The Sheikh's Captive Mistress by Jessica Brooke, Ella Brooke

was and how badly that kind of force could hurt. Besides, Kashif had a weapon.
    “Brother, drop it and I will let you face your justice with honor,” Munir said, side stepping a crazed lunge from Kashif.
    “And if I don’t?” the other asked nicking the fabric of Munir’s shirt as he aimed a strike at his brother’s chest. Munir had spun away at the last minute to avoid full contact, but it had been close.
    “I won’t kill you.”
    “More of that weakness of yours,” Kashif countered, delivering an uppercut with his free fist that sent Munir reeling.
    Emma and Basheera both surged toward the fight, but they hesitated when Kashif rounded on them, his knife held high.
    “Oh, you traitorous bitches, you’ll have time for yours soon enough.”
    “Good,” Munir shouted, ploughing into his brother and tackling him to the ground. “Because that means you have time for me!”
    The two brothers twisted on the ground for a while, wrestling for control. In Munir’s tackle, Kashif had lost his blade, so now it was just the two brothers, neither really gaining in the match. Every time Munir seemed to have Kashif pinned, his brother would buck him off and deliver a crushing punch to his face or solar plexus. Similarly, when Kashif seemed to gain the upper hand, Munir would wriggle out from hold and pile drive his brother into submission. Finally, Kashif rolled and held his brother still, his hold strong enough around Munir’s throat that the sheikh’s thrashing grew weak and his skin grew blue and distorted.
    “No!” Basheera screamed. “Kashif, stop!”
    He glared up at the old woman, and Emma saw her chance. Rushing forward, she grabbed the blade and dug it into the man’s shoulder.
    “That’s for touching me!” she shouted before reaching back and slugging him.
    Maybe she shouldn’t have done that part.
    She didn’t know how to land a punch properly and, even though Kashif spit out a tooth from her blow, she was reeling, as well, pulling a sore hand to her chest.
    It was enough to let Munir rise to the advantage, though. Spinning around, he pinned his brother to the floor, face down, and clamped on a vice-like chokehold until Kashif passed out. The sheikh didn’t rest then, not until he had the thick manacle clamped around his brother’s ankle.
    Basheera was over, cradling Naseem on her lap and singing something sweet to him in Arabic. He was conscious, but just barely, and his wound was still bleeding.
    Munir looked around at all that had happened and seemed to spare one more moment to regard his so-called brother. “You could have stayed by my side, Kashif, but look at all the damage you’ve wrought. Look at it!”
    Kashif’s breath gurgled oddly, but he still laughed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, brother?”
    “Then revel in it for eternity. Your sentence is to stay here forever, the only prisoner of the citadel with only your own shit and the rats for company.”
    Munir hesitated then, having pulled his leg back to kick his brother in the face. “I…”
    “I can handle this,” Emma interrupted, snuggling up next to him. “This is for all of us,” she shouted before landing a punishing kick to his chin, using all her muscles built up from years of horseback riding for good use. “Rot in hell, Kashif. It’s where you belong.”

Chapter Eight
    Basheera had one car drive her and Naseem directly to the local hospital. The Yassin family had a suite there, and the best doctors would attend to Naseem’s wound. Munir embraced both of his old friends and kissed Basheera on the cheek. “Take good care of him. You’re the most trusted advisors I have.”
    She grinned and squeezed Naseem’s hand. “You mean we’re your only advisors.”
    “There is that, but safe travels to both of you, and rest up. We have a lot of house cleaning to do at the palace.”
    Naseem wheezed, but sat up just enough to look at both him and Emma. “We plan to do it, my Sheikh and Sheikha. There are still far too