The Sheik and the Slave

“We had an agreement. Have you fulfilled your end of the bargain? Did you place her on the ship to Arabia and not accompany her?” Abdullah asked directly.

Jean Baptiste hated men like Abdullah, and he watched him warily. The advisor was too sure of himself and his place within the sheik’s household. He was a trusted advisor, but cunning and cruel. Rather than support his friend, he had chosen to betray him. For all their differences, he was not better.

“No. I did not,” Jean Baptiste said; he almost laughed as the advisor’s face turned white.

“What do you mean? Where is she? I have paid you well and you have betrayed me,” he hissed. Abdullah’s face was flushed red with anger. He curled his meaty fist in his lap to stop himself from punching the half-breed.

“Have you chosen to keep the temptress for yourself?” Abdullah asked.

Jean Baptiste settled himself onto the small bed and answered absently.

“No, she isn’t here.”

Abdullah was tired of the barbarian’s insolence. He had paid him well to perform a job and he had done nothing. Worse yet, he was calm about his betrayal.

“Where is she? You have told me nothing and you have been paid,” Abdullah said. He looked at the dark-haired barbarian and met his cold brown eyes.

“There was a problem,” Jean Baptiste said.

Oh Allah! Abdullah knew it. He knew it! This is what happened when he trusted the future of the sheik and himself to a savage. An idiot savage.

Abdullah looked over the filthy room, with its dirty floor and table, and knew that he had chosen poorly. He should have taken care of the girl himself; had he done that, this would all be over.

“What has happened? Tell me everything,” Abdullah said, and then he waited silently.

Jean Baptiste watched the large man sitting across from him and knew he looked down upon him, though he wasn’t too proud to pay him gold to get rid of his problems. He didn’t want to dirty his own hands.

“I brought her to stay the night in an abandoned shack in the woods. I was going to leave the next day for the docks. The bitch attacked me,” Jean Baptiste explained.

Abdullah resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“She attacked you?” he asked.

“Yes. She went wild and attacked me. There was a struggle,” he continued.

“A struggle?” He eyed the man’s solid form and thought of the slim girl.

“Yes. She was trying to escape, and I slapped her. It was unfortunate.”

Abdullah narrowed his beady eyes. Half-breed brute!

“What happened next?” Abdullah asked.

“She was bleeding profusely, and I didn’t want her on my hands anymore. I took her to an Abbey on the outskirts of London,” Jean Baptiste explained. He studied the cleric as he spoke.

“Which Abbey?” Abdullah asked softly.

Jean Baptiste gave him the name.

“I see,” Abdullah said. Liar, he thought. Liar!

“The Mother Superior is known for her good works. I knew she would take care of the girl,” Jean Baptiste explained.

“However, having the girl still here in London doesn’t solve the problem that you were paid handsomely to deal with,” Abdullah said through clenched teeth.

“So how should it be handled?” Jean

Baptiste asked.