Page 1 of Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave

Chapter One

Bridget Callahan pushed an errant strand of honey-blonde hair from her eyes and tried to shake off the hustle and bustle of another very loud day at the pediatrician’s office. December meant flu season, and she knew it was just a matter of time before she got sick, too. She thought her immune system would eventually toughen up after three years of working with Dr. Munir, but that never seemed to be the case.

It was finally Friday evening, and while her ears ached from all the screaming kids, her feet ached from running around the office grabbing files, and her heart ached from her latest dating disaster, she could finally enjoy a night out.

She drained the last of her Guinness as her friend, Cynthia, sloppily slid down onto the barstool beside her and pushed something dark in a shot glass into Bridget’s hands.

“You’re going to need more than that. I knew I never liked Kevin. He was a complete bastard,” said Cynthia.

“He wasn’t always so bad,” Bridget said, taking a small whiff of the shot’s contents and immediately regretting it. It was definitely bottom-shelf whiskey, and the fumes wafting up stung at her eyes and nostrils. She had no idea how it would feel going down her throat, but she was going to guess that smooth wasn’t it. At least it’d be strong.

“I’m so sorry he was cheating on you. I always suspected those ‘I have to work late’ excuses were bullshit,” Cynthia said, her green eyes regarding Bridget with genuine concern. “He had no right to do any of that to you. I mean, you get that you deserve better than that, right?”

“I’m twenty-five, have more student loans than I know what to do with, made the mistake of majoring in Spanish Literature in college, and have worked in the same small cubicle for three years. I’m not sure he was wrong about the dumping me part. I’d dump me, Cind. I’m nothing special.”

Cynthia shook her head. “Take your shot and embrace your newfound freedom. This is the best thing that could happen to you! ‘Kevin Sanders, Esquire’ is getting kicked to the curb, and now you can find someone better.”

Bridget arched an eyebrow at her friend before folding to peer pressure and gulping down the shot. It burned so badly that she coughed, and Cynthia had to pound her back a couple of times.

“Wow, that was awful.”

“You need to learn to hold your liquor.”

Bridget snorted. “I need to go home. I’m crazy to be trolling here anyway. I’m just not enough,” she said, gesturing vaguely to her chest, which was a big factor in her fears of “not being enough.”

She was nearly six feet tall, but built more like a willowy bean pole than a supermodel. Kevin always made her feel like crap about her modest curves. He always had some remark about the more attractive women in the TV shows or movies they watched together and how she didn’t stack up. For her twenty-fourth birthday, he even joked about getting her a boob job once he made partner at his firm—in front of everyone at her party. She had to smile and suffer through it.

But, to be fair, Cindi wasn’t wrong. Bridget had spent the better part of two years trying to please Kevin, but was always left feeling like she was never enough. Kevin never missed an opportunity to tell her that. It just didn’t seem likely she’d ever find a man who’d understand or care about all she had to offer. It was even less likely in a trendy hipster bar off Charles Street in Baltimore. She didn’t need someone who drank Pabst Blue Ribbon ironically and could barely cultivate facial hair in her life either.

Gathering up her purse, she hopped off the bar stool and reached over to hug her friend. “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll catch a movie.”

Cindi frowned. “It’s only 10:45. Are you sure you don’t want to try O’Laughlin’s next door?”

She eyed the wall of frat douches and hipster guys all checking their cell phones and barely paying attention to either their dates or the rest of women in the room.

“Yeah, never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said. “I did a twelve-hour shift today and covered when one of our nurses called in sick with a few things. I’m going to just crash and crash hard.”

Cindi nodded and hugged her back. “All right, but grab some chocolate and some beer on the way home. You have every right to bawl your eyes out about that jerk, but tomorrow we look for someone way better than Kevin to fix your problems.”

“Exactly,” Bridget said, faking the smile she just couldn’t feel deep down.

After that, she scurried out of the bar as fast as she could, not wanting to give Cindi a chance to come up with another so-called great idea. She knew her friend was trying, but Cindi had a philosophy that men were like buses and that another one would be right around the corner any moment. She was much more daring. Yes, Kevin had been an ass, but Bridget let herself believe that she would be getting a ring for her looming twenty-sixth birthday; that even if he had his issues, at least she wouldn’t end up alone.

Of course, it’s probably is a sign of a bad mental health that I even wanted to be tied down to that cheating jerk.

She shivered and pulled her coat as tightly around her as she could as she stepped out into the street. It was an unusually cold night in Baltimore, even for this time of year, and the wind cut through the alleys between buildings with an Arctic-like chill. What she wouldn’t give to have worn pants instead of tights. She was going to freeze her nether-regions off before she got to the garage. Trying to ignore the goosebumps that were spreading across her legs, Bridget cut through the alley beside the Barnes and Noble to get to the parking lot. She was almost to the door to go into the structure when she heard the stomp of a boot behind her.

Confused, she whirled around and looked behind her. Nothing seemed to be in the shadows, but she stayed still a moment longer, straining to hear if the stomping sound would come to her again. There was no sound, but the shrill whistling of the wind through the columns around her.

“Bridget, there’s nothing there. You’re being paranoid.”

Chiding herself, she pulled her purse closer to her body and hurried past the attendant and directly into the elevator. All she had to do was get to the fifth floor, hop in her car and peel out. Easy. Besides, no one was really following her. This was a secured facility with a guard and everything. She should be safe here for the rest of the walk. Hell, no one had gotten on the elevator with her. The doors opened after the car climbed to the fifth floor, and she rushed to her Jeep. The keys were out in her grasp when a large hand suddenly wrapped around her arm and a second clamped over her mouth.

She tried to scream choked on the taste of ash and grime against her tongue. The man’s giant palm had a crushing grip across her face, preventing her from even looking up. All she could do was feel the hot breath against her ear as a heavily accented voice spoke:

“Don’t struggle. We have a Taser, but we’d prefer not to use it.”

She shivered and felt her heart pounding through her chest. Sweat started to pour down her brow, and she bucked against her captor, but couldn’t make him budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall.

“Mmmrmph!” she screamed, which would have been more effect without a hand locked over her mouth.

“Now, pet, we don’t want to have to do that,” the voice said. “We have orders to bring you in one piece, and the man we work for wouldn’t appreciate you being scarred. Now, just come with us. This can all be resolved quietly.”

Screw quietly!

She thrashed her body as hard as she could, doing everything she could think of to try and break free. Bridget pushed against the side of her car to get leverage and was able to back bend enough to see the faces of three, swarthy-looking men with long beards holding her tightly.

“Oh, Ms. Callahan. That was a poor choice,” one of the men said. Bridget could hear the buzzing crackle of the Taser and could see its sparks of light out of the corner of her eye before it was sudden shoved into her side. The volts lanced through her, stinging with more pain than she could imagine, before she passed out.

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