Blood of the Nile

by Blood of the Nile

  Maliyah plopped on the bed, stretching out over the cool, luxurious Egyptian cotton bedding. Her stiff muscles sank into the mattress, its cushiony softness relieving the tension in her body. The men’s preposterous behavior had set her nerves on edge. She’d had enough in one night to decimate her otherwise active libido and sour her tastes where the opposite sex was concerned.

  So far, her trip home hadn’t turned out as she’d expected. So much had gone awry. Mourning her father’s passing had evolved into a quasi murder investigation. Her childhood crush on Ramses Shakir had come back in full force too, knocking the wind out of her sails. But it was the sexist macho bravado of the men in her life, including her cousin Husani, which had truly done her in. Chauvinism wasn’t something she’d remembered from her childhood pilgrimage to Egypt. It came as a bit of a shock to Maliyah’s civilized American sensibilities.

  As Maliyah slipped out of her halter dress into her pajamas, she heard a slight knock at the door. A moment later, Anat crossed the threshold, carrying a tray of scones and a steeping pot of tea. She set the tray down on the end table and turned her attention to Maliyah.

  “I thought you could use some chamomile tea to help you sleep. Husani told me you were still suffering from jet lag.” The old woman’s warm, genuine smile helped soothe Maliyah’s foul mood.

  She sighed, then took a seat in the chair next to the bed and accepted the teacup from the maid’s wrinkled hand.

  “Thank you, Anat.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

  “Not so good,” Maliyah admitted, taking a sip of her tea. “I feel a bit out of sorts.”

  “That’s understandable. You’re still grieving.”

  Maliyah cocked her head to the side and stared, wondering whether or not she could confide in Anat. Ramses and Husani didn’t seem to trust anyone. But Maliyah’s gut told her that she could rely on the maid for discretion. If nothing else, the old woman had insight into her father’s final days.

  “Grieving is the least of my worries. Someone shot at me tonight as we were leaving the restaurant,” Maliyah confessed, rubbing her suddenly pounding temples. “Do you know if my father had enemies? Someone who may have wanted to hurt him or our family?”

  Anat shook her head, then stood to move to the foot of the bed and turn down the sheets. Her fingers trembled as she fidgeted with the thin cotton material. “Anwar was a well-respected man. He didn’t have any adversaries that I’m aware of,” she replied, her focus still on her work.

  “You’ve spent years in this house. If anyone would have observed anything suspicious, it would have been you,” Maliyah sighed as she settled down under the covers. Using two pillows, she propped herself up against the headboard and took another sip of tea.

  Anat came around again to the side of the bed and placed a gentle kiss to Maliyah’s forehead. “Get some rest, my dear. You’ve had a rough day.”

  ***

  Ramses stood on the balcony that connected his suite to Maliyah’s. His biceps bulged as his fingers gripped the iron rails. Fireflies flickered past, yet the rest of the sky remained bleak, shrouded in darkness. This time, the blinds in Maliyah’s room had been drawn shut, and even with his enhanced vision, he couldn’t see much. However, Ramses’ keen sense of hearing picked up on the sound of her deep, even breathing. She had no doubt fallen fast asleep after the traumatic events they’d experienced earlier in the night.

  Ramses’ pale fingers squeezed the balcony’s filigreed edge. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. On the outside, he tried to remain calm. Inside, he seethed with a deadly mixture of anger and frustration. Yet, all Ramses could do was watch and wait for their enemy to spring from the proverbial shadows. Maliyah was right. He was nothing more than a guard dog and she, the bait. Ramses hated putting Anwar’s daughter in danger, but unfortunately, that seemed like their best bet if they wanted to call the killer’s bluff.

  If anything happens to Maliyah, I swear, the person responsible will pay with his life. I’ll rip the coward’s jugular out with my teeth.

  Ramses kept his eyes trained on the French doors at the entrance to Maliyah’s suite. Soon, he noticed that a dim light had been turned on. Through the window coverings, he saw her silhouette move across the floor. Then a few minutes later, he heard the trickle of water. Maliyah must have gotten up to use the bathroom. An overindulgence of wine at dinner was the most likely culprit.

  Glancing at the time on his cell phone every now and then, Ramses realized that almost half an hour had passed, and Maliyah hadn’t returned to her bed.

  In a panic, Ramses rushed to the double doors and turned the knob to try and gain access to the room. To his dismay, the lock wouldn’t budge. With his broad shoulder, he rammed into the wood frame, sending wood splinters into the air as the door came off of its hinges. He’d rather pay for a new door than sacrifice Maliyah’s safety.

  He flew into the suite and saw light stream into the surrounding area from the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. Ramses pushed it open, and found Maliyah on her knees, her head resting against the toilet bowl. She was wavering in and out of consciousness. Dark circles marred her bloodshot eyes. Her skin appeared yellow, almost jaundiced. The stench of vomit wafted past Ramses’ sensitive nose, causing bile to rise up in his throat. Holding his breath, he hefted Maliyah’s frail body into his arms and laid her on top of the bed. Then, he sprinted down the hall and pounded on both Salma and Husani’s doors.

  “Wake up. Something’s wrong with Maliyah. We need to get her to a hospital,” Ramses shouted, pacing the halls impatiently as they hurried to dress. When they finally stepped into the hall, he barked orders at them like a drill sergeant. “Husani, make sure the limo is ready to go. And Salma, help Maliyah put on some clothes. I found her in her undergarments throwing up in the bathroom.”

  Within a few minutes time, Maliyah was dressed in a soft velour warm-up suit the color of moss. Her head rested in the crook of Ramses’ arm. He touched her forehead gently. She was drenched in sweat and her temperature had skyrocketed, making her shiver and her teeth chatter.

  Dear God, let her be okay.

  Chapter Seven

  The Murder Plot

  When the doctor entered the room, Maliyah’s cousins sat perched on the edge of the hospital bed, one on each side of her. Her hands were riddled with wires to monitor her oxygen levels and to keep intravenous fluids flowing through her veins. She turned toward the door, surprised to see Ramses sitting in a chair in the corner. With his head in his hands, he rubbed his fingers over his five o’clock shadow. He looked tired. Frazzled.

  It was close to four in the morning by the time Maliyah had settled into her private hospital room. She’d spent the last several hours in the emergency room, a tube shoved down her throat to pump the vile, gut-wrenching contents out of her stomach. The tube had been removed, but she still felt a bit queasy.

  "Hello, Miss Aziz. I’m Dr. Zaki. How are you feeling?” the physician asked, his expression blank.

  “A little better, thanks. What’s the verdict?”

  The doctor flipped through the stack of paperwork on his clipboard, then looked back at Maliyah and frowned. “It looks as if you’ve been poisoned. We found traces of abrin, a toxin derived from the seed of a rosary pea plant. The initial symptoms include vomiting and diarrhea. However, it can lead to death if left untreated. Luckily, we caught it early and your chances of a full recovery are very good.”

  “Poisoned?” Husani asked, scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion. “How is that possible? How could it have been administered without Maliyah knowing?”

  “More than likely, it was mixed in with something your cousin ate or drank. It had to have been ingested within a couple of hours from the time she arrived at the hospital. Otherwise, more severe symptoms would have presented themselves by now.” The doctor turned his attention to Maliyah. “May I examine you?” Once Maliyah agreed, he performed a thorough inspection. He c
hecked her vital signs and used a stethoscope to listen to her heart. Then, he cocked his head sideways as if sizing her up.

  “Am I cleared to go home?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Not yet,” Dr. Zaki said with a shake of his head. “I’d like to keep you here overnight. Just for observational purposes. If all goes well, you’ll be released tomorrow afternoon.”

  As soon as the doctor left the room, Ramses was up out of his seat. He moved to the side of the bed and glared at Maliyah, then at Husani. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for her to go home? She was poisoned and we don’t even know who’s responsible. Whoever it was has access to your house. We need to find somewhere secluded where she can hide out.”

  Husani let out a beleaguered sigh. He stood and paced the room, his fingers massaging the muscles at the back of his neck. “I agree. We need a game plan. Without one, Maliyah’s a sitting duck. Any suggestions?”

  “Stop it! You two are talking about me like I don’t exist. I’m right here.”

  “Sorry, habibti,” Ramses smiled, using the term of endearment as he playfully mussed his hand through her hair. “But you’ve already proven that you have no clue how to cover your ass. And I mean that in every sense of the word.”

  ***

  Shortly before dawn, Ramses and Salma hopped into the limousine and rode back to Anwar’s house. Husani had agreed to stay with Maliyah at the hospital. The sun had just begun to rise from the East when they pulled up in front of the iron gates. Ramses was exhausted. Sleep beckoned, but there were too many details to work out to let himself nod off. Once in his suite, he turned on a laptop, and scoured his business contacts in order to come up with a list of possible suspects. Who had the most to gain if Anwar and his daughter were out of the picture?

  Maliyah’s father harbored few enemies. He did, however, have a couple of well-known business competitors, men who made millions by globetrotting around the world hawking their wares. Crude minerals. Textiles. Ceramics and other household goods. Surely, Anwar’s death and the liquidation of his financial assets would make it easier for them to peddle their products and increase profits.

  In fact, one of his biggest rivals also happened to be one of his closest friends. Ramses had introduced his business associate to Aristotle Kristopolous, a powerful vampire in his own right, shortly after they’d forged a partnership. Aristotle ran AK Oil International, a conglomerate of businesses with hubs in both Athens and New York City. While his main source of income came from oil production, he also dabbled in the import/export industry. With Anwar out of the picture, Kristopolous could most certainly find financial gain. Fortunately, the two men were tight and had always found a way to separate business from friendship. Although in recent years, the vampire’s health had began to fail and his son, Andreas, had taken the helm. Was it possible that Anwar’s business relationship with the Kristopolous family had turned sour? Maybe, but highly unlikely.

  In addition to his business rivals, the only people who could profit from the demise of Anwar’s heir were those with a direct tie to the family bloodline. Common sense told him that Maliyah’s cousins were his main suspects. Yet, after seeing how Salma and Husani doted on Maliyah and her father over the years like a couple of lions caring for a newborn cub, he couldn’t quite swallow that logic. No way in hell would they turn on their own kind.

  Ramses’ gaze went cross-eyed as he stared at the same words on the computer screen for the umpteenth time. His eyelids started to flutter. His limbs went limp. Without warning, he slumped over in the chair. He lowered his head, resting his forehead on the edge of the keyboard. His body had shut down, at the mercy of his nocturnal proclivities. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, it was a losing battle and sleep soon prevailed.

  Ramses didn’t know how long he’d been knocked out, but he awoke with a start. He heard someone pound on the door, shouting his name. Taking note of the digital clock on the nightstand, he realized that it was approaching two o’clock in the afternoon. Holy shit! He’d been out for hours. He sprang from his seat, bolted to the door and flung it open.

  “Ramses, wake up. It’s Anat. She’s gone,” Salma cried as he opened the door. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he tried to shake free of the foggy haze that lingered due to lack of sleep.

  “What do you mean? Where is she?”

  “I have no idea. I went to her room to check on her and she wasn’t there. Most of her belongings are gone too,” Salma said, her features etched with worry lines.

  At hearing her words, Ramses’ heart sank in his chest. A nagging feeling slithered down his spine. Perspiration formed on his furrowed brow. Why would the housemaid flee without warning? Something must have perpetuated her sudden departure. Could she have had a hand in Maliyah’s poisoning?

  “Have you tried calling her cell?”

  “Yes,” Salma nodded in the affirmative. “She won’t pick up.”

  “Give me Anat’s cell phone number. I’ll have someone pull up her phone records and put out a trace.”

  Ramses took a quick shower and got dressed. He slid into a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved cotton dress shirt. A dark grey turban shielded his face to protect him from the heat of the scorching sun. Time ticked away and no matter how much he hated venturing outside during daylight, Maliyah’s safety took precedence over the slight discomfort he’d experience. Besides, as long as he kept most of his body covered, any surface burns he suffered would heal in a matter of minutes.

  On their way to the hospital, the private investigator Ramses employed called back with information on Anat. The maid had received several dispatches from a phone number based out of Aswan, a bustling city located on the Eastern tip of the Nile River, approximately six hundred and eighty kilometers from Cairo.

  Ramses wanted to keep Maliyah out of harm’s way, but deep down he knew she was the only person who could draw out their enemy. His gut told him that Anat was nothing more than a pawn at the mercy of the true killer. Once he had him in his sights, Ramses would stash Maliyah away somewhere safe and put the bastard out of his misery. He planned to take him apart piece by bloody piece, sucking him dry until there was nothing left but bare bone and rotting flesh. Hopefully, Anat would lead them to Anwar’s murderer. If not, Maliyah would end up looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. That was no way to live.

  Chapter Eight

  The Love Train

  “Not a chance in hell. I won’t allow Maliyah to traipse halfway across the country on a passenger train with a virtual stranger. I simply don’t trust you to be alone with her,” Husani shouted, his face only inches from Ramses. Her cousin rammed his index finger into the other man’s chest in an attempt at intimidation.

  Husani was obligated to react the way he did. Egyptian culture demanded it. Nonetheless, Ramses countered the threat with a ferocious growl. The bloodcurdling sound immediately drew Maliyah’s attention. She watched him squint, his dark, menacing eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights in the hospital room. Their intense hue ignited, and transformed into a fiery red conflagration. He looked feral. Primed to strike. Maliyah had never seen anything like it in her life. She had to stop the standoff before someone got hurt.

  “Calm down, gentleman. I’m tired of you two barbarians ordering me around like a harem girl,” Maliyah said, stepping between the men to force them apart. Salma stood behind her, ready to serve as backup in case her cousin needed it. “I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions and I choose to search out the truth. Finding my father’s killer is something I have to do.”

  Ramses crossed his arms over his muscular chest. He winked, then shot Maliyah a devilish grin, clearly amused by her show of defiance. Damn if the man didn’t look sexy as sin. Sure, she hated the idea of having to put up with his high-handed tyranny for the next twelve hours on the way to Aswan. Although being cooped up in the cramped quarters of a train compartment with Ramses might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

  “I promise. I’ll keep my hands t
o myself,” Ramses said, holding up his palms in surrender as his eyes shifted back to their original deep obsidian shade. His anger had no doubt been reined in.

  “I’m not necessarily worried about your hands.” Husani shook his head fervently, then shoved open the door of Maliyah’s hospital room and left without a second glance.

  Salma rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion as if she were annoyed. “Pay no mind to Husani,” she said, waving her hand dismissively through the air. “I don’t think he’s had female companionship in quite some time. He’s a bit testy.”

  The three of them shared a laugh then, in what appeared to be a casual gesture, Ramses wrapped his arm around Maliyah’s shoulder and nudged her to the door. “Come on, let’s go. Salma packed a bag with everything you could possibly need. Our train departs in a little over an hour.”

  As they left the hospital, the brutal desert sand whirled past her still fragile frame, nearly causing her to topple over under the strength of the Sahara winds. Lucky for Maliyah, Ramses’ firm grip held her upright, nestled against his rock-hard abs. Once she’d gotten her bearings, he helped her into the limousine, then instructed the driver to head in the direction of the train station.

  Following an emotional farewell, Maliyah released Salma from her embrace. However, a sudden reluctance to board the bullet train with Ramses nagged at her. Was she nervous about being alone with him? She thought about turning around and hailing a cab back to her father’s house. But that would solve nothing. It wouldn’t help unravel the mystery of Anwar’s death. And it sure as hell wouldn’t ease the ache between her legs that she suspected only Ramses could satisfy. With that realization, Maliyah shook off any lingering insecurities and hoisted her Louis Vuitton duffle bag over her shoulder, then accompanied Ramses into the second to last rail car. Once inside, he took out a plastic key card and inserted it into the slot at the entrance to a private berth.