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Hamid nodded. “More than likely, it’s what they do. If they have enough numbers they’ll attack and, if they win, they’ll steal all our valuables and—“
“And?” she prompted.
“And likely use you as a trophy to be passed around.” His mouth tightened. “If you survive that they’ll then probably trade you as a sex slave for your unique looks.”
She touched her bright red hair. “Is that your way to trying to reassure me?”
“It’s the truth,” he said starkly. “I won’t lie to you.”
“Then perhaps you should take me back to the city where I’ll be safe.” And where she just might dye her hair black.
He bristled, a pulse jerking into life at his jaw. “You’re safe with us. I’d die before allowing anything to happen to you.”
Essam sucked in a breath. “Your—
“Enough, Essam. Just…tell me what you know about the nomads.”
Essam dragged a heavy hand over the swarthy skin of his face, no doubt irritating his crooked, hooked nose. “Very little. They moved out of range before we could identify them. All we know for sure is that they had a large herd of camels and goats.”
The news didn’t appear to relax Hamid, if anything he seemed more troubled with his brows drawn together and his face tight. “And yet they retreated from the very water supply they need to keep their animals alive.”
“They might have deduced who was staying here and decided to keep their distance,” Essam suggested.
“Are you saying Hamid’s reputation precedes him?” she asked with a wink. Anything to lighten the mood. Hard enough to comprehend Hamid’s stark words that he’d die for her. And though of course he didn’t mean it, in the heat of the moment he most definitely had.
When neither Hamid nor Essam disagreed her stomach did a slow roll. Who had she become involved with? Who had she damn well fucked? Was he even more dangerous than the desert savage she’d first imagined him to be?
Hamid turned to Essam. “Send a scout to follow the nomads and find out anything he can about who they are and what they want. He has twenty-four hours. In the meantime we’ll double the guards around our camp.”
Essam bowed a little. About to leave, Hamid added, “Oh, and take Holly’s clothes and have someone clean them.”
Holly’s face heated as Essam picked up her dirty clothes without complaint and stalked off with them.
“You’re embarrassed?” Hamid asked her.
She nodded. “It’s seems odd for a man in this country to do a woman’s laundry.”
“My men do what they’re asked.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I wish I knew what you had over them.”
He shrugged. “I have nothing over them. My men simply choose to be loyal to me. Come. Breakfast is probably waiting.”
Her mouth watered at the spread inside the tent. Fried white cheese. Scrambled eggs. Black olives. Cucumbers, tomatoes and pita flatbread.
“Yum!’
She placed her camera in the far corner of the tent, then sat with him on his sleeping mat and shared the meal, eating until she was too full to move. She patted her stomach when they were finished. “You were right. That cook of yours really does know how to put a meal together.”
“Cook?” Hamid laughed. “Qaahir is a highly trained chef.”
She cocked her head to the side. “And you’ve managed to procure him out here in the desert?”
He popped a piece of cheese and an olive into his mouth. “Why not? Qaahir enjoys the challenge. And simple food often tastes the best.”
“So you have simple tastes?”
He nodded. “I do. I like my own company. And I’ve always enjoyed a simple lifestyle.”
