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His wife was innocent, nothing more than a pawn to be used against him. Mahindar’s gut tightened as he strode toward the SUV and its driver stepped out. The man lifted one hand to soften the glare of the spotlight while his gaze swiveled cautiously as he walked slowly toward Mahindar.
Mahindar’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t recognize the man. He glanced at the dark windows. Arabelle was inside the vehicle somewhere, there was no disputing that. He was only glad he’d had the foresight to install a miniscule tracking device inside her wedding band.
It didn’t mean she was unhurt, though.
Fury pulsed through him like a dysfunctional electric current. If they’d touched even a hair on her head there would be hell to pay.
He stopped halfway and waited for the sniveling coward to meet him. His lip curled at seeing the gun in the other man’s hand. But he didn’t react. He needed all his wits if he wanted to play his cards right and win this hand.
Mahindar said nothing as the other man finally stopped in front of him. Only after the man meekly bowed did Mahindar ask, “What is your name? And what is it you want with my wife?”
The man’s swarthy skin went a sickly shade of pale. “I am Ahmed. I’ve been tasked to bring home Sheikha Aisha by kidnapping your wife and making a trade.”
His gut instinct had been right. His wife’s kidnapping had had nothing to do with her father’s enemies. His chest tightened. The enemy was all Mahindar’s and he’d unwittingly dragged his wife right into the thick of it. Despite his angst he kept a steely face. “If Sheikh Ramirez knows where Aisha is hiding, why bother with this trade?”
“He doesn’t know exactly where she is,” Ahmed admitted. “He just knows you have her hidden somewhere on your island.”
Bloody hell.It would only be a matter of time before Ramirez found her. Taking Arabelle in the meantime was simply the vicious sheikh’s way of sayingfuck you.
“And how did he come by this information?”
Ahmed’s mouth tightened. “I can’t tell you that. Not without some kind of assurance I won’t be hurt or killed.”
Mahindar’s mouth curled. Ahmed wasn’t worried about his foot soldiers getting hurt or killed. He was worried about saving his own skin.
“I won’t have you torn apart by my helicopter’s cannons if you tell me who the traitor is that reported Aisha’s whereabouts to Ramirez.”
Ahmed stayed silent for a good ten seconds, as though weighing up his options. When Mahindar stayed silent and resolute, Ahmed reluctantly nodded. “It was a man going by the name of Shawn.”
“Shawn?” It was a western name. One Mahindar wouldn’t have forgotten if he knew the man.
“Tall. Blonde. Green eyes. He’s been staying at your island village under the guise of a backpacker.”
Fuck.It all made so much sense now. Arabelle had said Aisha’s name and the man—Shawn—had heard every word.
Though Mahindar remained outwardly calm, Ahmed must have sensed the ruthless impatience bubbling within. If Ahmed truly comprehended half the depth of Mahindar’s emotions the man would have pissed his pants by now. Mahindar held the other man’s nervous gaze. “I want my wife.Now.”
The man swallowed. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He cleared his throat. “Just don’t be shocked when you see her.”
“When Iseeher?” Mahindar growled. Ahmed’s choice of words only heightened Mahindar’s already dark emotions into something even darker.
The man nodded, his eyes downcast. “My companions got a little rough with her. Ididstop them though—“
“Get. Her.” Mahindar’s voice throbbed with fury. If wrath was a bird, then his was an eagle, its talons outstretched and wings folded back for the kill. He nodded at the two helicopters, front and back. “And just so you’re aware, those cannons I mentioned are trained on you right now. If my wife is manhandled from this point on, youwillbe blown to pieces.”
Ahmed bowed once again, his face strained. “Of course, Your Highness. My profuse apologies. I will get the sheikha now.”
Mahindar was a skilled negotiator, one of the best, but his heart was in his throat as the other man walked back to the car like a whipped dog. It was all too obvious he was scared shitless of showing him Arabelle.
Mahindar’s pulse echoed like a drum in his ears. Ahmed had every reason to be afraid. If Arabelle wasn’t the same beautiful goddess stepping out of the SUV he wasn’t sure he’d have the willpower to hold himself back.
Ahmed pulled open the door, his voice too fast and low to hear clearly. Then a woman stepped out, her eyes flashing with an equal measure of fear and loathing.
Mahindar’s eyes narrowed. He knew that woman!
Estelle.
Son of a bitch.He’d hired her as Arabelle’s personal maid. She’d come highly recommended by one of his best friends after she’d worked dutifully at his palace for six months.
