“Tell me about it. I’ve got ticks sucking me dry, and you’re playing cozy with a princess whose father is a merc.” The grass rolled and the camo face vanished in an impressive, stealthy fluid motion. “Not sure if you’re lucky like your dad or just plain dumb.”
“Just dumb.” He had, after all, volunteered for this.
The slow, almost casual roll of the grass easily blended into the soft, teasing fingers of the wind across the plain. “Get it done, Apollo.”
He pushed upright, took a breath, and glanced at the lodge—yep, guards were watching and Maaz was heading over. Owen braced for impact, sliding the comms device into his pocket. Nostrils flaring, he prayed nobody caught on to the drop that just took place out here.
“You are not to leave her!” Maaz barked as he closed in on him. “Or you will both be locked in the room until I can have you flown back to Jeddah and secured in the dungeon.”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Owen bit back. The anger wasn’t a mask this time—it ticked him off that she wanted to stay here. What, had she really developed feelings for Rayan?
The prince stepped into his path.
Owen stopped short to avoid a collision and prayed this wasn’t about to get ugly. Instead of meeting the prince’s gaze—which he guessed would be taken as an open challenge—he focused on the half dozen guards who peeled away from the building’s shadows.
“You forget your place, Mr. Apollo.”
Now Owen couldn’t help but look into the dark eyes. “With a cracked rib and bruised neck, kind of hard to forget.”
Maaz’s cheek tightened. “The king hired you to protect Nouri. How can you do that if you cannot even see her?” Malice colored the prince’s visage. “What if she is, even now, having the life cut from her lungs as you sit out here and pout instead of taking her in hand?”
The question seemed like more…like a threat. No, a promise. Or a warning. Owen’s gaze slammed toward the building. He spotted Rayan and Nasir. But no Hassan. No Ghalib.
He flicked his gaze to the prince, who smirked, then brushed past him. Did everything in his power not to break into a sprint. Where was she? He would kill anyone who went after her!
Inside, he swept the area in search of her. His gaze collided with Rayan, and he envisioned punching that straight nose right into the guy’s gray matter. He shoved aside the impulse, noting more than a little concern in the guy’s expression. “Have you seen her?”
Hesitating for a second, the prince stood in silent challenge.
Owen could not believe Rayan wanted to challenge him. “Where is she?” When no answer came, he surged at the prince. “So help me, if anyone hurts her?—”
A voice—her voice—in conversation sailed through the open restaurant doors.
Punched the burning air from his lungs. Thank You, God! Relief and anger warred that she had left him. That she was sitting in the open, public. Smart girl—that way, he was less likely to rail at her.
That’s what she thinks.
Sliding a smug smile at the prince—it was petty, yeah, but it felt good—he pivoted and headed into the restaurant. Easily spotted her at the same table they’d been sitting at yesterday. However, this time, Aliyah was with her.
The princess’s wide, wary eyes rose to him. “Mr. Apollo…”
He didn’t miss the stiffness in her words. Or that she was referring to him as “mister” again.
Leighton shrank in on herself, hugging her arms. Avoiding his gaze.
Thoughts tangled and roiling, he told himself to get it together like Pike had warned. She was safe—that was the point. Acutely aware of the eyes on them, he pulled a chair up next to her and sat. But as soon as he did, he knew he couldn’t maintain this façade. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” she growled.
“We need to,” he repeated, adding emphasis.
“Nouri, is there a problem?” Rayan stood at the table—again—fingers pressed to the black. “You seem uncomfortable.”
Really? The guy was going to play loyal protector now? Where was he when everyone was ignoring her or backhanding her? Either way, Owen wasn’t playing this game. He rose. “King Faruq tasked me?—”
“Hey.” She caught his arm and pulled him back down to the chair, shooting a manufactured smile to the prince. “I’m okay. Really. Thank you.”
Sitting, Owen met the guy’s gaze and held it. Sick as it might sound, this felt like that time he’d trained his family’s Belgian Malinois and knew if he looked away, Echo would assume the alpha role. And while the prince might have everything—money, power, control, the interest of Leighton—Owen would never submit to him.
