Colours of the Soul (Girls from the Street Book 2) Read online

  Colours of the Soul

  S.E. SMITH

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my husband, Steve, for believing in me and being proud enough of me to give me the courage to follow my dream. I would also like to give a special thank you to my sister and best friend, Linda, who not only encouraged me to write, but who also read the manuscript. Also, to my other friends who believe in me: Julie, Jackie, Christel, Sally, Jolanda, Lisa, Laurelle, Debbie, and Narelle. The girls that keep me going!

  And a special thanks to Paul Heitsch, David Brenin, Samantha Cook, Suzanne Elise Freeman, PJ Ochlan, Vincent Fallow, L. Sophie Helbig, and Hope Newhouse—the outstanding voices behind my audiobooks!

  – S. E. Smith

  Contemporary Romance

  Colours of the Soul

  Girls from the Street Book 2

  Copyright © 2022 by S.E. Smith

  First E-Book Published September 2022

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission from the author.

  All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations are strictly coincidental.

  Summary: When a mysterious, masked woman in the desert saves his life, a royal sheikh will use all of his resources to find her.

  ISBN: 9781956052626 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 9781956052619 (eBook)

  Romance (love, explicit sexual content) | Contemporary | Action/Adventure

  Published by Montana Publishing, LLC

  & SE Smith of Florida Inc. www.sesmithfl.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Additional Books

  About the Author

  Synopsis

  She was born on the streets; he was born to rule…

  Idella goes by one name only in the glamorous world of music. Her sultry voice mesmerizes millions, her albums have gone platinum, and her elusiveness is legendary. However, the version of herself that truly drives her goes by another name—Dallas. She’s an assassin employed to eliminate some of the worst criminals in the world.

  Sheikh Tarek Saif-Ad-Din understands that power and money can corrupt. It is his job to ensure the safety of his people, his country, and his royal family. After an attack leaves him near death, he swears he hears the voice of an ‘amirat khurafiat alsahra’—a desert fairy princess.

  Helping a wounded prince was not part of the plan. Her targets were the insurrectionists. She was supposed to prevent them from gaining control of the largest production of microchips in the world at any cost. Even if both the first and second born sons die, another in the royal family line would become heir and the country would stabilize. Yet—she can’t leave Tarek to die.

  In a dangerous dance between two identities, Idella must decide if she can trust Tarek enough to reveal who she really is—a singer, an assassin, and the woman who loves him. If she can’t, this mission may be final in more ways than one.

  A NY Times and USA Today bestselling author, the internationally acclaimed S.E. Smith presents a new story with her signature humor and unpredictable twists! Exciting adventure, hot romance, and iconic characters have won her a legion of fans. Over TWO MILLION books sold!

  One

  Aljibal Alsawda’

  (Black Mountains of Jawahir)

  “We have to go. There is no time to save him,” Raja impatiently said, pulling on her arm as he warily scanned the area around them.

  “I have to stop the bleeding. He’ll die if I don’t,” Dallas calmly retorted, laying her sniper rifle beside her on the dry, hard-packed sand and rock-strewn ground.

  “Then he dies. The Royal Guards are dead. We will lose our targets in the mountains if we don’t leave now!”

  Dallas glanced up at the steep hill. Regret coursed through her. She had sent a message warning of the attack, but it arrived too late, and they had been too far away to reach the convoy before it started. The volley of gunfire had faded several minutes ago, leaving behind a desert painted in blood and filled with death.

  She looked down at the barely conscious man. Determination filled her as she slid her sharp knife from the sheath at her waist. She knew who he was—Sheikh Tarek, the second son of King Melik and Queen Ihab Saif-Ad-Din of Jawahir. Their handlers would consider Tarek’s death collateral damage. Even the capture of the Royal Heir, Sheikh Qadir, was not their concern. Raja and Dallas were here to eliminate Colin and Anderson Coldhouse.

  Their objective was clear—and they were explicitly ordered to not deviate from it. Dallas knew she should leave Tarek to his fate, but she couldn’t. She had met him before—in her life as Idella.

  She turned to Raja with an impatient scowl. Orders be damned, she would do what she could to save Tarek.

  “Get me the medical kit,” she ordered in a tone that said she would tolerate no more arguments.

  “You are going to get us killed,” Raja grumbled even as he twisted and rose to his feet.

  A rueful smile curved her lips when Raja darted up the steep incline to retrieve the pack she had dropped during the conflict. Despite Raja’s fierce expression, she knew that he, too, would be bothered by leaving an injured man behind.

  Especially when the man is one of the good guys.

  Tarek was pale. Dallas bent over his inert body and cut a thin line in his shirt and pants where the blood had soaked through. She peeled back the fabric to reveal his wounds.

  Grabbing a clean bandana from a pouch at her waist, she sliced it in half and folded the pieces into squares before applying them to the two bullet wounds. She kept the pressure firm and constant as she calmly reassured Tarek that he would be alright, though she was pretty sure he was too out of it to hear her.

  Both wounds were serious. She wasn’t sure which one was worse, the one to his lower left abdomen or the one to his leg. Either could be fatal if a major artery or organ had been hit. Fortunately, the blood seeping from his abdomen was bright red, not a deep ruby color. This gave her hope that no major organs were damaged.

  “Qadir…” Tarek weakly mumbled. “W-what…?”

  “He’s alive,” she said as she gently brushed sand from his cheek.

  “Who… are you?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she impatiently looked up, searching for Raja. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him sliding back down the slope toward them. He dropped the pack next to her, opened it, and pulled out their medical field kit.

  “Set up the saline line.”

  Raja looked at her mutinously for a moment before he did as instructed, cursing under his breath all the while. Most equipment could be traced, but she made sure that everything she used couldn’t be. Her sudden act of compassion would not reveal their identities to the royal family of Jawahir.

  Raja connected the t
ubing to the saline bag, expertly cleaned a section on Tarek’s arm with alcohol, and inserted the needle into his vein. Dallas ripped Tarek’s black shirt wider to give them room to work.

  “How bad?” Raja asked.

  “Bullet is still in him. It doesn’t look like it hit any major organs.”

  “Let me look. You’re right. You take care of this while I take care of his leg.”

  She nodded. While she was good with some advanced first aid, Raja could do field surgery if pushed. He had patched her up more than once.

  “We’re going to catch hell if they get away. It took us a week to track them this far. How long do you think it’ll take to find them again?” Raja grumbled as he worked.

  “Shut up.”

  Raja glared at her but kept silent as he injected a mild sedative into the port.

  Tarek grabbed her wrist. Even half dead, his grip was strong.

  “D-don’t.”

  “Too late. You’ll thank us later.” She smiled before she remembered that he wouldn’t be able to see it behind her face covering. Only her eyes were visible. She had removed her sunglasses so she could exam his wounds with no distortion.

  “Who….” his voice slurred before his head rolled to the side.

  “I hear helicopters approaching,” Raja growled.

  She finished applying the bandage to Tarek’s leg. “Done. Let’s get this cleaned up and get out of here.”

  What they had done for Tarek would give the medics a better chance of keeping him alive until they reached the hospital. It eased her mind.

  “You’re going soft on me,” Raja said as they stored their equipment in the camouflaged backpack and picked up their weapons.

  “How many men did I just kill?” she quietly asked.

  “The mission—”

  “There’s no way to know if Colin Coldhouse was with the first group we encountered,” she reasoned.

  “…Ok, yes, I did not see Colin and there was never a clear shot to Anderson. It is hard to kill someone you can’t see,” he grudgingly admitted.

  Her lips twitched at his concession. “Tarek’s guards?”

  “I confirmed. No survivors,” he quietly replied.

  She nodded, pushing away the feelings of regret, and moved out. They circled the slope, keeping low and near the cover of rocks and limited vegetation until they crossed the road and hopped into their electric all-terrain vehicles. They followed the less discernable paths, and ten minutes later, they found shelter in a narrow cave high above where the attack had occurred.

  Dallas peered through her scope, watching the first wave of Royal Military arrive. “It looks like we should hang tight for a while longer than I hoped,” Raja said.

  “Yes. Coldhouse will have to do the same—at least until dark.”

  The medic team scurried over the side of the hill. Several minutes later they emerged with Tarek on a stretcher, placed him into the waiting helicopter, and took off. She followed the helicopter until it disappeared from sight. She flexed her stiff shoulders, breathing in deep breaths as her tension eased a little.

  She closed the cover on the scope and removed her camouflage netting before scooting back and seeking shelter in the shade of the cave. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped fifteen degrees.

  “Here.” Raja held out a bottle of water.

  She accepted it and relaxed against the uneven wall. Pulling her face covering down, she drank deeply from the bottle. When she was done, she set it down next to her and leaned her head back. She closed her eyes, unaware of the slight smile on her lips as she replayed in her mind the first time that she met Tarek.

  Three years ago

  Colours Nightclub, New York City

  Idella felt a heightened, tingling sensation that wasn’t her normal awareness of being watched. She was an international star and she was singing on stage with an amazing group of musicians; of course every eye in the club she owned was on her. Still, this kind of awareness was… different.

  Her body swayed with the music as she sang, and her performance commanded the room’s attention. It was more than just her voice. Her body was a masterpiece as well. With silver heels adding several inches to her height, she was six feet tall. Her sequined silver gown hugged her slender figure, leaving one shoulder bare. The shimmering gown contrasted beautifully against her mocha-crème skin. The side slit stopped at the top of her thigh, showing a generous length of her long leg. There were hard-won muscles within her slender form, which meant her curves were very well defined.

  Tall, lithe, and dressed as she was tonight, she was a jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman. Her audience had been captivated from the moment she stepped on-stage—but in just the last couple of minutes, something had changed. The sensation was almost as if she was being hunted. Every nerve was alight with the anticipation of a life-or-death encounter.

  A specific motion of her hand put Raja on alert. Within minutes, he would know the history of every person in the building. She shifted ever so slightly on the stage, scanning the room.

  Her singing was still laden with the appropriate emotion and skill, her years of training serving her well as her focus lingered on each table long enough to make the people sitting at them pause and take notice. She assessed each person as friend or foe before moving onto the next one.

  One of the hostesses was leading a group up the staircase to the dining level. Idella’s lips curved when she saw the tiny woman in tattered jeans. Aimee Wheels was an enigma and a welcome friend to the club. Idella turned her attention to Aimee’s companions.

  A flash of shock registered when she recognized the first and second born sons of the Jawahir royal family. Idella had never met any of them personally, but of course she knew of their power and wealth, and she knew there had been an attempted assassination of Sheikh Qadir just a week ago at the Harris building downtown. Aimee had saved Sheikh Qadir’s life.

  She carefully noted the body language of the group. It appeared Aimee was in a romantic relationship with Sheikh Qadir, the first-born of the Saif-Ad-Din family. Accompanying them was Sheikh Tarek. The heated awareness running through her body intensified as she studied his handsome face and lean, yet muscular body. A shaft of feminine appreciation swept through her. The emotion startled her as she was usually immune to such physical responses.

  She knew Tarek was a Cabinet member and Head of Jawahir Military Intelligence. He had graduated from Oxford and held advanced degrees from Princeton. He had also served in the Jawahir Special Forces.

  She forced her eyes away from him and finished the last line of the song. As applause broke out, she stepped back from the microphone, bowed, waved to the band, and gracefully departed the stage.

  She was curious about why they were here—and what kinds of problems the royal brothers would bring to her sanctuary. Raja met up with her the moment she stepped behind the curtain, his brow furrowed with displeasure.

  “They are with Aimee,” she soothed.

  “You know who we suspect is behind the attack on Sheikh Qadir,” he murmured.

  She palmed the keypad to her private spiral staircase and pushed the door open. “Then perhaps tonight is a good time to get more information,” she said.

  Raja followed and they began climbing, the door soundlessly swinging shut behind them. When he touched her arm, however, she turned to face him. They were eye-to-eye with him standing on the step below her.

  The tabloids claimed Raja and Idella were lovers. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was her bodyguard, her friend, and her partner in the shadow life she led. He was the Hamlet to her Dallas.

  Their relationship had formed in the most unlikely of ways. They were born in very different places, but Harlem Jones had collected children from around the world, including Raja and Idella. Those that didn’t break from his training eventually went on to do great things. They became senators, preachers, influential artists—wherever their gifts could take them, Harlem would make sure they got there. Their ‘Fathe
r’ could make any position and contact beneficial to himself.

  Raja preferred to pretend that he wasn’t a leader, but Idella knew he wouldn’t be able to run from his past forever. In some ways, his early childhood was far more tragic than her own. He’d had more to lose.

  “Be careful, Idella,” he quietly warned.

  She gave him a small smile. “Always.”

  They parted, Idella emerging on the second level and Raja returning to the first. Idella moved the decorative curtain that camouflaged the door back to its proper place and stepped out of the shallow alcove, requesting a glass of white Zinfandel from a passing server. She warmly greeted diners who were in awe at meeting the Idella.

  “Thank you, Karly,” she murmured when the server brought her the glass of wine.

  Tarek sat alone. A swift perusal showed Aimee and Qadir heading for the dance floor and the royal bodyguards splitting up to cover both brothers. Idella returned her gaze to Tarek, and her eyes locked with his.

  Heat rose in her cheeks and Idella swore a riot of butterflies invaded her stomach. The intensity of the desire in his eyes made her almost look down to see if she was still wearing her evening gown. Instead, she maintained eye contact with him, walked over to his table, and gracefully slid into one of the empty seats with a practiced smile.