Fit for a Sheikh Page 13

  “I agree.” He hesitated for a moment as if pondering her suggestions. Finally he said, “I will allow you to come with me for a while. But if I sense you’re in any danger, you must agree to return to the room.”

  Fiona gave him a victorious smile. “It’s a deal.”

  “Hurry.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit. Thirty minutes, tops.”

  An hour later Darin was still waiting for Fiona to leave the bathroom. His impatience grew with every second that ticked off. His discomfort grew with each vision of her taking a shower, running her hands over slick flesh the way he’d wanted to do that afternoon with his mouth. And if he did not keep his mind on this assignment, he was in serious danger of putting them both in jeopardy.

  At least by agreeing to let her come with him for a time, he could shelter her from harm—if Birkenfeld did not recognize them first.

  On that thought, Darin walked to the bureau, opened the drawer and withdrew the kaffiyeh. He immediately thought of his brother, Raf, who still upheld the tradition at times, especially during business dealings. Raf, whose wife had died two years ago during an equestrian accident, the reason why he’d come to America to establish his horse breeding business. Although they were very different in many ways, they shared one thing in common—the loss of the women they’d loved. The Shakir curse had begun with the death of their own mother when they had been boys and continued into their adult lives when they’d become men.

  However, Raf had covered his grief well, had even said he might marry again, where Darin had made it clear he would not consider it. But one truth remained, both had left their homeland behind to escape the memories.

  Yet when Darin draped the kaffiyeh on his head and fitted the band to secure it, the memories came rushing back on a tide of emotion despite his effort to stop them.

  Once more he was the prince, the young man who had reveled in his position, the power nobility had brought him. The second son of Sheikh Kareem Shakir, destined to share in the fortune made by his father and his father’s father before him. The fiancé of Tamra Fayed, the only woman he had ever loved. Eight years ago that was all that had mattered, until Tamra had been cut down in the prime of her life because of Darin’s birthright. Now nothing seemed to matter.

  Except for the woman in the adjacent room. Fiona was beginning to matter to him, more than she should. More than he should allow. He could never offer himself as freely to her as he had to Tamra. Never open himself to love again. The pain had been too great. Yet that pain had begun to subside in Fiona’s presence, that much he would admit. When he was with her, he’d almost forgotten his failures. He’d also forgotten why he had come to Las Vegas in the first place—to capture a dangerous man before he could wreak more havoc on innocent women and children.

  Darin must remember that tonight. Must remember why he was here and not what he wanted to do—stay in this room, close out the world and make long, hard love to Fiona. He must push those thoughts from his mind in order to succeed.

  The door opened and Fiona stepped from the bathroom, shattering Darin’s good intentions as he looked upon the woman who could very well be a living, breathing dream. She had pulled her hair up, revealing her delicate neck. The dress matched her eyes, hugged her body, made him sweat. Made him want to tear off the tuxedo, take off her clothes and bury himself inside her. He would request she leave on the high heels and stockings though….

  Remember the mission, he silently scolded. Remember your purpose.

  Her copper-painted lips curled into a smile as she pointed to the kaffiyeh. “That is a great disguise. You look like one of those Arabian sheikhs.”

  Little did she know, he was, something he would keep to himself for the time being. “You look very beautiful. The dress fits you as if it had been made for you.”

  She swept a hand down her side and over the curve of her hip. “Thanks. I thought it worked fairly well.”

  It worked on Darin’s libido to extremes. He offered his hand for her to take when he greatly wanted to offer to divest her of the dress. “Shall we go now?”

  She wrapped her slender fingers around his, her nails painted to match the color of her lips. “Yes, I believe we shall.”

  Darin led her through the suite and out the door, first pausing to look up and down the corridor before continuing on. Satisfied no one was lurking in the shadows, he guided Fiona to the elevators.

  “Do we really have to get back in there?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

  “I assumed you’d gotten over your fears after your recent journey.”

  “I took the stairs.”

  “And I prefer not to do that.” The door opened and he nudged her inside. “Again, I will be here to help you.”

  Fiona took her place at the back of the elevator, facing the glass, while Darin once more circled his arms around her waist from behind, her frame stiffening as the elevator began its descent. The feel of the satin against his palms brought about visions of working the material up her thighs so he could touch her, make her forget her distress.

  Before he could consider acting on that fantasy, they’d traveled no more than one floor before the doors opened again. Darin glanced over his shoulder to see a middle-aged couple dressed in evening wear entering the car. They sent Darin a polite smile and he nodded before peering out the glass as if taking in the view when he was only interested in taking in Fiona’s scent. Taking her to bed.

  The elevator stopped several more times until the car was jammed with people of all shapes and sizes, practically pressing Darin and Fiona against the transparent wall. He could hear her respiration increase even over the murmured conversations of the other occupants.

  He bent and whispered in her ear, “Are you all right?”

  “No,” she said on a broken breath. “I have to get out of here.”

  When the car stopped on the tenth floor, Darin turned her around and guided her out of the elevator.

  Once in the corridor, she collapsed against the wall, trembling. “I’m sorry I’m such a coward, but—”

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. “You need not apologize. We can take the stairs the rest of the way.”

  She looked at him with gratitude. “Thanks for understanding. I promise I’ll be brave when we come back up.”

  “And I promise I will keep you safe. If you do as you’re told.”

  A smile broke through her anguish. “That depends on what you’re telling me to do. If it involves activities between the sheets, then I’m all for instructions.”

  “I’m referring to our search for Birkenfeld.”

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping maybe you might put that off for a while so we can go back to the room and finish what we started this afternoon.”

  “Perhaps we will do that later.”

  Her grin deepened. “Oh, good. As long as I can be on top.”

  Muttering a mild oath, Darin took her by the hand and led her to the stairway before he lost his dignity. Before he disregarded good sense and made love to her against the wall.

  The first three floors were not that troublesome to his ankle, but before he reached the final landing, his wound throbbed. Fiona glanced at him with concern and stopped. “I am so stupid. I didn’t even think about your foot.”

  “It is fine,” he said, gritting his teeth against the pain. “We’re almost there.”

  When they reached the lobby, he pulled Fiona close to his side as they crossed the red-carpeted walkway leading to the casino, working their way through the crush of people heading in the same direction. His limp was more pronounced now, and he hated being so obvious.

  As he kept keen eyes on his surroundings, Darin told Fiona, “You must stay close to me. If you have to leave the floor, I will go with you.”

  “What if I need to go to the ladies’ room?”

  “I will follow you and wait outside.”

  “Nothing like being held prisoner in a hotel.”

  He stopped an
d turned her to face him, his hands circling her bare arms. “I must have your promise now that you will not take any chances. Otherwise, I will carry you back to the room over my shoulder.”

  She had the audacity to grin. “Maybe I should misbehave just to see if you’ll really do it.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I am warning you, Fiona.”

  “And I’m kidding, Scorpio. You can barely carry your own weight on your foot.” She moved to his side and linked her arm with his. “Now let’s go see if we can catch the very evil Dr. B.”

  Exactly why they were here, Darin reminded himself as they once more headed toward the casino. But with every cautious breath he drew, with every painful step he took, he considered turning around and scrapping this quest for a few moments in Fiona’s arms.

  He was dangerously close to tossing wisdom to the wind, and that made him prone to making mistakes, primed him for more failures. From this point forward he would remain in control or risk losing this game and, in doing so, possibly losing Fiona in the process—a woman who was coming to mean far too much to him.

  Again his past was threatening to return and so were the emotions he’d kept carefully hidden from the world, and from himself. He would push them away, vanquish them once and for all. Otherwise they could be the death of him. And Fiona.

  Eight

  At half past nine, Fiona had grown tired of walking the various levels of the casino. So far, not one person they’d seen even remotely resembled Birkenfeld. She suspected the criminal was long gone after having left his calling card in her apartment and scaring the willies out of her. If he did happen to show up, he would be a fool, since he was bound to know Scorpio would be looking for him. And probably so were all the security guards swarming the area, more than she’d seen in a casino before.

  When a raucous crowd at a nearby craps table drew her attention, she stopped to take in all the commotion. Scorpio tugged on her hand and she tugged back, halting his progress. “Just a minute. I want to watch for a while.”

  “We must keep moving,” he said.

  She sent him a cynical look. “You really ought to get off your foot, especially since you refused to wear that lovely blue shoe they provided.”

  “I am mobile enough without it.”

  Darned headstrong man. “Tell you what. I’ll stay right here in this group and you keep looking around. Your foot might be fine, but my feet are killing me.”

  “I’ve told you what I need you to do.”

  “And I’ve told you what I need you to do. Since you don’t plan to do that anytime soon, the least you can allow me is a little opportunity to have some fun.”

  “I would not feel comfortable leaving you alone.”

  She nodded toward two security guards standing nearby. “I’m not alone. Those guys are only a shout away.”

  After hesitating for a moment, he finally said, “Do you promise you will not leave here until I return?”

  She tugged her hand out of his grasp and raised it in oath. “I hereby swear not to leave the premises.” She dropped her hand and sent him a smile. “And bring me something to drink, will you? A white wine.”

  He frowned. “If I have the opportunity. I will return after I check the upper floor again.” He turned away then faced her again. “Do not leave. If you feel threatened, find a guard.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  After Scorpio walked away, Fiona inched closer to the head of the table where a bearded middle-aged guy in an expensive silver suit, his semipompadour cemented in place by probably a can of hairspray, awaited his turn to roll the dice. He glanced at Fiona and sent her a smarmy smile. “Hello, little lady. Are you feeling lucky tonight?”

  She was hoping to get lucky tonight, but not with this guy. “Reasonably so.”

  He elbowed the man next to him over a bit and offered Fiona the space. “Come here and roll the dice for me, baby. I could use some luck.”

  He could use some gum, Fiona thought as she stood beside him, overwhelmed by his liquor-laden breath and overpowering cologne. She selected two dice from the dealer, but she wasn’t too thrilled when the pompadour guy blew on her closed fist. At least he wasn’t blowing in her ear…yet.

  While the participants gathered round the table and stared at her expectantly, Fiona rolled the dice, landing a three and seven and earning cheers.

  “What’s your name, babe?” the gambler asked as the dealer settled the bets.

  “Fee-Fee,” she said, thinking that was better than babe.

  His grin was as slick as his hair. “Oh, yeah? My grandma had a poodle named Fee-Fee once. A real good lap dog.” He wriggled his eyebrows and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Fee-Fee. I’m Gary.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Gary.” A whopper of a lie. If she hadn’t been so bored, she would definitely turn tail and run far, far away from him.

  Gary placed a huge bet on the table and said, “Now you do your best to make me a richer man, baby.”

  She would do her best to avoid his leer and concentrate on her dice-rolling duty. This time she rolled another seven and found herself totally caught up in the enthusiasm of the game. With each roll of the dice she became more popular, with the crowd betting on her luck, although she didn’t appreciate Gary who had managed to move closer to her. She ignored his proximity, tried to ignore his stubby hand occasionally grazing her bare back. So far his actions were relatively harmless, until his palm landed on her butt.

  “Remove your hand from her immediately.”

  Fiona’s gaze snapped to Scorpio’s menacing stare. How long had he been standing there, watching her?

  Gary looked over his shoulder at Scorpio who stood at least a head taller than the gambler. “And who are you to tell me what I should do?”

  “Her husband.”

  Her husband? Did Fiona actually hear him say that?

  Gary dropped his hand from her derriere and asked, “Do you know this guy?”

  Fiona laid the dice down and backed away from the table. “Yes. I’m with him.”

  Gary gave Scorpio an incredulous look. “Listen, man, I wouldn’t leave this lady alone for a minute. She’s the best-looking gal in this place tonight.”

  “And she is mine,” Scorpio said, his tone as fierce as his eyes.

  Fiona grabbed Scorpio’s hand now balled in a fist. “Come on, dear. I think I hear the slot machines calling me.”

  She shouldered her way toward the cashier’s cage in the corner, pulling him along behind her. “I’m guessing you didn’t find Birkenfeld,” she said after she faced him again. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have interrupted my good time by spouting all that macho ‘she’s mine’ garbage.”

  He looked no less angry. “No, I did not find Birkenfeld. I did find you fraternizing with a man who had less than honorable intentions, while a murderer could very well be stalking you.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes to the ornate chandelier above them. “Face it, Scorpio. Birkenfeld isn’t here and he’s probably not coming. That guy at the table was totally harmless and, granted, moderately disgusting, but I needed something to occupy my time while you were out conducting a futile search.”

  “That is why we are here, Fiona. To search. And since that is not holding your interest, I will escort you back to the room so I can continue without having to concern myself with your activities.”

  Fiona’s mouth dropped open. “Concern yourself with my activities?” She laid a hand on her chest. “Oh, please. I stopped needing a keeper about fifteen years ago.” In fact, she’d grown up being her mother’s keeper. Grown up too fast.

  Incensed over Scorpio’s belief she couldn’t take care of herself, Fiona spun on her uncomfortable heels and headed toward the rest room.

  “Where are you going?” Scorpio said after catching up to her.

  “Somewhere you can’t go,” she replied, pushing open the bathroom door in order to calm her anger and catch her breath.

  Once inside, she braced her hands on the red-and-gold ma
rble vanity and stared at her face in the faux antique mirror. Her lipstick was practically gone and her hair had started to unravel from the updo. She might look disheveled and annoyed, but she didn’t look that crazy. But obviously she was totally insane, out of touch with reality. She should know better than to hook up with a man like Scorpio or Darin or whatever his name was. A demanding, serious man who obviously expected his women to behave like good little girls. A man who delighted in rescuing her from all the drunk Don Juans of the world. A man who had the absolute nerve…to walk into a women’s rest room.

  Fiona spun from the mirror and glared at him. “What are you doing in here?”

  He tripped the bolt on the door behind him. “Making certain you do not run away before we discuss your insistence on ignoring the rules and safety.”

  She made a sweeping gesture around the lounge. “And how am I going to get out of here? Through the ventilation system?”

  With two long strides he was standing before her, tall and dark and imposing. He smelled like a summer night and looked like an all-expense-paid trip to Valhalla. “I was not willing to take the risk, considering you are very resourceful.”

  The vanity’s ledge bit into Fiona’s bottom as she tried to back away from all that charisma before she forgot her anger. “We can take this outside before someone comes out of the stall and calls security.”

  He braced his palms on either side of her, leaving only a small space between them. “Are you certain we’re not alone?”

  Fiona ducked under his arm, left the area and slammed doors back with the force of her frustration to find the ten or so stalls unoccupied. She strode into the lounge to discover Scorpio leaning back against the vanity where she had been. He looked totally out of place among the feminine accoutrements but much too handsome to ignore. “We’re alone now,” she said. “But someone’s bound to want to get in here.”