Her Desert Protector, page 1
Her Desert Protector
Marie Tuhart
Contents
Dear Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Trifecta Publishing House who took a chance on this series
Dear Reader
The country of Bashir is a fictional place. They have their own customs and different rules for titles.
The title of Lady before someone’s name is a sign of respect and not an official title.
In all the books, once the heroine is engaged to the hero they will become princess-to-be and when they marry, they will carry the princess title.
I have taken liberties in creating my own country, it is a progressive country and looking toward the future.
Her Desert Protector Copyright © 2019 by Marie Tuhart
Trifecta Publishing House
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, Trifecta Publishing House.
This book is a work of fiction Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
Published in the United States of America First Printing: 2019
ISBN -13: 978-1-943407-62-0
E-Book
ISBN -13: 978-1-943407-61-3
* * *
Trifecta Publishing House
1120 East 6th Street
Port Angeles, Washington
98362
Contact Information: Info@TrifectaPublishingHouse.com
Editor: Elizabeth Jewell
Cover Art by Designed by Diana
Formatted by Monica Corwin
1
Zoey Lacey bit into the ripe apple with a crunch and closed her eyes in awe of the sweet taste exploding on her tongue. She hadn’t tasted an apple this good in a while. She smiled at the vendor before she continued her journey through the marketplace in Bashir City. There was row after row of merchants, from fruit and vegetable vendors to those offering the heady scents of spices, shoes and clothing, furniture and electronics. Excitement slid through her veins.
She’d come to the country of Bashir because of its 300th anniversary. It would make a good story, not only for her travel blog, but also an article she hoped to sell to a magazine.
Some might say Zoey was crazy to wander the world, taking pictures, writing stories, never having a steady paycheck, but she loved it. After a childhood with overprotective parents, she enjoyed being out on her own and doing what she wanted. She finished her apple and dropped the core into a garbage bin.
A smile played around her lips as a group of children ran past her. Bashir City was one of the cleanest cities she’d ever visited. The people were friendly, but it helped that she spoke Arabic, even though most of them spoke English as well. Most were surprised and delighted when she spoke to them in their native tongue.
Zoey turned the corner and automatically brought her camera up. She snapped picture after picture of the buildings, the blend of old and new architecture delighting her as she wandered down the roadway.
She stopped beside one of the apartment buildings. The iron balcony caused a smile to cross her lips. She’d seen one like this only in New Orleans. The white shutters were closed to keep out the sun. What really caught her attention was the intricate graffiti on one wall. She stared at the blend of colors and designs. Could it be a symbol for something? She took several pictures before starting out again.
The hair on the back of Zoey’s neck stood up. She slipped her backpack around front and placed her camera inside it. As she slid it back into place she looked over her shoulder. She didn’t see anyone, but she’d learned never to ignore her instincts. Young male voices sounded behind her. She could only make out a word or two: woman and alone. Plus their laughter.
Zoey picked up her pace and forced herself to keep her breathing steady, her hands loose at her side. Judging by the voices, there were at least four of them. Not good odds if they decided to come after her, but she’d learned from the best how to defend herself. Six months in war-torn Iraq would do that to a person.
Turning the corner of the next building, she ran into a male chest. Fear slid up her spine as her breath whooshed out. “So sorry,” she said, starting to sidestep him.
“Are you all right?” She glanced up to see black short hair, dark eyes, hair and stern features. His rough, husky voice sent shivers down her spine.
Yet there was concern in his dark eyes.
“Fine.”
She turned her head when she heard swearing. The four boys had rounded the corner. Young twenty-somethings, or at least that’s what she thought. They stared at her with wide eyes and frowns. Before she could ask what they wanted, they turned and ran.
“Stay here,” the man commanded before he stepped around her and took off after the boys.
Zoey turned, rounded the corner, and watched him chase after the boys. She was about to go after him when another man came out of the door of the building and walked toward her.
“Ma’am,” he said. His dark brown hair was cut close to his head. His posture screamed military.
“American?” She was surprised. She hadn’t run into many of her fellow countrymen here.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m Ryan. If you would please come with me,” he said, gesturing toward the building.
“To where?” She wasn’t about to jump into the fire. She had no clue who this man was.
“Just inside. Khalid radioed me. He wants to be sure you’re safe.” Ryan paused. “We’re local security, please.”
“Khalid?”
Ryan waved in the direction the stranger had taken off in. The brooding, way-too-handsome stranger whose eyes had mesmerized her. Zoey shook her head. She bristled, then reminded herself that she was a visitor, and if this was local security ... “May I see some ID, please?”
His eyebrows rose, but he fished a leather case out of his pocket and held it out to her.
She took it and opened it.
Ryan Andrews.
Team leader.
Bashir Independent Security Force.
There was his picture and a badge that looked official. “Wait a second, you said local security, but this says you’re independent security.”
“Yes, ma’am. Bashir’s police force is independent from the royal security force.”
She studied him. Her instincts told her he was telling her the truth, but still she was leery.
“Please, ma’am. Come inside. We will be out of the hot sun, and I can get your statement. I promise no harm will come to you. You have my word.”
That made sense. “Very well.” Together they walked up the stairs and inside what turned out to be no ordinary building. The room was huge. Several men sat around watching monitors. If she squinted, she could make out different shots of the street outside. “I’ve never seen anything like this outside of the military.”
“As most of this is private security, I suspect you haven’t.” Ryan led her across the room and gestured to the table and chairs. “Have a seat. Khalid should return shortly.”
“I thought you were going to take my statement?”
His cheeks turned ruddy, but his blue eyes twinkled. “Not just yet. Khalid will want to hear what you have to say. So please, sit and relax. I’ll get you some water.”
What the hell? He’d all but ordered her into the place, and now he was waiting for the stranger to return. She wrinkled her nose at him as he walked away. Zoey took off her pack and set it on the table. What had she stumbled into? And who was the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who had taken after those boys?
Khalid al-Hakim swore as he made his way back to the new surveillance center. The group of boys had gotten away. Were they part of Kalif’s group? Kalif, Bashir’s resident drug lord, was growing bolder and more dangerous with each passing day. Khalid, his family, and his security forces had destroyed all but the main poppy field, which still existed mainly because they couldn’t seem to find the damn thing. That didn’t stop Kalif from recruiting more men or, should he say, more young men. The ones Khalid had chased couldn’t be more than twenty, if that.
Khalid marched into the building, his gaze sweeping the room. There she was, sitting at the table with a bottle of water clenched in her hand, observing everything going on around her. He stood there for a moment.
He’d noticed her on the security cameras they’d installed around the area. He’d been intrigued from the moment he’d seen her. The way she walked, with confidence and grace. The way she handled her camera spoke of both training and enjoyment. Her red hair, pulled back away from her face, made him take notice of her full lips and strong chin. Then there were those long legs. He wondered what they would feel like wrapped around his waist.
He shook his head. Where did that thought come from? He admired how she paid attention to her surroundings, and to have realized she was being followed spoke to some trai
Khalid hadn’t intended to run into her. He’d taken the side entrance and planned to walk past her, but he hadn’t expected her to come barreling around the corner and straight into him.
His cock had jumped when her soft body landed against his, an odd reaction for him. Not that he didn’t like women, but usually it took a while before his dick got into the action. Khalid let out a sigh.
Now was not the time. No matter how much his body wanted her. Shaking his thoughts away and willing his body under control, he strode over to her.
Their gazes clashed, and Khalid halted in his tracks. Her eyes were ... silver. There was no other color to describe them.
“Are you going to stand there staring?” There was irritation in her voice, and his lips curved into a smile. Most people would be nervous, but not this woman. She might be angry, yet she was a study in calm steadiness.
“I apologize.” Khalid pulled out a chair and sat down before holding out his hand. “Khalid, head of security.”
“I never would have guessed.” His rough hand encased her soft one.
If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he would never have noticed the small shiver that went through her body. “Are you all right?” He released her hand when she tugged and instantly missed her warmth.
“Fine. I take it you didn’t catch the young men?”
“No. They disappeared. Any idea why they were following you?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “They were just young men. Probably wanted to flirt with me.” She tilted her head.
“Then why chase you?”
She shrugged her shoulders, and Khalid frowned at her attitude. “Are you American?”
“Yes. I’m Zoey.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I should have told you my name before.”
“What are you doing in Bashir?” He forced himself not to react to the way her soft voice soothed over his skin, sinking into his bones.
“I’m a travel writer, and I’m here for the anniversary party.”
“May I see your passport?” It would only take him a few minutes to identify how she had come into the country.
She regarded him with those silver eyes of hers. “I guess.” She unzipped the pocket of her cargo pants and pulled out a small blue book. “I trust you’ll bring this right back to me?”
“I will. You have my word.” Distrust reflected in her eyes, and he patiently waited.
She let out a sigh and held her passport out to him.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” He slid back his chair, rose, and crossed the room to where Ryan stood next to the computers, his back straight as he stared at the screen showing the front of the building.
“Well?” Ryan asked.
“She says she’s here for the anniversary party.” He gave Jahir, his resident computer guru, the passport. Within a minute, Zoey’s information was up on the screen. Zoey Lacey, US resident, twenty-seven years old, had cleared customs just this morning, and flown in from Iraq.
Ryan whistled. “Iraq?”
“Says she’s a travel writer,” Khalid answered.
Jahir’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “She is,” Jahir said, “according to this.” He waved his hand at the screen. “She freelances for several different magazines and writes a very popular travel blog.” He pulled up her blog.
There were all the normal travel pictures until Jahir scrolled down further, and Khalid’s mouth dropped open.
There was a picture of an Iraqi village, one that had been bombed out. The empty village, shelled-out buildings, and a mother and child sitting in the street. The picture was haunting and tragic, but also beautiful.
“She is very good,” Ryan said.
“So it seems.” Khalid picked the passport up. “Since I’m not sure if those were just local boys or part of Kalif’s group, let’s escort her to where she’s staying. I want to make sure she’s not being watched.”
“You think she’s a target for Kalif to grab?” Ryan asked.
Kalif would grab women to keep his men happy. “There is no reason to think so, but I’d rather be safe.” He turned and walked back over to Zoey, who sat watching him. “Here you go.” He handed her passport back to her.
“I assume I check out?” Her voice held a slight hint of laughter.
“Yes. Ryan and I will escort you to where you’re staying.”
“That’s really not necessary.” She stood, slipping her backpack on. “I have more photos to take.”
“Not today.”
Her eyes flashed anger. Why was she angry? “We will escort you.” He used his stern voice, the one he used when his family didn’t want to listen.
“Look, there is no need. I’m not done with the job I came to do.”
“Neither am I.” He stared at her, trying not to grin at the mutinous expression on her face. “I can put you under protective custody if you won’t cooperate.” Her express grew darker and he prepared himself for a fight. “I only want to make sure you’re safe in my country.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes before stepping around the table and striding toward the entrance of the building.
Khalid jogged a couple of steps to catch up with her. “Where are you staying?”
“I figured you already knew that. Bashir City Palm Resort.”
He almost laughed. The hotel was not a resort, but it was clean and safe. Babak was a good man and made sure his guests were well taken care of. “It is a nice place.”
Zoey shrugged, ignoring her escorts as she moved with purpose down the sidewalk. Within fifteen minutes they stood outside the hotel.
“Thank you for the escort.”
“We will see you to your room.”
“Afraid I’ll run away the second you leave me?”
“No.” He pushed open the door and held it for her. With a shrug, Zoey walked past him.
“Ah, Miss Lacey. You have returned.” His smile was genuine, but when he saw Khalid it faded a little. “Pr--”
“Babak,” Khalid said before the man could say his title. “Miss Lacey here ran into a little trouble with a couple of the local boys. All is fine, but I decided she needed an escort back to your establishment.”
“Yes, of course.” His gaze bounced between Zoey and Khalid. “I have your room ready, Miss Lacey. Let me get your bag.” Babak disappeared, then returned with a large rolling duffel bag.
“Thank you.” Zoey reached for her bag.
Khalid reached around her and snatched it up.
She stared at him and gave him a tight smile as Babak handed her the key to her room. The trio walked over to the elevator. “Look, I’m not comfortable with strange men walking me to my room.”
“Then it’s a good thing you know who we are.”
“That’s not funny.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Babak,” he called.
“Yes, sir.” Babak came over to them.
“Would you please vouch for Ryan and myself to Miss Lacey? She’s not sure if she should allow us to accompany her to her room.”
“Oh. Miss Lacey, Khalid and Ryan are upstanding ... citizens ... and they protect those of us in Bashir. There is no reason not to trust them.”
Zoey threw up her hands. “I know when I’m beat,” she muttered as the elevator doors opened. “Thank you, Babak.” She stepped inside the elevator, and they followed.
“I can take it,” she said when she punched the button for the third floor.
“My mother would faint if I didn’t carry a lady’s bags for her.”
Ryan snickered and Khalid shot him a look, but Ryan ignored him. When the elevator’s door opened, Khalid waited for Zoey to get out.
“Room three-ten.” She turned to the left and found the correct door.
Khalid plucked the key from her fingers and opened the door. “Stay here. I’m going to make sure it’s safe.” He stepped into the room. Within a couple of minutes, he gestured for her to enter.
