With the last word she felt the strength gather in his arms and a second later he had flung her away from him. Hard.
She wasn’t going to be able to break her fall.
Paige braced herself as she lost her grip on the sheet. This one was really going to hurt and there was no way to stop it.
Hell, she was going to be na**d in front of Azir Mustafa.
A sob tore from her throat as she felt herself flying. Fear struck every nerve in her body a millisecond before her flight abruptly ended.
Strong hands caught her, pulling her against a hard, warm body as the sheet was simultaneously straightened around her nakedness.
Abram!
Her fingers curled against his arm, feeling the softness of cotton over his flesh as he held her to him, the warmth of his body wrapping around her.
He was here. Finally. He hadn’t really deserted her. Could he control Azir? How long would it take him to get her a T-shirt and jeans? Panties would be nice. She didn’t like running around without her drawers.
Fractured thoughts continued to race through her mind as her senses spun violently.
“Are you okay, precious?” He held her against him, his head bending to whisper gently at her ear, his voice rough with rage and regret as she tried to lift her head, which felt as if it were teetering on her shoulders.
Hysterical amusement threatened to escape in a gale of laughter as she tried to hold her head straight. “Make the room stop moving, Abram.” She blinked back at him. “This sucks.”
“It’s okay, baby.” His voice was a gentle murmur. “I promise you, everything’s going to be okay. I want you to go with Tariq for now, though. He’ll take care of you until I’m finished here. Will you do that, Paige? Go with Tariq, sweetheart.”
“No! I want to go home.” Her fingers curled demandingly into the long, cotton tuniclike shirt he wore as she forced her eyes to focus, forced herself to find whatever little strength was left in her legs. “Call Khalid or Papa. They’ll come for me.” She wasn’t about to stay here a moment longer than she had to. “This is insane. Get me out of here.”
Her vision was finally clearing, the dizzying blurriness slowly evaporating to focus on the tormented, tortured expression on his face.
Black eyes glowed in feral rage as his face seemed curved from stone into lines of brutal disillusionment.
“Go with Tariq, first, Paige.” He gripped her arms and eased her from him before moving her in Tariq’s direction.
“No. I won’t leave you alone with him.” She stared up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the grief in his face, and she knew he had to be inconsolable with rage. She couldn’t leave him alone with this madman. “What if it’s contagious?”
His gaze turned back to hers, a subtle glimmer of bemusement glowing in the wicked, night dark depths. “What is contagious, hellcat?”
“His insanity,” she whispered back at him, at once hearing the ludicrous suggestion, yet the need to make light of the situation couldn’t be fought. That was her. Take it seriously and she could end up sharing Abram’s fate herself. Azir Mustafa could drive a saint crazy, she guessed. And poor Abram, he lived with the old bat.
He had to hate this. This place, this room, it wasn’t Abram. The way he was dressed, the expression on his face, it wasn’t the man she knew. He would never countenance abusing a woman, or kidnapping one.
He was as arrogant as the wind itself, as the very desert that raised him, but he wasn’t the vicious monster his father obviously was.
“I’m certain it’s not contagious,” he promised. “But go with Tariq for now. I’ll take care of everything and I’ll join you soon.”
“You beg a whore to do as you ask?” Azir cracked behind her. “How you have fallen, my son.”
Paige refused to glance back at him, rather she continued to stare up at Abram, willing him to leave with her, to refuse to risk himself in his father’s demented company.
“Now,” his voice was nearly silent, but there was no mistaking the dark command that filled it. “Go with Tariq.”
Tariq Mustafa. She knew him. There were times he had come to America with Abram and visited with Khalid and her family. He had smiled. He had “almost” flirted a time or two, but Abram and Khalid’s displeasure had been clearly apparent.
This time though, his expression was hard, cold, as though he had no idea who she was. There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of recognition as he took her from Abram.
Her lips thinned, her displeasure unable to hide. He had no business lingering here when they needed to make plans. When they needed to get her out of Saudi Arabia.
“Come on.” Tariq wasn’t flirting with her this time as she forced the strength in her legs to walk to the door. He acted as though he didn’t know her, as though he had never met her. And she would find out why the minute Abram joined them.