Page 294 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

Except Fariq knew everything. He always just knew.

How was she going to explain the shoes and the shorts? She’d never planned to come back to this ship. Now, she’d be lucky if her brother ever let her out of his sight again. She was trapped.

She wasn’t ready to go back up the ladder, needed more time to think, but Christian had shut off the boat and was making his way to tie up to the ladder to steady the two crafts together.

“Up you go, Princess,” he told her, making her stomach grow heavy with dread. “Try to keep your mouth shut, and don’t answer questions he doesn’t ask. If he does ask you anything, try to stick as close to the truth as possible and make your answers short and succinct.”

Rising slowly from her seat, she looked up the ladder, and there he was. Fariq stared down at her, his face locked in a cool, unreadable expression. No smile, no words of greeting, just staring.

Extending his hand, Christian beckoned her to him as if he were a safe harbor. “Come on.”

Doing her best not to look guilty, Aliya crept to the ladder. All of twenty-two-years old and right now, she felt as if she was nine, trying to tuck the forbidden shoes on her feet out of her brother’s view, but it was too late. He could see right through her, had always been able to.

Christian’s hand was warm and strong as he helped her onto the ladder.

“Gracious,” Fariq drawled, the hint of warmth his tone feigned, not touching any other part of him. “What happened to you?”

She’d have sooner taken hold of a cobra, but when he extended his hand, she had no other option. Clasping it, she let him draw her the last two steps up onto the deck. She tried to let go as soon as she was standing before him, but his grip didn’t loosen.

He looked her over, head to toe, his gaze lingering on the tear in her sleeve, the dirt on her dress, her hair which looked as if she hadn’t brushed it all day—flushing, she tried to smooth it down—and finally, he looked at her shoes. He cocked his head, pointedly staring at them.

She couldn’t make herself stop trembling. “I-I’m very sorry, Fariq.”

Raising his gaze, he locked on her. “Are you going to tell me you planted that bomb in the market?”

Startled, she stared up at him. “N-No…”

“Then I’m afraid it’s me who must apologize to you. Inever,” he emphasized, casting a rapidly cooling glare back over the top of her head, “would have allowed you to leave had I known there would be that kind of trouble.”

Unsure who he was looking at, she tried to look behind her, but he caught her chin and redirected her attention back to him.

“Are you all right?” Fariq asked.

“No,” Christian answered for her, stepping off the ladder onto the deck beside her. “She isn’t all right, and neither am I. Want to tell me why we had to play duck-and-dodge with our own men’s bullets?”

For the first time since leaving the café where he’d paddled her bottom, he actually looked angry.

“O-Our own…?” she stuttered, even more surprised. Aliya glanced back and forth between them.

Fariq’s grip tightened on her arm. Although his expression never changed, for just a moment, Aliya was certain he was surprised.

“I beg your pardon?” he countered.

Pushing Aliya aside, Christian closed the distance between him and her brother with a single, looming step.

“Who were you trying to kill, Fariq?”

“Kill?” she whispered as her stomach tightened.

Her brother was horrible, but he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. He didn’t just coolly order the deaths of innocent people.

Or did he?

She looked to him, horrified, but her brother’s attention was locked on his second-in-command.

“If you’re suggesting I sent assassins to kill you, my friend, you are very much mistaken. That thought was never in my mind.”

Cocking his head, Christian looked at her next.

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