Bodyguard Confessions. Donna Young

Anna answered, trying to keep her concern at a minimum. “His nanny drugged him.”

      “How long has he been out?” Sandra asked, checking the baby’s pupils.

      “Over three hours now.” Anna’s arm tightened, protecting.

      “Not the best way, but it served its purpose.” Sandra opened the sling and snagged the bottle from the baby’s lap. She unscrewed the lid and smelled. “Passiflora Incarnata. Not harmful but concentrated. When he wakes, he’s not going to wake happy. She had to give him quite a bit to keep him out this long. He might even have a slight headache, not all that different to a hangover.”

      “But he’ll be fine?” Anna asked.

      “Yes. He’s fine.” Sandra stroked Rashid’s forehead.

      “But you aren’t.” Elizabeth’s gaze took in Anna’s mud-caked clothes, her bare feet. “You’ve been injured.”

      With a frown, Anna followed Elizabeth’s gaze to the floor. For the first time, she noticed the blood-smeared footprints behind her.

      “You are bleeding?” Quamar noticed the red marks on the floor. “Where are your shoes?”

      “Slippers. I lost them running in the tunnel. Going back for them would’ve slowed us down.”

      Quamar swore. He opened the door, gave Anna a hard stare, then disappeared into the hallway.

      “What was that about?”

      Anna sighed. “That’s his ‘Don’t you dare move while I’m gone’ look.”

      “Really?” Elizabeth mused. “I’ve known Quamar since he was a child, and I’ve never seen more than a ‘I’m not going to let my feelings show’ look.”

      Anna would have laughed, but she couldn’t figure out if Elizabeth was being serious or not.

      Before she could ask, Quamar stepped back in and shut the door. “The rug is red, which covered your marks. But the stairs are a different matter. One that worked in our favor. I cleaned them down to the fifth floor.”

      He glanced at Sandra. “Who placed the guard outside your door?”

      “Hassan,” Elizabeth replied with derision. “At least that’s what the guard said. Under the ruse of protecting us, of course. He is keeping us safe in order to force Omar to help his soldiers.”

      “The guard is dead. We have very little time before he is discovered. I had no choice, he saw me. But I took him down to the fifth floor also.”

      Sandra nodded toward Anna’s feet. “We’ll clean up our floors, too.”

      “All the communication lines are down.” Quamar walked to the bay window, eased the curtain barely an inch and studied the street. “I am taking you to my father’s camp.” He turned back to the women. “But first I need your satellite phone, Sandra.”

      “I don’t have it,” Sandra replied. “It’s at my office. I only use it for my field research.”

      “Then we go to your office,” Quamar stated. “Right now, I need you both to get ready.”

      “No,” Sandra said. “I have a better chance of retrieving the phone if I stay. If people are injured or dead, they are going to need me and I am going to need my office. Just tell me who to call.”

      “You are not staying.”

      “Yes, Quamar, we are. If they come to our door, I will tell them the guard never reported to us. The worst they will do is assign another man,” Elizabeth argued. “I’m not leaving my husband.”

      “Quamar,” Sandra said. “Hassan won’t harm us. He needs us too much.”

      Quamar looked at her for a moment. “All right, I will give you the number to an associate. And a message. Memorize both.”

      Sandra brought him a pen and paper. Quickly, he wrote the information. “Roman D’Amato. Talk to no one else,” Quamar added.

      Anna didn’t recognize the name. “Will your man be able to contact my father?”

      “Yes.”

      “Tell him to say ‘no worries’ when he reaches my father.”

      Quamar’s eyebrow arched. “A code?”

      “A confirmation.”

      “When were you going to tell me about this?”

      “It’s not like I didn’t mention it on purpose, Quamar,” Anna retorted. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

      Anna turned to Sandra. “When I refused having a Secret Service detail, my father devised this alternative,” she explained. “It will confirm you are a friend.”

      Sandra nodded. “That’s easy enough.”

      “Tell us, Quamar, how many have died?” Elizabeth asked.

      “Many Taerians. Not near enough of the Al Asheera,” Quamar commented with a chilling finality.

      “Your responsibility is to the prince and now, Miss Cambridge. Not revenge, Quamar,” Elizabeth advised.

      Quamar’s features hardened. “First one, then the other.”