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She cocked her head to the side. “Did Jamal send you?” Her chest warmed. If so surely that meant he still cared about her? “As you can see, I’m perfectly safe.”
Yusef gave her a pained look, then pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I regret to tell you that you are indeed in danger, Sheikha Yasmine.”
Her heart did an extra beat. “Whatever do you—“
Yusef clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her roughly against him. At first she went limp, shocked to the core. Yusef was the bad guy! He lifted her against his chest like she weighed nothing, then jumped back into the boat.
She struggled wildly, but it was too little too late, and he was too damn strong. It didn’t stop her from chomping on his hand and drawing blood, the coppery taste filling her mouth.
He grunted and threw her to the floor of the boat. Pain exploded through her ribs and her skull as she landed heavily against the edge of a seat, dizziness for a moment keeping her still.
Before she even tried to clamber to her feet, the boat had powered off, away from the honeymoon hut…away from Jamal and any chance she’d had of staying with him.
Chapter Seventeen
Jamal had long finished the phone call to the PI when he strode back into the honeymoon hut, his heart heavy. Damn it! He’d let his emotion rules his head and he’d hurt Yasmine along the way.
His wife had been falling for him, he’d been certain of it, but he’d jeopardized all that now and was back to square one again, any progress with her null and void.
He’d seriously fucked up.
His past had never been Yasmine’s burden to bear. He alone had to live with the baby he’d lost, his son who’d died before he’d even taken his first breath. Not only had his stillborn baby been lifeless, he’d never even been given a name.
That alone had nearly broken him.
But Takisha, the mother of his stillborn child, had refused to name him and Jamal had given her that small mercy. Instead he’d focused on giving his son a decent burial and someplace nice for Takisha to live. He also sent her a monthly allowance that enabled her to live a rich and fulfilling life.
That his generosity made her fancy herself in love with him was in no way reciprocated by him. Those feelings belonged exclusively to his wife…if she hadn’t already left him.
Perhaps that was why his pulse thudded on finding the hut empty, the packet of birth control pills mocking him from where they lay crumpled on the kitchen floor. He stalked out to the deck, the pool shining like a beacon while the dread in his belly escalated. “Yasmine!”
The quiet mocked him as he ran down the stairs to the lower deck and pier. At finding the pair of delicate women’s sandals near the edge of the deck, his heart cramped painfully. He scooped the sandals up, his stomach hitting rock bottom as he imagined the worst and scanned the water for her.
Dropping the sandals, he dragged off his jacket and shoes. About to dive into the ocean, a tread on the upper deck made him pause. His heart in his throat, he raced back upstairs, his pulse jackhammering, then missing a beat at finding one of his security men standing there.
Jamal’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you know where Yasmine is.”
“She’s missing?”
Jamal swallowed down sick rage. “Yes, she’s damn well missing!”
The man shuffled his feet nervously, then explained, “I’m sorry to hear that, Sheikh Jamal. I’m here because Yusef has also disappeared.”
Chapter Eighteen
Yasmine wiggled her fingers, doing her best to relieve the numbness from them. But ever since Yusef had tied her arms tightly behind her back, there was barely any feeling left in her arms or hands.
She was only glad they hadn’t gagged her. Not that there was anyone around to hear her screams for help. The ocean was deserted, as was the beach they were headed toward, with sand dunes marching back into a desert as far as the eye could see.
She swallowed hard. Were they going to kill her? Or where these same people going to trade her back to Jamal for money?
She looked at her captors, memorizing them.
Not that she’d ever forget Yusef. To think she’d trusted the man! She should have listened to her instincts. Now the scar that ran through one side of his beard looked ominous, not intriguing. Even his eyes appeared flatter, meaner, his lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line.
The other two men were as dissimilar as could be. The one who sat at the stern of the boat and steering the vessel was short and as thick as a barrel, his fleshy face showing no emotion whatsoever. The other who sat at the bow in a seat in front of her was a tall, reed-thin man with a swarthy, pockmarked face and eyes that constantly moved around, his hands twitching and his demeanor highly-strung and nervous.
“Algo no se siente bien en esto,” the tall man muttered.
