The Sheikh's Christmas Maid (Shadid Sheikhs 1)

“Yes, habibti?”

“I don’t remember it being windy.”

9

Once he was sure that Poppy was sleeping comfortably, he donned his jacket and headed back out in the snow. He was surprised when Melka followed him.

“Samir, it’s not okay for you to be out here alone,” he growled. “What if there is a sharpshooter?”

“Calm down. A threatening note rarely turns into a sharpshooter, Melka. I’m concerned about Poppy.” He stopped short at the shed and frowned. The steady snow had already obscured any footprints, but Poppy was right about one thing. There was no wind.

Testing the door, he shut it, opened it, and shut it again. With all the snow that had accumulated, he had to put some muscle into it. There was no w

ay that the wind had done it.

“Someone shut this door with Poppy inside,” he swore angrily. “Who the hell would do that?”

Melka immediately put his hand on his gun holster and looked around uneasily. “Samir, I’ll take a look around. Get inside. Now.”

Samir wanted to protest, but the look in Melka’s eyes was something he didn’t want to argue with. Nodding, he strode back to the house. From the window, he watched Melka scan the surrounding trees before gently easing to the corner of the building and peering around the side. He waited anxiously as Melka disappeared. He wasn’t only worried about his own and Poppy’s safety. Melka was more than a bodyguard.

He was also a friend.

When Samir went to college, Melka was right by his side. Only a few years older than him, at first, it was like having Jarik at his side. Melka was far too serious to be any fun, something that caused considerable frustration for Samir who completely immersed himself in Western culture. But through the years, he and Melka grew close. His bodyguard did his best to keep him out of trouble, which some weeks, seemed to be a daily occurrence, and Samir liked to think that Melka learned to have some fun every now and then. At least, he hoped.

When Melka appeared again with his gun holstered, Samir let out the breath he was holding. His guard was on the phone and gave Samir a thumbs up sign.

“There are no signs to indicate that someone has been out there, so I called Taj. He said that he forgot that he left the door open and came out to close it. He had no idea that Poppy was inside. He feels really bad about it.”

“Poor, Poppy,” Samir murmured. “Well, at least I can put her fears at ease. Let’s make some lunch, and we’ll go out and finish cleaning up the mess. I have a feeling that Poppy will try to put everything away herself.”

Melka stripped off his jacket and brushed the snow out of his hair. “You care for her,” he stated in a flat voice.

Care for her? That was a unique concept. Shrugging off the question, Samir headed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “What do you want for lunch?” he called out behind him.

Melka snorted and shook his head. “You’ve never made a meal for yourself in your life. Go sit down. I’ll whip something up.”

Samir shot him a smug smile. “I was hoping that you would say that.”

Samir settled on the couch, grabbed Melka’s phone from the table, and called Jarik.

“Melka? What the hell has Samir done now?” Jarik growled.

“Nice to hear from you too, brother,” Samir said dryly. “What’s this I hear about you visiting Kivi?”

“Samir,” Jarik sighed. “I’ve told you before that Kivi is none of your business.”

“Relax. I’m not here to pick a fight with you. Where are you exactly?”

His brother hesitated. “Actually, I’m on my way to Syria.”

“Syria? Samir frowned. “That’s a dangerous place for you to be.”

“Minor detour,” Jarik said smoothly. “But I can’t talk long. What do you need? Bail money?”

Samir rolled his eyes. “No. I was actually wondering if you spoke to father recently.”

“Nothing other than a few business memos last week. Why? Is something wrong?”