Hostage of the Hawk Read Free

and you raised me never to sign anything without reading it twice.’ She saw a glimmer of a smile in Sam’s eyes as she held up her fisted hand. ‘Number one,’ she said, raising her index finger, ‘I get a vice-presidency at Bennettco. Number two, it’s a real job with real responsibilities. Number three—’
    Sam threw up his hands. ‘I know when I’m licked. Go on, call the man. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.’
    Joanna’s smile blazed. ‘Just watch me.’
    Her father reached out, took a notepad from the nightstand, and held it out to her. ‘Here’s the phone number. It’s direct to Khalil’s suite.’
    Joanna nodded and reached slowly for the phone. She would have preferred to make this call from the other room instead of here, with her father watching her every move, but Sam would be quick to pounce on that as a sign of weakness.
    â€˜Good evening,’ she said to the operator, then read off the number on the notepad. Her stomach was knotting but Sam’s gaze was unwavering and she forced a cool smile to her face as she sank into the bedside chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs. The phone rang and rang. Maybe nobody was there, she thought—and at that moment, the ringing stopped and a deep voice said something in a language she couldn’t understand, except for the single word ‘Hassan’.
    Joanna clasped the phone more tightly. ‘Good evening, Mr Hassan,’ she said. ‘This is Joanna Bennett. Sam Bennett’s daughter.’
    If Hassan was surprised, he covered it well. ‘Ah, Miss Bennett,’ he said in impeccable English, ‘I am honoured. What may I do for you?’
    â€˜Well?’ Sam said impatiently. ‘What’s he saying?’
    Joanna frowned at him. ‘How are you enjoying your stay in Casablanca?’ she said into the phone.
    â€˜The city is delightful, Miss Bennett, as I’m sure you agree.’
    Joanna touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘And the Prince? Is he enjoying his stay, as well?’
    â€˜Dammit,’ Sam hissed, ‘get to the point! Is Khalil there, or isn’t he?’
    â€˜Indeed,’ Hassan said pleasantly, ‘my Lord Khalil has always had a preference for this city.’
    Joanna took a deep breath. Enough pleasantries. It was time to get down to business.
    â€˜Mr Hassan,’ she said, ‘I should like to speak with the Prince.’
    Hassan’s tone hardened. ‘I’m afraid that is out of the question, Miss Bennett. If you have a message for him, I shall be happy to deliver it.’
    Joanna’s hand began to sweat on the phone. Her father was still giving her that same steadfast look and a self-satisfied smile was beginning to form on his lips.
    â€˜Give it up, baby,’ he said quietly. ‘I told you you couldn’t pull it off.’
    â€˜Mr Hassan,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand. I want to assure the Prince that the only reason for the change in plans is because my father is ill. As for Mr Ellington—I’m afraid he misunderstood my father’s instructions. The Prince will be dining with my father’s representative, whom he trusts completely and holds in the highest esteem.’ Joanna looked at Sam. ‘Vice-president Jo Bennett.’
    â€˜One moment, please, Miss Bennett,’ Hassan said.
    Joanna felt a rush of hope. She smiled sweetly at Sam. ‘He’s going to put the Prince on,’ she said, and hoped that her father couldn’t see her crossed fingers.
    * * *
    Across town, in the elegant royal suite of the Hotel Casablanca, Prince Khalil glared at his prime minister.
    â€˜What sort of man is this Sam Bennett,’ he growled, ‘that he asks his daughter to telephone me and beg on his behalf?’ He folded his arms across his chest, his dark blue eyes glinting like sapphires in