Famously, she had changed one on the very first day she had met Sharif. But that had been on a familiar vehicle with tools she had used before, and on a hard surface, while this was sand.
As soon as she raised the Jeep on the jack, it slipped and thumped down hard, narrowly missing her feet. Hands on her hips, she considered her options. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and she had parked in the shadow of a dune where she was sheltered from the wind. It was lovely—if she could just calm down. And, maybe she shouldn’t have set out half cock with only the thought of seeing Emir/Sharif again in her head. But she was where she was, and had to get on with it.
She had never seen so many stars before, Britt realised, staring up. What a beautiful place this was. There was no pollution of any kind. A sea of stars and a crescent moon hung overhead. And there was no need for panic, she reasoned, turning back to the Jeep. She had water, fuel, and plenty of food. The GPS was up and running, and according to that she was only around fifteen miles away from the encampment. The best thing she could do was wait until the morning when she would try again to wedge the wheels and stop them slipping. As a sensible precaution, and because she didn’t want Jazz to worry, she texted Sharif’s sister: Flat tyre. No prob. I’ll sleep 4WD then change it am and head 2 camp.
A reply came through almost immediately: I hve yr coordinates. Do u hve flares? Help o—
The screen blanked. She tried again. She shook the phone. She screamed obscenities at it. She banged it on her hand and screamed again. She tried switching it off and rebooting it.
It was dead.
So what had Jazz meant by that last message? Help was on its way? Or help off-road in the middle of the desert at night was out of the question?
Heaving a breath, she stared up, and blinked to find the sky completely changed. Half was as beautiful as the last time she looked, which was just a few seconds ago, while the other half was sullen black. A prickle of unease crept down her spine. And then a spear of fright when she heard something...the rushing sound of a ferocious wind. It was like all her childhood nightmares come at once. Something monstrous was on its way—what, she couldn’t tell. The only certainty was that it was getting closer all the time.
Her hands were trembling, Britt realised as she buttoned the phone inside the breast pocket of her shirt. Not much fazed her, but now she wished she had a travelling companion who knew the desert. Sharif would know. This was his home territory. Sharif would know what to do.
* * *
The elders had invited him to eat with them around the campfire. The respect they showed him was an honour he treasured. Here in the wildest reaches of the desert he might be their leader, but he could always learn from his people and this was a priceless opportunity for him to speak to them about their concerns. They talked on long into the night, and by the time he left them he was glad he could bring them good news about renewed investment and the realisation of their plans. He didn’t go straight back to his tent. He felt restless for no good reason other than the fact that the palm trees seemed unnaturally still to him, as if they were waiting for something to happen. He had a keen weather nose and tonight the signs weren’t good. He stared up into the clear sky, knowing things could change in a few moments in the desert.
He paced the perimeter of the camp and found himself back at the harem tent where Britt would be housed when she arrived. His mood lightened as he dipped his head to take a look inside. He could just imagine her outraged reaction when she realised where she was staying. He hoped she would at least linger long enough to enjoy some of the delights. The surroundings were so sumptuous it seemed incredible that they could exist outside a maharaja’s palace, let alone in the desert. Like his own pavilion, hers had been cleverly positioned around the underground stream. The water was clear and warm and provided a natural bathing pool in a discreetly closed off section of the tent. Solid gold drinking vessels glinted in the mellow light of brass lanterns, while priceless woven rugs felt rich and soft beneath his sandaled feet. The heady scent of incense pervaded everything, but it was the light that was so special. The candles inside the lanterns washed the space with a golden light that gave the impression of a golden room. It certainly wasn’t a place to hold a business meeting. This tent was dedicated entirely to pleasure, a fact he doubted Britt would miss. He tried not to smile, but there was everything here a sheikh of old might have required to woo his mistress. The older women of the tribe had heard a female visitor was expected and had approached him with their plan; he couldn’t resist.