The Sheikh's Christmas Maid (Shadid Sheikhs 1)

The shed was filled with dirty boxes and equipment. Taj had pulled a bunch of things out to get to the generator and had left everything out. Either he was in more pain than he wanted to admit or the fight with Melka made him forget. Sighing, she bent down to grab the first box to haul it into the shed. Unfortunately, the bottom had soaked in the wet snow all night and the bottom fell out. Poppy shrieked as random garden figurines fell out the bottom.

“Garden gnomes? Really?” she grumbled through gritted teeth. Tossing the box aside, she toed statues with her boot and scanned the shed for places to put them, spying some plastic storage containers stacked inside each other. At least she could transfer everything from the wet cardboard to sturdier packaging.

The storage containers were all the way in the back. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the steering wheel of the riding lawn mower and stepped on the tire, hauling herself up. From there, she could step on the seat and move to the next equipment. The air compressor was sturdy under her weight, but there was nothing else for her to grab from there. Holding her hands out to balance herself, she bit her bottom lip and glanced around at the boxes, unsure if they would hold her weight.

“It’s either this or you go inside and make lunch for Sheikh Shadid,” she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she stepped on the first box and closed her eyes tightly. When it didn’t immediately collapse under her, she pushed herself over and swung her other leg around to support her body on the cinder block ledge. Pleased with herself, she grabbed the bright red storage containers and tossed them behind her. Just as she turned herself around to make her way back to the door, it slammed shut and plunged her into darkness.

“No!” she shouted. In her haste to reach the door, her foot slipped, and she tumbled. Her body hit the sharp edge of something, and pain lanced through her side. The tower of boxes fell around her, and Poppy shrieked.

Feeling the wall of crap surrounding her, her breath grew short. She was trapped in the darkness, and no one knew that she was out here.

8

Focus on your breaths.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

The walls are not closing in on you.

In. Out. In. Out. In.

The shortness of breath is just your imagination.

In. Out. In. Out.

You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

In. Out. In.

Oh God. You’re going to die.

Poppy had no idea how much time passed. Coldness seeped through her jacket and logic told her that she needed to get moving. She needed to get her blood circulating, but fear had frozen her. The objects around her were moving, pressing, closing, threatening to crush her to death. The oxygen in the shed was growing thin.

No. That couldn’t be true. The shed wasn’t sealed. She had plenty of air. She needed to stay calm.

“Poppy! Poppy, where the hell are you?”

The voice sounded a million miles away. She opened her mouth to answer, to scream, but nothing came out but a body-wracking sob.

“Help. Please help.” Her voice cracked, barely coming out as a whisper. Why couldn’t she shout for help?

“Poppy!”

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak, and light spilled in. Oxygen filled her lungs, and she inhaled deeply. The imaginary crushing walls were cardboard boxes again, and her body was frozen from the cold rather than fear.

“Poppy. I can hear you breathing, but I can’t see you. Tell me that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she croaked. “I think I’m trapped.”

“I’m coming, habibti.”

Poppy started moving as much of her body as possible. Closing and opening her fingers. Wiggling her toes. Anything to get the blood flowing. Samir threw things aside and climbed over equipment to get to her. Finally, the boxes towering over her were lifted, and he pulled her roughly to her feet.

Wrapping her in his arms, he squeezed her tight. “Poppy, you’ve been gone for an hour. What happened? Why did you come out here without me?”

“Cold,” she whispered in his ear. “So cold.”

“Fuck. Of course, you’re cold. I’ve got you.”