That dagger landed squarely between his fourth and fifth ribs, nailing his heart. He stood and grabbed his backpack. “We should get going.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
Owen shrugged into the pack. “All good.” Cocking his head toward the door, he kept moving. “Ready?”
Though Leighton stood, she did so stiffly. Robotically. And Owen had this idea that the way things had shut down between them left her in a position that wasn’t unlike the commands barked at her by the royals. Regret dug deep, but he had no idea how to walk that back.
Within the hour, they were in a soft-sided 4x4 safari Land Cruiser with a turret-like pop-top so people could stand to take better pictures. Or hired guns could protect the tourists. The party of eighteen, not including drivers, had packed into three different vehicles. Naturally, he and Leighton were assigned to the third one.
They’d no sooner reached the Cruiser than he noted Hassan glowering at him.
“Get in,” Leighton hissed, pushing Owen toward the door. “Before he can hit you again.”
Owen huffed. “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
“Well, protect me by protecting yourself. Go. In.” With that, she shoved him forward.
To avoid clipping his shins on the footwell, he hiked his leg up and hauled himself past three rows of seats into the upper back.
A woman careened into him, laughing. “Rafi, stop!”
Owen braced to avoid whacking his skull against the window and shifted around. Found the petite princess—Aliyah, he thought they’d called her—laughing as she settled into the seat next to him. “That was not nice,” she complained to a man Owen did not recognize. She gave him a coy look, flashing dimples that looked like craters.
Wait. Hold up. That was supposed to be Leighton’s spot. Where?—
Leighton stood with one foot in the step, staring at him.
“Oh, Nouri, here!” Aliyah patted the seat in front of her. “Sit here so I can talk to you.”
Leighton gave Owen a desperate look, but climbed into the insisted-upon seat.
“Rafi, here, here,” Aliyah shouted, patting the seat on her left in front of Owen.
“Yes, yes.” The newcomer hiked into the seat next to Leighton and smiled at her. The guy had ink-black hair, eyes, brows, and a beard with a whole lot of mischief. “You must be Nouri. I have heard so much about you.”
Leighton gave a shy nod and ducked.
“No, no,” Aliyah said quietly, leaning toward Leighton and reaching around her to nudge up her chin. “We are going to have so much fun. No hiding, yes?”
Concern lanced Leighton’s features as she yielded to the princess, but her gaze invariably found Owen again.
“Look, look.” Rafi focused on someone standing near the first vehicle. “Ghalib!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You will miss out—this is the fun Cruiser.” He gave a boisterous laugh.
The stocky Arab next to Crown Prince Maaz seemed to have lasers for eyes, which he dragged over Owen, then Leighton.
“Who is he?” Owen asked as Prince Rayan climbed in, indicated Rafi to switch seats.
“Ghalib?” Rafi asked, without missing a beat as he relocated to the seat in front of the one he vacated. “A terrible bore. Takes his duty as the crown prince’s”—he considered Owen—“how would you American say it?…eh, kiss-up very seriously.”
“Oh stop,” Aliyah said with a laugh. “Ghalib is one of Maaz’s principle advisors.”
Everyone seemed carefree. Except Owen. He did not like that Rayan had inserted himself next to Leighton. That this Rafi deferred to the prince, which suggested Rafi held a lesser position.
“Ah, and there is the happy couple,” Rafi pronounced as Daria and Hassan boarded the second vehicle.
“There is no way Daria would ride with Maaz. He is too much as Ghalib—grumpy.”
Princess Aliyah had just given Owen a guidebook on who might make an attempt on Leighton’s life. He’d need to monitor this Ghalib. They were soon underway, and it didn’t take long to get from the lodge out to the first sighting—a herd of African buffaloes.
