Her Sheikh Protector

His shoulders raised and straightened as he glared at her. “Certainly an educated person wouldn’t let prejudice cloud their mind in such dark ways. You seem too sophisticated for racial profiling.”

“I am.” She heard the desperation in her voice and wondered why this man’s opinion of her had suddenly become so important. “I mean, I don’t really believe any of that stuff. But my judgment has been impaired since the explosion—since the death of my father. I … I haven’t been completely well. Obviously.”

It took him a second, but the hard expression in his eyes finally softened to sympathy as he said, “Which brings me to my next question. Why are you here? You should be home with your family and running what’s left of your company.”

She tightened her lips and glared at him, not ready to discuss this yet.

“I learned this morning that you have nearly bankrupted yourself and the entire Hunt firm,” he continued. “All in an effort to lessen the suffering for victims of the explosion—every one of them, and not only Hunt employees. That may be admirable, but what good are you doing them or yourself by coming here?”

The question made her stop and think. Why was she here? What had she hoped to accomplish?

“Justice.” Once she’d spoken the word aloud, it made sense. “I want to give the dead and injured justice. I am positive that explosion wasn’t caused by any accident. It was deliberate. And I intend to find out who caused it and why.”

Still stunned by a couple of things Rylie had said, Darin ignored the creepy sensation of being watched as he paid their bill and ushered her outside. He’d checked out every person remaining in the club before they left, but he couldn’t pinpoint anyone who appeared to be spying on them.

He wasn’t the kind of person who ordinarily gave himself over to fantasy. But he thought perhaps it was the strong sense of responsibility toward Rylie that he’d been experiencing that was making him paranoid on her behalf.

Her mention of justice had stopped him. He understood her sentiments and her loyalty to her father. Justice went along with honor and family loyalty. But on the other hand, for centuries the Taj Zabbar had used their quest for justice as an excuse for threats and dishonest behavior toward his family.

Justice was not a concept he took lightly. Over the last hour, he’d begun to reconsider some of the steps that the Kadirs had already taken against the Taj Zabbar—without any proof. Where was the justice in building a defensive line and spying operations without knowing for sure that the Taj Zabbar were already at war?

One thing would definitely be different for him after tonight. Darin felt confident Rylie was not involved with the Taj Zabbar in any way. She was merely a grieving victim, trying to make sense out of the nonsensical.

Death had a way of turning normally smart people into hysterical idiots. He knew that because he’d been there himself at least once. When his mother died, Darin had been ready to blame anyone and everyone—except the cancer that killed her.

Those thoughts made him wonder if the death of one of their own hadn’t also sent the Kadir elders into that same spiral of frantic paranoia. Both he and Rylie might be better off to quit their respective witch hunts and go back to work.

Gently laying a hand at her waist to help guide her through the doorway and outside to the walkway, Darin thought back on the other stunning thing she’d said tonight. Or perhaps it wasn’t what she’d said but the way she’d said it.

She had been wrapped up in the tale of his family when she’d looked up at him and demanded he finish the story. He’d gotten a good look at her eyes. Those eyes with their oceans of emotions had totally lost their anger. Instead, he spotted something else in them that he hadn’t expected.

Destiny. Preordained and undeniable. One day soon, they were fated to be together. Whether for one night, one week or forever, he could not say. But he was as sure of her as he was of the rising sun in the morning.

“I think I can manage to make it back on my own,” she said as her voice broke through his thoughts. “Thank you for the dinner and the history lesson.”

Not a chance. He wasn’t letting her go anywhere alone.

Before he could tell her that, a man appeared at the curb directly in front of her. A Middle Eastern man in the clan keffiyeh of the Taj Zabbar held his palms out as if pleading with her to understand. Rylie came to an abrupt halt and Darin could sense her tension in the way she held her body.

His own body was as tight as the skin on a conga drum. Sweat trickled at his temple. He prepared himself for defense, trying desperately to remember everything he had learned.

“Excuse me,” the man muttered in hesitant English. “Miss Hunt, my employer wishes to speak with you. You will come now?”

“How do you know my name?”

The man gave a tentative glance over her shoulder toward Darin. “You will come now, please. My employer insists.” He reached out and took her by the arm.

And for Darin, everything changed.

Chapter 4 (#ulink_ef2f3219-61d9-5320-9132-9b09bdb154dc)

Damn it. Just when she was starting to like Darin, it turned out he’d been lying. How stupid could she be?

Letting him lead her right into a trap.

Rylie ripped her arm out of the stranger’s grasp and stomped down hard on the man’s foot. As the guy yelled and danced around in pain, she rounded on Darin. But before she could rear back and jam her knee to his groin, Darin shot out of her reach. Next thing she knew, he was punching the strange man dressed in Middle Eastern garb and knocking him off his feet. With one smooth motion, Darin whirled and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. He half dragged and half carried her down the mist-dampened sidewalk in the opposite direction of the man lying in the street.

“Move,” he growled in her ear.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not with that guy and not with you.” Balling her fists, she tried smacking Darin’s face.

Her efforts were ineffective because her feet were dangling in midair and she couldn’t get adequate force behind her swings. Darin never missed a step on the slick, uneven cobblestones. She gave a good show of kicking him, but he was moving too fast and her toes were still barely touching the ground.

They made it around the next three city street corners using the same combined running and crablike moves before Darin finally slowed, turned and checked behind them. He never loosened his hold on her, not even a little.

“Let me go.” She gulped in air while her heartbeat raced like a motorcycle engine.

“You were terrific back there,” Darin whispered, breathing hard. “Quit fighting me. If you act stupid now, he’ll catch up to us again. I think there’s a small hotel in the next block. I’m sure we can make it that far, and we’ll have the doorman summon a taxi and be long gone before your assailant ever comes to his senses.”

She’d heard real respect for her actions in the tone of his voice and it helped to put a stopper in her fear. “Let me down,” she said calmly. “I can run faster if you’ll let me go.”

Rylie had no intention of going anywhere with Darin, but together they would have a better shot at getting away. She could give him the slip later. Right this minute, he was the devil she knew.

Darin loosened his grip and lowered her to her feet. She was amazed he had actually believed what she’d said and her mouth dropped open. For a moment she stared into his trusting eyes. Then she turned and ran.

“Split up and double back,” she hollered over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you—”

She never had a chance to finish the thought because Darin caught her from behind, gripped her arm and kept up the momentum she’d begun as the two of them dashed down the half-lit sidewalks hand in hand. He might be trusting, but it seemed he wasn’t stupid.

Out of breath, they made it to the doorstep of an inn. Banging on the locked door with one fist, Darin kept his other hand glued tightly to hers. Apparently he was also familiar with the concept behind the saying “Fool me once …”

A particularly grumpy innkeeper finally let them in after Darin explained their circumstances in the man’s native French. Rylie wasn’t sure, but the memory of her old college French led her to believe Darin had also mentioned a bonus for calling them a cab.

Within a few minutes, money had changed hands and she was safely tucked into the backseat of a beat-up Mercedes taxicab.

Suddenly exhausted, Rylie leaned her body against the strength of Darin’s shoulder. “Where are we going? To the police?” No answer.