraction, and distractions can be deadly.”

  “Take no offense,” Ric offered with a wink.

  She still didn’t understand how her being a distraction could get any of them killed, but of what she knew about Ric, he wasn’t going to reveal the details of his “mission.” She’d have to piece the puzzle together by herself. “Who is Sheik Hassan?”

  “A wealthy businessman,” Ric said.

  “A dangerously wealthy businessman,” Hakeem elaborated.

  “Does he do business internationally?” Mel asked. She was a US Marshal on an elite fugitive recovery team. Stationed in Texas near the Mexican border, her team mainly handled fugitive drug dealers and runners. Terrorism was outside her professional expertise, but it was the only logical idea. Why would an agent — alleged agent — for the US government be in the Middle East meeting with a sheik if not for terrorism or something closely related, like arms trafficking?

  “Yes.”

  Mel took another bite of the curry meat and took her frustrations over Ric’s uncommunicative nature out on the piece in her mouth. “Does he finance terrorism?”

  A slow grin parted Ric’s full lips. “Looks like you’re regaining a bit of mental clarity. Good. Keep eating.” He stood and pushed his chair under the table. “I’ve got to go to work. Hakeem, do me a favor and watch her, will you?” Hakeem saluted. Ric gave her a hard stare. “Don’t go anywhere. That’s not a request. These men have your scent now and they’ll tear you apart.”

  The image was fright
ening, yet it only emboldened Mel. She wasn’t naïve to that type of danger. In fact, she had faced it before and survived. However, the situation was likely more treacherous than Ric was letting on — especially if terrorists were in the camp.

  Ric’s head turned at some far-off sound and he froze. Hakeem seemed to hear it too and he pushed aside his bowl of fruit and launched to his feet. Ric abruptly pivoted. He pulled her from the seat and dragged her over to the stack of pillows where Hakeem had just lounged.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shh!” Ric pushed her onto the pillows and landed roughly beside her.

  “What—”

  He silenced her with a hand over her mouth; his eyes ordered her to be quiet. She stilled beneath him, once again trusting him with perhaps her life. Hakeem had disappeared into some room Mel hadn’t noticed. It’s like they’ve practiced this before!

  “Be ready,” Ric said in a rough whisper.

  For what? She had no idea what was happening. Why were they on the pillows? What did he and Hakeem hear? The sounds of men’s voices outside of the tent grew louder. Raucous laughter followed what Mel could only describe as drunken singing, and then more singing and laughing. Ric’s hand eased from her mouth as the sounds of the men faded.

  “What was that all about?” Mel asked when Ric had expelled a loud sigh and dropped his head back against the pillows. His eyes shut and his chest rapidly rose and fell. In the moment, he had hidden his anxiety well. His heart must be pounding as fast as mine.

  “Maybe you need to marry me. I can’t juggle your safety and my mission if I’m constantly…”

  He opened his eyes and stared deeply into hers, and she wondered what he searched for. Was he speaking to her or himself? “Constantly what?”

  Ric responded with a grunt. He shook his head as he hoisted himself off the pillows. He held out a hand for her and she accepted the gesture. “Coast clear, Hakeem.”