Read Online The Sheik's Safety by Dana Marton - Free Book Online

spot, easily picked off through the back window.
    Dara watched the men fire from the pickup that was closing the distance on their left. She had to get to the seat behind Saeed, couldn’t hit anything from here.
    She released her seat belt and climbed back, maneuvering the rifle, yanking her dress that had gotten snagged on the seat. Why the hell had she let herself be talked into dressing like a woman? She was here as a bodyguard, damn it. She had to be ready and unencumbered.
    She made it to the back and half sat on a dead man’s lap, feeling the wetness as his blood soaked through her clothes. She shut out everything but the men firing, took aim and watched as one of them tumbled to the sand from the back of the vehicle.
    She squeezed off another shot, tossed the empty rifle out the window, and grabbed another one from the floor.
    Pain bit into her left arm, just below the elbow. Blood bloomed on her dress at once. She swore.
    â€œAre you hurt?” Saeed was looking at her in the rearview mirror.
    She flexed her fingers. Everything moved. Flesh wound. It bled, but not enough to concern her. “Fine,” she said and continued shooting.
    She got a tire just as Saeed got the driver. The pickup came to a halt but the men in the back were still firing.
    â€œGet down,” Saeed yelled and slid lower in his own seat, focusing on getting them out of firing range as fast as possible.
    She did as he asked, pulled the belt off the man next to her, grabbed her veil from the front seat and made a tourniquet for her arm. Any blood loss had a way of weakening the body, and she couldn’t afford to be held back now.
    Saeed was watching her in the rearview mirror. “I’m going to take a look at you.” He slowed the car.
    â€œDon’t even think about it. Whatever happens, do not stop.” She climbed to the front, held her arm out so he could see with his own eyes that there was nothing to worry about.
    â€œIs it broken?” He didn’t look any less worried.
    She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
    He stepped on the gas again, his voice clipped when he spoke. “You should not be here. I shouldn’t have brought you.”
    She wasn’t in the mood for any chauvinisticgarbage. “Because women are weak?” she challenged him.
    He looked at her for a long moment. “Women should be cherished.”
    She stared back, unsure what to say to that.
    Her father used to say women had to be toughened up to be fit for the military. He hadn’t meant it disparagingly. He merely saw the difference between the sexes as a weakness. He was forever frustrated with her mother’s inability to hold up under pressure, suck it up and stick it out.
    She glanced at Saeed. Cherished. It fell so far outside the realm of her experience, she couldn’t even picture it. Was he for real?
    They drove on in silence for a while, Saeed focusing on the road while she mulled over the attack.
    â€œHow did they know we were coming?”
    He shrugged. “They were probably watching the camp.”
    â€œYou could have sent men out to take care of that.” His carelessness surprised her.
    â€œI wanted them to know I was leaving.” His voice was low and rough.
    â€œTo keep them away from your son?”
    â€œFrom all my people.” He shook his head. “I thought I could protect you.”
    â€œYou did.”
    â€œI expected a sole assassin. Or at worst, two orthree working together.” His mouth was set in a thin line, his expression dark. “I was ill-prepared and my guards have died for it. Only by the grace of Allah you’re alive.”
    She would have liked to think her shooting skills had something to do with that, too, but it didn’t seem like the right time to argue with him. He looked to be in a bad enough mood already.
    â€œIf you agreed to work together with the U.S. government, your difficulties could be solved twice as fast and you could