Knight of Paradise Island

by J. L. Campbell

  The bi-racial East Indian female, who wore a red dress with a matching scarf, sat by herself sipping a drink.

  “Are you seeing a pattern here?” Ryan asked.

  “Yep, but it leaves the question of why they took Aziza when she was here with a group.”

  “Forgive my choice of words, but if you can separate your target from the herd, it makes the job easier.”

  “True that,” Dro said.

  Ryan sat forward. “Your bartender looks like he’s about to take a break or something.”

  A man dressed in black nodded to Jahani, who tipped his head toward the back of the club. Five minutes later, Jahani said something to another bartender and walked through a door behind the bar.

  When his voice hit them a moment later, the clarity was impressive. “We have one potential female, but I’d like to have her first.”

  Angela interrupted, translating their words from Arabic.

  “We missed out last time because of those interfering foreigners.” The man’s harsh voice climbed as he uttered what Ryan assumed was a curse word. “Did you put something in her drink?”

  “You expect me to do that and be out here talking with you?” Jahani asked. “It is early. We have time.”

  In an emphatic tone, his companion said, “We cannot afford to make any mistakes this time.”

  “I agree.” Jahani chuckled. “I might have a little action later tonight. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way.”

  “As long as Fahid and the boss are happy, we—”

  “No names,” Jahani hissed. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “Sorry. I won’t forget again.”

  “I should hope not.” The music from the club intruded on the conversation as if they stepped back into the building. Then Jahani said, “I will give the woman in red the treatment in the next drink. Don’t mess this up.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You will never escape.” Abdul scowled, as if he thought it would intimidate her.

  She turned on her bare heels. “If you don’t shut up … ”

  “What will you do?” he taunted from where he lay propped on one elbow.

  Aziza let her gaze stray to his crotch. “You don’t want to know.”

  When he winced and drew his legs together, she smirked.

  A force hit the door with the impact of a battering ram.

  “What di hell is dat?” Kelsie asked in a pronounced Patois. The tall woman with braids and dark skin had proven herself proactive in the last half-hour. She organized the women in teams to pile the cots against the entrance. Then, she set about calming the young girls who fell apart as the threats from the men outside intensified. Her accent had the same nuances as that of her parents and her grandmother, so Aziza thought she was from Jamaica. That, she would investigate later, if she had the time and opportunity.

  “Sounds like reinforcement,” Aziza said, glancing at the gun she’d leaned in the corner. “But not for us.”

  Kelsie lifted the handgun they took from Abdul. “Don’t worry. I know how to use this. I’ll help you hold them off.”

  Worry gnawed at Aziza’s stomach, but she maintained an air of confidence. No one else knew her secret. She’d watched Drake do internet searches that would have put fear into their mother, if she knew what he was doing online. Often enough, Aziza sat at his elbow and watched live videos of people handling guns and rifles. She wasn’t a marksman by any stretch of the imagination. Heck, she hadn’t ever touched a weapon before today, but she had a good idea of how to handle herself if it came to the test. God help anyone within range if she had to engage the AK-47.

  Beckoning toward the bathroom, Aziza handed her the key. To all of them, she said, “Search this place and see what you can find to defend yourselves. Doesn’t matter how large or small. Some of you go with Kelsie. Make sure you get all the shower hooks, plus whatever else you can find.”

  When they didn’t move immediately, she shooed them. “Go on. We can’t be at their mercy. We have to protect ourselves and the kids.”

  The men continued to assault the door. From what she gathered, two other men had joined those who chased them down. She glanced at the gun, reassuring herself it was within easy reach.

  “Who are they?” she asked, facing Abdul.

  He stared at her as if he’d lost the ability to speak.

  “Are they your business partners?”

  Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, but he didn’t answer.

  The hum of the air-conditioning stopped, and the women stared at each other. Someone had switched off the cooling system. The four narrow windows at the top of the container were sealed with glass, which limited the air flowing inside. The unrelenting heat promised to creep on them within minutes, making them miserable. Thank God they were at the back end of the day, but they needed a miracle—the sooner the better. Their only advantage was that the night offered cooler temperatures.

  At the far end of the room, Hamid sat on a cot with his head lowered. He, too, was chained to the metal frame. His eyes met Aziza’s, but she looked away. She didn’t have time to regret how she treated him, never mind the fact that the way he made his living was outside of the law.

  “If you do not open this door now, we will shoot.”

  “Well, so will I,” Aziza yelled, then immediately realized her mistake. She waved madly at the women, motioning for them to get down on the floor. Then she followed her instinct, flipped the lights off, and squatted. If these men kept up a sustained attack, they would shred the metal and kill them all.

  A hail of bullets descended. The women panicked and scrambled to the back of the container, amid blood-curdling screams. When they huddled against each other on the floor, Aziza scuttled toward them on her hands and knees. She put a finger to her lips, then spoke in a stage whisper, following her own instructions as she gave them. “Keep it down and get on your bellies.”

  To the echo of sniffles and whimpers, they spread out. The stench of fear hung heavy around them, then a ripple of whispers spread as the women prayed. Aziza did her fair share as she lay listening to the men circling outside. Like hyenas coming in to devour their prize.

  One of them shouted what sounded like a question.

  Ahaba’s head popped up. Rushing her words out, she said, “He is asking where we are.”

  In the light slanting in from outside, Aziza gave Hamid a look meant to keep him quiet, then crouched and ran back to Abdul, who shouted an answer. She socked him in the gut, which stopped him in the middle of informing.

  “Shut the hell up.”

  With his hands protecting his belly, he continued to talk but winced as he shifted onto his side away from her.

  Aziza ripped the turban off his head and lowered it to his mouth. Though he fought her, she yanked it into a knot, then tied the end of it again. His greasy black hair was rancid, but she ignored the offensive smell as she straddled him.

  He tried heaving her off, but she had been smart enough to ensure they secured both of his hands, which left him with a limited range of motion.

  With her weight, she pressed him to the bed and delivered two blows to the side of his head. Pain radiated up through her wrist into her arm. If she kept this up, her fist would be of little use for anything after today.

  With hate-filled eyes, Abdul breathed hard into the fabric of his turban. She could well imagine how outraged he was at having a woman handle him this way, and a Black one at that. At the thought of the unknown victims he’d sold into slavery, Aziza clocked him again.

  “Listen to me, you useless piece of shit, you’ll get all of us killed. And if they don’t murder us, I’ll shoot you myself when this is over.”

  Abdul wriggled and mumbled while she still sat on him. He didn’t plan to go down without a fight. He was a worthy opponent, who had smelled blood. Aziza’s energy had run out. She hated the disgusting slop they fed them and only ate enough to stay alive. Right now she was running on adrenaline and desperation. He
r dilemma ended when Naima appeared over her shoulder and smacked Abdul hard enough to put him out.

  “Thank you,” Aziza whispered.

  Another round of gunfire had the two of them diving off the bed. The younger girls bit their fists to hold in their screams. Naima met Aziza’s eyes as tears welled in hers. She brushed them away with one hand, then they both crab-walked to the group. Naima settled back in position next to Ahaba and slipped an arm around her shoulder. The teenager burrowed her face against Naima’s neck.

  “We are going to make it,” Aziza whispered to Naima, who rested her sweating forehead against the back of her hand. She continued whispering that mantra as the darkness deepened around them.

  Although believing they would get out of this situation was hard, Aziza had no choice. She would hang on to her faith and continue to believe God wouldn’t cut her time with Ryan short before she could enjoy him properly. She had to trust that no matter how impossible the odds seemed, he would find her.

  The men fired again.

  Hamid’s scream turned her blood to ice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Even with a black eye, the bartender stayed defiant.

  Daron and his team had foiled the attempt to drug and kidnap the woman from Encounters earlier in the evening.

  Somewhat.

  Now, they were at a standoff.

  Jahani refused to communicate with them in English, although they knew he spoke the language. Most people in the service industry did. The chains on his hands and feet rattled as he shifted and re-settled on the chair.

  Daron and Nicco had waited for Jahani and his partner to make a move before swooping down on the slight man attempting to steer the dazed woman into a car. The modus operandi was the same as last time, but Jahani’s partner in crime was different.

  Angela and Nicco had followed the car and would report back as soon as they could convey his destination. Bashir was dispatched to update the Sheikh and Sheikha of the developments. His errand would keep him occupied elsewhere until they pinpointed the women’s location. He’d opened his mouth to call bull shiggity, but at the last moment, he walked away to do the job without complaint. Bashir had done nothing to earn Ryan’s suspicion, but he preferred their operation to have every chance at success. They were so close to finding out where they kept the kidnap victims.

  Ryan stayed on tenterhooks, barely able to remain motionless. He wanted to bludgeon Jahani until he told them what they wanted to know, but Daron, Dro, and Vikkas wouldn’t let him. So, here they were treating the bartender like royalty when he still didn’t know if his woman was even in Durabia.

  “Patience.” Dro gripped his arm and led him to a far corner of the warehouse Sheikh Kamran had put at their disposal. Since his wife, Sheikha Ellena, had been kidnapped, he had a zero-tolerance policy for human trafficking. The fact that it had been his own family at the center of that plot made it all the more disheartening. But their underhanded maneuver also showed how deep the old ways and values were ingrained in those who had some semblance of power—especially when it came to women. When Daron requested the use of the warehouse to set up surveillance equipment, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

  Dro slid both hands into his pockets and turned intense brown eyes on Ryan. “We will get him to talk and we’re going to find her.”

  Waving a hand toward where Jahani sat, Ryan spoke through his teeth. “Every minute we spend treating him like he deserves any courtesy, it’s more time for them to move her.”

  “Say what?” Wearing a slight smile, Dro added, “Nobody’s trying to make things comfortable for this lowlife. The more information we get out of him, the better we’ll be able to shut everything down when we strike.”

  When Ryan sighed, Dro said, “We can’t get the data we need if we let you at him again. If we were anywhere else in the world, you would have an assault charge facing you. Thank God you have friends in high places.”

  Ryan still didn’t speak, but threw a glare at Jahani.

  “Everything in good time. Nicco and Angela are top-shelf pros. You can bet everything you have that they will get results. Let’s finish up here.” Dro met his eyes again. “Without you putting your fist in anyone’s face. Capisce?”

  “I get it,” Ryan said in a grudging tone.

  Dro squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s get back to business.”

  Ryan pulled in a breath and shelved the fantasies he had of pulverizing the man he was sure had a hand in Aziza’s disappearance.

  At the sight of Ryan, a wary expression crept over Jahani’s face, then resentment simmered in his eyes. His gaze slid to Dro, then back to Daron, who sat across from him. “Look, you can either help us and help yourself. Or … ”

  A hint of fear shrouded Jahani, and he lowered his head. Then, he spoke with his gaze fixed on his hands. “I cannot tell you what you wish to know.”

  “So, you prefer to spend the rest of your life behind bars for human trafficking rather—”

  He sat up, almost smiling. “The fines for that are not very steep, so—”

  Daron stared at him for a moment. “When the Sheikh has a personal stake in an investigation,”—He stabbed the surface of the metal desk between them—”things look a little different.”

  His words had an immediate effect.

  Sweat dotted the bartender’s forehead, and he couldn’t sit still.

  The silence took on an ominous quality.

  Ryan almost believed the shadows at the edges of the room took on a life of their own, until Daron continued speaking.

  “You need to decide what you will trade for the ability to keep your freedom.”

  Jahani sputtered while his attention darted to each man, who watched him, their faces impassive.

  “Since you have all the time in the world,” Vikkas said, motioning to Ryan. “We’re about to pick up some supplies. Maybe by the time we return, Daron will have you back to your senses.”

  “What stuff are we picking up?” Ryan asked when he stood outside in the cool air with the other two men.

  Vikkas beckoned to him with one finger and strode toward the car. “Let’s just say, according to what Nicco thinks we’ll come up against, we may need more firepower than anticipated.”

  “And you’re saying to me … ” Ryan raised both brows and spoke to the man on his other side. “ … you left that sort of firepower unattended at the hotel?”

  Dro grinned and tossed him the key to the Limo. “We’re not saying any such thing. Let’s put some speed on it, so we can get back here in a hurry.”

  Ryan took the wheel, glancing at Dro now and then in the rearview mirror. He was completely focused on the tablet in his hands, as if everything depended on what he was doing. Vikkas held his silence, frowning as if deep in thought.

  Keeping his own counsel, Ryan drove back to the hotel and agreed to meet them in the lobby within ten minutes. The two sat in a corner of the lobby with their heads together while Ryan headed into the elevator.

  The moment he stepped inside his room, Ryan’s senses were on high alert. He couldn’t put his finger on what was different, but knew someone had invaded his space. After scanning the entire suite, he put his unease down to the sixth sense he’d carried since birth until his gaze went to his laptop. The computer was open the way he normally left it, but the angle of the screen wasn’t the same. Someone had been snooping. His mind went straight to the houseman who appeared earlier in the day. Dro had said little, except that the man would think twice about minding Ryan’s business whenever he returned to take care of the room. If someone else was responsible, how did they get in and what were they seeking? If they were looking for digital information, they wouldn’t have been able to get past Ryan’s password and security measures.

  On a hunch, he went to the safe and retrieved the wireless bug detector Daron had supplied. While he went through the suite sweeping every piece of furniture, someone rapped at the door.

  Ryan stalked to the passage, wondering if the two K
ings had come up to meet him. He depressed the handle, smiling. “I guess you two couldn’t wait for—”

  The man who faced him was Durabian. His thick mustache stirred a distant memory, but Ryan couldn’t place him. The gleam in his eyes put Ryan on guard, along with the hand concealed behind his body. He crowded the door, but Ryan was prepared. He stepped back, planted his feet, and watched for the hand he couldn’t see.

  As the man rushed inside, Ryan swung the door, hitting him in the face. The force of his body colliding with the door nearly toppled Ryan, who released the handle. The stranger’s hand whipped out from behind him in a jabbing motion.

  Ryan grabbed his wrist, squeezed, then pulled him into a chokehold. With his other hand, he grabbed the taser and slammed it on the man’s chest.

  As he convulsed and his body went slack, Ryan’s mental eyes came into sharp focus and he knew where he’d seen the man before this incident.

  Ryan tased him a second time, then allowed him to fall to the carpet. As his eyes rolled back, Ryan kicked the door shut and pulled out his phone. He speed dialed Dro’s number.

  “I was about to call you.”

  “You’ll be very interested in who’s in my room.” His gaze went to the man thrashing at his feet. “Get up here and make it quick.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryan and Dro half walked, half carried the intruder to their car. He fought them as they dragged him into the service elevator under threat of another taste of the taser. Luck was on their side, and they were able to get him into the Limo under the cover of darkness, without calling attention to themselves. Vikkas helped them give the impression of a group of friends out for a jaunt, except for the large duffle he carried that belonged to Dro.

  Now that the vehicle was at a standstill, their prisoner kept up a sustained hammering against the trunk. He was probably terrified in the clustered space, his mouth covered with electrical tape and both hands secured with plastic handcuffs.