Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

A liya sat gingerly on the passenger seat of the speedboat as it closed the nautical miles between land and yacht. Her hands were clasped in her lap as she studied the man who had fucked and spanked her, the latter twice. The way his hands had felt on her ass wasn’t the only thing she remembered—the way he’d felt as he’d thrust his hard cock into her repeatedly. She shook her head. She had more important things to think about—what had happened to her handler? What did it mean for her mission? How could NATO turn its back on her after all she’d done? And the big question—just who the hell was Christian Reid?

Don’t panic. Just don’t panic.

The mantra wasn’t working. Her hands were sweating, and liquid drops of more of the same were trickling under her dress down the small of her back, only to be absorbed by the waist of her contraband shorts. She’d never been more scared in her life. Dewey Robinson hadn’t met her today like he was supposed to… because he was dead. A drunk driving accident, or so the other agent had said, right before he’d told her, proof or not, everyone knew her brother was involved. The man had told her, regardless of what had happened to Dewey, regardless of what promises Damian had made, and Dewey had reiterated, NATO had no intention of extricating her and trying to take Fariq down with her out of the line of fire.

What was she going to do?

She wished she’d never found out about her brother. How much easier would it have been to be the innocent girl she was before she discovered the dark web and Fariq’s true nature. Things would be so different right now if only she’d never met Damian, never met Dewey, never listened to them, never realized the things she’d found out about her brother were all true. But like Pandora’s Box, there was no more pretending she didn’t know.

Where did Christian fit into all of this? Did what happened earlier matter at all to him? He’d been so upset with her, practically from the moment of orgasm—was he sorry he’d fucked her? She wasn’t. Oh sure, she’d have preferred it if he reassured her with sweet words or even a kind touch. He’d seemed concerned at first, but now the distance between them seemed insurmountable.

Fariq was always so careful not to engage in business when she was present, especially after he took her out of the convent to live with him full time. Despite his efforts, she’d seen things, heard things, connected one too many dots, and passed that information along to NATO. That was the whole point of breaking away today. She’d made her appointment with Robinson, worked up the courage to get out, to start a new life for herself—and when the time was right, testify against him.

Instead of rescue, for all her efforts, she was coldly informed, despite what she had been told, they needed more before rescuing her was worthwhile. Damian had been kind and had understood what her betrayal of Fariq would cost her. He’d even cautioned her to reconsider. Robinson had been business-like, but not unkind. The man today had been cold and dismissive, making her feel like a nuisance.

“He’ll kill me!” she’d said, begging the man to take her with him.

He’d refused and handed her a list of information to have the next time she contacted him. “Or don’t bother me again.”

Through the dots of seawater, their speed had splashed up onto the windshield, Aliya watched as the yacht came into view.

How was she going to get the information they wanted? She didn’t have access to any part of Fariq’s businesses. She didn’t know where his money came from, how much he had, where he banked, or who he talked to on a daily basis. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d accompanied him to informal dinners, where she was introduced to a current ‘partner’ in some venture or other. Details were never discussed in front of her. To be honest, she always felt as if she was only there to be seen, perhaps even shown off. She remembered a few of the people she’d met, but mostly what she remembered was the somewhat irrational fear she’d had the first time he’d done it when she’d been so thoroughly convinced he was trying to marry her off. Her father had done that once, but he’d died, so nothing had come of it.

The yacht was growing bigger the closer they came to it. She dropped her gaze to her hands, not wanting to know if Fariq would be standing at the railing, waiting for her.

It was probably for the best she’d lost the list of information the agent wanted her to find. Regardless of everything else that had happened between them, Christian was right about one thing. She wasn’t a spy. She’d lost the paper and her purse. Somewhere amid all that running, gunfire, screaming, and fleeing, she’d dropped everything. She’d been so rattled, she couldn’t remember even looking at the paper he’d given her, so she had no idea what information had been on it.

Again, that was probably for the best since it wasn’t like she could walk up to Fariq and ask him point-blank what he did. Well, she could, but she was far more likely to get one of his patent, “Ladies do not interfere in things that are not their business,” than she was to get the truth.

She had the number Robinson had given her, so she could always text and ask for another copy of the list, except that would pretty much tell them exactly how useless she was as an informant. They were more likely to disconnect the number than message her back.

The boat hit a rolling wave. She grabbed the seat, trying to ease the discomfort of her backside as she bounced, then glared at Christian. She couldn’t tell if he’d done that deliberately, just to make what he’d done to her ache that much more. Locking her lips, she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she felt anything at all. The joke was on him, anyway. What little discomfort she still felt was nothing compared to what Fariq would do once he found out… if he found out.

Please, please, please don’t let Fariq find out .

As far as prayers went, that was too much of a long-shot to even fire. Christian was Fariq’s right-hand man. She didn’t think for a second, he wasn’t going to tell on her.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Christian cast her a side-eyed glance. She quickly looked away, and all too soon, the trip was over. Slowing their speed, he drew up to the port side, where the crew was already lowering the ladder for them to board. She was still in the tennis shoes she’d bought at the bazaar and still had her shorts on under her dress. Her brother was going to take one look at her, and like every other aspect of her life, he’d just know what was amiss.

Flustered, wishing she’d never left the boat at all, she brushed at the dirt that stained her skirt and tried to smooth away the tear in her off-the-shoulder sleeve. She was being ridiculous. She’d been in a bombing and wasn’t responsible for that. If anything, Fariq would take one look at her and be more concerned about that than automatically suspect she’d tried to betray him.

Except Fariq knew everything. He always just knew.

How was she going to explain the shoes and the shorts? She’d never planned to come back to this ship. Now, she’d be lucky if her brother ever let her out of his sight again. She was trapped.

She wasn’t ready to go back up the ladder, needed more time to think, but Christian had shut off the boat and was making his way to tie up to the ladder to steady the two crafts together.

“Up you go, Princess,” he told her, making her stomach grow heavy with dread. “Try to keep your mouth shut, and don’t answer questions he doesn’t ask. If he does ask you anything, try to stick as close to the truth as possible and make your answers short and succinct.”

Rising slowly from her seat, she looked up the ladder, and there he was. Fariq stared down at her, his face locked in a cool, unreadable expression. No smile, no words of greeting, just staring.

Extending his hand, Christian beckoned her to him as if he were a safe harbor. “Come on.”

Doing her best not to look guilty, Aliya crept to the ladder. All of twenty-two-years old and right now, she felt as if she was nine, trying to tuck the forbidden shoes on her feet out of her brother’s view, but it was too late. He could see right through her, had always been able to.

Christian’s hand was warm and strong as he helped her onto the ladder.

“Gracious,” Fariq drawled, the hint of warmth his tone feigned, not touching any other part of him. “What happened to you?”

She’d have sooner taken hold of a cobra, but when he extended his hand, she had no other option. Clasping it, she let him draw her the last two steps up onto the deck. She tried to let go as soon as she was standing before him, but his grip didn’t loosen.

He looked her over, head to toe, his gaze lingering on the tear in her sleeve, the dirt on her dress, her hair which looked as if she hadn’t brushed it all day—flushing, she tried to smooth it down—and finally, he looked at her shoes. He cocked his head, pointedly staring at them.

She couldn’t make herself stop trembling. “I-I’m very sorry, Fariq.”

Raising his gaze, he locked on her. “Are you going to tell me you planted that bomb in the market?”

Startled, she stared up at him. “N-No…”

“Then I’m afraid it’s me who must apologize to you. I never, ” he emphasized, casting a rapidly cooling glare back over the top of her head, “would have allowed you to leave had I known there would be that kind of trouble.”

Unsure who he was looking at, she tried to look behind her, but he caught her chin and redirected her attention back to him.

“Are you all right?” Fariq asked.

“No,” Christian answered for her, stepping off the ladder onto the deck beside her. “She isn’t all right, and neither am I. Want to tell me why we had to play duck-and-dodge with our own men’s bullets?”

For the first time since leaving the café where he’d paddled her bottom, he actually looked angry.

“O-Our own…?” she stuttered, even more surprised. Aliya glanced back and forth between them.

Fariq’s grip tightened on her arm. Although his expression never changed, for just a moment, Aliya was certain he was surprised.

“I beg your pardon?” he countered.

Pushing Aliya aside, Christian closed the distance between him and her brother with a single, looming step.

“Who were you trying to kill, Fariq?”

“Kill?” she whispered as her stomach tightened.

Her brother was horrible, but he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. He didn’t just coolly order the deaths of innocent people.

Or did he?

She looked to him, horrified, but her brother’s attention was locked on his second-in-command.

“If you’re suggesting I sent assassins to kill you, my friend, you are very much mistaken. That thought was never in my mind.”

Cocking his head, Christian looked at her next.

There was a statement being made with that look. As surprised as she was to have this kind of conversation taking place right in front of her, it took almost a full minute before she realized exactly what Christian was implying.

It didn’t take Fariq half that long to figure it out. His head snapped from her to Christian, then he grabbed her, yanking her in close behind him.

“Do not ,” he growled softly, the distant thunder of the most vicious of storms in his voice, “ever dare suggest that again. I have saved her life more times than I care to count. I would never harm her. Ever.”

Glaring back at him, Christian exhaled a slow seething breath.

“Then we have a problem.”

Straightening, pushing Aliya back with him, Fariq retreated half a step. Moving cautiously, he placed his hand on Christian’s shoulder.

“I gave an order that was grossly,” he said, casting another glare past Christian to where Aliya could now see Lamar and a group of her brother’s mercenaries, all looking exceedingly uncomfortable, “misconstrued. I did not order you killed, my friend. Why would I? There has been a serious misunderstanding here, one I will get to the bottom of, I swear it.”

“I should hope so.” Tics of muscles leapt along his jaw, but Christian eventually backed down.

“I am, however, a little taken aback.” Turning all the way around, Fariq faced her, slapping Aliya once again with that wave of cold as he reached for her. Cupping her shoulders, he looked her over. Catching her chin in his hand, he studied her face until she couldn’t bear it. She reached up, feeling her cheek for what must be wrong. She could feel the thin layer of grime on her skin from the dirt the explosion had thrown into the air.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I must look a mess.”

“As only someone who had to run for her life could,” he assured. His hands drifted down her arms, settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. Their bellies and hips bumped, but at that moment, Aliya was far more concerned about what his hands were feeling. And he had felt it, the waist of her shorts hidden under her dress, she could tell by the way his face changed.

“What happened to the shoes you left in?” he asked.

Aliya swallowed hard. “I-I?—”

“They got lost in the run,” Christian cut in. “I got her those. Not like she could walk the streets barefoot.”

Fariq did not look away from her, but his hands on her waist massaged her, drawing her back in until she was once again flush up against him—the hard plane of his flat stomach, the angles of his hips, the muscular thickness of his thighs. Her own quaked.

“That would explain why I don’t remember buying them for you. Tell me, what precipitated the necessity of replacing her underwear?”

Her throat choked her. “I’m still wearing my underwear.”

“Then tell me about these?” He hiked up her skirt, showing the pale white of her loose-fitting shorts beneath. “I know I didn’t buy these either. They are hardly fitting for a lady.”

“I bought them,” Christian cut in abruptly.

Fariq turned around. The second he let go of her, Aliya stumbled back, scrubbing her hands down over her hips and ass as she simultaneously tried to smooth her skirt down and push away the crawling sensation his too intimate touch had sparked off her skin.

“Mind telling me why?”

Closing the distance between them again, Christian glared into his eyes.

“Because she told me Lamar likes to look up her dress. He’s also the asshole who shot at my head.”

Fariq cocked his head. “I see,” he said, more an exhale than a word. Turning, as if suddenly aware they were not the only three people on the deck of his yacht, he searched the faces of those gathered around until he found the one he wanted. “Lamar.” He beckoned.

A wry twist of reluctance pulling at his mouth, the crewman pushed through the row of people between him and Fariq and came forward. He was less than four feet from Aliya when Fariq pulled the gun from his chest holster and shot him through the head without a word.

Aliya jumped, her eyes huge as she watched the crewman fall backward onto the deck. Her brother had just killed a man… right in front of her. So close to her, in fact, spatters of his hot blood blew right past Fariq and hit her.

“Go to your room,” Fariq told her, putting his gun away. “You aren’t to leave it again until I summon you. Is that clear?”

Aliya couldn’t move. Shaking and unsteady, she stared at the blood spattered like freckles up her left arm. A pool of the same was seeping out in a gory halo around Lamar’s head on the deck. Finally, she stared up at her brother as he turned on her with a mild frown.

“Mind me,” he warned. “Go. Right now, my darling.”

Staggering backward, she turned and fled up five decks of stairs, past his room to hers. The ever-present guards pretended not to see anything wrong as she bolted past them to slam her door. She threw herself against it, sagging to the floor before covering her mouth with both hands and bursting into tears.

He’d shot someone. Right in front of her. He’d shot someone. He’d never done that before.

Everything Robinson had told her, everything she had come to suspect over the years—it was all true. Her brother wasn’t just horrible, not just a monster—he was evil.

And he’d touched her. Why had he touched her like that? God, she could still feel the press of his stomach to hers, his thighs to hers, his pelvis… Her stomach rebelled. Scrambling up off the floor, she ran for the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time. She heaved, but there was nothing inside her to throw up.

The spasms waned, leaving her with her head on her arms, spitting because her mouth kept watering, even though nothing was coming up. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t feel. She was completely empty.

She sniffled.

Crawling to her feet, not wanting to catch even the most accidental glimpse of herself in the mirror, she cleaned up and made herself into a proper lady again.

“Tea?” Fariq asked, inviting Christian into his office.

A bear in a lion’s den, he came, but only because there was no way to refuse. He was supposed to be Fariq’s second-in-command, his loyal man. He was absolutely supposed to be satisfied with the execution of Lamar and the excuse he’d been given on the deck. What he was not supposed to be was pissed, wary, and frankly, disgusted by the oddly sexual way which the notorious finance villain had manhandled his baby sister.

There was no mistaking that Aliya had been terrified, but there had been so much going on at the time, there was no telling what she’d been scared of. The only thing he did know was not once had she tried to extricate herself from her brother’s all-too-familiar grasp.

Because she was used to it? He tried not to think about it.

“Thank you, I’m fine.” He would have been just as fine standing as close to the door as he could get, just in case, but he still had a role to play. He came to the desk as if he and Fariq were nothing more than the dearest of friends, sitting down opposite the man.

He looked at the gun in the holster around Fariq’s chest and tried not to let his hands get too itchy about his own.

“There has been a very unfortunate misunderstanding.” Groaning, Fariq rubbed his face with both hands before pouring two cups of tea, disregarding Christian’s refusal. “I should have been more specific in my commands. The fault is mine, of course.”

“What command?” Christian asked, accepting the cup Fariq passed him.

“Not two minutes after you left the yacht, we received news that NATO had an operative in the area, supposedly to meet with someone from this ship. I gave what I thought to be very clear instructions. Set up cameras and record the area, so we could review the tapes and discover who the traitor was. At no point,” Fariq dryly emphasized, “did I say shoot up the market. I have always enjoyed friendly terms with the Moroccan police… until now. Something will have to be done to smooth this over.”

“I’ll add something extra to their payment this month,” Christian said dryly. That was fairly routine whenever things went cock-up in an ally’s territory.

“Perhaps for yourself, too,” Fariq suggested, opening up his laptop. “A bonus, so to speak, for all the extra effort you’ve gone through today.”

Why did that set off warning bells? Christian grit his jaw, forcing his body to stay relaxed.

“Nothing I’ve done today was anything more than my job.”

“Getting fired on by your own crew is definitely not part of your job.”

“Getting fired on is, by who doesn’t matter.” Christian thought about it. “Until they’re staring right at you and reloading after a missed headshot. It kind of matters then.”

Fariq chuckled, his normally cold features melting into a rare smile that actually seemed sincere.

“For me, too. Although I confess, I was curious about some of the video they brought back. Granted, even having viewed the film, I would not have ordered a bombing or my men to fire into a crowd of shoppers, particularly knowing Aliya was among them. Oh, and you, of course.”

Yeah, fuck you, too.

Mouth shut, Christian let that pass.

“But this struck me as interesting.” Turning his laptop around, he showed Christian a grainy clip of a video. The sound was soft enough that it took him a minute to recognize the cacophony of many men and women screaming as they ran. Now and then, blurry parts of them running along the bottom of the video could be seen, but the focus wasn’t on them. It was on him, shoving Aliya up against the wall and sheltering her with his own body right before the headshot took a chip out of the wall behind them. Lamar must have been standing right next to the cameraman, considering the angle of Christian’s returning glare seemed meant for the camera. For the life of him, however, he remembered only Lamar. He’d been so focused on the moment, he hadn’t even noticed he was being filmed.

“I owe you for that,” Fariq said softly. “He could have shot her.”

“He was aiming for me,” Christian heard himself reply, his tone much calmer than he felt. “I don’t think she was ever at risk.”

“No?” Arching both eyebrows, Fariq turned the laptop back to him, hit a few keys, then spun it back toward Christian. “How about now? What kind of peril is she in now?”

Christian’s gut went right through his seat and hit the floor. There on the screen was him, wrestling Aliya down over his knee in the open air of the café, yanking her skirt up and her shorts and panties down while he blistered her naked backside. Smack after smack, he turned her ass a brilliant shade of red while she bucked, twisted, and thrust back her hand in a vain attempt to stop what he had no intention of halting until he was sure his point had been thoroughly made. The camera didn’t miss a single impact.

Fariq’s baby sister—the one Fariq had just fondled on deck in front of everyone.

“Yeah, okay.” Christian cleared his throat. “She was having trouble following directions. So, I, uh… got her attention.”

He was painfully aware of how the desk between them wasn’t anywhere near far enough to give him dodging room if Fariq suddenly pulled his gun from its holster again. His distance to the door was also uncomfortable, albeit in the other direction. It was too far away. Every prickling nerve crawling across his shoulders under his shirt was telling him to bolt, but where? They were on a ship in the middle of the ocean. He had literally nowhere to run… and he couldn’t leave Aliya.

Except Fariq was studying the screen, instead of him. With a tap of his finger and two clicks of the mouse, he replayed the video, once again watching as Christian spanked his beloved, overly-protected sister.

Christian’s palm prickled, feeling every one of those swats, although there was no sound apart from the running and shouts from the people gathering in the streets. Now and then, the blurs of one passed between them and the cameraman, but the camera remained fixed on him as he dealt his authoritarian justice over Aliya’s bare and squirming ass.

She came up off his knee, grabbing her backside before swiping her long, beautiful hair out of her face, so she could cast that teary, wounded look at him. He pointed a stern finger, the camera not catching a word of the lecture he only vaguely remembered delivering. She dropped her gaze, a flush stealing up her cheeks, the defiance melting out of her. Belatedly, she yanked her underwear and shorts back up her lovely legs, the flush of mortification darkening her blush as she glanced at all the people milling about the café. None of them were looking at her, all too busy, watching the armed police taking tactical control of the street leading back to the marketplace.

The camera caught a glimpse of him starting to sweep the rooftops, just before the cameraman ducked behind the packed-earth wall where he was hiding. It recorded a brief glimpse of the crotch of his uniform pants before the camera was switched off.

Fariq took a breath, seeming to shake himself from whatever thoughts occupied him. He still didn’t reach for his gun, picking up his phone instead. The delay only put Christian more on edge. It didn’t help when Fariq spoke into the receiver.

“Fetch my sister to my office, please.”

Shit.

He never should have put his hands on that girl, no matter his reasons. And what was that bullshit excuse he’d given Fariq? He should have come up with something better to cover for Aliya’s attempted escape and… and what, also hide the fact that he knew the NATO agent they were searching for had been there to meet with his sister?

It took every ounce of restraint he had to keep his face masked in calm. It was all he could do not to stare at Fariq’s laptop. How many cameramen had he had on those rooftops, and did one of them catch Aliya talking to the enemy or losing her virginity to Christian?

A firm knock rapped at the door, and Aliya hesitantly entered. Her face was not the face of anybody’s spy. She showed every bit of the reluctance and worry she was trying to hide. In her hands, she’d brought the shoes and shorts her brother obviously objected to, laying them in a neat stack on his desk.

“I’m very sorry for not being proper,” she respectfully said, head down and hands clasped in front of her.

Tsking, Fariq came out from behind his desk to catch her shoulders.

“I’m not as concerned with those silly things right now. As it turns out, I have found something else for us to discuss.” He turned his laptop so she could watch the video playing out, and her face paled.

Locking himself in his chair, Christian fought the urge to squirm, every fine hair across the back of his shoulders and down his arms prickling.

“I am very disappointed in you,” Fariq told her softly. “What, I wonder, did you do to make our poor Mr. Reid treat you so?”

“I… I…” She swallowed hard, still staring at the computer, watching the endless loop of Christian paddling her bottom in front of the café.

“You weren’t paying attention, even then?” Christian snapped, much harsher than she deserved, with anger he didn’t feel. He was appalled, and all he could do was hope she latched onto that excuse like the lifeline he hoped it might be. If she was stupid enough to tell Fariq the truth, he honestly didn’t know if being his baby sister was enough to save her.

“I… I don’t know.”

Fariq slid him an unreadable look.

Christian kept his eyes locked on hers, schooling his features into all the irritation he could muster. The sweat of his palms was seeping into his jeans, into his thighs where he kept them braced.

“Maybe I should have stuck your bare ass in the corner to make you think about it. Send her to her room. Obviously, she needs time to reflect on what she’s done.”

“That’s your fetish, my friend,” Fariq replied, making Christian regret he’d said anything. “But I do agree with you in one part. My darling Aliya is a lady, but even the most well-bred woman occasionally requires a… little extra attention to keep her obedient.”

Looking between them, Aliya swallowed again.

“I-I-I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. That’s why he spanked me. I wasn’t listening to him. I’m sorry.”

Cupping her chin, Fariq shushed her. “Are you paying attention now?”

She nodded, quick up and down jerks of her head that didn’t melt into relief when Fariq smiled.

“Well then, see how well it works. Come, love, let’s drive the lesson home,” Fariq purred.

Her look of disbelief bled into horror as he took her by the arm, turned a nearby chair around so he fully faced Christian, then sat down. Whether she actively tried to lock her legs against him or the shock of realizing what her brother intended was too much for her, Christian didn’t know, but he knew it was too much for him. He almost came up out of his chair in protest when Fariq pulled her up to stand at his side.

“Please don’t!” she cried.

“Oh, come now.” Rolling his sleeves up past his elbows, he patted his thigh. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. Remember shortly after our father died… and all the other times?”

Pale and shaking, she didn’t even try to run.

“I’m not a child anymore or even a teenager. I’m twenty-two.”

“Much too old for spanking, I agree, yet here you are, having earned one. I’m sure Reid will agree that your future husband will thank us for ensuring you learn to obey.”

Blinking fast against the rise of watery tears, she shook her head, and for the first time, the mildly amused smile that had curled Fariq’s lips, pretty much right from the moment he started this shameful act, vanished. His narrow face hardened, his eyes growing cold.

“Don’t tell me no,” he warned. “I won’t put up with it. Bare your bottom right now, and put yourself in position, or would you rather I did it for you? You remember how that turns out, don’t you, my dearest? The longer you delay, the worse this will be, or so the verbiage goes.”

There was a threat in there. Christian had no prior information about which to comprehend, but Aliya did. Her dark eyes flooded with tears. Looking from her brother to him, her face turned a deep shade of mortified red before she abruptly dropped her gaze to the floor.

He wanted to go to her, to grab her, stopping her hands as she slipped them under the skirt of her pale summer dress and took her underwear off. She balled them up in her hands, trying to hide them from everyone’s view, but Fariq held out his hand in a wordless command. Without a choice, she gave them to him.

“Obey,” Fariq told her, dropping her underwear on the floor, so Christian had no choice but to see it.

The urge to snatch them up and hide them for her—or hell, put them back on her—was almost more than Christian could bear. In all his years with Fariq, he’d committed a lot of insufferable acts, but having to sit and watch Aliya’s deliberate degradation was intolerable. He wanted to stop it, but he couldn’t, not without risking a bullet in his head or hers. He couldn’t even leave because this was his fault. He had dared put his hands on Aliya, someone Fariq had already described as his most prized possession. He’d meant it, Christian realized with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach, which only twisted harder when Aliya broke into sobs as she lowered herself into that age-old position over her brother’s lap.

“Little ladies get to wear their panties. What do bad girls have to do?” Fariq said, staring at him. “Normally, they get their bottom spanked on the bare, but as Reid is here, I will preserve your modesty with your thin skirt. Come now, darling, you remember how this goes.”

Covering her face in both hands, Aliya cried into them, but only for a moment before placing herself over her brother’s lap.

There was nothing Christian could do to stop it, not without making things a hell of a lot worse.

Covering her face again, Aliya stiffened, flinching at each touch as Fariq adjusted her across his thighs.

He couldn’t watch this, but just as he was working up the nerve to look away, Fariq pinned him with a hard stare. Christian kept his face frozen in a mask and could only pray conveyed boredom instead of horror as Fariq lay his open hand on his sister’s ass. He was being judged.

A real man wouldn’t care . A real man would launch himself to his feet and put a stop to this.

How? Should he pull the gun from his holster and put a bullet between Fariq’s eyes, with Aliya lying right there, bare-assed and bawling? Then what? They were on Fariq’s mercenary-infested yacht in the middle of the ocean. What was he supposed to do, shoot everybody?

He kept his features coldly schooled as Fariq moved his hand from the curve of Aliya’s bottom, trailing down her thigh to slip up under her skirt to cup between her tensing legs, laying claim.

“What do you think, my friend?” Fariq asked. “Am I doing this right?”

“She’s your problem.” His throat was so tight, Christian hardly recognized the harshness of his own voice. “Do what you want with her. I really don’t care.”

They both deserved to burn in hell.

“Fariq, please,” she sobbed, squeezing her legs as tightly together as she could, but his hand stayed right where it was.

Two steps… that was all it would take. One hard burst of speed and consequences be damned, he’d have had Fariq by the neck while he beat that smug, twisted smile right off his face.

But he didn’t move. Folding his hands tightly together, he braced his elbows on his knees, forcibly locking himself in place.

“If you’re doing this for my sake, you should know something.”

Dark eyes narrowing slightly, Fariq waited.

“Had she been anyone else, even your beloved baby brother , I’d have knocked her on her ass for slowing me down the way she did. I didn’t choose to be there, and I sure didn’t choose to be her babysitter. I only acted as I did because blistering her butt seemed a safer course of action than breaking her face. If you want me to say I’m sorry, you’re going to be waiting a long time. If you think I’m going to jump out of this chair in defense of her spoiled little ass, you’ll be waiting even longer. I couldn’t care less what you do. The only thing she is to me is trouble, I’d just as soon not have to deal with. And you’re right, I deserve a bonus for the shit I had to deal with today.” He hated himself for saying that, especially since she heard every word. She didn’t deserve it, but it worked.

Studying him a moment longer, Fariq finally took his hand out from between her legs.

“Fair enough.” Fariq swatted Aliya’s ass several times with little force, more like brotherly pats, then let her go.

She scrambled off his lap, slapping to get the folds of her skirt down in place before clasping and reclasping her hands fitfully in front of her. Humiliated, her cheeks wet with tears, her chest heaving, she didn’t look at either of them.

“What do we say?” Fariq drawled.

“Thank you for correcting me and teaching me,” she replied, each word tumbling out on the heels of the last so swiftly, Christian could barely understand them.

“You may pick up your panties,” Fariq said.

Snatching them off the floor, she wadded them into a tight ball in her hands.

“You are grounded,” Fariq said in a dismissive tone. “You may not leave your room for the next five days and until I give you leave. Run along.”

Snapping around, she fled his office, leaving his door thrown open wide behind her. One of the guards in the hall eventually reached back into the room far enough to close it.

Yeah, he hated himself all right.

Fariq stared at him, and Christian burned with the loathing effects of what his gutless lack of action had done to her, long after he could no longer hear her footsteps racing down the hall.

“I’d have smacked her harder.” Christian despised himself, but the comment had its intended effect.

Fariq brightened. “True, but you enjoy beating women. I prefer not to have to hurt my toys to make them submit.”

“You realize you just called your sister your toy.” The minute those words were out, he wished he could take them back. The amusement vanished from Fariq’s eyes, although he managed to keep his smile.

“Sister, toy, it doesn’t matter. She’s mine,” he repeated. “I’ve taken care of her for years, watched her grow, saved her life. Saved her from marriage to a pedophile. Saved her from the mutilation of circumcision my father would have inflicted on her had he not died when he did. She is alive today, whole today, the person she is today, only because I have allowed it. That , my friend, that is power.” His smile twisted. “My darling sister owes me more than she realizes, and when at last the day comes I decide to collect, she will do whatever I demand because I have spent years conditioning her to heed my commands. I am her brother, father, savior, disciplinarian, care provider. She simply doesn’t know any better than to love and obey me.”

And just like that, Fariq, the serpent who had been so ready to strike just seconds ago, once more became Fariq, the businessman.

“We have work to do.”

For the rest of the afternoon, they reviewed tapes, altered the shift schedule to make up for Lamar’s absence, and made the proper phone calls and condolences to smooth the political waters after the fucked-up raid on the marketplace. It didn’t matter what Fariq did or how often he smiled, whenever Christian glanced at him, all he saw was the serpent.

That, and Aliya, mortified beyond belief with her panties crumpled in her hand, so no one would see and wonder what she had just been made to do.

While he did nothing, except sit there and watch.