As a veteran of many battles, the sheikh would not hesitate to attack a foe. He saw no justification, however, for shoving Holly Rivers from a moving car.
Instead, he yanked her onto the seat beside him, reached past her and slammed the door. Immediately, his cousin whipped onto a street to their right. He swerved again, setting a complicated course in case of pursuit.
As the woman beside him straightened herself, Sharif got a better look at her face. The amber eyes were wide with alarm, and the dishevelled red hair tumbled around her shoulders as if she had newly arisen from bed.
A stunning woman. In spite of himself, he could not help wishing she were his.
Perhaps he had been unfair. In his anger, Sharif realized, he had not considered how strong the surrogate’s attachment to the infant might be. Under other circumstances, such mother love would be admirable.
“We do not intend to harm you,” he said. “We can release you here if you like.”
The woman ignored the offer. “What do you want, a ransom?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t have any money but my fiancé does.”
“You think we are kidnappers?” She had no sense at all. “You insult us!”
“In a sense, you must admit, we are kidnappers,” Zahad said with his usual maddening exactitude.
“You exaggerate!” Sharif returned.
“It is a point of fact,” his cousin replied, and snapped the sedan around another corner so abruptly that the surrogate fell onto the sheikh’s lap.
It had been a long time since Sharif held a woman in his arms. Perhaps this long abstinence explained why he found himself so keenly aware of every soft curve pressed against his body. Of the pulse of Holly’s throat, and the sound of her breathing, and the light sweet scent of her.
He reminded himself that this woman had cheated him and still posed a threat to his people’s future. And to his right to share his son’s life.
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“I am not restraining you,” Sharif replied.
Scrambling onto the seat, she said, “Of course you’re restraining me! You’re holding my child hostage!”
“Hostage?” He raised an eyebrow. “You should not be surprised that I expect you to make good on your bargain.”
“What bargain?” She scooted as far from him as the space allowed. “No bargain gives you the right to assault me at my wedding and snatch Ben! Where have you put him?”
“The baby is in a basket on the floor beside me,” Zahad said. “He is smiling. I think he will like to drive fast when he grows up.”
“He should be in a car seat!” Holly said. “It’s the law!”
Her outrage startled a chuckle from Sharif. The woman certainly had spirit! “And you have observed that we are great devotees of the law?”
From her tightened fists, he got the impression she would like to teach him respect, for the law and for a few other things as well. What a splendid bride she would make for a desert warrior! But not for him.
As Zahad slowed, the sheikh saw that they had reached a broad thoroughfare. Without stopping for the red light, he turned right and accelerated ahead of a bus.
Holly flinched. “You’re going to get us killed! There’s a reason why you’re supposed to stop for red lights, even if you don’t care about the law!”
“As a point of fact, we do care about the law,” said Sharif. “And about civil contracts. It is unfortunate your concern does not extend to those.”
“Contracts?” She blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” Some of the fight evaporated from her bunched muscles. “Does Jazz owe you money?”
“Who is Jazz?” he asked.
“My sister.”
He remembered the stocky woman at the church. “I know nothing of your sister.”
The woman swallowed. “You haven’t hurt her?”
This conversation made no sense. The sister had not even come outside, so how could he have hurt her? “Of course not.”
“Then—then you’re not in any real trouble yet. Just give me the baby and let us go.” Tears glittered in Holly’s eyes. With her full lips parted, she looked vulnerable and very desirable.
She was a fool if she believed he would part with his son because of a woman’s tears. “You are wasting your breath.”
“Get down!” shouted Zahad, and the car veered. Without waiting for an explanation, the sheikh grabbed Holly and flattened them both on the seat.
The left-hand passenger window exploded. Bits of glass sprayed across the exposed skin of Sharif’s neck.
“The boy?” he demanded. “Is he hurt?”
“He is fine,” his cousin said.
“Someone’s shooting at us?” Judging by the pitch of her voice, Holly Rivers teetered on the edge of hysteria.
He doubted the police would be so reckless, with a woman and child in the car. “Perhaps this is how your groom thinks to reclaim you.”
“Trevor wouldn’t do that!”
“I agree, it is not him.” Zahad sped through traffic. “The attorney drives a new Cadillac. We are being chased by an old sedan with dark windows.”
“It seems my enemies have tracked us,” Sharif muttered.
“What enemies?” Holly was shaking. “Who are you guys, anyway?”
It was an odd question for a woman who had agreed of her own free will to bear his child. “We will discuss that later,” said Sharif. “By then, I think the answer will come to you.”
A series of furious zigzags climaxed in a swift ascent and rapid acceleration. They had entered the freeway.
Zahad checked his rearview mirror. “Our pursuers are dropping back. There is a highway patrol car… They have turned back.”
Cautiously, Sharif helped Holly sit up. “How is the baby now?”
“Sleeping,” said his cousin.
A moment later, he discovered that he should not have taken his attention from the woman. The combination of a shattered window and an approaching highway patrol car proved irresistible.
“Help!” she screamed, leaning out. “I’ve been kidnapped!”
The wind tore away her words. From his pocket, Sharif pulled a dampened cloth that Zahad had provided for such an emergency.
Clamping it over the woman’s face, he hauled her back into the car. She struggled briefly, then sagged.
When he was certain she slept, Sharif removed the cloth. Although his cousin had promised the dose was not harmful, he was relieved to hear her steady if shallow breathing. A check of the patrol car showed that it had surged ahead in the fast lane, paying them no attention.
“I will pull over at the next exit,” Zahad said. “We must leave her.”
“Lying by the road, unconscious?” The sheikh shook his head. “Not unless we can find a hospital.”
“So you will walk in there and say, ‘Excuse me, please take this woman, goodbye?”’ His cousin grimaced in the rearview mirror. “We have problems, my friend, and we do not need to add to them.”
“We have no problems that will not be solved by flying home,” Sharif said.
His