Sheikhs of Hamari: The Complete Series Page 3

  He braced himself for battle in the back of the black SUV driven by his security man.

  Who’d have thought that Hannah Fisher would be the one standing in his way?

  Chakir’s smile settled into a frown. He should have known, when he saw her standing there with the landlord, that she wouldn’t be the kind of woman to back down easily. She did not behave according to any traditions he was used to. She was, in a phrase, a rule breaker…and Chakir was not a fan of rule breakers. There was something to be said for accepting the way things were and making your way inside those boundaries.

  But his brother’s words echoed in his mind.

  Someday, you’re going to have to break a few rules. Be a little inappropriate. It’s the only way change ever happens.

  What would that even look like, in this scenario?

  He wanted to come into her house like a storm, press her back against the blank wall in the entryway, and kiss her. Chakir could almost feel her breath against his lips when he stopped an inch away to growl, “May I kiss you, Hannah?”

  “Sir? We’re here.”

  Chakir took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  His man hopped out to open the door, and Chakir braced himself for a fight. He was going to reiterate that Ryan was entitled to all the benefits and securities of royal life, and so was Hannah. There was no need to stay here to prove a point, whatever point she was trying to prove. He was going to assure her that he would personally see them to a comfortable life, safe inside the palace walls. He would not think about kissing her. Or anything else.

  Chakir marched up the sidewalk. The peeling paint on the house’s siding was even more obvious in the morning light. The creak of the porch rang louder in his ears. He raised his hand to knock, and even the front door seemed flimsy.

  The door sprang open before his knuckles made contact.

  Hannah stood in the entryway, surrounded by three enormous suitcases and a collection of smaller bags. A little boy stood by her side, his hand in hers—Ryan. Chakir recognized him instantly. He had his cousin’s dark hair. His face was a perfect copy of Tahir’s, only with Hannah’s green eyes.

  Wait—suitcases?

  “Good, you’re here,” Hannah said briskly. “How soon can we leave?”

  A small crowd waited for them on the runway. Chakir blinked out the window. How had anyone known they were here? He signaled to his security man. They had a backup team waiting in the terminal while the crew on the private jet finished preparations. Hannah had been so ready to leave that he’d had to call ahead and have them rush the plane to the runway.

  He turned to her and found her staring out the window over his shoulder, a worried look in her eyes.

  “What made you change your mind?” The least he could do was keep her talking. Chakir was half afraid that she’d change her mind at the last moment, and they were so close to getting out of the country.

  “My landlord,” she said. “The one you met last night. He’s always been rough, but…” She bit her lip. “Last night I caught him trying to take a photo of Ryan through his bedroom window.”

  “What?” A protective heat roared through Chakir’s chest. “Through the window?”

  “Yes.” Hannah set her lips into a thin line. “I’d bet anything that he’s the one responsible for those cameras outside.”

  Chakir was speechless. The man had come to Hannah’s home and done that? He didn’t know whether to be grateful that she was here or irritated that she hadn’t called him right away.

  Well, what was done was done.

  “So…we didn’t have another choice,” Hannah said softly. She patted Ryan’s leg. He sat in a top-of-the-line booster seat next to her, dozing lightly. “You’re our only option at the moment.”

  “You don’t look pleased about that.”

  She screwed up her mouth. “I wouldn’t say I’m pleased, no.”

  He considered her. What would please her? Chakir wanted to find out. He wanted it more than he’d ever anticipated. “You’d rather stay here? In spite of what happened last night?”

  “I’d rather succeed at this on my own.” Her voice was firm, level. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.” She glanced down at her son, her nerves written on her face, and his heart went out to her.

  “I promise, it won’t be so awful.” Chakir wasn’t usually in the habit of promising anything to anyone, but some part of him longed for Hannah to smile. For her shoulders to drop away from her ears. “I’m having my people pack the rest of your things into a storage unit, covered by the royal family, of course. We can have them shipped to you in Hamari whenever you choose.”

  Hannah let out a short laugh. “Where would my old couch fit in at the palace?”

  He gave a causal shrug. It wouldn’t fit in. That much was true. “Wherever you’d like it to.”

  She straightened up. “No sense in that. The point of all this is to protect Ryan. I don’t need furniture to do that.”

  A crew member stepped out onto the airstair and waved. The plane was ready.

  “It’s time,” Chakir said, a strange chill settling over his skin. “Let’s go.”

  They both slid out the door and went around to collect Ryan. Two members of the crew came out and began loading the suitcases into the plane.

  Hannah stroked Ryan’s hair. He stirred sleepily and rubbed at his eyes. “It’s time to get on the plane now, buddy. You ready?”

  “Ready to go,” said Ryan, looking around curiously. “Are we at the plane?”

  “It’s waiting for us now. Hop down and hold my hand, and we’ll get on board.”

  The noise from the crowd rose the instant they stepped out from behind the SUV. For the first time in his life, the sound of the camera shutters clicking felt less like a greeting and more like a threat.

  No. No.

  He wasn’t going to let them get away with this so easily.

  “Can you make them stop?” Hannah had shifted back toward the SUV. Her voice was calm, but her expression was tight. “This is—this is too much.”

  “Mama,” said Ryan. “Look at the people, Mama.”

  Chakir went back for her. “It’s a short walk to the plane. The faster we get there, the faster this stops.” And the faster Ryan was back in Hamari where he belonged. The faster he would be safe. He bent down to Ryan. “Do you mind if I carry you to the plane? If you forgot, my name is Chakir, and I’m going to ride with you.” Back home, he’d intended to say, but Ryan wouldn’t recognize it that way. “Is that all right?”

  Ryan gave him a solemn nod, and Chakir picked him up. Hannah allowed it, with a hand on Ryan’s back. “Come with me.”

  He blocked Ryan with his body all the way to the airstair, folding the boy’s face into his shoulder to hide him from the photographers. Chakir could feel Ryan’s heart fluttering in his chest.

  Hannah hesitated at the bottom step.

  “This is your chance to change your mind,” Chakir said, pulse drumming in his ears. He wanted them on that plane more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. “But this is the right option. For this situation, and in life. It’ll be good.”

  She wavered. “It will?”

  “Yes,” he promised.

  Hannah didn’t wait another moment. She hustled up the stairs, Chakir close behind, and at last they were on their way.

  5

  Hannah had only flown twice in her life, in the back row of economy class, round trip to her uncle’s funeral. Her mom had been tight lipped and nervous both directions.

  The private jet was nothing like that.

  It was all sleek lines and leather furniture and flight attendants with smart uniforms and soft, modulated voices that made Hannah feel vaguely grubby. They offered full meals and small glasses of champagne. When Ryan conked out again three hours into the flight, they folded one of the luxury seats into a bed and set him up with a pillow and blanket. If Hannah so much as thought about needing something, there it was.

  She tried to shake off
the feeling that she didn’t belong, but it was impossible. Hannah had grown up going with her mom when she’d clean houses. At forty thousand feet, there was nothing to tidy, but Hannah’s hands itched to do it. To do anything, really. She’d gone from working as a kindergarten assistant and charging through every day like a warrior woman to idling on a private plane in the space of a day. And it was most of a day. They flew through the night and landed after sunrise, the day compacted thanks to the time change.

  “We’ll go straight to the car,” Chakir said when the plane touched down. “The entourage is waiting outside.”

  “Entourage?” Hannah took Ryan by the hand and pulled her oversized purse up on her shoulder.

  “What’s an entourage?” asked Ryan.

  “A group of people who will come with us,” she said, the words tasting foreign in her mouth. Who had ever thought she—or her son—would travel in a crowd like this? “We need an entourage to ride to the palace?”

  “Of course,” Chakir said. He’d grown more and more businesslike by the moment, and Hannah almost wished he’d go back to looking into her eyes like she was a dreamlike creature. “Members of the royal family rarely travel unaccompanied.” He gave her a smile that made her more nervous than anything else.

  Hannah cast around for more of her luggage, but Chakir waved her off. “All of it will be collected and brought with us. Only take what you need.”

  “All—all right.” She and Ryan followed Chakir down the airstair. Not one but four black SUVs waited in a tight circle next to the runway. “Wow,” said Hannah. “Is it one for each of us?”

  Chakir laughed, and her stomach unclenched. “The luggage will be driven separately. We’ll ride together with a follow car and a decoy.”

  Was that excessive? It seemed like it to Hannah, but every step she took on the ground in Hamari had her off balance. Maybe it wasn’t excessive. Maybe Chakir and her son did require four vehicles just to get them from airport to palace.

  The drive took ten minutes.

  The palace came into view when they rounded a corner, rising from the top of a hill like something out of a storybook. White towers with crenellated tops struck Hannah as somehow ancient and new at the same time. They passed through a gate at the end of a private road, then a second gate at the back of the palace grounds. The SUVs parked close to a wide back entrance, the massive doors surrounded by intricate mosaics. Hannah wanted to run her fingers over the lines in the tiles. That would be…almost meditative. But she settled for taking Ryan’s hand in hers and following Chakir into the palace.

  The palace.

  They entered with a burst of cool, sweet-scented air, and a suited man rushed up to Chakir and spoke to him in low, quick tones. Chakir answered back, then turned to Hannah. “My brother, the king, is waiting for us.”

  Hannah’s shoulders tensed, and the muscles near her spine pulled together as if they’d been tugged by an invisible rubber band. The simple black dress she’d changed into before they deplaned didn’t seem nice enough to meet a king. Oh, she was in deeper water by the second.

  It wasn’t about her. She had to remember that. Ryan was the one at the center of everyone’s focus.

  She wanted to pull Chakir back by the arm—to take a minute, before they plunged into the next level of this whirlwind entry into royalty—but Chakir made a sharp right turn and Hannah found herself in a large, bright room with low sofas. A man who looked like Chakir, only more muscled and slightly older, stood at the opposite end of the room, talking with a clutch of other people. A low table with refreshments on it bordered one wall.

  “Kishon,” Chakir called, and the other man lifted his head, his face brightening.

  “You’re here,” the king said, and made his way across the room. Hannah’s heart refused to slow down. On instinct she reached for Chakir’s hand, slipping her fingers into his. He tensed for the barest second, then squeezed back.

  “This is Hannah Fisher,” said Chakir. “Hannah, this is Sheikh Kishon Al-Shafar, king of Hamari.”

  Hannah bobbed on one knee, a weird approximation of a curtsy, and Kishon laughed.

  “No need for that,” he said, and stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Welcome to Hamari. I’m happy you were able to see the benefits of bringing your son here. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes,” rasped Hannah, her throat parched. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Kishon gestured, and a moment later, someone appeared with a tray of glasses for each of them. Hannah took a sip of the drink. The burst of lemon and mint on her tongue brought her back to earth. She could do this. She could totally stand in a palace with the king and the prince and hold her own.

  “The first thing we need to discuss is Ryan’s formal training.”

  She choked a bit on the next swallow. “I’m sorry—formal training?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kishon said. Of course. How was she supposed to know any of this? She stole at glance at Chakir out of the corner of her eye. Had he been holding out on her. “Ryan will need to pass formal training before the crowning ceremony.”

  “I—” She laughed, her own nerves echoing off the walls around them. “Crowning? I thought that was just for kings and queens.” Hannah went to squeeze Ryan’s hand, only…it wasn’t in hers any longer.

  All three of them looked in the direction of the refreshment table.

  Ryan stood in front of it with a small cupcake in his hand, tongue out of his mouth, busy licking the frosting off. He didn’t notice them looking. In fact, he turned around and took another cupcake, then alternated between the two, licking them both.

  “No, not quite ready yet. He doesn’t pass the test,” Kishon said, without missing a beat.

  Hannah felt like she’d just walked into a furnace, heat searing across her cheeks. “Excuse me?” Who did this man think he was, to judge her son? They’d been in the country all of an hour and he was already being tested? The pressure at the top of her head compounded. She opened her mouth to say more. To say worse.

  “The crowning is something every member of the family does,” Chakir said quickly. “If Ryan had been raised here, he’d have had lessons for years by this point. Now, we’ll just have to give him a…crash course.” Hannah looked into Chakir’s eyes, and the heat behind her breastbone transformed into something else entirely.

  “What’s the rush?” she said, almost under her breath.

  “The crowning ceremony is scheduled to happen during the celebrations of a major tribal holiday.” His voice—she was even into his voice. Hannah wanted to close her eyes and sink into the sound of it. “It can’t be rescheduled. The holiday—"

  “What holiday?” Ryan piped up. Hannah startled, almost coming off her feet. She looked down at her son, who was back at his place next to her, hands still stuffed with sweets. “I like holidays.”

  “Good morning, young man,” said Kishon. “I’m Sheikh Kishon, king of Hamari.”

  Ryan dropped one of the sweets—a cookie covered in powdered sugar, from the looks of it—onto the floor at his feet and pulled the rest tight to his chest. “I’m Ryan. We live in Chicago.”

  “Are you ready to learn about our culture here, Ryan?” continued Kishon. “It’s what all the princes have to do.”

  “Princes?”

  Kishon flicked his eyes up to Chakir and Hannah. “Has he not been informed?”

  “He’s five,” said Hannah.

  “Ryan.” Kishon got down on one knee so his face was level with Ryan’s. “Your father, Tahir, was a prince in Hamari when he was alive. That means you’re a prince, too. So, you’ll need to learn about the ancient tribal rules and culture before we can give you a crown.”

  “And a sword?” shouted Ryan.

  Kishon chuckled. “Not quite yet.” When he stood back up, his expression was concerned. “We’ll have to hurry,” he said. And then his dark eyes turned to Hannah. “You’ll need an introduction to your role in society, too.” He pursed his lips. �
�And we’ve never had to instruct an adult before.”

  Nope. No. Not even. Hannah’s mind short-circuited. She’d taught kindergarten for seven years, and never once had she been this close to losing her cool. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep her chin from quivering. The room wasn’t large enough. The walls pressed in. It was too much.

  “This way,” Chakir was saying, and a gentle pressure on her elbow steered her toward the refreshment table. “Here. Take this.” He held something out to her—a small plate with a fluffy biscuit on it. She took a bite. Sweet—it was so sweet, and gone before she knew it. How had he known that a little sweetness would go a long away?

  His eyes were on hers when she could focus again.

  “Are you all right?”

  She put the teacup down and took a deep breath. “We can’t do this, Chakir. We’re not…used to luxury. To being royal. We’re workers. I’m a worker, and Ryan…” Hannah had to be honest. “He’s my son, and he comes from a long line of people who pull themselves up by their bootstraps.”

  Chakir gave her a steady look, a glint in his eyes. “Why are you running away from this, then? Are you afraid it will be too much work to learn something new?”

  “I’m not afraid of work. I’ve never been afraid of work.” She pulled herself up to her full height.

  “Then think of this as…a new challenge,” said Chakir. “For you, and for Ryan.”

  Still, Hannah hesitated. “Are you going to be there? To work with him?” It felt so raw, so vulnerable, to be asking this of Chakir. And she was the one who was melting under his gaze. She was the one who’d held his hand a few minutes ago. “Ryan…seems comfortable with you. I don’t want him to be surrounded by strangers.”

  Chakir put a hand to her face. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll oversee his lessons myself.”

  6

  Chakir couldn’t stop thinking of the way Hannah’s skin had felt under his fingertips.

  What had happened in the sitting room? When she’d slipped her hand into his, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. It had felt like something that could easily lead to other natural things. And that wasn’t supposed to happen here. The intense desire he had for her should have stayed in the States. It would be a distraction from his duties here.