GUARDIANS: Mission To Rescue Innocence (Beauty 0f Life Book 7)

by Laura Acton

  “I am rather famished after the horrible events,” Panin said hiding his displeasure the king sent his son. He studied the regal man who wore a long-sleeved, flowing, ankle-length Arab garment, similar to a robe, and a red and white checkered headscarf held in place with a black band. Reading nothing in his expression except calmness and perhaps grief, expected given the loss of a brother, Panin was relieved to find no derision in the intense brown eyes.

  With a slight nod in the direction of Jaasir who entered behind him, his favorite cousin left the room. Ifran moved towards the chair opposite the disgusting Panin and gracefully lowered his tall, lithe body. “Refreshment is forthcoming.” Resting his hands on the arms, presenting non-threatening body language, Ifran employed a practiced technique to put others at ease to attain the upper hand in negotiations. “I hope you will like our local fare.”

  Unsure of the reception he would encounter, tension had built in Panin, but with the welcoming demeanor of Ifran, he relaxed. Fakhir’s brother seemed open and friendly. He was being treated as a guest, and though the guards glared at him on the plane, it appeared the sheik held no ill will towards him for his brother’s death. The loan will be granted with little effort. All I need to do is tell the tale I refined on the flight. Panin smiled. “I’m sure I will.”

  Jaasir reentered carrying an oval tray filled with nuts, various candied fruit, two plates, and a traditional Arabic coffee set with a golden dallah with engraved scrollwork and two gold-rimmed, pastel blue cups with no handles. After setting the tray down, Jaasir lifted the dallah to pour their coffee. When finished, Jaasir returned to the entrance, keeping watch to protect Ifran.

  Waving towards the delicacies Ifran offered, “Please help yourself. The coffee is Amman, a dark roast infused with cardamom. I think you will enjoy the flavor.” He leaned forward and selected a candied fig with his right hand and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he analyzed Panin.

  After greedily filling a plate with candied fruits using his left hand, Panin picked up the plate and coffee cup. He sat back, balancing the overfilled plate on his thick, left thigh and settled the handleless mug on the right armrest.

  As pleasantly as Ifran treated him, Panin remained a little wary the food and beverage might be poisoned. He would be stupid not to be cautious since he routinely drugged his merchandise in this manner. He scrutinized Fakhir’s former guard carefully as he dispensed the aromatic coffee. Aware of sleight of hand tricks, Panin noted the man did not drop anything into the cup, but the brew itself could be dosed, so he waited for Ifran to drink. For that reason, he selected the same figs as his Arabian host.

  Reading Panin’s actions and hesitation, Ifran determined Savelievich was worried he would be drugged. Internally Ifran laughed. What an amateur method. There are much easier ways to handle someone without tampering with excellent cuisine and drink.

  Ifran swallowed the candied fruit. He would not be eating more because the ignorant man used his unclean left hand to touch the fruit. Ifran reached forward and picked up his cup in his right hand and took a sip. “Mmm, nothing better than Amman coffee. Please tell me how my brother died.”

  Noisily slurping, Panin enjoyed the tang of the cardamom before stuffing two sugarcoated figs in his mouth as he began to spin his tale of woe.

  Viewing grotesque manners as Panin spoke with a full mouth and wiped his sticky hands on the silk fabric of the chair instead of using one of the napkins, Ifran’s expression remained placid hiding his real emotion.

  As he ate, Panin told how a man claiming to be Maks Gennadiyevich deceived him, and the fake Maks went on a rampage killing all his guards and Fakhir. He lied, saying the pretend Maks inserted a virus into his computer while he bid which wiped out his accounts. Panin drank two cups of coffee and ate most of the fruits. Panin’s confidence in his plan grew as Ifran agreed it was terrible to be played in such a fashion.

  “I am sorry the impostor murdered Fakhir. Your brother was a good man and a friend. I wish I had been conscious so I might have saved him. My condolences to you and your entire family.”

  Ifran sat and listened to the rubbish spun by this depraved, self-absorbed, slob. Saleet, who spoke English, already told them everything which transpired in the Cherry Club. Jaasir filled in other details regarding Fakhir’s activities which resulted in his death. If his brother had only remained in the room, he would not have been shot.

  This sickening piece of flabby, greasy flesh spun nothing but lies. He would enjoy seeking retribution on this bold-faced liar. Blandly, Ifran said, “Thank you for explaining what occurred. Perhaps you would like to be shown to your room and rest after such an ordeal.”

  A smile spread across Panin’s face. “Yes, that would be most appreciated. Later, I would like to speak directly with your father. I wish to discuss a business proposition with him.”

  Ifran stood and clapped his hands once. He spoke in Arabic to Jaasir then turned to Savelievich and said, “I am in charge of business negotiations. We can speak after dinner. For now, you appear quite exhausted. Please follow my man. He will show you to a room. Please make use of any amenities you may need.”

  Panin rose and followed Fakhir’s former guard out of the room. This could not have gone better. I’m being treated with respect, almost royally. Panin smiled at the thought of the rapport he built with the Crown Prince. This will make it easier to talk about the loan.

  After Savelievich left, four men entered, each a witness to the shrewd interrogation. The three younger ones wore expressions which ranged from anger to grief. The older man’s hard-set features at first appeared cold, but upon closer inspection sadness lurked in his eyes mixed with relief.

  Umar experienced mixed emotions with his son’s death. Though hard to lose a child, perhaps this was better. Fakhir had been a stain on the family’s honor. Too late he realized he had been too soft with his youngest child. If I reined him in more, perhaps he might still be alive.

  Regrettably, Fakhir’s path continued to spiral into darker realms. His sexual appetites became more dissolute after befriending Maks Gennadiyevich. Umar turned a blind eye when he first learned Fakhir preferred to be with young, consenting men. However, when he recently found out Fakhir started buying men and innocent children to fulfill his needs, Umar acknowledged he must put a stop to the madness.

  The reality of this situation … now he did not have to figure out a way to control Fakhir. A blond man impersonating Maks resolved his dilemma. He believed both Saleet and Jaasir when they explained Fakhir’s own rash actions caused his death. Jaasir reported Fakhir refused to stay put while the firefight raged. He ordered them to break into the other rooms and kill Panin’s guards to obtain weapons. His reprehensible son’s fury and desire for the young blond cost him his life and the lives of three respected guards.

  Speaking Arabic, Ifran turned to his father. “What do you wish us to do with him, Father?”

  “Death is too easy for him. I leave it to you to decide how to deal with him, Ifran. I trust your judgment,” Umar said flatly.

  At his father’s praise and decision, the first sign of emotion flickered on Ifran’s face. “Thank you, father. He will pay for Fakhir’s death many times over and will wish for his own each remaining day of his miserable life.”

  Fawzi and Khalid grinned. Their eldest brother would ruthlessly avenge their brother’s death. Ifran was honorable, but when crossed, he would become your worst nightmare. Ifran did not kill, but whomever he targeted would wish they were dead.

  Shareef, however, was angry they only had Panin. They did not possess the one who actually killed Fakhir. Raising his voice, Shareef said, “What of the charlatan who impersonated Gennadiyevich? Should we not track him down and execute him for slaying Fakhir?”

  Umar turned his gaze to his fourth son. Still impetuous and full of unchanneled emotions. “No, Shareef. From what Jaasir and Saleet reported those men were after one thing only, the innocent girls. The way they dressed the children in Kevlar vests
indicates they intended to rescue them, not steal them. They did not fire on Fakhir when they were unarmed. The pretender only killed Zubair when he attempted to attack after he had been warned not to move as they prepared to leave.

  “If Fakhir had not been hotheaded and heeded the warning not to follow, he would still be alive. Yes, the blond shot him but Fakhir was armed and on the offensive. It was a battle. The counterfeit Maks possessed honor.”

  Not satisfied, Shareef argued, “Savelievich didn’t shoot Fakhir, the lookalike did. We must kill him. He murdered our brother. How is that honorable?”

  Ifran drew on his placid façade when dealing with Shareef. Though in his thirties, Shareef tended to be as rash as Fakhir. Shareef needed to learn to temper his behavior before he brought disgrace to the family. Ifran calmly said, “Shareef, open your eyes and think with your head, not your heart. Do not be blind. Panin possesses no honor and is a disgusting human being making money from slavery and prostitution. He deceived Fakhir and planned to underhandedly double his money on the sale of those girls.”

  Pointing to the chair Panin had sat in, Ifran added, “That oily, slob sat right there enjoying our hospitality and lied to my face. That is ignoble. He trafficked in children which is immoral and vile.”

  Khalid and Fawzi nodded in agreement with Ifran. Though both felt great sadness at Fakhir’s passing, it came with a sense of relief too.

  Ifran reiterated, “From what we’ve been told, the blond is a warrior who was forced to shoot. He only fired when Fakhir attempted to kill an unarmed and injured man. There is no dishonor in defending yourself or your brothers in battle … quite the opposite.”

  “You listened to Saleet’s full report. The warrior put himself in the line of fire so the massive man could escape with the children. He stopped to assist his fallen brother when they were under heavy fire even though he was ill and likely dying. You overheard Panin gloat how he poisoned the man.

  “There is no vengeance to seek against a dead man. He acted with integrity. Fakhir’s and Savelievich’s actions are disreputable. Fakhir paid with his life for his actions. I plan to make Savelievich pay ten-fold and beg for death.”

  Fawzi spoke up. “Shareef, I understand your rage, but Ifran is correct. He examines things with a level-head.”

  Shareef glowered as his anger took root but held his tongue and only nodded. He did not agree, but then again, he rarely agreed with much of what his eldest brother said. Shareef decided he would locate the blond on his own and avenge Fakhir’s death.

  Ifran then turned to Umar. “If you will excuse me, Father, I shall go make the appropriate arrangements for our guest.”

  Umar waved Ifran out and placed a hand on Shareef’s shoulder. He understood his sons well. Shareef may have nodded but disagreed. Umar perceived the fire burning in Shareef, and he needed to stop something before it started. He would not allow Fakhir’s infamy to fuel Shareef’s actions and make this situation worse. “Shareef, you will take no actions to find the imposter. This is my command. Should I find you ignore me and make attempts to track him, you will be dealt with harshly.”

  “As you wish, Father.” Shareef bowed. He left the room stewing but would heed his father’s iron directive. It was not often his father commanded them, but when he did, he expected obedience, and ramifications of disobeying would be swift and severe.

  Ifran was not the only one who could be ruthlessness, in fact, it was a trait inherited from their father. As a teen, Shareef played with his younger cousin Bandar, but one day Bandar disappeared from his life. Apparently, Saajid Al Naseer, his uncle by marriage, defied a command shortly after Umar became Emir. As a result, Umar disowned and expelled Uncle Saajid, Aunt Farha, their three daughters, and Bandar from Oshar. The last news about them indicated they ended up in Canada and attained citizenship.

  To be cast out was not something anyone in the family desired, so in the nearly twenty years of Umar’s reign, no one refused to comply with a single command. Shareef decided not to be the next one punished in that manner. So, as much as he burned with hatred for the blond, he would follow the Emir’s command … for now.

  Burdens of Leadership

  45

  May 29

  Makhachkala – Sacred Heart Abbey – Store Room – 0830 Hours

  Mary Catherine yawned as she walked into the storage area which provided entrance to the secret rooms. A slight movement to her right drew her attention. She turned and caught sight of Blaze sitting on the floor, left arm across his knees, head bowed, and right hand on the back of his neck. She moved toward him, and his head lifted. His eyes reflected a man in turmoil.

  The swish of a habit caused Blaze to look up. The abbess’ soft smile reminded him of his mother’s. “Is something wrong?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.” Mary Catherine stopped next to him and peered down at the leader of the men safely ensconced inside.

  Pushing to his feet, Blaze said, “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Thou shall not lie.”

  Blaze’s head dipped. Like his mom, the abbess peered right through him. “Sorry. I should rephrase. Nothing you can help me with.”

  Placing her hand on his upper arm, Mary Catherine said, “I’m excellent at listening. You appear to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. Talking to someone might lessen your burden.”

  Raising his head, Blaze’s gaze met hers, and he stared for a long moment. “Thanks for the offer, but I must deal with my … no, thank you.”

  Mary Catherine delved deep into the tumult of the hazel eyes. “Guilt is a powerful emotion. It can eat a man’s soul if allowed to fester.”

  “How did …” Blaze trailed off wondering how she delved within the riotous discourse present in his mind.

  “I see more than the exterior … a beneficial gift.”

  Blaze leaned on the wall and blew out a breath. “My father had a gift too. He helped so many in his lifetime. I miss his guidance.”

  “What did your father do? Was he a minister?”

  Blaze chuckled at the thought of his father being a preacher. “Only if you consider a bartender a type of minister.”

  A bright smile lit Mary Catherine’s face. “Ah, yes I do. My father, God rest his soul, tended bar too. He ministered to a regular flock.”

  Surprised, Blaze stared at her. “Really?”

  “Yes. Tell me about your father.”

  A vivid image of his dad standing behind the bar at Monte’s Place entered his mind. “He owned a bar and enjoyed bartending. My dad, George, always went out of his way to help those in need. Men hitting rock bottom were his specialty. We were so different. He … well, he had no qualms bending the rules and doing whatever might be necessary to support others.

  “Many nights when I was a teen and finally aware of things, I realized he brought men to our house who had nowhere else to spend the night. Often, he stayed up all night, and sometimes I overheard grown men sobbing. I witnessed men at their lowest points, and saw my father guide them toward redemption.”

  Mary Catherine smiled. “How do you differ from him?”

  “I allow rules to govern my decisions … to the detriment of others,” Blaze found himself confessing.

  Nodding Mary Catherine said, “The burden of leadership takes a strong person to bear the weight. Balancing responsibility to your superiors and caring for those under your command is not easy. May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do the men in your unit follow your lead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Mary Catherine clasped her hands in front of her and waited.

  Inhaling Blaze considered the question. Many replies raced around in his brain as he strove to come up with an answer. He settled on, “They’re elite, well-trained soldiers.”

  She shook her head. “No. Search deeper. Why do they follow you?”

  Struggling to come up with a response, Blaze squeezed the back of his neck and wished his dad was here to give
him the answer.

  Mary Catherine reached out and allowed her hand to cup Blaze’s cheek. “What I see … your men trust you implicitly. They know you care. They are aware of your duty and theirs. You are more like your father than you realize. You guide them with a firm hand and kind heart. Maintain belief in yourself and draw strength from their unconditional faith in you.”

  Weary, Blaze nodded as the abbess’ words rolled around.

  “Come. You need respite. My sisters will care for your injured men while you and the others sleep.” Mary Catherine slid open the secret door and led Blaze back to the room.

  Sacred Heart Abbey – Unit’s Room – 0835 Hours

  Patch and Mason turned to the door as Blaze entered with the abbess. Both wondered what caused the discord between Blaze and Winds, something neither witnessed before. Wearily, Patch stood. “Any injuries you are hiding that I need to address?”

  “No.” Blaze glanced around the room and noted everyone except Mason and Patch appeared to be sleeping. He strode toward Blondie’s bed and found Brody awake too … barely. His lids kept closing as he held a damp cloth to Blondie’s neck. His eyes shifted to Winds’ bunk. “How is Winds?”

  “Bruised, nothing broken … at least not bones. What the hell happened between you two?”

  Relieved to find he hadn’t caused Winds any damage by slamming him against the wall, Blaze pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided to ignore the question because he needed to talk with Winds directly and clear the air. Instead, he diverted their attention with a valid concern. “Ripsaw’s status?”

  “I removed the bullet and started him on antibiotics, but I’m worried about infection. His temperature is rising. I doped him up to manage his pain.” Patch flashed a glance at Mason, both recognizing Blaze chose not to discuss whatever occurred between their CO and the second in command. Each hoped the best friends would work out their issue.