Page 295 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

There was a statement being made with that look. As surprised as she was to have this kind of conversation taking place right in front of her, it took almost a full minute before she realized exactly what Christian was implying.

It didn’t take Fariq half that long to figure it out. His head snapped from her to Christian, then he grabbed her, yanking her in close behind him.

“Donot,” he growled softly, the distant thunder of the most vicious of storms in his voice, “ever dare suggest that again. I have saved her life more times than I care to count. I wouldneverharm her. Ever.”

Glaring back at him, Christian exhaled a slow seething breath.

“Then we have a problem.”

Straightening, pushing Aliya back with him, Fariq retreated half a step. Moving cautiously, he placed his hand on Christian’s shoulder.

“I gave an order that was grossly,” he said, casting another glare past Christian to where Aliya could now see Lamar and a group of her brother’s mercenaries, all looking exceedingly uncomfortable, “misconstrued. I did not order you killed, my friend. Why would I? There has been a serious misunderstanding here, one I will get to the bottom of, I swear it.”

“I should hope so.” Tics of muscles leapt along his jaw, but Christian eventually backed down.

“I am, however, a little taken aback.” Turning all the way around, Fariq faced her, slapping Aliya once again with that wave of cold as he reached for her. Cupping her shoulders, he looked her over. Catching her chin in his hand, he studied her face until she couldn’t bear it. She reached up, feeling her cheek for what must be wrong. She could feel the thin layer of grime on her skin from the dirt the explosion had thrown into the air.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I must look a mess.”

“As only someone who had to run for her life could,” he assured. His hands drifted down her arms, settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. Their bellies and hips bumped, but at that moment, Aliya was far more concerned about what his hands were feeling. And he had felt it, the waist of her shorts hidden under her dress, she could tell by the way his face changed.

“What happened to the shoes you left in?” he asked.

Aliya swallowed hard. “I-I?—”

“They got lost in the run,” Christian cut in. “I got her those. Not like she could walk the streets barefoot.”

Fariq did not look away from her, but his hands on her waist massaged her, drawing her back in until she was once again flush up against him—the hard plane of his flat stomach, the angles of his hips, the muscular thickness of his thighs. Her own quaked.

“That would explain why I don’t remember buying them for you. Tell me, what precipitated the necessity of replacing her underwear?”

Her throat choked her. “I’m still wearing my underwear.”

“Then tell me about these?” He hiked up her skirt, showing the pale white of her loose-fitting shorts beneath. “I know I didn’t buy these either. They are hardly fitting for a lady.”

“I bought them,” Christian cut in abruptly.

Fariq turned around. The second he let go of her, Aliya stumbled back, scrubbing her hands down over her hips and ass as she simultaneously tried to smooth her skirt down and push away the crawling sensation his too intimate touch had sparked off her skin.

“Mind telling me why?”

Closing the distance between them again, Christian glared into his eyes.

“Because she told me Lamar likes to look up her dress. He’s also the asshole who shot at my head.”

Fariq cocked his head. “I see,” he said, more an exhale than a word. Turning, as if suddenly aware they were not the only three people on the deck of his yacht, he searched the faces of those gathered around until he found the one he wanted. “Lamar.” He beckoned.

A wry twist of reluctance pulling at his mouth, the crewman pushed through the row of people between him and Fariq and came forward. He was less than four feet from Aliya when Fariq pulled the gun from his chest holster and shot him through the head without a word.

Aliya jumped, her eyes huge as she watched the crewman fall backward onto the deck. Her brother had just killed a man… right in front of her. So close to her, in fact, spatters of his hot blood blew right past Fariq and hit her.

“Go to your room,” Fariq told her, putting his gun away. “You aren’t to leave it again until I summon you. Is that clear?”

Aliya couldn’t move. Shaking and unsteady, she stared at the blood spattered like freckles up her left arm. A pool of the same was seeping out in a gory halo around Lamar’s head on the deck. Finally, she stared up at her brother as he turned on her with a mild frown.

“Mind me,” he warned. “Go. Right now, my darling.”

Staggering backward, she turned and fled up five decks of stairs, past his room to hers. The ever-present guards pretended not to see anything wrong as she bolted past them to slam her door. She threw herself against it, sagging to the floor before covering her mouth with both hands and bursting into tears.

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