Free The Black Sheep Sheik by Dana Marton

as he rocked back in a chair whose plastic seat cover was peeling.
    When she exited the makeshift office, the sinister-looking black van was still waiting by the corner. She tugged her hat over her eyes and walked as fast as she could, heaved her swollen body into the car and locked the doors, shoved the key into the ignition.
    Then screamed as a large shape shifted in the back, her rearview mirror showing the silhouette of a man.
    “It’s me. Sorry,” Amir said. “I didn’t want anyone to see me while I was waiting. I’m driving this time. Slide over.”
    Of course, she had to get out and go around. Her belly didn’t exactly slide around in tight places.
    “How did you get here?” She might have glared a little. She was annoyed that he’d found her so easily, and her heart was still going a mile a minute from the scare he’d given her.
    “Went back to the alley where we left your car.” He climbed forward and situated himself behind the steering wheel. For the well-built man that he was, he was certainly flexible. “Talked to the woman whose house we ran through. She was bringing out the garbage. I told her I was a friend of Brian’s, and she was more than helpful. She told me about the tow truck.”
    “The black van is out front.”
    His lips flattened. “Wasn’t there when I came. Did they follow you?”
    “I don’t think so. I don’t know. They could have. It’s not like I’ve been trained in how to spot a tail.”
    He thought for a minute. “We will leave through the back.” He drove away from the office and toward the back of the lot, where a flimsy gate interrupted the chain-link fence. “I will buy you a new car,” he told her, then gunned the engine.
    A second later the gate was history and they were speeding down a secondary road toward the highway.
    She screamed only a little. “This is my car! Are you crazy?” She did smack him on the shoulder before she could catch herself. Yes, she knew he was royalty, but at the moment, she so didn’t care. The man was beyond reckless. He was certifiably crazy.
    He kept his eyes on the road, with an occasional glance at the rearview mirror. He was focused completely on what he was doing, and doing it well. He could have been a super spy straight out of a movie. On one level she found that reassuring; on another it was extremely infuriating.
    “Would you rather they shot us?” he asked after a few seconds.
    She had enough sense not to argue his point. She hated how annoyingly levelheaded he stayed, no matter what. She used to be levelheaded. Composed and together at all times, ready for any emergency at the hospital. Until those pregnancy hormones took over. She no longer recognized herself these days.
    She no longer recognized her life, that was for sure. Was she really the person who had hidden a foreign sheik in her father’s cabin for the last month and was now becoming a fugitive with him, running from God-knew-what kind of criminals, instead of heading to the nearest police station? She needed to have her head examined. Among other things. “I still have that doctor’s appointment today, and I’m not skipping it.”
    Which reminded her that she hadn’t taken her vitamins yet today. As she reached for the bottle she kept in the glove compartment, pain sliced through her belly. She winced.
    As usual, Amir didn’t miss a thing. “Are you hurt?”
    “Not exactly,” she told him but then sucked in a deep breath as another cramp came, this one much stronger than the first.
    “We’re clear.” Amir was looking into the rearview mirror as he sped down the road.
    But at the very first crossroad, the black van was there, waiting. Amir sailed through the red light. Isabelle grabbed the door for support.
    They turned down the first street, zigzagged among buildings.
    “What is it?” Amir looked at her hand on her belly.
    The pain had stopped, but… “It feels funny.”
    “Are you having the baby?”
    Throughout the chase, and even during