By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

were plenty of places to hide—behind the wreckage of machinery seemed the most likely.

      Footsteps from outside swivelled her head around. Rafiq, she thought in anguish, wondering how she knew it was him. If her senses spoke truly, he was walking into a trap. Surely he wasn’t alone? Panic knotted her stomach as she tried to work out what to do.

      Scream a warning? But was that what Felipe wanted? He hadn’t gagged her.

      The footsteps stopped, and her mind ricocheted from one supposition to another. Possibly Felipe thought he’d hit her hard enough to keep her unconscious for longer.

      And knowing Rafiq, he’d come in whatever she did, she thought, stifling her panic. But surely—oh, God, surely—he wouldn’t come here alone and without weapons?

      Head pounding, she struggled to hear more.

      And caught it—the barest whisper of motion from outside the doorless building.

      Lexie bit down on her lip. Rafiq had to know she was here; he wouldn’t have come otherwise. She mustn’t call out.

      But oh, it was so hard…

      A jerky flow of movement caught the corner of her eye. Not breathing, she whipped her head around and saw the dark figure of Gastano take a step from behind the machinery so that he could see the doorway more clearly.

      Her heart juddered to a stop when she realised he was still holding the pistol. So he meant to kill Rafiq.

      Everything else forgotten, she opened her mouth, only to have her yell forestalled by Gastano’s voice, bold and arrogantly satisfied.

      ‘So you came, de Courteveille. I knew you would—stupidly chivalrous to the end.’

      For a second Rafiq’s silhouette in the open door shuddered against the light, then blended into the dimness inside.

      Lexie closed her eyes, nausea gripping her. That moment of clarity had revealed he carried no weapon.

      And then he spoke, his voice cool and dispassionate. ‘Now that M’selle Sinclair has fulfilled her function as bait, I suggest you let her go. She’s not necessary to you any longer.’

      With a wide smile, Gastano strolled over to stand above Lexie like a conqueror. ‘I have no intention of letting either of you go until you agree to my terms. Come closer—you are too far away.’

      He’s getting off on this, Lexie realised with sick fear.

      And he was totally confident that he held all the cards.

      Holding her breath, she watched Rafiq move silently towards them. It was too dark for her to see his face, but she could tell from his gait that he was ready for anything that might happen. She opened her mouth to tell him that Gastano was armed, but was forestalled by her captor.

      Sharply he said, ‘That’s close enough.’

      Rafiq took another step, and Gastano swung the pistol around until it was directed straight at Lexie. He swung it back to fix onto Rafiq, and said between his teeth, ‘You will do everything I say, when I say it, or suffer the consequences. Take one step backwards.’

      Rafiq didn’t move, and Gastano prodded her with his foot. ‘If you do not, then Alexa will die,’ he said calmly. ‘Oh, not now, and not quickly—she will die at my disposal. The same way your sister did.’

      Hani? Into Lexie’s mind flashed the photograph of the girl, vivid, bright, her face full of impudence and joy. Rafiq’s sister. And Gastano? Bile caught in her throat.

      Gastano’s eyes never left his antagonist’s face, and she could feel the confidence oozing from him. ‘It was quite clever of you to realise that I had plans for Alexa. But you underestimated me.’

      Gastano’s laugh was a taunt as he switched his gaze back to Lexie for a second.

      ‘You should perhaps have been a little more careful of her feelings before you made love to her, sir.’ He pronounced the last word with a gloating emphasis that made it an insult. ‘Women are inclined to be upset when they are made use of so flagrantly. But I’m sure she suspected that there had to be an ulterior motive to your lovemaking. Alexa knows she is no beauty—unlike your charming but so naïve sister.’

      And while an appalled and horrified Lexie was digesting this, he finished on a sneer, ‘Besides, you are no better than I am. You decided that the best form of revenge would be to seduce the woman I intend to marry. You were wrong—I still intend to marry her, and neither you nor she will prevent it.’

      The fear gripping Lexie slowly receded before an icy realisation. She thought she heard her heart break, shatter into a thousand brittle pieces in her breast, each one stabbing her with a pain that would never go away.

      At the centre of this war between the two men was Gastano’s treatment of Rafiq’s sister.

      Lexie herself was merely a bystander, a pawn used by both men in a battle that had nothing to do with her. Rafiq’s lovemaking must have been a coolly calculated move to at least shake what he thought might be her loyalty to Gastano.

      But he’d come to rescue her.

      Rafiq stood like stone, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes never leaving the man. ‘You bastard,’ he said gutturally, his voice low and shaking with fury, hands so tightly clenched Lexie could see the whiteness of his knuckles in the gloom. ‘You’ll rot in hell for what you did to Hani.’

      Gastano shrugged dispassionately. ‘She had choices,’ he said with callous indifference. ‘No one forced her into my bed. No one forced her to take drugs or to prostitute herself so that she could pay for them.’

      Ruthlessly Lexie pushed the choking sense of betrayal to the back of her mind. Rafiq had to have some sort of plan. And here on Moraze he had the advantage of local knowledge.

      The count understood that too, so he was pushing Rafiq, trying to get him off balance. But a glance at Rafiq’s face, drawn and darkly anguished, shook her.

      It appeared Gastano was succeeding.

      Yet although Gastano might pretend to despise Rafiq he was watching him closely, his finger poised on the trigger of the revolver.

      As long as he kept that unwavering focus, Rafiq was in danger.

      Her pulses quickened. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in the world. You’re just a gutless big-noter,’ she said contemptuously.

      Gastano swung around. At any other time she might have laughed at the shock in his face, but as soon as the pistol wavered from its lock on Rafiq, she lashed out with her bound feet, catching the count more by luck than good judgment on the side of the kneecap.

      He lurched sideways, his finger tightening on the trigger. Ducking reflexively, she felt the wind of the bullet against her cheek. Her eyes clamped tight shut and her heart pumped so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else.

      A choked sound forced her eyes open in time to see Rafiq fell Gastano with one blow. The count went down into a limp heap; Rafiq dropped on one knee to check him out, then got up and headed towards her in a lethal, silent rush. She gasped as he grabbed her and hurled her brutally behind what seemed some sort of press.

      ‘Are you all right?’ he demanded, running his hands over her with a gentleness so at variance with the brutality of the blow he’d delivered, she could only stare dumbly at him.

      A flurry of shots echoed through the building.

      ‘Silence,’ Rafiq growled into her ear, shielding her with his body as she struggled to get up.

      A voice called out in the local language. Rafiq answered, holding her still as a man raced around the side of the vat.

      His answer to Rafiq’s swift question was one succinct word.

      Rafiq eased up, supporting her while he rapped out an order. The newcomer pulled a knife from somewhere on his person and handed it over,