The Sheikh’s American Assistant: Qadir Sheikhs Book Two Read online

  Qadir Sheikhs

  The Sheikh’s Surprise Twins

  The Sheikh’s American Assistant

  The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, MARCH 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Makayla Riggs is convinced her father was wrongfully convicted, and she’s going to prove it. Her father died in prison in Qadir, a tiny Arabic country, after being found guilty of stealing a diamond from the royal family. Convinced her father was framed by the al Baians, the powerful family he was working for, Makayla heads to Qadir and finds an unlikely ally in Sheikh Baqir Abdul-Rahman, who has his own suspicions about the al Baians. As the two work together to uncover the truth, Makayla can’t help but find herself falling under the charming sheikh’s spell. How can she not when Baqir is the only one who believes her father was framed?

  Baqir is trying to solve several other jewelry thefts and knows he’s treading in dangerous territory to place blame for all the thefts on the al Baians. Yet he finds himself willing to do just about anything to help Makayla. Their long nights investigating the original theft brings them closer, and it isn’t long before the two finally give in to the red-hot chemistry that's been torturing them since they met. When Makayla is threatened by the al Baians, Baqir is desperate to protect her; a kind of desperation that feels like more than chemistry: he’s fallen deeply in love with the beautiful American. But will Baqir be too late to save Makayla, will she disappear forever from his life?

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  (Qadir Sheikhs Book Two)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  End of The Shiekh’s American Assistant

  Thank You!

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Sheikh’s Stubborn Employee

  Also by Leslie

  1

  Keep it calm. Keep it cool. Act like you belong.

  Those were the rules of snooping around someone else’s estate. At least, those were the rules Makayla had set for herself when she’d decided on this frankly insane plan to get justice for her father.

  The key here was to act like she was a maid. The scratchy black uniform was the right look, but did Makayla have the right attitude? She couldn’t say. Maids probably didn’t stare pointedly around every room they entered, like she’d just caught herself doing. There wasn’t much dust around the door of the wine cellar, but Makayla swept the duster briskly over the door handle anyway and pretended to see something stuck to the brass. She bent down and tried the handle. Locked. That was to be expected; only the cook and her employer Abdi al Baian himself had the key to the wine cellar. Still, it had been worth a try.

  Abdi and Hasara al Baian’s house was huge. The sprawling mansion took its cue from the McMansions in the States, with a little Qadiri flair in the tiling and stonework. Her project would have been easier if they lived in a smaller house, especially since Makayla didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. Papers? A flash drive? It could be anything, but something in this house held the key to her father’s innocence.

  She was certain of it.

  Makayla bustled away from the door of the wine cellar, crossed the enormous kitchen, and took the back stairs up to the main floor. Staying ahead of Hasara was going to be her biggest side project, aside from finding evidence that proved her father was innocent. The woman actually had white gloves that she wore to test the cleanliness of the house. Makayla had been surprised at how easy it was to get a job as a maid in the al Baian household. Then she’d met Hasara.

  The lady of the house had a smile as fake as the display fruit in the big bowl on the dining room table. It never reached her eyes. Makayla had been there for weeks, and she’d never seen Hasara experience any genuine emotion other than irritation and anger. It was almost lucky that the al Baians’ daughter didn’t need a tutor, which had been Makayla’s original idea for getting into the house. That would have meant more time in the direct line of fire.

  It probably wouldn’t be long, anyway, until Hasara decided to stop putting up with her. If it weren’t for the fact that she spoke two languages and was an American citizen…well, she could dust, but Makayla didn’t have a particular talent for cleaning.

  The main floor itself was almost deserted, except for other staff walking quickly, heads down. Hasara wasn’t even here tonight, but her very existence kept everyone under an anxious cloud. Makayla lowered her own head and moved purposefully across the spacious foyer with its luxe tiling job. She wanted to search one more place tonight, and she could feel the time ticking down.

  Abdi’s office.

  She’d already searched the bedrooms—the couple slept in separate master suites—and Hasara’s private sitting rooms on the off-chance that they kept sensitive documents either place. Makayla hadn’t found anything. The office was her best chance.

  Her heart thudded loudly in her ears. “Shh,” she whispered, as if the sound of her own voice could have a calming effect. It did, a little. She moved with purpose down the wide hallway, her footsteps muffled on the carpet. And she headed straight for the door with her head held high.

  Despite the rush of her pulse in her ears, she was hyper-aware of every tiny sound. She didn’t think anyone was in the hall. If someone walked by, they wouldn’t see her hesitating or craning her neck to look over her shoulder. They’d see a woman going somewhere she was absolutely supposed to be.

  The handle of the office door offered no resistance under her palm. She held her breath. The hairs on the back of her neck seemed stroked by an invisible breeze as she let herself into the room and closed the door behind her. Makayla arranged her face into a look of surprise a second before she registered that the room was empty.

  She let out a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god.” Then she hurried forward. There was no telling when the al Baians would be back from the gala.

  Desk first.

  She rifled through the papers on the top, feeling short of breath. It was weird to be doing this kind of espionage. It was weird, first and foremost, t
hat her father had been arrested for theft. According to everyone he knew, he had never pushed boundaries. He wouldn’t have broken the law. But the al Baians had accused him of stealing a valuable diamond. They’d had him thrown in prison. He’d died there. Makayla had lived most of her life without him because of these people.

  Could anyone blame her for wanting to know why?

  She didn’t see anything about any diamond on the top of the desk, or in the three top drawers. The second drawer down was locked. Makayla opened the slim drawer just beneath the top of the desk and scanned again, finding a little golden key wedged up against the side. It fit into the lock on the second drawer, which slid open with a creak that stopped her heart. She froze, waiting.

  Nobody came.

  But as she sat there with the half-open drawer poised in her hands, something on the wall caught her eye.

  A seam.

  She hadn’t noticed it before.

  Makayla went to the wall and traced the seam with a fingertip. It was so thin it was almost invisible…almost.

  A hidden door?

  Her pulse sped up like a spurred horse. If it was a hidden door, there had to be some kind of mechanism. Maybe on the desk?

  Makayla ran back to the desk and threw herself into the chair. It had to be accessible when you were sitting in the chair, according to every spy movie she’d ever seen. She closed the open drawer, then opened all of them in turn again. Nothing.

  Then she pulled open the top drawer, the slimmest one, and started feeling around inside. It felt like a cliche—like a switch couldn’t possibly be hidden in this drawer. Hannah ran her fingers along each side, straining to reach the back corner.

  There—there it was. There something was. It felt like a round doorbell button.

  She hesitated, saying a silent prayer that the door would reveal something she needed. Anything. It had been a lifetime without her dad. She’d only had a couple of months to hope that anything could be done to prove his innocence. The thought of it—the thought of finally vindicating him, after all those years—tasted like bright possibility on her tongue.

  She pressed the button.

  The door slid open, the section of wall sliding noiselessly away to reveal a room deeper than the light from the office could reveal.

  Makayla clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. There it was. Her next step. The thing that—

  An alarm sounded.

  It was high and shrill, and the noise pierced Makayla’s heart. Shit. Was it the door that had triggered the alarms or something else? Had they discovered her in Abdi’s office? She fumbled for the switch. The door didn’t shut. She pushed again and again. Nothing. It was stuck. It was stuck.

  Makayla shut the desk drawer as delicately as she could, then stood up and left the office. She pulled the door closed behind her, facing out.

  The hallway was still empty.

  Get moving.

  She put one foot in front of the other, rushing for the main hall. Two of the security staff went by at a jog, saying something into their walkie talkies, and it was all she could do not to flatten herself against the wall. Because that was going to help her.

  As soon as they were out of sight, she dashed into the hall and made for the staff staircase. More security guards were coming down, probably from their quarters on the third floor, and every time another black suit came into view her heart slammed into the floor and bounced back up. It was the world’s worst game of paddleball.

  When she got to the hallway with the staff rooms, she ran.

  Her room was the third one on the right. Makayla hurled herself inside gracelessly. They were on to her. She had to get out. That was all that mattered.

  She’d come here with almost nothing. There hadn’t been much she wanted to bring to Qadir and even less she wanted to have with her when she was undercover as a maid. Makayla threw her battered backpack over one shoulder. She could change her clothes now, but that would delay her getting out. And if she was wearing street clothes in the house, she’d stick out like a sore thumb. She wanted to get out of the maid’s uniform, but it would do for now. Once she was free, she’d mail it back to the house. Yes. Good plan. Now, go.

  She took her phone and the charger from the rickety bedside table in one sweep. It wouldn’t help her immediately—she hadn’t had any bars of service since she’d landed in Qadir—but it was the last of her easily accessible belongings.

  Damn. It had all ended too soon. She’d been so close to finding out some of their secrets, and now…

  Now she had to get outside before they caught her and hauled her off to jail. That was the thought Makayla had worked to keep at bay all these weeks. If she was caught, she could meet the same fate as as her father.

  And there would be nobody to miss her, let alone come for her. Grandma Riggs was dead. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead.

  Life in a Qadiri prison. It was a terrifying risk, but what choice did she have? She wanted answers.

  Makayla jogged down the hallway to the stairs, scrambling down them as fast as she could in the sensible shoes she wore for her maid duties. The staircase let out into the narrow T of a hallway. She took the right, toward the staff entrance, positioned at the side of the house so staff could come in and out without cluttering up the main entryway.

  She reached the door and went out into the October air.

  Voices rang from the front of the house. She’d creep for the side entrance.

  Three, two, one, go.

  She stepped away from the door, hoping she’d escape notice long enough to reach the trees.

  Then the floodlights came on.

  She bolted forward, hunching down to conceal her shape beneath her backpack, which was probably pointless. If she could get to the trees—

  “Stop, stop!” The chorus of voices got louder behind her. Prison bars. She could only think of prison bars. Makayla picked up speed. If she could get to the road…

  How much farther? The size of the property was an illusion, she remembered. It looked bigger because of the trees.

  Makayla stumbled through the staff gate and onto the road, running blind, panic in her ears and her heart in her throat.

  The screech of the brakes on the SUV ripped the breath from her lungs. How could they have caught up to her so fast?

  The back door opened.

  “It’s all right!” a voice shouted. “Get in!”

  2

  The young woman hesitated, and Baqir held out his hand.

  She was beautiful in the moonlight—beautiful in a way that made his mouth go dry and his heart stutter. He hadn’t been able to see her face when he told the driver to stop. Now that he could, he knew he’d made the right call. At least—he’d made a call that would let him spend a little more time looking at her face, which was all he wanted in the world at this moment.

  A maid. She was a maid, judging by the uniform, and her eyes darted frantically back in the direction of the al Baians’ mansion. A maid in trouble, then. From what? His heart beat faster. He’d been here to indulge himself a bit. Solve a mystery, perhaps. And now she was more of a mystery to him than the stolen jewelry that had drawn him to the estate in the first place.

  Had it been a misguided idea? Maybe. But Baqir hadn’t even had the chance to follow his original plan. They’d pulled up by the mansion only to find a house in chaos, alarms blaring and security guards jogging out the front door.

  Maybe the maid knew what had happened.

  Maybe she was what had happened.

  Either way, it didn’t matter to Baqir in this moment. He had seen her running headlong for the road, and the sight was odd enough that his instincts for chivalry had kicked in.

  “Come on,” he called, waving her in. She glanced back at the house one more time. “They’ll be here in a moment.” Oh, it was strange, being on the opposite side from the security team. But Baqir had his own security man who doubled as his driver.

  The woman muttered something under her
breath, then took three running steps and threw herself into the car. She twisted around and slammed the door shut behind her, flinging herself out of the way just in time to avoid being hit in the hip by the armrest.

  “Go, go, go,” said Baqir.

  The driver, a man named Adham, stepped on the gas and accelerated smoothly down the road.

  “The next right,” Baqir called, and Adham swung the car to the right, causing the woman to slide into Baqir’s side with such force that she almost tumbled into his lap. Baqir caught her in his arms—and caught his breath. He was dressed for a gala and she was dressed in a maid’s uniform, but the way she’d fallen struck him as so intimate that he wanted to pull her closer. His arms ached with the urge.

  He ignored it and helped her upright instead, grabbing for her buckle and pressing it into place with a click that seemed to echo around the SUV. Baqir stole another glance at her. In the dark, he could only make out the delicate curve of her cheek and a flash of her dark eyes. She moved her hands over the seat belt, tugged at it a bit, then sat up straight and silent.

  The only sounds were the hum of the wheels on the pavement and her breath as she struggled to catch it. Questions bubbled to the surface of Baqir’s mind, and he wanted to ask all of them. Only what was the right order? Who was she? He should start there. The moments unfurled around them, the unasked questions getting more obvious by the second.