Page 111 of Dangerous

Ramsay noticed Mia and sighed. “Yes, I see the way it is.” He looked from Assad to Adam. “I also see I’ve interrupted something here.” He strode toward one of Assad’s men and removed the sword from his hand before shouting something in Arabic. The guards all clambered backward and Ramsay tossed the sword to Assad. “Best get on with it,” he said to the younger man, nodding his head toward where Adam stood.

Assad gave Ramsay a look of pure loathing as he pulled off his heavy wool djellaba and tossed it to one of his men. He hefted the scimitar in his hand, took a few steps toward Adam, and dropped into a crouch.

Adam unsheathed his sword and Assad lunged forward before it was even free. The younger man was fast, but his eyes gave him away before he’d even moved. Adam stepped neatly to the side and Assad charged past, stumbling into a pair of large sandstone boulders that fringed the side of the path. He turned and roared, sounding so much like an angry bull Adam almost laughed.

This time, Assad approached more slowly, swinging his arm in broad, killing sweeps, like a man harvesting wheat. Adam’s rapier would be very little defense against such a heavy, lethal weapon, and the younger, bulkier, man had at least three stone on him. He was ponderous and predictable—but he was also uninjured.

Adam backed away, feeling the ground behind him carefully so as not to be surprised by rocks or debris. Assad maintained the inexorable scythe-like motion. Adam’s only chance was to get in under Assad’s arm, but to do that he’d need to come within reach of the scimitar. His foot encountered something hard and he realized he must be close to the rock face that bordered the north edge of the path.

An evil-sounding chuckle bubbled from his opponent. “Nowhere else for you to run.”

Adam smiled. “Now you just need to come and get me.” His taunt was like a match to a fuse and the other man bolted toward him.

If Assad had continued his sweeping motions, Adam wouldn’t have had a chance, but instead he drew his wicked blade up as if to cleave him in two. Adam dropped to his haunches and flicked the tip of his rapier up to the junction of the other man’s thighs.

Assad made a high chirping noise and froze with the scimitar raised high over his head as the point of Adam’s sword sliced through the fabric of his loose trousers.

“Drop it or I’ll make you a eunuch.”

The scimitar clattered to the rocks that lined the path.

Adam rose slowly, his back screaming with the effort and the stitches stinging like fiery nettles. But not for a second did he take his sword from the other man’s crotch. He glanced to where he’d last seen Mia. She was still there, with Bouchard and Jibril shielding her.

Off to the other side he heard the sound of clapping.

“Bravo!” Ramsay called, chuckling while he applauded. “Very neatly—and quickly—done.”

Adam ignored him. “Do you have the money, Bouchard?” he called out.

The Frenchman lifted the heavy canvas bag.

“Throw the bag toward his men,” Adam ordered, not taking his eyes from the furious man at the point of his sword. The bag landed with a soft thud. “There is twenty-five thousand pounds of my money in that bag, Assad. That, plus your jewels”—he exerted a little pressure with his rapier and Assad winced—“should be enough to pay for the damage we caused here today. Are we agreed?”

Assad stared at him with hate-filled eyes. “You promise to take the two of them”—Assad gestured with a toss of his head toward Mia and Jibril—“and never come back?”

Adam smiled. “That is my plan.”

“Then we have a deal.”

“Take her back to the ship,” he told Bouchard. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

“No, Adam! I won’t—” Her words were cut off, most likely by her son’s hand over her mouth, and Adam watched from the corner of his eye as they disappeared down the path, through the stunted trees.

“One last thing, Assad. My wife told me this, and I believe her. You have been led astray by lies. It wasn’t Mia who informed on your mother and demanded her death of the sultan. Take the money and forget about Mia and her son. Don’t be foolish and dog our heels all the way back to England.” Adam lowered his sword from the other man’s genitals and took a step back.

Assad’s eyes flashed in the light from the torch and his face twisted into a sneer. “If you are not gone by the time I’ve finished counting the money in the bag, I will kill you. I don’t care how many men Ramsay has behind him.” He turned his back before he’d even finished speaking.

* * *

Mia fought Jibril with all the strength in her body, but her son held her almost immobile as Bouchard pushed the small boat off the sand and into the water.

“Why can’t we wait for Adam?” she demanded. “What are they doing back there?”

“I don’t know what my stepfather is doing, Mother. But I agree with his decision to get you out of there. Now, stop squirming or you will hurt yourself,” Jibril said, his voice hoarse with the effort of holding her. Mia could feel his chest heaving and her heart hurt at how skinny he’d become. But his arms were like unbreakable chains around her.

“I will never forgive you if you put me in that boat and leave him, Jibril. Never!”

“We are not leaving him. Besides, he would kill me if I didn’t follow his orders, and believe it or not, Mother, I’m far more afraid of him than you.” Jibril lifted her easily but Mia extended her feet and kicked, ensuring that putting her into the small craft would take considerably more effort.