Page 32 of The Sheikh's Forbidden Wife

Nothing.

Holy shit. She’d actually killed him.

The tent spun slowly around her as emotion coursed through her. A lot of women would thank her for ending his evil life, but she didn’t feel relieved. She didn’t feel anything at all. Not when she knew with absolute certainty his men would kill her. But not before they raped and tortured her.

Retribution would be their only goal.

She pushed to her feet. It was getting dark outside. Was it possible to use the darkness as cover and find her way back to the ocean before Arif’s men got to her first?

She stood and swayed, and fear skittered through her followed by sudden hopelessness. She was far too dehydrated. Unless she could steal a water skin or two and trudge through the desert sand without getting lost and walking around in aimless circles, she couldn’t even consider it as an option.

Better to die of thirst in the desert than to be beaten and raped to death.

She spied the skin that Arif had thrown aside. It had no lid and lay on its side but there might just be a few drops left. She hurried to it and picked it up, tipping it to her lips. A dribble of water made it into her mouth and she savored the small amount before she swallowed it down her parched throat.

She closed her eyes.Glorious.Even that underwhelming amount of water revived her and leant her some strength. Inhaling deeply, she took a step toward the fabric doorway.

“Sheikh Arif!”

One of the men call out their leader’s name, and Yasmine froze, her pulse thudding in her ears and every muscle in her body clenching somewhere between a fight and flight response.

Thwop. Thwop. Thwop.

“Incoming helicopter!” another man called from a distance.

She didn’t move, though hope flashed through her like a grenade on steroids. Jamal was here to rescue her!

Seconds later a spotlight moved over her tent, lighting up the dark, just as one of Arif’s men peeled aside the fabric door. “Sheikh Arif, we’re under attack!” The man’s eyes glinted under the spotlight as he stared at his leader lying dead on the ground. He looked at Yasmine with hate-filled eyes. “You—“

Bang.

He dropped dead in the doorway, a bloody hole in his head and his staring eyes vacant.

More shots rang out, some pinging on metal that had to be the helicopter. Camel’s grunted and bellowed, clearly made anxious by the helicopter noise, the gunfire, the shouts and screams.

Yasmine bit her lip. She needed to get out of the tent before one of Arif’s men decided to either kill her before she was rescued, or use her as a shield to save himself.

It wasn’t until the spotlight moved away from the tent that she stepped over the dead man with a little shudder. It was something of a relief to get out into the cool night air, though she was more exposed outside and instinctively pressed her back to the tent.

The spotlight picked out two men racing toward the camels, likely so they could ride away into the night or perhaps calm the animals down.Bang.Bang.One of the men fell to the ground followed immediately by the other, while at least half a dozen other men around the campsite fired at the helicopter, the noise of their shots giving her a rough indication of where her enemies were hiding.

She dropped to the ground and crawled along the sand, away from the gunfire and the camels, as well as the flickering campfire that shone dully against the darkness. She aimed to get as far away from everyone as possible, at least until she was certain it was safe.

She had no idea how far she’d crawled or even how long it’d taken her, but the campfire was nothing more than a distant light source, the helicopter even more distant and the gunfire much more sporadic.

She was gasping for breath when she finally stopped and pressed one side of her face to the sand, then closed her eyes.

She just needed to rest for a moment.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jamal jumped out of the safety of the helicopter, and though he itched to use his flashlight and shout out his wife’s name, there was no way of knowing if his enemies were now all dead. The last thing he wanted was to be an easy target.

He hadn’t yet seen Arif or Yasmine, and his heartbeat raced while his limbs went weak. He ran low to the ground, scanning left and right, his eyes adjusting to the gloom and the minimal light emitted from a quarter moon and countless stars.

He headed to the most elegant tent, no doubt Arif’s temporary residence. Jamal was swift but cautious as he approached the fabric doorway. There was no sound from within, but it didn’t mean the tent was unoccupied. He cocked his gun and swished aside the fabric, jerking his body one way to make him a moving target and harder to hit.

The tent was empty, with only wine jugs, a thick floor mat, a scattering of cushions and a woven blanket to indicate it was indeed Sheikh Arif’s.

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