But he couldn’t.
Even if it was a huge risk to Lauren and his unborn child, he had to do it the peaceful way.
“Arrange transportation for me, alone.” If he descended on them with men and weapons, the rift would only widen and become something he couldn’t resolve in his lifetime. “If they harm her in any way, they’ll face my wrath,” he said, knowing that he would destroy everything in his path if she even had a scratch.
* * *
Lauren shot up from the worn-out divan, a sound hurling her from the hazy edges of her afternoon nap into wide-eyed alertness in the space of a breath.
The chief of the tribe had ensured her that she’d be safe with them, that no one would harm her, when they’d asked her to accompany them three days ago. But the pitch-black of the night outside the tent, the thick silence that descended when the encampment settled for the night, had unnerved Lauren.
Yet she’d learned she’d been right to trust him. Even though he had accompanied her, she hadn’t seen Ahmed once they had reached the Dahab’s encampment though. Nor had there had been any word from Farrah, which worried her the most.
Then she realized what had woken her up. She saw the long shadow, clearly male, over the silk partition that curtained the room off from the rest of the tent.
She was rubbing her eyes when Zafir marched inside, his broad frame shrinking the tent. Greedy for the sight of him, she drank him in.
There were dark shadows under his eyes. His jet-black hair was rumpled in a sexy, inviting, run-your-fingers-through-me way, as if he had already done that numerous times. His white cotton shirt and light blue jeans did nothing to dampen the effect of his masculinity.
She’d barely drawn a breath when she was ensconced against a hard chest. Hands anchored on his hips, she shuddered. Rough hands moved over her back urgently, the upper curve of her bottom, her hips, her stomach...and stilled. Heart slamming hard against her rib cage, Lauren held herself still while the scent of desert and pure, intoxicating male filled her nostrils.
A soundless whimper ricocheted through her as her body adjusted against his hard muscles.
Soft pressure on her nape tilted her head up. A scowl pulled his brows together, his eyes shimmering golden with emotion she’d never glimpsed before.
Mouth groggy, belly knotted, she squeaked out his name. “Zafir?”
Seconds passed before he responded but it felt like an eternity. Tenderness flew from his fingers where he clasped her cheeks. “You look tired.”
Her throat hoarse, she nodded, sinking into his embrace foolishly.
Just one minute, she told herself. Just one minute before she reminded herself why this wasn’t a good idea.
But that minute was barely done before she was released.
Blinking, she looked up at him.
Hard edges, inscrutable expression, thinned mouth, everything she didn’t like about him was back.
“Pack your things. We’re leaving,” he said dismissively, his gaze taking in her tent.
Stuffing her few things into her backpack, Lauren turned and found the tent ominously empty.
Ahmed stood outside, a paleness under his tanned skin, his gaze dutifully shied away from her.
Zafir, his gaze not leaving her, listened with his head bowed to the chief of the tribe. Lauren nodded and smiled when the new mom Salma pressed a silk scarf into her hands and hugged her.
A small crowd of women and children waved at her while men surrounded Zafir and the chief, but at a distance. But Lauren could feel the distrust and animosity that surrounded him.
Had she caused trouble for him again?
Coffee-colored dunes stretched toward the horizon in front of her while the Dahab encampments lay behind her. The same 4x4 was idling on the road.
When Ahmed, without touching her, nodded for her to move toward the vehicle, she searched for Zafir.
His thundering presence beside her robbed her words. “Do me the small courtesy of pretending I can control you, yes?” he gritted through his teeth. A low vibration raced along her lower back.
Instantly, his hold loosened. Swallowing her flippant “thank you” for his condescending tone, she nodded.
Within minutes, Zafir and she hurtled along the rough track, hugging narrow paths through the dunes.
“Aren’t we returning to the city?” she asked and got a sharp “no” in answer.
Pulling her gaze away from that chiseled profile, she kept her hands in her lap.
* * *
Zafir’s mind raced like the sand that flew from dune to dune shifting the very landscape of the harsh desert.
His anxiety about Lauren had lasted two minutes after he had entered the chief’s tent.
Shame had his fingers tighten over the steering wheel as he remembered the chief’s disbelief at Zarif’s accusations.