A Sheikh for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 1)

“Thanks, guys.” Daveed cracked open his water and took a long gulp before scooting forward in his seat. “I really don’t want to talk ab

out it though. Can we just focus on Aileen’s case?”

“Sure thing.” Heath set his bottle aside and moved forward to rest his forearms atop his knees. “Some of my dad’s corporate contacts finally came through with more information about those companies you discovered in Aileen’s note.”

“About damned time,” Murphy said, allowing some of his worry to show on his face at last. The guy was a rock, both mentally and physically—skills honed during his time as a Navy SEAL. But bottling all that stress and strain inside had to take a toll on the guy. Daveed too had been trained from an early age to remain stoic during times of upheaval. After all, part of his training to be the future ruler of Al Dar Nasrani was keeping his cool under pressure. His time in the military had only strengthened those skills.

Murphy, though, had given a whole new meaning to calm and collected. If one of Daveed’s family had gone missing, he would’ve been climbing the walls. His friend, however, seemed to take each new hit in stride. It was only because Daveed knew Murphy so well that he picked up on the telltale signs of tension—the faint lines around the man’s eyes and mouth, the constant tap of his booted toe against the hardwood floor, the slight twitch in his muscles each time his sister’s name was mentioned.

“So.” Heath continued. “Let’s start with that law firm. Baines, Monroe, and Walford. Typical high-dollar, business law sharks. They built a reputation for themselves representing multi-billion-dollar companies involved in dubious environmental disasters, like that recent oil spill off the Yucatan peninsula.”

“Sound like they’ve got plenty to hide then,” Murphy said, raking a hand through his coal-black hair and leaving it even messier. “Maybe Aileen was poking around in one of their cases.”

“I doubt it.” Heath exhaled slowly. “They’ve had a problem with leakers inside their firm for years, and most of the dirt on them has been put out in the press already. I think it’s pretty unlikely she would’ve found anything new on them.”

“What about the other business then?” Daveed asked. “The financial firm?”

Heath snorted. “Now that one’s a different story. Seems Brightstar Financial has become more like a black hole. My dad said his connections with the SEC were investigating the firm last year for fraud and a possible Ponzi scheme.”

Murphy sat forward. “Sounds promising.”

“Except they were cleared, right?” Daveed frowned. “I thought I heard something about that on the news.”

“Yep.” Heath gave a curt nod. “Nothing found. Now they’re dabbling in some new clean energy technology that’s supposed to be the next big thing. It’s a relatively new area, so there’s not much information on it yet, but so far things appear to be above board.”

“Great.” Murphy’s tone said the exact opposite. “So where do we go from here? Aileen’s been missing now for over two weeks. If we don’t find something soon, the trail’s going to be stone cold.”

“We’ll find her,” Heath said, his gaze and his voice steady. “I swear. We just need to find the right path to follow. Murph, I want you to go talk to your sister’s boss at the newspaper again. Find out more about what she’s been working on, who she’s been talking to, meeting with. Ask around with her co-workers too. Maybe she doesn’t always tell her boss everything she’s doing. In the meantime, I’m going to keep digging with my father’s contacts. All this info they gave me about these firms seems pretty cut and dried, but my gut tells me there’s more beneath the surface we don’t know.”

“What about me?” Daveed said. Despite his twisted emotions at the moment—or maybe because of them—he wanted to stay busy, keep his head clear and avoid the matters of his heart. Espionage was easy compared to all the emotional turmoil waiting for him back at the condo. “What should I do next?”

“You mean besides get your wreck of a love life under control?” Heath gave him an impassive look. “Seriously. You need to deal with your woman troubles before they deal with you. I’ve been there, done that. Don’t ever want to go back again. Once you get that shit straightened out, call me. I’ll give you something more to do on Aileen’s case.”

Well, fuck.

Heath and Murphy both went their separate ways and Daveed headed back out into the snowy pre-holiday bustle of Manhattan. Carols were blasting out of every store he passed and colorful, glittery decorations sparkled from every interior and storefront, but Daveed couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit. Whenever he looked at a tree, all he could think of was the tiny, Charlie Brown-looking glorified twig Melody had bought for the condo and how excited she’d been to decorate it. Whenever he saw a pink wool coat, he looked up expectantly to see if it was her. Whenever he spotted mistletoe hanging above an entrance, all he could remember was kissing her in the glow of the twinkle lights and making love to her all night long.

Then Shayma had shown up this morning and ruined everything.

He sighed and stared through a toy store window at the brightly lit displays of miniature trains and remote-controlled race cars. That’s exactly what he’d wanted the Christmas he’d been eleven. He shook his head. Funny enough, that had been the same year his parents had arranged his marriage to Shayma. He’d seen her a few times since then over the years and actually liked her. She seemed smart and funny and ambitious. If his parents hadn’t been so pushy back then, he might’ve dated her, maybe even married her one day.

But the fact he’d been forced into the whole thing with her ruined any chance of him ever testing those waters now. He was a man who made his own decisions, controlled his own destiny. And Heath was right, no matter how depressing the whole situation was, it was time for Daveed to deal with the mess in his love life once and for all.

9

Flipping through yet another rack of designer dresses, Melody couldn’t seem to concentrate on fashion. Which was sad because the garments were all lovely and shopping had always been her stress reliever. At least until Daveed had come into her life.

Shayma emerged from a nearby dressing room and handed the gown she’d tried on to the waiting assistant, who carried it to the register to hold until they were ready to leave. Mel watched Shayma as she walked toward her, seeing exactly why Daveed’s parents would push for him to marry her, especially if he was to inherit their country’s throne someday. Shayma was gorgeous—all supermodel long limbs and graceful movements. Her long black hair hung in a silky, straight curtain down her back and her dark doe eyes spoke of both beauty and whip-fast intelligence.

Mel sighed and stared down at her comfy winter boots. Shayma was basically her opposite. Dark where Mel was light. Tall where Mel was rather short and definitely curvier. Book smart where Mel was… well, where she wasn’t. Mel knew she wasn’t stupid, per se, but academics had never been her strong suit. She preferred more creative pursuits—art, design, writing, dancing. Rigid confines and rules gave her hives. That’s why liberal arts had been such a great degree choice for her—so many options, so many avenues to explore.

Daveed’s derisive chuckle from that first night at the condo echoed through her head. He was book smart too, like Shayma. He prided himself on being neat and organized and sharp. Her shoulders slumped. Why had he ever hooked up with Mel to begin with if they were so different? What could he have possibly seen in her that he didn’t in Miss Tall, Dark, and Regal?

“Find anything?” Shayma asked, her smile as sweet as always, which only made Mel feel even worse. She reached past Mel to pull out a deep rose-colored chiffon dress. “You should try this one on. The color would look magnificent with your hair and your eyes.”

Much as she liked the dress, Mel couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t take Shayma’s money. It would be wrong, especially given what had happened between her and Daveed. She shrugged and tried to play it off as exhaustion. “I’m too tired right now. But you keep shopping.”

“Nah.” Shayma wrinkled her nose and headed for the cashier, Mel by her side. “I’m getting tired too. Jet lag.” She pulled out a platinum credit card and handed it to the clerk without even waiting for the total. “I think a good night’s sleep is in order. For both of us.”