Knight of Paradise Island

by J. L. Campbell

  When they arrived at the gate, Hassan got out as the two halves slid open on silent hinges. He opened the parchment document that carried Sheikh Kamran’s seal. The man in front of him stepped back, included a guard in the conversation in a rapid exchange of Arabic, then hurried into the building.

  Hassan returned to the window. “He has gone to fetch the woman in charge.”

  “Technically, we don’t need to wait for anyone,” Vikkas said. “Not even the police.”

  As Ryan stepped out of the truck, a marked vehicle pulled up behind them, while ahead of them the gate attendant returned with a middle-aged female wearing a European-style dress. “Why are you here?” she asked, her eyes flashing with irritation. “We have the protection of the Sheikh.”

  “Not anymore,” Vikkas said. “We have an order, which will be enforced.”

  She refused to step aside. “Let me call—”

  “No.” Vikkas’ tone was more forceful. He looked over his shoulder. “Angela.”

  She came forward. “You and I are going to your office, room, or whatever space you occupy on these premises.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, thought better of defying Angela, and left with her.

  “As agreed,” Vikkas said, scanning the group, “we’re going to do what we have to do.”

  They moved toward the building as a unit. Closed doors lined a long corridor and branched into another passage. All of them spread out, took a section of each aisle and banged on the doors. As they opened, the men walked inside and scanned the rooms.

  Eastern music pervaded the air and in several instances, teenagers clad in sheer material danced in front of men old enough to be their fathers and grandfathers.

  Ryan’s gaze swept over the well-kept salons, equipped with a sizeable bed and several sofas.

  For men to play out their fantasies, some of them perverted.

  He pounded on one door, which an annoyed, bare-chested man yanked open. His demeanor changed when he spotted the gun Ryan held against his thigh. As fright replaced annoyance in his dark eyes, Ryan ignored him and spoke to the tiny girl of African descent, who crouched on one side of the mattress.

  Ryan looked her in the eyes, ignoring her hands covering her chest. He pointed to her blouse. “Put on your clothes.”

  The pain and relief in her eyes revealed how much of her childhood had been stolen at this tender stage of life.

  The man found his voice and cursed Ryan, who quieted him with a hard stare.

  Ryan’s attention cut back to the girl, who now stood next to the bed. With his thumb he pointed over his shoulder, then followed her to the door. Young women of various nationalities stood outside several rooms. From the back of the building Angela approached, carrying an accordion file, while the woman who ruled the place trailed her and waved both hands as if offering an explanation. Angela went past him, throwing words at the other woman, then stopped at the entrance where she spoke to the girls in soft Arabic. Positioned as she was to secure the children, Ryan felt more at ease.

  The police did not attempt to interrupt their search, but observed their activities from the courtyard.

  They directed all the females to get dressed and stand in the walkway. After scouring the sprawling two-story building, Angela counted thirty girls, half of whom hadn’t reached puberty, and five little ones.

  The combination of hope and despair in their eyes squeezed Ryan’s heart, and he had to look away to relieve the fury gnawing at his stomach. He hated to think that other children might be in this same situation elsewhere in Durabia. Standing tall, he reminded himself they were doing all they could to resolve this situation. Time and opportunity would take care of any other youngsters who needed their help, given the Sheikh’s decree.

  At the end of the search, they gathered in the courtyard, while the children retrieved the few things they owned under the supervision of the woman in charge.

  “Do you know if the four girls taken from the container Aziza was in are among this group?”

  Angela held up the file she carried. “Yes, I asked about them specifically. For a … whatever this place is, they keep good records.”

  “Well, if the owners are running a business, I’d expect so.” Nicco grimaced and let out a deep breath.

  “A business built on the suffering of young women.” Ryan shook his head. “People kill me, but according to the Bible, the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”

  The bus arrived, and the youngsters filed inside with Angela and Nicco assigned to ride with them to Jai’s clinic. After a telephone conversation with the Sheikh, Hassan confirmed that a member of his family, Blair, a surgical nurse at the hospital, would assist with processing the children. Her aunt, the Sheikha, had arranged housing as the Sheikh promised.

  Caution kept the team onsite after they escorted the Toyota Coaster bus to the medical facility. Once the children were examined, the F 150 and the Land Cruiser sandwiched the bus to ensure all the passengers arrived safely at the shelter.

  Forty-five minutes later, the group separated, with Dro, Ryan, Bashir, and Rahm heading back to the center of Hanan. They left Bashir at his apartment building and arrived at the hotel a few minutes later. While discussing the day’s events, they boarded the elevator.

  Standing outside the lift on his floor, Dro held the door. “Enjoy the evening. The way things are hopping around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if we have to leave again in the middle of the night.”

  Ryan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s if Aziza can wake me. I’m dead on my feet.”

  “It goes with the territory.”

  “And we still have outstanding matters to clear up.”

  Dro released the door. “Yeah, like the scum at the warehouse and the bartender’s friend, among other things.”

  “I forgot about him.”

  Ryan frowned and stuck his foot in the opening as Dro released dry laughter, then said, “I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re only getting a taste of the mental anguish those women went through. They’ll be fine.”

  The doors of the elevator closed, and Ryan’s mind settled on Aziza. His heart pumped harder, and he smiled in anticipation at the thought of seeing her. If this was how coming home to her felt, he was all in. The exhaustion fell away, and his steps were light on his approach to the suite. Despite his gratefulness, they still had to discuss why she broke his trust.

  He was serious about people honoring their word. Life was simpler when one’s actions lined up with what was said. His parents’ marriage had dissolved because of his mother’s inability to believe in his father after he made the mistake of being unfaithful twice—with the same woman. His father eventually got his act straight, re-married, and was able to stay that way.

  In a frank conversation, Emory Bostwick admitted to Ryan, “Son, losing your mother is the biggest regret I have and disrespecting her was the stupidest mistake I ever made. Don’t let that be your lot in life. It was only after I lost Joyce that I realized she was my soul mate.”

  Their relationship changed Ryan’s mother. She was less open and more watchful. After the divorce, her first visit to Paradise Island had been for a vacation, and she chose the place because of the name. After the hell she had gone through in her marriage, she decided Paradise Island sounded heavenly.

  During a week on the island—separated from New Providence by two bridges across the Nassau Harbor—Joyce spent her mornings strolling the white sand beaches while the boys looked for seashells. In the afternoons, she gave them plenty of time to explore the extensive water park and the wide array of rides, some of which brought their hearts into their throats while they yelled with glee.

  Months after they returned to Jamaica, she discussed the possibility of moving to the Bahamas and told them she had a job waiting. Myles and Ryan talked about the idea, and chose to stay with her, while their father migrated to Evanston.

  Ryan was ten at the time, and Joyce stayed in the Bahamas and eventually beco
me a naturalized citizen. Her partner was a Bahamian man, and though their relationship was still in the present tense, she refused to marry again.

  Ryan learned some hard lessons from his parents’ breakup and avoided making those mistakes. One relationship at a time was how he’d handled his life up to now, and Aziza was enough woman for him. His mother first met her when they visited for dinner during Aziza’s vacation.

  While Aziza had gone to the bathroom later in the evening and her beau was at the other end of the verandah smoking a cigar, Joyce asked, “Son, is she the one?”

  He thought for only a second, before nodding. “Yes, I believe she is.”

  Joyce gripped his arm and stared into his eyes. “Love her hard and do whatever it takes to keep her happy. Although I’m over your father’s shenanigans, I want to remind you that if you love someone, you protect them with everything in you and you don’t disrespect your queen and the mother of your children.”

  The remembered pain that shadowed her eyes touched him deep inside and a memory pulled him into the past. After she threw his father out, he’d walked into their bedroom one night to find her sobbing with her face pressed into the pillow. At the time he didn’t know what to do, other than to climb into the bed with her and hug her until he fell asleep. They never spoke about that incident, but Ryan knew in his soul, he never wanted to hurt any woman the way his father had hurt his mother.

  As Aziza appeared in the doorway, he held out his hand to her. To his mother, he said, “You didn’t have to say a word, Mama. I remember … and I don’t want that kind of energy in my home.”

  She flipped her locs over her shoulders and picked up her glass of amaretto. “Good, or I would have to come and sort you out myself.”

  He chuckled and patted her hand, but they both knew he would stay true to his values.

  When Aziza sat, his mother said, “It’s been wonderful meeting you, my dear. I was telling Ryan that he should show you everything off the beaten path.”

  Aziza responded with a smile and touched his arm. “He’s been a great host. I’ve enjoyed everything so far and I hope he takes your advice.”

  His mind returned to his surroundings when a man stepped into the passage from a room.

  From his relaxed demeanor and colorful clothing, Ryan assumed he was a tourist. They exchanged a smile, and Ryan waited until he went past to slide the key card into the lock.

  He was totally focused on Aziza. If he was going to trust her with his whole heart, he had to be sure she would keep her words and promises to him, no matter how difficult the circumstances.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The suite was in semi-darkness when he entered. In the glow of the lamplight, Sunita was swaddled under several blankets on the sofa bed. He entered the bedroom where Aziza was snoozing while the television played softly in the background.

  He leaned over the bed, kissed the curve of her neck, then trailed his tongue over her skin.

  Aziza moaned, then rolled over to press her lips to his. As her lids lifted, she asked. “Did you find the girls? Were they all right?”

  He sat and unlaced his boots, while sharing some aspects of the visit to El Zalaam.

  “Poor kids,” she said, scooting across the mattress to sit next to him. “I hope things continue to get better for them.”

  “The Skeihh is a good man. I’m sure they’ll be all right. Eventually.”

  “That’s great.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “I haven’t had dinner. Want me to order room service?”

  He nodded. “Something light, like a club sandwich. I need to bathe first.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that in the meantime.”

  Stroking her cheek, he said, “Thanks, love. We’ll talk over dinner.”

  Aziza’s gaze shifted, as if that was the last thing she wanted, but she nodded.

  He took his time in the shower, running through the situations he’d encountered in the past few days. Durabia was a beautiful place, but danger lurked around the unsuspecting, as with many other places on earth. But he couldn’t picture himself anywhere else since Aziza was here.

  His return to the bedroom coincided with the arrival of the food. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt and padded into the living room where Aziza, who was dressed identically, met him in front of the sofa and slid both arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, inhaled deeply, then led him to the table where he drew out a chair for her. When she sat, he slid into the seat next to her.

  They ate their sandwiches in silence and drank fruit juice. Finally, Ryan laid his napkin on the table and placed one hand on top of Aziza’s. “It’s time for us to talk.”

  A half-smile lifted one side of her mouth while she piled their plates together and covered them. “Do we have to?”

  “Yes, we do. Let’s go to the bedroom where we won’t disturb Sunita.”

  Her sigh was heavy, but she allowed him to guide her into the room. They stood face to face next to the bed, studying each other in silence. Sliding both hands into his pockets, Ryan said, “You made a promise to me, so you heard when I said you were not to leave this suite. Where did you go?”

  Arms folded, she declared, “Sunita and I went to lunch.”

  “And?” Ryan raised both eyebrows. “Room service wasn’t good enough?”

  “That’s not it.” Aziza tipped her chin up as she slipped into defense mode. “I went to the personnel department.”

  “Why?”

  “They wanted to see me.” She pointed over her shoulder. “The HR Director called.”

  “I’m listening.” He didn’t touch her, but tilted his head to one side, waiting.

  Aziza’s shifting gaze revealed her discomfort. She knew she’d crossed a line. “I went to my apartment.”

  “Your apartment?” Ryan massaged his forehead and sighed. The woman he loved more than anything else had no sense of self-preservation. “I’m still waiting for the rest of it. You know … the part where Akbar chased you.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t leave, but—”

  He stepped into her space, forcing Aziza to back up. “If I knew all the ends of this case were tied up, I would have told you so. But since I didn’t, I trusted you to keep your word.”

  When he looked beyond her, Aziza turned to see what captured his attention.

  Sunita stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her worried gaze slid between them, as if she feared the two adults would come to blows.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Go back to bed, we’re just talking,” Aziza said, turning sideways. “We’ll keep our voices down.”

  While she spoke Aziza wore a reassuring smile, which fell away when Sunita moved out of range.

  Ryan rubbed his jaw, which was itchy. His beard needed tending. “After promising me you would stay here, you left without even a note to say you were going out. I’m definitely not okay with that. D’you know the places my mind went to when I came back and you weren’t here?” He waved one hand to encompass the space around them. “The only reason I didn’t start tearing this hotel apart was the fact that the room didn’t look as if someone dragged you out of it.”

  Aziza flinched, then murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  As his skin heated, he inhaled to calm himself. “I didn’t ask you to stay here because I wanted to restrict your movements. I wanted you here with me because I care about you.” He brushed past Aziza, walked to the sliding door, and stared into the darkness. The blackness of the sky would be nothing compared to what life would look like if she hadn’t survived. When he faced her and spoke, his voice was husky. “In case I haven’t made it plain to you, woman, I love the very ground you walk on. If anything happened to you, I do not know how I would make it without you.”

  As she approached him, he kept talking. “Dropping everything and coming halfway around the world to find you must be a clue to how I feel about you, Aziza Hampton.”

  She rested both hands on his chest, then slid them around his neck. A
fter kissing his chin softly, she said, “Forgive me?”

  He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah, when I’m done ranting at you.”

  With both hands, she pulled his head down and brushed his lips with hers, then rained soft kisses over his cheeks and jaw. “How about now?”

  “That’s unfair, but I suppose you know that.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Despite all of that, if you’ve made any plans, whatever they are, you need to change them.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The penitent expression that took over her face disappeared as Aziza’s head reared back.

  He took his time caressing her features with his gaze while his hands descended to her hips. “Seeing that I can’t trust you to be where you say you’re going to be, I need you where I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

  “And where might that be?” she asked, her tone cautious.

  “By my side, of course.” He pulled her in close, sank his teeth gently into her earlobe, then soothed it with a kiss. “Aziza Hampton, will you marry me?”

  She pushed against his chest and leaned away so she could see his face. “Are you serious?”

  Ryan sank one hand into her hair and nuzzled the skin behind her ear. “Why on earth would you think I’m joking at a time like this?”

  “Because it’s so unexpected?” She gasped, then moaned when the tip of his tongue stroked her skin.

  “I agree that life is full of surprises.” He pressed his lips to hers, claiming her mouth while he fused her body against his. He raised his head to stare into Aziza’s glazed eyes. Instead of giving in to his need, he forced his mind back to settling certain matters between them.

  “The one thing I learned after you left Paradise Island was that we should seize the moment.”

  “What do you mean, specifically?” Aziza asked.

  “I’ll show you in a minute.” He guided her to sit on the end of the mattress, then went to the closet where he opened the safe and removed the ring.

  Curiosity filled her eyes as he approached with his hands hidden behind him.