He knew he shouldn’t be kissing her.

And yet he needed this. At this moment he felt like he couldn’t do without it.

She was something, this woman. Strong and determined, yet with a tender heart. What he wouldn’t give to stay in her arms, to make her his. To wake every day to a woman like this. To let her be his reason for living.

But he was a sheik from a foreign land and she was a Wyoming cowgirl. It was an impossible dream.

Efraim ended the kiss and looked down. He knew he should feel ashamed, that he should regret it. But he’d never regret kissing Callie.

No matter what happened.

Seized by the Sheik
Ann Voss Peterson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To everyone who chooses tolerance and love over hate and fear.

About the Author

Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, ANN VOSS PETERSON wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs, including proofreading legal transcripts, working with quarter horses and washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination—romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. Email her at ann@annvosspeterson.com or visit her website at www.annvosspeterson.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Efraim Aziz—A sheik from the small island nation of Nadar, Efraim doesn’t trust the United States or anyone in it. That is, until he meets Callie McGuire.

Callie McGuire—An assistant to the U.S. Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Callie dreams of finding a man who accepts both sides of her—the world-traveling diplomat and the all-American girl who grew up on a Wyoming ranch.

Fahad Bahir—The man would go to great lengths to protect his cousin, Sheik Efraim, and the interests of his beloved country of Nadar.

Clay McGuire—Callie’s father wants her to settle down, but a sheik isn’t the man he would choose for his only daughter. How far will he go to prevent the match?

Brent McGuire—Callie’s older brother is a hothead with anger issues. How far would he go to protect his sister from the man he sees as a threat?

Russ McGuire—Little brother Russ likes to follow Brent’s lead in all things except women. There he is in a league of his own. But this time, has a woman led him astray?

Timmy McGuire—The youngest McGuire sibling is only in high school, and when he’s attacked, the whole family rushes to his aid.

Kateb Bahir—Kateb competes with his older brother in all things. Did sibling rivalry finally turn to violence?

Tanya Driscoll—Does the party girl simply want a good time? Or is she after something more serious…and deadly?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

The place felt like death.

Efraim Aziz lowered his rein hand and let his horse pick his own path through the acres-wide gash of eroded red-and-beige rock. Wind whistled through the formations and battered his face, incessant and strong. A few sticks of sagebrush twisted through kinks in the rock to stretch their silver-green leaves to the sky, the only living thing for what looked like miles. These badlands, the high plains, the mountain ranges to the west and north—it was a harsh landscape populated by hard, arrogant people. And somewhere in this hell Amir Khalid was struggling, dying…if he wasn’t already dead.

Efraim had to find his friend.

“Sheik Efraim! Wait!”

He recognized the voice immediately, its sound shivering over his skin like the warm breath of a lover. He knew someone would come looking for him, but he’d never guessed it would be her.

He glanced over his shoulder.

She rode toward him through the badlands astride a palomino quarter horse. Her long blond hair glimmered in the Wyoming sun like the golden beaches of his island nation of Nadar.

Efraim tried his best to ignore the spike in his blood pressure, the acceleration of his pulse.

He didn’t even know her, this Callie McGuire. They’d engaged in a few polite discussions when he’d arrived in America, and only glances in the stressful days since. But whenever she was near, he had a hard time keeping his eyes off her. It was as if she was the only person in the room. Magnetic. And as hot as the sun itself.

Whoever sent her to collect him was shrewd, indeed.

“Sheik Efraim. Please.”

He scooped in a deep breath of hot horse and leather and braced himself before turning his mount back to face her.

She’d come to talk him into going back, holing up like a coward. And even though he didn’t intend to follow her advice, he knew he would listen to her every word with the attentiveness of a teenage boy enslaved to his hormones. Embarrassing for the leader of a country. Shameful.

She came to a halt in front of him, but her eyes darted around, taking in the sagebrush, the crumbled rock outcroppings, the mountains on the horizon. “Where’s your security?”

He thought of his cousin Fahad and the men who worked under him. “At the Wind River Ranch.”

“You’re out here without protection?”

“Who sent you after me? Fahad?”

“I like to ride, clear my head.” She gave him a doe-eyed look, all innocence.

A sure sign he was being handled.

He raised a brow. “So is this the job you expected when you chose to work for your country’s Office of Foreign Affairs? Babysitter?”

She rested her rein hand on the saddle horn, her blue eyes squinted against the glare. “You shouldn’t be out here, sir. It’s too dangerous. Whoever planted that car bomb to kill Sheik Amir will be trying to kill you, too.”

“So Fahad did send you. My head of security?” Efraim knew it. Kateb must have run to his brother this morning as soon as he’d trailered Efraim and one of the Wind River Ranch’s horses to the rural road where the explosion had occurred.

“I haven’t heard from Mr. Bahir.” She let out a breath, as if giving up. “Actually I was hoping he was out here keeping an eye on you.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if he is.” Efraim took his own glance around the landscape but saw no sign of his cousin. “So if it wasn’t Fahad, who sent you?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is to me.” He wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by the thought that someone believed Callie McGuire could protect him better than he could protect himself, or by the indication that whoever had sent her knew of his powerful attraction for the fresh-faced blonde.

If it was one of his men, he’d be on the next plane back to Nadar.

“You need to head back to the resort. Sunset comes early in these parts because of the mountains.” She stared him down, her jaw as set and determined as it had been yesterday.

That was it. Her jaw. The flash in her eyes. That was what drew him. He was a sucker for strong women. Being from a country where women weren’t allowed to be strong around men, this feistiness was novel and obviously the source of his fascination with Callie McGuire. “You’re worried about me?” he said in a dry tone, but he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a note of teasing interest under his words.

“You’re very important to the coalition.”

In the past few weeks, he’d heard enough about the Coalition of Island Nations, or COIN, to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t even sure it was in Nadar’s best interest to be part of it. With each day that had passed since the explosion, his doubts had grown. “Nadar’s offshore oil fields are important to the coalition. The shipping lanes are important to the coalition. Not me.”

“Then why did Prince Stefan call me?”

So it had been Stefan Lutece who’d thought he needed a babysitter and had chosen Callie McGuire for the job. Humiliating that the Prince of Kyros could see his interest so clearly, but at least he wasn’t a subordinate. “He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“If anyone knows about the dangers all the members of the coalition face, it’s Prince Stefan.”

“Or Amir. And finding him is why I’m here.”

“You think you’re going to find some sign of him out here on the BLM?” She gestured to the surroundings with her free hand.

As Efraim understood it, the barren canyonlike area he was now searching in was called Rattlesnake Badlands, a part of public land controlled by the Bureau of Land Management. The locals just referred to all of it as the BLM.

“I’m not going to cower at some luxury resort ranch while Amir might be out here dying.”

“There are people searching.”

“Who? The police? Some honest ones, or just the ones taking money from organized crime?”

She scrunched up her nose, and he noticed for the first time that she had a sprinkle of freckles across the top of her cheekbones. Fascinating.

He concentrated on a large clump of sage just past her right ear. “Amir didn’t disappear. He has to be somewhere.”

“So don’t rely on the authorities. Let your own people do the job. You don’t have to do this personally.”

But he did. It was that or go crazy. The Wind River Ranch and Resort was a luxurious place, that was for certain, but he couldn’t enjoy it knowing Amir was out there, maybe dying, maybe dead. “There’s no argument you can make that Fahad has not already made.”

The hard line of her lips softened. “I know the two of you are close. I know you’re worried about him.”

Whereas her passion had been arousing, the softness and empathy in her eyes mesmerized him and for a moment, he found himself physically leaning toward her in his saddle.

He caught himself before he swooned like a lovesick teen. “When Amir is found, I will stop searching.” He laid a spur to his horse’s side, and the animal broke into a jog. He wasn’t wild about much of what America had to offer, but he might make an exception for its quarter horses and its women.

At least this woman.

“Then I’ll help—”

A gunshot cracked through the air, cutting her sentence short.

Efraim grabbed for his pistol and tried to gauge where the shot came from. The report bounced off rock and mixed with the whistle of the wind.

So much for finding Amir. Hemmed in by canyon walls, he and Callie would be lucky if they got out of the Rattlesnake Badlands alive.

Chapter Two

Pulse pounding so hard that her hands shook, Callie pulled her prize rifle from the scabbard on her saddle. Her throat felt as dry as the dust under their horses’ hooves. What was she thinking, rushing out here without bringing the sheik’s security detail with her? How did she think she and a rifle were going to stack up against the forces out there who would do anything to stop the COIN summit from taking place? When she’d gotten the call from Prince Stefan, she’d been confident she could talk Efraim into returning to the ranch. She hadn’t given an extra thought to what she would do if they suddenly found themselves in a war zone. “We need to get out of here.”

“We need to make ourselves smaller targets.” Sheik Efraim threw a leg back over the saddle and slid to the ground. “The echoes. Can you tell where the shot came from?”

Her boots hit the ground. The crazy way the sound bounced off the canyon walls made finding the source nearly impossible. She pointed in the direction she thought she’d first heard the sound. “There. Can’t tell for sure.”

He gestured to a formation, and they slipped behind it. Walls of red-and-tan rock rose around them. A miniature version of a box canyon. Safe, but only until the shooter decided to block off the only escape route.

“We can’t stay here,” Callie whispered. “They had to have seen where we went. We’ll be trapped.”

“I’m not planning to stay.” He squinted into the sun. Lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He looked concerned, yet calm. A man used to being in tight places. “Do you have a phone?”

“No reception out here.”

“What’s closest? Town?”

She shook her head. Dumont was a good distance by foot or by horse. Even the ranch owned by family friend Helen Jefferies would take an awfully long time to reach through this canyon. Faster to get out of Rattlesnake Badlands as quickly as possible and head in the other direction. “My family’s ranch is closest. If we exit the canyon to the south, we can probably make it by nightfall.”

The sheik arched his black brows. “Your family?”

“I grew up here.” For some reason, she’d assumed he knew that. Strange. But every time he looked at her, it felt like his dark eyes saw everything. Her innermost thoughts and feelings. Even her past.

“Then you know the land.”

“Yes. Any ideas who is shooting at us?” She’d like to think it was a local out shooting targets on the BLM, something she and her brothers did more times than she could count. But she knew that was unlikely at best.

“Russian mob? That might give us some room to work.”

“Room to work?” That was her worst fear. A sniper like the one who had tried to kill Prince Stefan. A man whose aim was to kill, ruthlessly, and who had the skill to pull it off.

“He probably doesn’t know the area. Not like you do.”

A silver lining, if only a shred of one. “You’re right. So we have an advantage there.”

“We sure don’t have one in firepower.” He held up his pistol. A nice weapon, but not much use at a distance. “Are you a good shot?”

“Won some shooting contests when I was in high school.” She held up her rifle, showing him the brass plaque on the stock proclaiming her Wind River County Champion Marksman, Junior Women’s Division. The whole idea of shooting competitions seemed ridiculous and trivial in light of the situation they were in. Fun and games in the face of life and death.

He nodded, as if it was exactly what he was hoping for. “Okay. Then you can cover me.” He handed her his horse’s reins.

His words jolted her like a slap. “Cover you? Where are you going?”

“That first shot, it wasn’t meant for us.”

“Who was it meant for?”

“Whoever is up on that ridge.” He pointed across a rough area of the canyon floor to a ridge of rock. “See him?”

She shielded her eyes with her hand.

“To the right. You can see something white, a sleeve.” Lightly touching her cheek, he tilted her face in the correct direction.

She tried not to think about the feel of his touch and focus on spotting what he was trying to show her. Sure enough, some sort of white cloth was flapping in the wind. “I see it. You think it’s a person?”

“I think it’s a body.”

“You saw him get shot?”

“Not exactly. I didn’t realize he was there. Not until after the shot was fired and he suddenly wasn’t.”

“And you plan to climb up there?”

“We can’t leave him.”

“Do you know who it is?”

He shook his head. “Let’s hope not.” Holding his weapon at the ready, he stepped forward.

“Wait.” She grabbed his shoulder. “If this is a sniper…”

He looked back. His eyes fixed on hers. “That’s why I’m relying on you. Can you cover me?”

Her insides shook so badly that she didn’t even know if she could manage to get her finger to the trigger. The dossier she’d studied on his background had mentioned military service, as with the other COIN leaders. But even though she’d grown up around guns and knew the terrain, she was no soldier. At the sound of that first gunshot, adrenaline had hollowed out her stomach and turned the rest of her into a quivering mess.

He leaned toward her, closer than a man had been in a long while, and tapped on the award plaque on her rifle stock. “You’ll be fine.”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t so sure. She squinted up at the ridge and the wisp of white fabric flapping in the wind like a flag of surrender.

“Wait.” She stepped to her mare’s side and rummaged through the saddlebags with her free hand. Her fingers touched the pair of binoculars she had used to find the sheik. She pulled them out and handed them to him. “You should be able to see the area better from up there, maybe spot our shooter.”

“Good thinking.”

She shouldn’t feel so warm at his praise, but she couldn’t deny the flicker in her chest. A flicker that for a moment eclipsed the shaking. She stood up a little straighter. “Please be careful, Sheik Efraim.”

“Just Efraim. Please.”

“Efraim. Be careful.”

He nodded. Pistol in front of him, he started climbing up through the eroded and crumbling rock.

She shouldered the rifle and scanned the area through the scope. She’d ridden out here to bring him back to the Wind River Ranch, and that’s what she’d do. If there was one thing her daddy taught her, it was to do what needed to be done.

A lesson that had served her well so far.

The crunch and scrape of his footsteps faded into the wind. She forced herself to breathe, stay steady and alert. Next to her, Efraim’s horse tossed his head. Her mare, Sasha, pawed the ground.

“Callie,” Efraim called, his voice rasping, as if his throat was filled with sand.

She lowered the rifle slightly and glanced up.

His dark head peeked over the edge of the cliff, bent over the body they’d seen from below. “I need your help.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Can you find a way to get the horses up here?”

She tried to picture the canyon in her mind’s eye. If she wound south, the slope was more gentle. The horses should be able to handle it. “I think so.”

“I’ll cover you as best I can. Hurry.”

Tucking her rifle back in its scabbard, she grasped the reins and started trudging in a wide arc that sloped up to the canyon’s edge. Whoever Efraim found up on that cliff must be hurt, not dead. And knowing that gave her a little more hope that all this would turn out okay.

The trek seemed to take forever. But except for a few slips and scrambles of steel shoes on hard rock, the horses plugged along. She turned the last corner, the point that should bring her to the level where Efraim crouched by the body. A rock face loomed in front of her.

She let out a heavy breath.

It wasn’t high, only about ten feet of jumbled rock rising to a wider cap formation on top called a hoodoo. But small or not, the barrier was squarely between her and Efraim.

She could climb the side and skirt around the saddle-horn-shaped hoodoo with a little effort, but the horses couldn’t.

She glanced around, her gaze landing on a scraggle of half-dead sagebrush. Sasha was trained to ground tie with the best of them. She wasn’t so confident about the horse from the Wind River Ranch. Without a sturdy halter and lead, she couldn’t tie the animal very securely, but maybe it would be enough.

She looped the horse’s reins around the woody base of the sage. She dropped Sasha’s reins free next to it. “Whoa.” As long as something didn’t happen, they should be fine.

Turning back to the rocky face, she spied Efraim staring down at her. He cupped his hand around his mouth. “Do you have something plastic? A bag? Something like that?”

Her mind raced, trying to decipher the reason behind the request. She turned back to her horse. She kept a number of things with her when riding out on the ranch or the BLM, but plastic bags weren’t among them. She returned to Sasha and grabbed the saddlebags from the saddle. Pausing, she grabbed the rain slicker she’d tied on the saddle’s skirt and carried all back to the swell of rock and started climbing.

Loose sand and stones skittered under her feet. She slipped twice, trying to catch herself with hands weighed down with saddlebags and slicker. A rock face about three feet high formed the final hurdle. But from here she could clearly see Efraim and the white fabric they’d spotted from the canyon floor.

It wasn’t a shirt, as she’d previously thought, but a traditional head cloth designed to protect the wearer from the harsh sun.

The kind of sun that beat down on the island of Nadar.

A chill fanned over Callie’s skin despite the June heat. She focused on Efraim. “One of your people?”

Efraim looked up, dark eyes glistening. Rusty red smeared his cheekbone where he’d swiped at his eyes with a bloody hand. “It’s Fahad.”

NUMBNESS PENETRATED bone deep. When Efraim first realized the body lying on the canyon’s edge was Fahad, he’d almost staggered under the blow. Then training had kicked in. Cold, methodical. His cousin was badly injured, but alive. Callie and he were in danger. It was up to him to get them all to safety before it was too late.

Fahad stared at him with dark eyes and open mouth, struggling for oxygen. With each breath, a sucking sound emanated from his chest wound. Efraim pressed his wadded-up shirt against the wound. Within seconds it was soaked with blood, warm and sticky on his hands. The sound continued.

He looked up at Callie, climbing the last few feet of rock-strewn slope. “Plastic?”

“I have a slicker and some first-aid supplies.” She held up a bundle cradled in her arms.

He needed those supplies. And she couldn’t climb the last rock wall while carrying them. He rose to his feet to take them from her.

A second shot split the air. Rock exploded next to his face.

Efraim hit the deck. His foot hit Fahad’s rifle, sending it careening into the canyon. Still climbing the rocky slope, Callie flattened. Beyond her, a horse whinnied. Steel shoes clattered on stone.

The horses. They were running away.

Keeping low to the ground this time, Efraim crawled to the slope. His thoughts raced. The shot had hit the stone near him, Callie had to be merely taking cover. She had to be okay.

Reaching the edge, he peered over.

She looked up at him, her freckles streaked by dust, her blue eyes wide. “Here.” She pushed the bundle toward him.

He took the saddle bags and slicker. “Stay low.”

“I’ll climb up. I can help.”

“No.” The last thing he wanted was for Callie to attempt to climb the ridge and get shot for her efforts. “I’ll tend to Fahad, then you can help me move him.”

He moved back to Fahad’s side. His cousin was still conscious, still fighting. He moved his lips, but no sound came, just the sucking noise mixed with each gasp for breath.

“Hold on. I have supplies. It will be all right.”

His cousin gave a light bob of the head.

Efraim folded the slicker and pulled an elastic bandage from the saddlebags. He wasn’t sure this was going to work, but he did know that if he did nothing, Fahad would die.

He had ripped Fahad’s shirt open as soon as he’d found him. Now he pushed the tattered and bloody fabric aside and pressed the slick side of the raincoat against the wound. Grasping the bandage roll in sticky hands, he strapped it across Fahad’s chest, fitting the slicker tight against his skin. It was far from sterile, far from ideal, but it was the best he could do. He just prayed it would work.

Something scraped rock and Callie slipped to her knees by his side.

“I told you to stay—”

“It will go faster with both of us.”

He shook his head and peered down at the badlands below. “You have to go back down the slope.”

“I know you’re trying to protect me. But faster is better. For Fahad and for both of us.” She set her chin and gripped Fahad’s shoulders. “Now, are you going to help me sit him up or not?”

He helped her tilt Fahad toward him. Callie wrapped the rest of the slicker around his side and over the exit wound in his back. They wrapped the bandage around his chest, securing the slicker as tightly as possible to the wound.

Fahad gasped again and again, but this time he seemed to be getting air. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and trickled down the side of his face and into his beard. Beads of sweat bloomed on his forehead.

“Fahad, who did this?” Efraim asked.

“Followed you.”

“Who?”

He shook his head, the movement barely perceptible. “Don’t know.”

Efraim’s pulse beat in his ears, loud as gunfire. Any second another shot could crack through the canyon, a bullet could plow into one of them and end it all.

“Have you spotted the shooter?” Callie asked.

He took a quick glance around the canyon formations. Between the hoodoos, crumbled cliffs and pocks of vegetation, he couldn’t pick out the form of a man. All he had to go on was the trajectory of the shot that had missed his head. “I think he’s to the north. And I think he’s somewhat below us because he didn’t see me until I stood.”

“Your horse. The gunshot spooked him.”

He glanced up. He’d assumed both horses had run. “Just mine?”

She nodded. “I’ve competed in shooting competitions on horseback, too. Sasha’s used to it. She’s waiting at the bottom of the slope.”

He let out a breath. At least one thing had gone right in all this. They’d need a horse if they hoped to get Fahad out of here and to someone who could help him.

“The horse will probably head for one of the ranches around here. My dad’s. Helen’s. He’ll be all right.”

Efraim hadn’t been thinking of the horse. He’d been more concerned about their being all right. But he gave her a nod all the same.

Callie grabbed another bandage from the saddlebags, this one a self-adhesive horse wrap. They wrapped until they’d covered Fahad’s back and shoulder.

Now came the tricky part. “We need to move him, get him down to the horse. And we’re going to have to stand up to do it.”

“Maybe not.” She reached for the saddlebag. Opening the second side, she pulled out a small thermal blanket. “We can drag him.”

“Do you have everything in that bag?”

“I was a Girl Scout.”

He must have missed something. “A Girl Scout?”

“They teach you to be prepared. Always good, because around here, people are few and far between.”

They spread the blanket and lifted Fahad onto it.

The canyon was quiet, nothing but the wind whistling through rock formations. Efraim would like to think that meant their shooter was gone, but he doubted that was the case.

Keeping low, Callie picked up one corner of the blanket near Fahad’s head. Efraim took the other, and they slid him across rock to the three-foot drop down to the incline.

At the base of the steep slope, the palomino mare stood, reins draped to the ground, shifting her hooves in the dust.

Efraim jumped off the rock shelf. His boots skidded on loose rock and debris. He went down to a knee before catching himself.

“You okay?” Callie said, her voice breathless.

He nodded. “I’ll take him from here.” He gathered Fahad in his arms as if cradling a baby. Fahad was only five feet eight inches tall, but he was built like a bulldog. A muscled bulldog at that. Efraim’s arms ached with his limp weight. At least the sucking noise had stopped. His cousin’s breathing was still labored, but he was breathing.

Efraim half skidded, half ran down the slope to the horse, Callie right behind him. The place she’d left the horses was protected on several sides. Except for the rock shelf above, most of the canyon plummeted downward from their perch, and afforded a decent view of the area. Not that there was anything to see.

And that made Efraim nervous.

He lowered Fahad to the ground and hunched down beside him.

“How is he?”

“He’s breathing better but unconscious.”

“The pain. The blood loss. It probably got to be too much.”

An understatement. He’d never had a gunshot wound, not in all his years in the military. But years ago, he’d helped a soldier who’d been shot during an uprising in Nadar. He knew how painful it could be.

He squinted up at the sun in the western sky. They were running out of time, and there was still someone out there gunning for them. He had to figure out what to do next. And he couldn’t afford to make another mistake. “This ranch of your family’s, how far?”

“A few miles.”

“Can we still make it before nightfall?”

“Maybe. Or just after.” She glanced at Fahad. “We’ll have to take things slow.”

The sun beat down, hot on his skin. Sweat stung his eyes. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, realizing too late he had blood up to his elbows. And now, no doubt, all over his face. “You take Fahad on the horse.”

“And you?”

“I stay here. Cover you.”

She shook her head, her hair blowing in the wind and lashing her cheeks like whips. “No. That’s not going to happen.”

“What, then? We have an injured man, one horse and someone trying to shoot us.” He wished she had another answer, a better answer, but he doubted one existed.

“You take him. I cover you.”

“That is not going to happen.”

“But this shooter, if he’s targeting you—”

“Targeting me? And what if he is? You’re not law enforcement. I suppose you’re planning to use diplomacy?”

She stepped to her horse and tapped the stock of her prize rifle for an answer, throwing his earlier gesture back at him.

“Shooting targets is one thing. Engaging an enemy is another.”

“You thought I was good enough a few minutes ago.”

He shook his head. He hated to break it to her, but a few minutes ago, she’d been relatively protected. The riskier job had been climbing up to help Fahad. “I’m sure you’re a fine shot. But this isn’t the same thing.”

She blew a frustrated breath through pursed lips. “COIN can proceed without me. It will die without you.”

So that was it. He should have known. The COIN summit was obviously more important to her than her own life. Good thing that wasn’t true for him. “That’s not the way it works, Callie.”

“Is this some sort of macho thing?”

“It’s some sort of practical thing. You said your family’s ranch is the closest place to get help. I have no idea how to get there. I can, however, hold a gunman off and catch up with you once I know it’s safe.”

She pressed her lips into a line, her chin set.

He didn’t know Callie McGuire very well, but he already knew that look.

She met his eyes. “We’ll both go. Together.”

“Then we’ll both get killed. And Fahad will die from his injuries,” he said in a low voice. He glanced at his cousin. Fahad’s breathing was labored, but the slicker looked to have done the trick. For now. But with every second they spent arguing, he was getting weaker and the sun was dipping lower in the western sky. “If you want to keep Nadar in the COIN compact, we need to keep Fahad alive. His death will only give the dissenters in Nadar fuel for their movement.”

“And your death?”

“I’m not going to die.”

She shook her head.

“Fahad is losing blood with each minute we spend arguing.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do this your way.” Her eyes focused on him like blue lasers. “But you have to promise me you’ll catch up. That you’ll be okay.”

The slight tremble in her voice held a desperation that made his breath hitch, and for a moment, he wanted to believe she was concerned about him, personally, not merely politics and business negotiations, but him as a man.

“Promise me,” she repeated.

“I give you my word.”

She scrambled to her feet. “Then help me get him on the horse.”

Chapter Three

This whole thing was wrong. All wrong.

Callie swung onto Sasha’s back. When she’d ridden out to Rattlesnake Badlands at Prince Stefan’s request, she’d been aiming to talk Efraim into going back to the resort where he’d be safe. Instead, he was risking his life for his cousin’s, for hers. And unless she was willing to let Fahad die, she couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“Fahad,” Efraim said, kneeling next to his cousin. “Can you hear me?”

Fahad mumbled something Callie couldn’t quite catch. His eyes fluttered and opened. His face twisted in a grimace of pain.

“I am going to lift you onto the horse. It might get a bit rough. Hang with us, okay?”

Fahad just kept breathing, in and out, as if anything else was beyond his grasp. It probably was.

Efraim glanced up at her. “Ready?”

She wasn’t sure how they were going to pull this off. Fahad couldn’t lie on his back across the saddle. Nor could he drape over it on his belly, letting blood rush to his head. She slipped behind the saddle’s cantle and sat on the stiff, leather skirt. “He’s going to have to sit on the seat. That’s the only way this is going to work.” Even then, she wasn’t sure they could manage.

Efraim knelt down. Fitting his hands under Fahad’s shoulders and knees, he lifted the man from the ground and climbed to his feet.

Callie reached down from the saddle, and Efraim hoisted him onto the seat. Callie guided his leg over the saddle until he sat astride. She settled him on the seat and leaned his body back against her. She could feel him groan, the sound shuddering through her body. She steadied him with one hand and held Sasha’s reins with the other.

“Do you have him?”

Good question. With a man who had the strength of a rag doll sitting on her lap and her legs dangling at her mare’s flanks, Callie had a challenge ahead of her. She was grateful the horse was Sasha. The palomino mare could read Callie’s shifts of weight almost as if she was reading her mind.

She looked down at Efraim. The thought of him out facing the man who did this to Fahad chilled her to the core. If only she could do something.

He had his pistol, but a pistol wasn’t going to do much good unless the shooter was close. Balancing Fahad against her chest, she tapped the stock of her rifle. “Take this.”

He shook his head. “You’ll need it.”

“Between balancing Fahad on the saddle and keeping control of Sasha, I don’t have enough hands to use a rifle. Give me your pistol.”

He unbuckled his holster. Reaching up, he helped her strap it around her waist. She pulled the rifle from its scabbard and handed it to him.

His hand closed around hers. He lingered for a moment, then took the rifle. “Go.”

She clucked to Sasha and the horse moved forward. Callie kept her eyes on the horizon in the direction of the Seven M Ranch, resisting the need to look around, to see Efraim taking cover among the hoodoos and cliffs, to watch as he faded into the distance.

Two gunshots cracked and echoed off the rock.

Callie kept Sasha moving forward. She knew the shots were likely Efraim drawing attention to himself, trying to let her ride away unnoticed. She forced herself not to think of what might happen next, but her imagination niggled around the edges anyway. Efraim shot… Efraim lying in Rattlesnake Badlands alone while the life drained from his body… Efraim sacrificing himself to make sure she could escape.

A sob stuck in her throat.

In all the times she’d spoken to him before today, she’d had to remind herself to be professional. Speak about COIN and the future of Nadar. Don’t get too personal. Don’t hold his gaze too long.

She’d been attracted to him from the first time she’d laid eyes on him, at a reception in Kyros, his hair nearly as black as his tuxedo. Each time she’d spoken with him since, she’d felt on the edge of giggling and blushing. She’d had to force herself to remain professional.

And now?

Now she just wanted to talk to him again. She just wanted to look in his eyes and feel that blush one more time.

Sasha cleared the badlands. The landscape flattened into sage-pocked plains and abrupt, flat-topped hills called benches. The mountains loomed closer on the northern horizon. The scent of pine tickled the dry wind.

The going was slow, even on the more even ground. With each sway of Sasha’s stride, Callie could feel Fahad’s weight tip to one side or the other as he grew weaker and even less able to hold himself steady. He was a big man. Not as tall as Efraim, but thick and muscled. If he tilted too far to either side, she wouldn’t be able to hold him.

The sun dipped lower in the western sky, its aurora kissing the blue shadow of mountains before starting its slip behind. Soon she would have to navigate by the glow of twilight. She needed to keep moving. Among the mountains, twilight seemed to last forever. But when night finally fell, it was blacker than a nightmare.

“Efraim.” Fahad’s voice was low, a harsh whisper.

Callie leaned her face close to his. The rusty scent of blood filled each breath she took. “He’ll catch up with us. He’ll be okay.”

“You let him…”

She finished the rest of his sentence with her imagination. An extra shard of guilt dug into her. “I didn’t let him. He insisted on protecting you, protecting me.”

“You care only for your negotiations.”

His words hit her like a slap. “That’s not true.” She’d been telling herself that that was all she should care about ever since she’d first met Efraim. That she should be professional. That she should think only of her job. Now a part of her wished she’d never listened.

“He shouldn’t die…”

His voice was growing weak. She leaned closer. “…you should.”

“I should what?”

“Die.”

The vitriol in his one word shook her to the core. She’d faced opposition before in her job. Hatred for the United States. Distrust. She’d faced some of the same from the people she’d grown up with. But never had someone wished her death straight to her face. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“You have polluted Efraim.”

“Polluted?” Words gathered in her mind, bitter words she longed to throw back. She bit the inside of her lip. Pouring gasoline on this kind of fire would only make it burn brighter, hotter. She would let him have his say.

“You, your country…let him go.”

Let him go? “Efraim does what he feels is best. I have no hold on him.”

“Let him go.”

All her experience as a diplomat, and she had no idea what to say to the man. She could find no words. “Efraim makes his own choices.”

“Then may you both…” A rasping sound vibrated through his chest and back. He strained backward, against Callie, as if struggling to breathe.

She shifted him to the side.

“Your family and his…may both be destroyed.” He slumped heavily against her. He gasped in a labored breath, then another.

She grasped the saddle’s fork and held on.

“Whoa, Sasha.” Reaching around the other side of him, she transferred the reins into the hand gripping the saddle. She threaded her free hand along the man’s neck and felt for his pulse. His skin felt clammy. Sweat soaked his hair, his beard. A faint, thready rhythm beat against her fingers.

Still alive, but for how long?

She picked up the reins again and clucked to Sasha. Eyes on the horizon, she searched for the telltale signs of the creek that wound through her family’s ranch while the sun slipped behind the mountain range.

EFRAIM HELD HIS GUN at the ready and strode toward the flash of movement he’d seen between clumps of sage. Probably an animal. A pronghorn antelope darting across the land or a coyote scrounging for food or scampering after a rodent. But deep down he feared it wasn’t something so innocuous. Whoever had shot Fahad was still out here. Watching him. Following. He sensed him.

At least he hoped the gunman was following him and not Callie and Fahad.

He could no longer see them. He hadn’t been able to for quite a while now, even over this open stretch. But he could see her horse’s fresh tracks among sagebrush and prickly pear. And at his pace, he had to be closing in on her. Of course, with only the faint glow of the sun from beyond the mountains, seeing anything was becoming a challenge.

A slight rustle carried on the dying wind.

Ahead, vegetation grew a little taller, a little more lush. A clear indication of water. Probably a creek. He pulled out Callie’s rifle. Lifting it to his shoulder, he peered through the scope and scanned the area.

No horse. No man. But also no animal. At least not one he could see.

Whoever was out there was very good. Either someone who knew the land, or someone trained to disappear. He could be lining Efraim up in his sights right now, and Efraim wouldn’t even know he was there.

Not until the bullet hit.

He tried to clear his mind, to focus on what his senses told him, not what his imagination could invent. Whoever was out there had been following Callie or him or both since Fahad was shot. He hadn’t shot back since his second attempt in the badlands, but that didn’t mean killing them wasn’t his aim. Efraim just wished he knew why the man was playing with them like a cat plays with its prey before devouring it.

Dry soil crunched under his boots. The wind had died down with the fall of night, and the air was still, making every sound loud as gunfire. He breathed deeply, searching for the scent of burning tobacco, the sharp tang of a man’s sweat, something, but all he could detect was the ever-present fragrance of sage flavored with a distant hint of pine.

He lowered the rifle. Another thing he hadn’t seen was any sign of a ranch, and that had him worried. It couldn’t be too much farther, could it? He hoped it was as close as Callie thought. And he could only pray Fahad was still alive and strong enough for it to matter.

The hiss sounded from the prairie floor, like the shake of a maraca, louder than the wind.

Oh, hell.

He looked down at the earth in front of him.

The black coil of a rattlesnake lay near a clump of sage. Again, it sounded its deadly warning.

Efraim took a slow step backward. Then another. In all the riding and climbing he’d done in Rattlesnake Badlands, he hadn’t seen a single one of the reptiles. They’d probably been hiding from the hot sun. This one had ventured out to enjoy the cooler evening air.

He took several more backward steps.

The rattle faltered, then stopped. He’d barely drawn a breath when another sound came from behind him. The unmistakable clack of a rifle chambering a round.

“Turn around and I’ll blow your head off.”

The voice sounded American. A local, or at least a pretty good imitation of the accent. A slight tremor vibrated under the words.

Efraim gripped the rifle. He slid his finger to the trigger guard.

“Throw the rifle down.”

Could he spin around, aim and fire before the man could take him out? He doubted it. He’d proven himself quite a marksman in the canyon. Now, with what sounded like only a few yards between them, hitting Efraim would be child’s play.

“I said throw it down.”

It would be smarter to wait for a better chance. He just prayed it would come before the bullet did. He tossed Callie’s rifle to the ground.

“Put your hands up.”

Efraim complied. Hands raised, he scanned the area, straining to see in the dim light. Sagebrush hulked in low, gray mounds, but he could see little else. Nothing he could use for cover.

Boots crunched on dry ground. The steps came closer, moving up behind him.

Efraim held his breath. He could feel the man closing in. Only eight feet away. Four. Two. Efraim no longer had his pistol or Callie’s rifle, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. He slowed his breathing, focused his mind, ready to move.

The footfalls stopped. Efraim could sense him bend down, hear him grab Callie’s rifle.

Now.

Efraim slashed a hand downward, grabbing for his belt. The dagger decorating the buckle looked like simple ornamentation, but it was anything but. His thumb found the release button at the same time his fingers hit the tiny dagger. He pulled the small blade clear and spun around.

The man was a dark silhouette, the last glow of twilight behind him.

Efraim slashed, hit flesh.

The man let loose a guttural sound.

Efraim reversed direction, bringing the blade back, striking again.

This time his enemy was ready. He lifted the rifle. Blade hit barrel.

The dagger wrenched from Efraim’s hands. The rifle barrel numbed his hand and plowed into his side.

Pain shot through his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. He struck out with his bare hands. His knuckles glanced off the man’s chin.

The rifle hit again.

His whole chest seized with pain. Gasping, Efraim hunched forward, trying to protect his ribs, trying to breathe.

The man was on him in a second. His knee drove into Efraim’s back. Dirt and grit ground into his cheek. He struggled for air but nothing came.

“Hold still.”

Efraim finally choked a breath into his lungs. Dust came with it. He coughed, his side on fire. The entire middle of his body wreathed in pain.

His dagger.

It had flown out of his hand when the rifle barrel hit. It had to be here. Within a few feet. He scraped the ground in front of him with his free hand, but hit nothing but sagebrush and prickly pear.

“Hold still.” The man shoved his knee harder into Efraim’s back. “Right now, or I’ll blow you away.”

Each inhale seared like a hot poker in the side, but at least he was breathing. He felt something hard press into the back of his head.

“Is he dead?”

“Who?” Efraim managed to choke out.

“The one I shot.”

Efraim dug his fingers into the dirt. He didn’t know if Fahad was alive or dead, but either way he would strangle the man with his own hands. He would avenge his cousin. His blood. Fahad would do no less for him.

“Is he?”

“No.”

He let out a breath with a whoosh. “Why are you here?” The man’s voice cracked.

Efraim smiled. It was one thing to gun a man down from a distance. Looking through a rifle scope made everything seem unreal, like watching a violent movie or playing a video game. Americans loved their violence as long as it was at a distance. Pretend. Or in someone else’s country.

Efraim knew how to deal with it close up.

He had to be calm, to clear his mind. He’d struck too fast with the knife. Played it too recklessly. He’d assumed he was faster than his enemy. As fast as he had been years ago when he’d fought for Nadar. He’d been wrong. But he didn’t need to be faster. He was smarter. This time he needed to think. And when he got an opening, he needed to make it count.

The guy had him pinned to the ground, but his weight rested too much on Efraim’s back. In that unstable position, Efraim could throw him off balance and flip him. He’d already proven himself more fond of throwing threats around than bullets. He’d give Efraim another chance. Cracked rib or not, Efraim could take him. He tensed, ready to make his move.

“Efraim?”

Callie.

Bloody hell. She must be near. She must have heard voices. And knowing what he did of her, she was probably on her way to help.

Efraim could feel the man tense at the sound of her voice. He still had his rifle, probably two, because he’d taken Callie’s, as well. Maybe that was what he was waiting for…for all three of them to be together. Maybe he was following, being as quiet as he could, biding his time so he could take them all out at the same time.

“Efraim? Is that you?”

She was closer. Riding straight into his trap. Straight toward a man with a gun.

Efraim couldn’t let Callie be his target. “Callie? Run.” He bucked backward, trying to unseat the man.

The man was too quick. He shifted his weight off Efraim and brought his fist hard into Efraim’s side.

Into his cracked rib.

Pain ripped through his body. A gasp tore from his lips. For a second, he couldn’t move.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to function. He sprang upward and back, but the man was off him and he connected with nothing but air.

A shadow moved to the left.

He spun to the side with a kick. This time he hit flesh.

The man grunted but kept moving. Running. Not toward Efraim or the sound of Callie’s voice but away. Footsteps ground on dry earth and faded into the night.

Efraim tried to run, to give chase, but after a few steps, he knew it was no good. He slumped forward, bracing his hands on his knees. Pain tore through his side, making each breath agony. Cracked rib for certain. Maybe two. He forced himself to straighten, took a few steps in the direction the shooter went, then doubled over again.

“Efraim? Are you okay?”

He turned toward her voice. All he could make out was the silhouette of a horse carrying two riders. She was near him, only a few feet away. But he couldn’t see her face.

“Efraim?”

“I’m fine,” he lied.

“I heard voices. Fighting. What happened?” Her voice trembled, frightened for him, not sparing a thought about what she was rushing into.

At once he felt grateful for her concern and angry that she’d exposed herself to such danger. “You should have run for the ranch. You shouldn’t have risked coming back for me.”

“And let you die?”

“I wasn’t going to die.” He was close enough to see her face now, her golden hair. But he couldn’t read her eyes. But there was something, the sheen of tears on her cheeks… “Callie? You’re crying. What happened?”

Her breath hitched. “I’m so sorry, I—I think Fahad is dead.”

Chapter Four

Efraim didn’t want to believe Callie’s words, but some how he knew they were true. He stumbled forward, reaching the horse’s side.

“His pulse, I checked. The first time, it felt weak. But this last time…I couldn’t find it at all.”

Fahad was slumped to the side, Callie gripping the fork of the saddle, stretching her arm like a gate to keep him from falling off. Efraim had to wonder how long she’d been riding like that.

“Do you want to check? I mean, to make sure?”

He glanced around. Sagebrush dotted the ground around them, darker hulks in a dark world. The gunman could be anywhere. Twenty feet away, and they might not be able to see him. “We need to get out of here. Can you hold Fahad upright a little longer?”

“I think so.”

He had a feeling she would, no matter how numb her arm became, no matter how slick the saddle leather felt under her fingers. He had to hurry.

Again he scanned the darkness. The fight had thrown off his sense of direction. With the clouds low and no sign of the sun’s glow behind the mountains, he couldn’t get his bearings. “Which way?”

“To your right.”

He turned the way she’d suggested.

“See the big sage and Russian olive? That’s the creek that runs through my family’s ranch. We can follow it right to the Seven M.”

He took the palomino mare’s reins and started leading her toward the larger shadows. He pulled in short breaths, pain shooting through his side. He struggled to listen, to hear the rustle of human boots moving through the sparse vegetation. But the only sounds that reached him were the four-beat rhythm of the horse’s walk and the faint creak of the broken-in saddle. After a while, he added the gurgle of the creek to his list. In the distance, a dog barked.

“You hear that?” Callie asked. “The dog. That’s my dad’s border collie.”

So they were getting close. Not that it mattered for Fahad. But at least Callie would be safe.

Fahad. Dead.

He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept it. “Try to find his pulse again.”

Callie shifted in the saddle and the horse stopped. She brought her hand to Fahad’s neck. Seconds passed. She met Efraim’s gaze and shook her head. “You check.”

He reached up. Callie took his hand and guided it to Fahad’s throat. As soon as Efraim touched his skin, he knew. It felt cool, much cooler than it should. He didn’t have to search for a pulse, but he did anyway.

A weight bore down on his chest. His throat thickened as if filled with sand. He’d thought the pain of a broken rib was bad. This was much worse. He tried to swallow, to take a breath, but he couldn’t.

Fahad had told him leaving the ranch was dangerous. He hadn’t listened. He hadn’t cared about the danger to himself. It had never occurred to him the danger would be to Fahad. And now to Callie McGuire, as well.

Efraim wasn’t a devout Muslim, but he wished he were more devout now. Maybe then he’d know what prayers to offer for his cousin’s soul. Maybe then he could breathe. Maybe then he’d know how to feel.

He looked up at Callie, bravely holding on, cradling Fahad’s body, even though she had known for quite some time that he was dead. She’d done it for him, Efraim knew. To give them time to get closer to the ranch and away from the gunman. But even more, to give him time to accept that his cousin was, indeed, gone. “Release your grip.”

Even in the dark, he could sense her searching his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “You’ve done enough. I will take him.”

She let go. Fahad slumped to the side and into Efraim’s arms. He held his cousin’s body while Callie slid to the ground, shaking the blood back into her arm. He was heavy, but Efraim could only half feel the weight. The knowledge that he wouldn’t have died if not for Efraim’s actions weighed far heavier.

His legs faltered.

Suddenly Callie was beside him, her hand on his arm, her voice in his ear. “Put him down.”

Efraim staggered. He dropped to one knee. The darkness around him blurred. The pain in his side grew and spread until it swallowed all of him. He lay Fahad on the ground and let a shudder take him. Another followed and another. “It’s my fault,” he managed to choke out.

“No.” Callie brought her hand to his cheek. She wiped his face, then turned him to face her.

He knew she wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. At least not what he was feeling now.

She looked so soft, so beautiful, so caring. Even in the darkness, her eyes sparkled like the clearest water. Her hair draped over her shoulders like a veil.

He pulled her to him, cupped his hand around the nape of her neck, brought his lips to hers. She tasted sweet, yet salty, her tears mixing with his own. Tears shed for him, he knew. And for Fahad, whom she’d hardly even met.

He knew he shouldn’t be kissing her. And yet he needed this. At this moment, he felt like he couldn’t do without it.

She was something, this woman. Strong and determined, yet with a tender heart. What he wouldn’t give to stay in her arms, to make her his. To wake every day to a woman like this. To let her be his reason for living.

An impossible dream.

Efraim ended the kiss and looked down. He knew he should feel ashamed. How could he kiss a woman over his cousin’s dead body? How could he claim warm feelings for himself when his actions had sentenced Fahad to his death? Yet although he accepted the blame for Fahad following him to the badlands, he couldn’t manage to regret kissing Callie. That he kept for himself.

She took his hands in hers. “Don’t blame yourself.”

He looked up at the sound of her voice and found her watching him. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her again. “How can I not?”

“It was his job to protect you.”

“And I made him follow me because I refused to listen. I never thought, never considered I was risking others’ lives, not just my own.”

“You had your reasons for riding to Rattlesnake Badlands. Reasons that weren’t selfish. And Fahad did his job. He tried to make sure you were safe. The man who shot him, he deserves the blame.”

He nodded and gave her fingers a squeeze. Fahad had fulfilled his responsibility to Efraim. It was now Efraim’s turn. “You are right.”

“We’ll tie him on Sasha. We’ll take him to my family’s ranch and call the sheriff. He will find whoever did this and make him pay.”

“No.”

She lowered her brows and tilted her head, as if she wasn’t following.

“Fahad is my family, my blood, not the sheriff’s.”

She frowned, a crease digging between her eyebrows. “You have to leave this to the law, Efraim.”

He let out a derisive laugh he could feel shoot down his side. “The law can’t avenge Fahad. I can.”

“That’s not the way things work here.”

“As far as I can see, things don’t work here very well. Otherwise Amir would not be gone. Stefan would not have been attacked. Fahad would not be dead.”

“You’re upset. You just lost your cousin. It’s understandable. But we are a nation of laws and the law works. It does.” She nodded as if she could will him to agree. “Sheriff Wolf is a good man, an honest man. He’ll give Fahad justice.”

He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t angry. He merely felt cold. Resolute. He looked away from her, not wanting to see what was in her eyes, not wanting to have his resolve shaken. It would be so easy to be tempted to selfishly forget Fahad, forget what he owed his security man, his cousin, his blood, and instead lose himself in the woman in front of him.

The spark of a light caught his eye.

He climbed to his feet, Callie rising beside him. The light moved in their direction. In the stillness, he could hear horses’ hooves clatter across rocky terrain, buckles jingling, leather creaking. “Give me the Glock.” He held out his hand.

“It’s my family. They’re looking for me.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

He wasn’t sure he was prepared to trust she was right. “Give it to me anyway.”

Her eyebrows dipped low. She shook her head.

He wasn’t sure if she thought he was going to take his measure of justice from her family or what. After all he’d said, he guessed he couldn’t blame her. “They’ll help?”

“Of course they’ll help. We’ll go to the ranch. We can call the sheriff from there.”

He still wasn’t convinced he trusted her plan, but he probably didn’t need to point that out to Callie again. “Fine.”

The sounds drew closer. The light wound along the creek toward them. It focused upward, pinning them in its beam. Efraim couldn’t see a thing except blinding white light. Hoofbeats spread in a circle around them.

Efraim squinted against the glare. Blue splotches bloomed wherever he looked, like twenty spotlights bearing down. One man held the light. The others were merely dark. Efraim focused on the ground, trying to see the men around him in his peripheral vision. There were three, no, four mounted men. He glanced at Callie.

“Put your hands up where I can see them.” The voice boomed from behind the spotlight, the accent no-nonsense Wyoming rancher.

Efraim raised his hands.

“Now on your knees.”

Efraim shook his head. Had Callie been wrong? Was this her family, or some kind of vigilante mob like the one Stefan said had been protesting in Dumont? “I’m Efraim Aziz. I—”

Rounds slid into rifle chambers. “I said on your knees.”

CALLIE COULDN’T believe it. She glanced around the circle of shadows on horseback. Never in a million years would she imagine her family drawing down on her. She’d told Efraim all these pie-in-the-sky things about justice in America, and here her own family seemed to be taking the law into their own hands. She wanted to hang her head in shame. “Daddy, put the gun down. Brent? Russ? Timmy?” she said, taking a guess at which brothers had accompanied her father.

“Move behind us, Callie.”

“Behind you?” Now she was getting angry. “What are you? Thick? Efraim and I, we’re together.”

One of her brothers sputtered out a cough.

“Callie, you don’t understand what’s going on here,” her father said in a gruff voice. “Move behind your brothers.”

Callie didn’t move from Efraim’s side. “I understand perfectly what’s going on. My family is causing an international incident. That’s what’s going on.”

The light her father was shining on Efraim flicked down to the ground, highlighting Fahad’s still body. “Who is that man?”

“Fahad Bahir,” Efraim said. “My head security man. My cousin.”

“He dead?”

“Shot,” Efraim said. “Murdered.”

Callie’s stomach tightened at the dark tone in his voice. His words about vengeance scuttled through the back of her mind. Between Efraim’s anger and her family’s obvious defensiveness, this situation could get bad fast. She couldn’t let things spin out of control. “He was wounded. We were trying to get him back to the ranch, but he died on the way. We have to call the sheriff.”

“How’d he get shot?”

“A sniper in Rattlesnake Badlands.”

“The question is, why did he get shot? What was he doing?” Brent’s voice.

Already tight, Callie’s stomach dropped. Her oldest brother had done four tours in Afghanistan until a head injury ended his military career. Since then he’d had a hard time of it. Seizures. Paranoia. Trying to get used to returning to life on the ranch, a life he hadn’t much cared for.

Callie felt bad for him. She would feel worse, except that every horror he’d seen and every hardship he lived through, he blamed squarely on any person of Middle Eastern descent who crossed his path. Luckily in Wyoming, there weren’t a lot of people on which to focus his anger over what had happened to him.

Until now.

“Mr. Bahir was protecting Sheik Efraim.”

“Protecting him from what?”

Efraim had to hear the sneer in her brother’s voice. Callie just prayed he didn’t lash back.

“There are people who want me and my people dead.” Efraim’s voice was steady.

Callie gave him a grateful look she hoped he could read despite the glaring light.

“I’ll bet there are lots of people who want you and yours dead. And I’ll bet you’ve done a few things to them to cause it.”

Callie swung a much less charitable glare on her brother. “Brent, stop it.”

“One of these people shot Fahad. He followed us from the badlands and attacked me.”

“And what were you doing wandering around those badlands?”

“Searching for a friend.”

“On foot? How did you get out there?”

“My horse ran. He was afraid of gunfire.”

“That horse—” Joe’s voice. At least one of her sane brothers was on this trip. A schoolteacher, husband and new father, Joe helped out on the ranch in the summer and some weekends. Apparently he’d stopped by today after Callie had ridden out.

“We need to get to the ranch, Dad,” Callie repeated, feeling a bit bolstered by Joe’s presence and Efraim’s continued calm. “We need to call the sheriff.”

“How do we know he isn’t going to try to pull something?” Russ’s voice. Second to youngest in age, Russ idolized Brent, even planning to go into military service himself after he got his degree and could enter as an officer. His plans had changed after Brent’s injury.

Unlike his big brother, Russ had always taken to ranch work. Callie’s father called Russ his natural cowboy. Unfortunately his unshakable hero worship of Brent caused him to absorb everything his oldest brother said like a sponge. He tended to follow Brent’s lead in all things, unless Callie could get to him first.

Unfortunately her job had her traveling all over the world, and she hadn’t been able to spend much time on the ranch the last couple of years. She had the feeling that this time she might be too late to influence Russ. “He’s with me, Russ.”

“That better not mean what I think it means,” Brent grumbled.

Callie’s cheeks heated as the sensations of her kiss with Efraim flitted through the back of her mind.

“Callie is working with me through her office.”

Efraim again. He’d just lost his cousin, one of the closest men in his administration, not to mention his friend going missing, and yet he was steadier and calmer than the men in her family. Men who before this, she would have sworn were steady and calm.

“Her office, yeah. Foreign Affairs,” Russ drawled out, putting emphasis on the word affairs.

“Grow up, Russell,” she snapped. For a boy almost out of college, he was more immature than their high school–aged youngest brother.

“What do you mean, grow up? I’m not the one messing around with a damn Arab. Hell, he’s probably a terrorist.”

She blew a frustrated stream of air through tight lips and focused on her father. She wished she could peer past the light and see his eyes. Better yet, she wished her father would stop shining the damn thing on Efraim like he was a subject in some kind of interrogation. “Efraim is one of the good guys. The leader of a country.”

“A country that is an enemy of the United States?”

Brent again. It seemed like she’d spent most of her life smoothing things over between her big brother and the rest of the world. Callie wanted to belt him. “Efraim is not an enemy. He’s not a terrorist. Get it? He’s the leader of a country named Nadar, and he’s here to negotiate a contract brokered by the United States.” Her voice shook with the effort to keep it even when she really wanted to scream.

They answered her with silence. The spotlight still glared in Efraim’s eyes.

“Please, Daddy. Why would I tell you something that’s not true?”

Her father didn’t answer, but Russ did. “Because you’re hot for him. Don’t lie, sis. You’re pretty obvious.”

She closed her eyes. Of course, Russ was closer than she wanted to admit. At least she should be grateful the spotlight’s beam prevented Efraim from seeing her blush.

“Admit it,” Russ continued, clearly encouraged by hitting on the truth. “You’re covering for him.”

“I don’t need to cover for him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Her father flashed the light back down to the ground for a second. “Someone killed this man.”

“Fahad is my blood. My head security man. I didn’t kill him.”

“The person who did tried to kill Efraim, too,” Callie added quickly. “That someone is still out there. We need to get to the ranch. We need to make sure Efraim’s safe.”

“I’m more concerned about you.”

Of course he was. He was her dad after all. And maybe she could use that fact to break this stalemate. “Then get me to the ranch. And call the sheriff.”

“You,” he said, bobbing the light to indicate Efraim. “Pick up that body. Throw him on the horse we caught.”

“The horse you caught?” Callie hadn’t noticed the horse behind Russ, but as her brother led it into the spotlight, she recognized Efraim’s gelding.

“You found him.”

“Him?” Russ tilted his head.

“The horse. It’s Efraim’s.” She’d told Efraim the horse would find his way to safety. She was relieved to be proven right.

Efraim lifted Fahad. Joe dismounted and helped Efraim slump the dead man over the saddle. Using his lariat, Joe tied him securely.

“Good to go,” Brent said to his father, and Joe swung back on his horse.

“You,” her father barked, obviously meaning Efraim. “Walk ahead. And remember we got rifles pointed at your back.”

“Daddy—”

He held up a hand, blocking her complaint. “I’m doing the rest of what you asked, Callie. I trust you, honey, but that doesn’t mean I trust this boy.”

Efraim glanced back at her. “It’s all right.”

It wasn’t all right. Her family was behaving horribly. She’d told him they would help, and technically, she supposed, they were. But she didn’t know if Efraim would see it that way. She felt she needed to apologize.

She just hoped that after all this, he’d give her the chance.

Her father nodded, as if it was settled, and motioned to Brent and Joe. “The two of you keep looking. Russ and I will see Callie and the sheik here back to the ranch.”

“Looking?” A frisson of fear fanned over Callie’s skin. The thought of her brothers out on the dark BLM searching for a murderer scared the breath out of her. “Don’t be ridiculous. We need to call the sheriff. He can look for the man who shot Fahad. It’s his job. Not yours.”

“We’re not looking for some terrorist killer,” Brent said. “We’re looking for Timmy’s ATV.”

“Timmy’s ATV?” Callie had been so wrapped up in defending Efraim, she hadn’t thought there might be a reason her fourth brother, the youngest in the family at only seventeen, wasn’t riding with them. “Why? What happened? Where’s Timmy?”

“Timmy’s home. He crashed his ATV.”

“Is he okay?” The thought of her baby brother hurt… She wanted to race Sasha home as fast as she could.

“He’s banged up. A little worse for wear,” Joe said. “But you know Timmy. He’ll be okay.”

“What happened to his ATV?”

“He flipped the damn thing.” Her dad lowered the light enough for her to see him shaking his head. Then he brought the beam back to Efraim’s face. “Wasn’t Tim’s fault, though. He said someone shot out a tire.”

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