It was an honest answer, Hawk decided. Both from the soldier and from the woman.
She pressed her index finger over the receiver in her left ear and stepped away to place herself slightly behind him. A hum of interest spread through the crowd.
Hawk glanced over his shoulder in time to see at least a dozen men in flowing djellabahs stride through the ballroom’s main entrance. They moved as a group, maintaining a ring around the tall, bearded man who walked at their center.
Even though it had been fourteen years since they had last met, Hawk recognized Prince Jibril Ben Nour, the next in line for the throne of the oil-rich Persian Gulf nation of Moukim. The beard was new, but the long nose and the piercing black gaze hadn’t changed. Nor had Jibril’s aura of privilege—he moved with the sure-footed glide of a man who was unaccustomed to encountering obstacles in his path.
The prince and his entourage swept through the crowd without pausing to speak to anyone. They appeared to be heading straight for Hawk. This was what he’d anticipated. Hawk placed his champagne glass on a nearby table and stepped forward to meet them.
Sarah quickly angled herself between Hawk and the approaching men. She pressed her back to his chest and nudged him backward, positioning him closer to one of the emergency exits that led out of the ballroom.
Hawk frowned. Under other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sensation of Sarah’s body rubbing against his, but he knew what she was doing. She was trying to shield him, and he wouldn’t allow it now any more than he’d allowed it this afternoon. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.
“I don’t like the look of this, Dr. Lemay.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “There are too many of them, and they’re moving too fast. Their floor-length robes could conceal anything.”
He moved his hand to her hip and held her in place. “Relax, Sarah. Nothing’s going to happen.”
She let go of his wrist and lowered her hand to her thigh. Her fingertips brushed the opening in her skirt. She didn’t relax. Hawk could feel a change in the way she held herself, as if she were readying for action. Her breathing became deep and deliberate. Her weight shifted forward to the balls of her feet. The spicy-sweet scent of her perfume strengthened.
In the next instant they were engulfed in a swirl of white. A nasal voice issued a command. The prince’s companions parted, then re-formed into a circle around them, blocking their view of the rest of the ballroom. One man grabbed Sarah by the waist and separated her from Hawk while two others caught Hawk’s elbows. It happened so fast, he was being guided toward the exit before he realized he was moving.
There was a low grunt and a flurry of movement on Hawk’s left. Sarah spun away from the man who held her, anchored her fist in Jibril’s robe and kicked the front panel of her skirt aside. A heartbeat later, her gun was in her hand, the barrel pressed beneath the prince’s beard. “Call off your men,” she ordered. “Now.”
Chapter 3
The moment took on the slow-motion quality of hyperawareness. Sarah’s senses registered everything, from the whisper of settling fabric around her to the lilting strains of the Mozart bagatelle that still played in the ballroom. The receiver in her ear carried a low buzz of inquiry from the hotel security staff who were posted around the exits. They suspected there had been some kind of commotion, but they were unaware of its nature. A human wall draped in white screened their view.
She felt Prince Jibril stir. She knew very well that what she was doing could spark an international incident, but Hawk’s safety was her prime concern. She repositioned her gun beneath the prince’s ear and flicked her gaze across the men who surrounded them. She checked their eyes, searching for a sign that would give away their next move. She was outnumbered and outmuscled. She couldn’t hope to overpower them. She had to play her advantage carefully. “Tell them to release Dr. Lemay, Your Highness.”
“Madam, you are making a serious mistake,” Jibril said.
The prince’s voice was high-pitched for a tall man. His words carried an Oxford accent. Sarah couldn’t tell whether it was fear or anger that tightened his tone. “If I am mistaken, I sincerely apologize,” she said. “But please do as I say. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
The moment dragged out. Sarah kept her breathing even, charging her blood with oxygen, preparing herself for any eventuality. Scenarios flashed through her head, none of them good. Without back-up, standoffs were risky. There were too many variables.
The prince gave a curt order in Arabic. From the corner of her vision, Sarah saw the men holding Hawk let go of his arms and step aside. He seemed uninjured, but she couldn’t spare the time to study him. She kept her attention on the prince’s bodyguards.
They were regarding her with stunned outrage, as if a chair or a hand towel had suddenly developed teeth and bit them.
“Sarah.” Hawk’s voice was a low rumble.
Although she still couldn’t afford to look at him, she responded immediately. She had to let the prince’s men know who was in authority. “Yes, sir?”
“It’s all right. You can put away your weapon.”
She tipped her gun toward the ceiling and took a step to the side, but she remained within easy reach of the prince, her muscles poised to react. This was the trickiest part, like dismounting from a tiger. “It appeared as if Prince Jibril’s men were trying to abduct you, Dr. Lemay.”
The prince gave a barking laugh. “Is that what this is about? Abduct Hawkins? Oh, not at all. I gave orders to escort him from this noisy crowd so we could speak in private.” He spread his hands wide in a gesture of appeasement. “In their zeal to obey me, my men obviously gave the wrong impression.”
Sarah shifted her gaze to the prince. The man was smiling at Hawk, his teeth a white slash in his beard, his black gaze rock steady as he told the lie.
“You’ll have to excuse Sarah, Jibril,” Hawk said, brushing off his sleeves. He straightened his jacket. “She has declared herself to be my bodyguard, and she tends to overreact.”
“An interesting choice, Hawkins. I see the years have not changed your eye for beauty.”
“Nor your appreciation of it. Sarah is very dedicated to her job.”
“And equally as prone to mistakes in her zeal as my palace guard. I do hope those dolts didn’t alarm you.”
Sarah took another look at the men around them. They belonged to the Moukim palace guard? She had been in more trouble than she’d initially thought. These were commandos whose reputation as fighters compared to Eagle Squadron’s best.
“I would like to invite you back to my yacht, Hawkins, so we can converse undisturbed,” the prince continued. “But I wouldn’t want your rather, ah, impetuous pet to misunderstand my intentions again.”
“Sarah,” Hawk said. “Put your gun away. It isn’t necessary.”
“Certainly, sir, as soon as Prince Jibril tells his guards to give us more space,” she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. “Just to be sure there isn’t another misunderstanding.”
“Jibril?” Hawk asked. “Would you mind humoring her?”
“For you, my old friend, anything.” The prince issued more orders. The men fell back two paces, opening the circle.
As soon as they moved, inquiries crackled over the radio. Sarah saw the hotel security personnel converging on them from the perimeter of the room. Nearby conversations tapered off as guests paused to follow their progress. Within seconds every face in the ballroom was turned toward them.
Satisfied that the several hundred reputable eyewitnesses were swinging the odds back in their favor, Sarah slipped her weapon into the holster on her right leg, twitched her skirt back into place and returned