Sheik Defense

by Ryshia Kennie

  The next time she came to, she could see that the sun was higher in the sky. It was behind her and she guessed that she might be heading west. She had no idea what that might mean about where she would end up. Or if she would end up anywhere except maybe at the bottom of the ocean.

  Fear threatened to overwhelm her even as her gut knotted along with her fists. Her head spun and she had to fight not to black out again. She needed to think and yet she was fighting not to lose consciousness again. She needed to get help not just for her but for her father. He needed her. He was alone.

  That thought collided with another. Was her father alive? She’d heard the gunshot as the life raft had slipped away from the yacht, carried by the ocean current. There had been silence after that as she’d drifted farther away.

  The gunshot had echoed long after the actual event. The haunting reminder was like an omen. She could die out here and her father could already be dead. Those scenarios were ones she couldn’t, wouldn’t consider. Not anymore. She refused to think of him as anything but alive—just as she was determined to reach land, one way or another.

  She took a deep breath and again she fought to sit up. The life raft rocked, threatening what stability it had as water sloshed in the bottom. She wasn’t sure how it had taken on water unless it had been in those first moments as it had gone from the yacht to sea. The sea had been rough. It hadn’t calmed much since then. It was cloudy and the breeze was picking up, only a bit of sun peeked through the otherwise dreary sky.

  She had nothing. She looked down. She was virtually naked. The skimpy sleeping outfit had been a bad choice. Fortunately, her father had thrown his jacket over her. Who would have known that a trip that had begun as a lark would end like this?

  It wouldn’t end.

  Determination shot through her chilled body. She had too much to do with her life. She had a new career that had yet to begin. Again she repeated that promise to herself and to her father. They would live. He would live. They had to.

  Something cold pressed against her hip. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties and pulled out her father’s phone. She’d forgotten it was there.

  Her heart stopped. She remembered that he’d handed it to her. It was a miracle that it had not dropped to the bottom of the dinghy, into the water that was gathering there.

  She held it, the memory of her father handing it to her clear in her mind.

  “Call Faisal.”

  She knew, as did her father, that if anyone could help them, it was Faisal. He headed the powerhouse investigative company run by his family, Nassar Security. At least he was in charge of their Wyoming branch.

  The phone slipped in her damp hands.

  * * *

  “SHEIK FAISAL,” SHE MURMURED. It was an odd thing to say, to even think. But in the chaos and panic of what had happened, she vaguely remembered what now seemed like so long ago. It had been her senior year of college when she’d first met Faisal. He’d transferred in for that last year. He’d been two years older but she’d been two years ahead of her grade. She’d skipped through grade school in six years instead of eight and skipped kindergarten altogether. Although, the latter didn’t count, she’d been the standard age when she’d entered first grade. Odd memories drifted through her mind. Just the mention of his name brought everything back. She couldn’t move, could only fight to remain conscious and all the while she remembered. She’d teased him about his title of Sheik, and he’d hated having it mentioned. It was strange the places her mind wanted to go when there was so little time. Consciousness could slip away as easily as it had returned.

  She gripped the phone with the desperation of the survivor she now was. The phone and a man who had once been a friend, who she had once hoped would be more than just friend, were now her only hope.

  The sun beamed down through a break in the clouds and instead of offering hope it only reminded her of the passage of time. It was a reminder that her and her father’s chances of survival decreased with every moment that passed.

  She swallowed heavily—the world was graying and beginning to spin. She shut her eyes, focusing on one thing, on remaining conscious at least long enough to get help, to contact someone, to...

  Everything blanked out.

  She didn’t know for how long or what had happened in the time between awareness and when she opened her eyes again. Like before, all she could see was the ocean. She was in the middle of nowhere and drifting to who knew where. If she thought about it too much she might fall into the abyss and succumb to panic. Her hand slid on the slick bottom of the dingy where water was pooling and was now a quarter inch deep. She could sink if this continued. She took a deep breath. She had to remain calm.

  She looked at the phone. It was still in her hand. Had it been there all along? How long had she been out this time? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that no more time passed before she called. She pushed a button and the phone’s screen lit up.

  “Thank goodness,” she said in a whisper with what seemed the last bit of strength she had. The wind pushed the struggling life raft in a half circle. As the raft shifted direction, she shivered. She didn’t know how long she could stay afloat or where she was. She was dizzy, fighting to stay awake. She had to do this. She clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline, and in a way it was.

  She looked at the screen, squinting as her vision blurred. Everything seemed to spin and then stop.

  “No,” she whispered. She couldn’t afford to pass out, not before she made this call. Her stomach clenched and her hands shook harder at what was in front of her. But there was no changing the fact that the battery icon was red. Her hand shook harder. She needed to phone now, while there was still some power left. Instead she fainted.

  When she came to, the phone was in her lap. She remembered the battery life as if that frightening fact had been etched in her mind. Hopefully there was some juice left and it wasn’t too late. She knew this was her only chance. Without the phone, without this call and a connection there was nothing. Nothing but a hunk of rubber slowly taking on water stood between her and... She couldn’t think of it. She had to remain positive. She had to get hold of Faisal. Her father’s voice telling her to do that wouldn’t leave her head. He’d suggested no one else, just Faisal.

  She couldn’t focus, yet she desperately wanted this horror to end. Despite that or because of it, she remembered another time, another place. Faisal. She’d been on the cusp of adulthood and he’d been her everything for such a short time. Now, again he was her everything but in such a different way. He was all that stood between her and death, between her father and death. This time she was counting on him like she never had before.

  She took in a shaky breath, pushed herself gingerly up and opened the contacts. She hit Faisal’s number and the screen went black. The battery had run out along with every chance she’d ever had.

  Her world started to spin. She tried to force herself to keep conscious and she couldn’t. She slumped sideways as she blacked out. Her last thought was that she was on her own and she didn’t stand a chance. But then the phone hiccupped back to life.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday, June 11—9:00 a.m.

  It had been more than eight hours since the US Coast Guard had received the call from the missing yacht. And despite the time that had passed, they couldn’t pinpoint where the yacht was. They assumed that the vessel’s AIS, Automatic Identification System, a standardized system that would provide the identity, type, position, course, speed, navigational status and other safety-related facts about the vessel, was compromised. Whether that was due to criminal intent or was accidental was yet to be determined.

  Faisal had checked the coordinates between Paradise Island and the continental United States. So much could affect the outcome. If it was foul play, that would change everythin
g. If they were suffering engine failure, it could again change everything. And if they were moving under their own steam—doubtful—again, it changed everything. But with nothing to go on, they had to start somewhere.

  He glanced over at Craig Vale, the only one of the Nassar team to make this trip with him. Craig was heading north after this to New York to meet up with other members of the tech team. But in the meantime, it was nice to have a researcher on the case. That so rarely happened. They were usually a distant voice via a phone or computer connection.

  Faisal shifted his thoughts, focusing on what was ahead. He didn’t like any of it. He was flying into a no-win situation. Yet, despite that, this was what he did and what he thrived on. He might not like it but his adrenaline was kicking in. The personal connection would no longer be at the forefront. In order for this mission to be successful he had to lead with his head, not his heart. It was no different than when his sister, Tara, had been kidnapped. He’d let his oldest brother lead the charge and he’d done the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He’d stayed here, managing their business thousands of miles away from that heartache. In the end, that decision had been the right one. Tara was home and safe.

  He dropped the thoughts from his mind. Now, his mind was solely on this case. Rehashing probabilities and possibilities would get him nowhere. In a way, taking the thoughts from his mind, focusing on what was important, was like meditation, which was something he utilized at the beginning of every case. It was a practice he shared with his oldest brother, Emir, and Emir’s wife, Kate, who had introduced him to it. It was something his whole family now practiced. It had made both their business and their family stronger and tighter as a result.

  Thoughts of meditation fled as his phone beeped. It was only a notification that they were minutes from landing. He looked out the window of the private jet. Traveling by private jet was one of the many perks that came from wealth. It was also one of many he didn’t give much consideration to. If asked, he would have admitted that he was privileged, lucky in the manner of his birth. It wasn’t something he ever discussed or thought about. It was a fact that had always been. That part of his life, his family’s inherited wealth and status, had been unchanging. He’d been born into wealth that had accrued over generations. It was what he’d always known. But it was this part, Nassar Security and his position as head of the Wyoming branch, that allowed him to play out his dreams of adventure. He couldn’t imagine that anyone had a better life and there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t grateful.

  Today was different. Today he faced a tragedy that could touch every member of his family. His phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. He froze and his heart leaped despite his training, which usually allowed him to maintain a cool facade. He held the phone for a split second for Craig to see. It wasn’t a number he recognized. What unknown caller would phone now? He didn’t believe in coincidence and yet he answered, praying to hear Dan’s or Ava’s voice.

  Silence and something else. There was a sound that was as recognizable as it was disturbing. It was the sound of waves lapping against a dock or the bow of a boat.

  Craig nodded, his blond ponytail bobbing where it skimmed over his collar. His nod confirmed the suspicion they had both had. His full pouty lips seemed at odds with a strong jaw. It was as if nature hadn’t been sure if it was creating a tough guy or pretty boy. Either way, these conflicting traits belied his thirty-five years and made him look more like twenty.

  They both held their breath, hoping the connection would hold, that they could get a trace.

  “Hello,” he repeated. “Dan?” There was nothing, only silence. The only surety they had was Craig’s confirmation that this was Dan’s number, but was it Dan? What were the odds that the search would begin on a lucky note? On finding a survivor before they’d even landed?

  “Who are you? Tell me.” He kept talking, hoping to keep the connection going.

  He could hear something that sounded like the crash of a wave. It was different from the first one. This time it was rather like when one wave rolls down into another that is just building to a crest. It was a sound he was familiar with having spent time on a yacht with his family as a child.

  He listened closely. He barely dared to breathe, as if even that might drown out other sounds, other clues. He heard what sounded like a soft breath. It wasn’t much but what he’d heard sounded feminine. Feminine and indistinguishable.

  The sound of water, the pattern of waves and the call of a seagull. Then there was nothing, only silence.

  “Hello.” He wasn’t willing to give up. “Ava? Dan?” He didn’t know if it was either of them. He was only taking a chance and betting on the odds against the fact that it could be anyone else. There’d been two people registered as leaving the dock in that boat.

  He glanced at his watch and then over at Craig. As if to confirm his faith in him, Craig nodded and gave a thumbs-up less than a minute after the connection broke.

  “I have the coordinates,” Craig said.

  Forty minutes later they landed. He left Craig to his own devices as he transferred to a sea rescue helicopter.

  “I’d say it was good to see you, but unfortunately I can’t—the circumstances suck,” the pilot, Jer Keller, said. They’d flown together on a number of rescues. Jer was the same age as Faisal. He had married young and already had twin toddlers with his childhood sweetheart. But despite the differences in their home life, they both shared a passion for this. If Nassar Security hadn’t existed, Faisal would have chosen a career in sea rescue. Getting the opportunity to be involved, as rare as it was, was usually a thrill. Not this time.

  “At least we have hope that someone lived.” He shook his head. Somehow the way he had pronounced those words sounded grim.

  Sam Sanders, a blond man in his midforties, came up to them and shook each of their hands. He was an early retiree from the Coast Guard, an experienced member of Search and Rescue who had helped out as winchman in previous rescues.

  “Sam,” Faisal said and clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Wish we met under better circumstances.”

  Sam nodded in his quiet, rather stoic way. “Hopefully we’ll be successful and you’ll have use of me.” It was pretty much the last thing he said for the duration of the flight.

  They’d been in the air for five minutes when Faisal moved to the back where the side doors were open.

  “Better view or just being hopeful?” Jer asked through his mic.

  “Both,” he said. There was no way to predict how this was going to turn out despite his hopes. All he knew was that there was a storm brewing. Already the air seemed heavier, more humid. It was the intensity of the feeling, not the humidity, that reminded him of home, of Marrakech. But it had been a long time since he’d been home for anything more than a short visit. Wyoming was home now and humidity wasn’t an issue. Not like here. He could feel the air, thick and difficult to breath. He loved the feel of open spaces, the small population, the sweeping plains and the blessed winter. The congestion of a city like Miami or the one of his birth, Marrakech, overwhelmed his senses. He’d known that since he was a boy. It was the reason why, for almost the last decade, he’d lived in Wyoming. It was a vast state with a sparse population that fit his personality like nothing else. He loved the town of Jackson. It was small, a good place to dig in one’s heels. He could never imagine going back. Big cities were fun in the moment but anything more than a day or two and he was antsy. Unfortunately he was here in Miami for as long as it took to solve this case.

  They’d been flying for well over an hour. Jer and he had caught up on where each of them were in their lives. For five minutes they flew in silence.

  “Do you see it?” Jer asked.

  “I do.” He was hanging half out of the chopper. Ahead of them and slightly less than fifty miles off the coast of Paradise Island was a speck that didn’t fi
t. A minute later and it was clear that it was a small dark gray dinghy.

  “Bang on, Craig,” he said as if the tech was actually present. His coordinates had been near perfect, for the craft was only a mile away from where his tech had tracked it. It was barely visible as it rose and fell in waves that were growing larger with every minute.

  “Raft,” Jer said unnecessarily as he read off the coordinates. “We may have us a survivor.”

  The helicopter buzzed closer and it was hard to tell who or what they might be faced with. Faisal could only hope that there were at least two people in that life raft, the right two people—Dan and Ava Adams.

  Tension mixed with excitement settled within the confines of the helicopter. The odds that this could be anyone else, considering even what little they knew, were remote.

  “It’s loaded,” Jer said as he dipped the helicopter and lost altitude.

  His gaze swept the area while never letting the life raft leave his sight. Dan and Ava had to be alive. He refused to accept another scenario. He looked at his watch as he estimated the hours they might have been in the water.

  Faisal got into position to be dropped down. The flight suit he’d donned an hour earlier seemed both familiar and restrictive. He should have a wetsuit but he hadn’t thought of that. Emotion had blinded him. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and let the adrenaline fire him up as it always did.

  “One occupant,” Faisal muttered a few minutes later as he slipped the harness on and prepared to be dropped. His heart sank. That meant that one of them might not have made it.

  He wasn’t going to assume anything. This could be Ava Adams or Dan Adams or it could even be someone else who had been on that yacht, someone he wasn’t aware of. For now, he was focused on rescue, nothing more.

  Whoever was in the raft hadn’t moved. And it was impossible to tell from this distance if they were alive or dead.

  Chapter Four