The Sheik’s Captured Princess (The Samara Royal Family Series Book 4)
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Authors: Elizabeth Lennox
The Samara Royal Family Series #4
The Sheik’s Captured Princess
By Elizabeth Lennox
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Copyright 2016
ISBN13: 9781944078171
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.
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The popping sound didn’t really register in Ciala’s tired mind.
“
Da shuka laka
,” Ciala thanked the older couple but her mind was already moving on to her next interview which was about an hour’s drive from here.
It took her several more moments before the anxious expressions on the couple’s worried face registered in her mind. Turning to her interpreter, Fayad, she glanced at him but saw the same startled glance out the window. “What’s wrong?” she asked, still not understanding the danger.
“Get down!” he commanded.
Ciala looked back at the older couple but found them already crouching on the floor underneath the window. “Why would I…?” And then she realized.
Gunshots? Impossible!
Fayad’s grasp on her wrist was hard as he yanked her down to the floor. “Do you have a death wish?” he almost shouted.
Ciala still wasn’t really sure what was happening but she had the presence of mind to push her thick, dark glasses higher up on her nose and ensure that her mustache was still glued to her upper lip. In this part of the world, her job was easier if she looked like a male so she put on a mustache, fake glasses and a dark wig over her wavy, brown hair every time she ventured out on the these research trips. No one knew her as Ciala del Abass Samara, Princess of Kilar here in neighboring Drakar. Here in the oil rich country she was only known as Tim Kindall.
She looked around, trying to figure out what was happening, why people were shooting. This wasn’t a small, border village. They were close to the capital of Drakar. They should be safe here!
Thinking fast, she narrowed her eyes and looked around, planning an escape. This was not good, she thought, evaluating the area rapidly, just as she’d been taught by all of her bodyguards.
Patting her bag, she ensured that all of her notes and files on the numerous SD cards were safe. Unfortunately, her digital video camera was still on the tripod! Whoever was shooting might miss their target and…
No way, she thought with rising anger. She’d worked too hard to get this information, she wasn’t going to lose her work to some idiots who thought they could shoot at random people. With more determination than caution, she wiggled over to her camera and pulled it down, hugging the camera and bag containing the disks that held her work. Hundreds of interviews done over the past year. She was not going to lose her work! Not to some idiot rebels who had the audacity to shoot stupid bullets into the air in an effort to scare the locals. What jerks!
She’d just packed away her camera and was slinging the bag across her body when the door to the small house slammed open. Three dirty men stood there, masks over their faces and wild eyes latching onto her.
Ciala knew that look! It wasn’t good.
“Oh no you don’t!” she growled and stood up, getting into fighting position and getting ready to defend herself as well as the elderly couple behind her. She lowered her bag back to the floor, preparing to fight these men and not wanting the heavy bag to get in the way.
The three men looked at her, noticed the couple she’d just finished interviewing as well as her interpreter crouching on the floor, then brought their eyes back to her. Obviously they didn’t know she was a female or they would have a completely different reaction. But she didn't care. It was to her advantage that they thought she was just a smallish man.
“Bring it on, jerks!” she said under her breath, ignoring the startled reaction from Fayad, the only person who understood her words.
The men pressed further into the small house, circling her and Ciala realized that was her first mistake. She should have high-kicked them back out the door where they would be down for a few moments, giving her the advantage.
Not allowing them the time to get into position, she moved quickly, slamming her booted heel into the first one, then swinging around to the second, knocking him out. With two down, she walked towards the third. He was still staring down at his companions, a startled expression in his eyes. Ciala took advantage of his surprise and slammed her elbow into his stomach, taking him out for a few moments as well.
“Let’s go,” she said to the other three even as she reached down to grab her bag once again. The couple immediately stood up, more than ready to get out of the small area, eager to be safe.
Fayad looked at the three men, still writhing on the floor, then back at Ciala. He said something, then walked over to one of the men. Ciala was startled by the way he was acting, almost as if he knew the men, but she didn’t have time to worry about him. She pulled her camera bag across her body, then helped the couple out of the house and into the alley where they would be safer. She then glanced at the street, calculating the distance to the beat up old truck she used on these kinds of excursions. It was one of those vehicles that appeared worn out, rusted in several places and looked like it would barely make it to the junkyard. It was all part of the illusion. A beat up truck like this wouldn’t be stolen. Thieves wanted the more expensive cars, the flashier vehicles they could bring to a chop shop and sell for parts or sell off for a tidy profit. Her truck didn’t look like it would even start.
“Stay here, I’ll send for help as soon as my phone gets a cell signal, okay?’ she said to the elderly couple.
They both nodded their heads, worried about what would happen in the next few minutes. Ciala wished she could stay here to protect them, wished she’d brought a gun and she wished she’d checked with her guards about security issues in this region. But none of that had happened so she had to deal with the current situation.
Clutching her bag closer to her, she glanced both ways down the street, looking for the source of the gunfire. She’d smelled the gunshot residue on the men but it wasn’t strong enough for all the gunshots she’d heard.
Her heart was beating frantically and she could feel the blood pounding in her head. This was it, she thought. She’d practiced and trained for this, hoping a situation this dire would never occur. But it had and she was more than willing to handle it.
The priority was getting out of this mess alive. Her second objective was to get out of this country without being discovered. The second was almost as high a priority as the first.
Her truck was only fifty feet away. She could make it, she told herself. Palming her keys, she lifted her hand once more to ensure her disguise was still in place, then made a dash for where she’d left her vehicle.
She’d almost reached her truck when two men in black stepped in her path.
“Oh no,” she told them, shaking her head and pulling her backpack out of her way. “Not today, boys,” she said.
The two men simply stared at her through their aviator glasses, both of them chuckling slightly as they realized she was going to fight them.
Of course, they didn’t know she was a female. They thought she was just a small male. Ciala hoped that their confidence would help her take them down.
She didn’t give them any advance warning. Swinging out, she caught the first one in the stomach but he only grunted, not going down. These men were significantly better trained, she realized. But she didn’t lose confidence. Following up, she used her elbow again, causing the man to bend over but he wasn’t out. Not yet. She reached around and smacked the second in the nose, causing his head to flip backwards.
But in that moment, she realized that neither man was out and, even worse, a third man was approaching. Stepping out of their reach, she braced herself for this next threat. And this man was…oh goodness. This was not good, she realized. This man wore the same glasses, the same black, uniform-type clothing but…
He was bigger! And meaner looking! And this man filled out the uniform better than any of the others! Those muscles in his arms were stretching that black material and making her head spin with the idea of taking him on. She couldn’t do it! He was too big!
He didn’t look like he was going to be easy to take down. In fact, he looked like the kind that wouldn’t go down! She calculated the odds, knew her training and heard the grunts from the men behind her. They were recovering quickly. Deciding that retreat was her best option, she glanced to the right and left.
Unfortunately, that was her downfall.
That slight hesitation was all the big guy needed.
She bent lower, ready to try and fight but…
The enormous man simply walked up to her and slammed her against the dirty truck. His forearm was powerful and he snapped several commands. The men behind her moved to his side and he slowly, very slowly, lifted his sunglasses higher.
As he looked down at her, she felt the chocking sensation and her eyes started to water. The blackness was surrounding her and, a moment later, she passed out.
Jurar looked at the small man in a heap at his feet but something wasn’t right. Looking behind him, he realized that the other rebels were gone. They’d been entering that small office building but they’d snuck out while he dealt with this one. Not very loyal, he thought with disgust.
“Pick him up!” Jurar snapped to his men, referring to the embarrassingly puny man who had passed out with just the smallest pressure. He was furious with his guards as well. The small man now crumpled at his feet had almost overpowered two of his men. One of his guards should have been enough to take down this weak, un-muscled man but there had been two of his guards against this miniscule man and the small man had gotten in some good hits! Their training was going to ramp up significantly, he mentally promised himself. The unconscious man had some good moves, but his men were supposed to be the elite! He would not permit anything less.
“Drag him along to the jail. We’ll question him there.”
Jurar walked away, knowing that his orders would be followed instantly. The two guards ignored their pain and lifted the man by his limp hands, dragging him along behind them to the local jail. There, they dumped him into a cell and walked away.
Ten minutes later, Jurar walked into the cell and looked down at the smallish man, irritated that he hadn’t woken up yet. “Get some water!” he commanded.
A large bucket of water was quickly brought out and splattered over the small prisoner.
Ciala gasped and sputtered, her mind trying to figure out what was going on. Where was she? What had happened? Looking around, she spotted the enormous man staring down at her, his legs braced apart and his sunglasses off. She could see his eyes now and what she saw there made her stomach quake with fear. This was not a man to mess with! She’d heard about the rebels in this area and knew that they were a nuisance. Was this one of them? She’d seen the other three and had determined that they were rebels but they weren’t as well dressed as this man. Nor as muscled!
Oh goodness, what had she gotten herself into? She should have just crouched down underneath the window but…
“Where’s my bag?” she gasped, sitting up and looking around. She realized that her glasses where still on the floor and quickly picked them up, sliding them up her nose to try and help disguise her femininity. She couldn’t let these men know who she was!
The man was watching her carefully and she struggled, remembering that she was supposed to be a man. She didn’t like the possibilities if this man discovered her identity. It was too scary to contemplate!
“Your bag is in my possession. As are you. Tell me what you know!”
Ciala blinked, not sure what he meant. “Well, I know that you’re going to regret capturing me. The Sheik of Drakar will hear about your activities today,” she warned, trying to pretend that wasn’t an empty promise. “Just let me go with my stuff and I won’t mention it to anyone.”
That threat seemed to amuse the man. She scooted back on the cement floor, needing some space because he was so tall. It was always better to see the enemy’s eyes, she remembered. They could give her hints about what they were thinking.
Looking up at this man’s eyes, she suspected he was the exception to that rule. His eyes were blank, his facial features hard as a rock. She shivered, thinking she was in more trouble than she’d anticipated. This man didn’t appear to be afraid of the law. What’s worse, he was big enough and appeared strong enough to not be afraid of anything!
“The sheik is a mean guy,” she tossed out, still hoping to scare the man.
Jurar remembered that he didn’t have time for this. Lifting the man up off the ground with a fist on his jacket, he let the man’s feet dangle in the air. “Tell me what I want to know! Where are the others?”
Ciala grabbed the man’s wrist, scared witless and trying to remember her training. She should…she could…her mind couldn’t think properly, not with this man’s fist holding her up in the air. He was dangerous, hard and didn’t look like he was afraid of anything.
“Please, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she gasped out. “I’m just here doing interviews!” Her hand moved up, tugging at her ear, making sure her wig was in place.
Jurar looked at the man, disgust at his cowardice and lies. “Where are the other rebels!” he demanded.
Ciala’s mind cleared for a moment and she reacted, kicking her dangling legs out and knocking the man with her steel-toed boots. That hard kick alone should have weakened his hold but the man’s grip only tightened and she inhaled, thinking quickly. She swung out with her hands, trying to knock his head.