Sheik Defense

by Ryshia Kennie

  His thoughts were totally selfish. She’d been through hell and he was expecting her to react to his presence like she had a long time ago. That was the past. He needed to forget about what they had been, who they had been and deal with the now, the present. He was being insensitive, as his sister, Tara, would accuse him. But she was the member of the family who kept everyone in line. The only girl, she was his closest sibling and the family’s heart.

  “Where’s my father?” Ava whispered, breaking into his thoughts and reminding him that he wasn’t the only one with family. Her family was missing.

  Where was Dan Adams? It was the question that brought him back to reality, back to what was important. It was the question that was the crux of this case. Her words reminded him that there were more important things that needed addressing than old feelings between the two of them. He couldn’t believe he’d even allowed those thoughts any purchase at a time like this. Did she know he was missing? How could she?

  “You were the last person who saw him.” He wanted to add the word alive. It was on the tip of his tongue but its shock value would do neither of them any good. “Is there anything you remember? Anything that might help us locate him?”

  “Is he alright?” She struggled to sit up. The look on her face was pained.

  He regretted bringing that look of pain to her. She’d had enough trauma and now he’d only added more.

  “I don’t remember,” she said as she fell back onto the bed. She shook her head. “I can’t remember.” She clenched the sheet and again struggled to sit up.

  “No.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest. You’ve had a trauma, a shock. You were unconscious, you...”

  “My father,” she bit out. “We have to find him before he kills him.”

  Shock at her words rippled through him. She’d said the words earlier when they’d first rescued her. Somehow then they were less shocking, more easily placed into the context of her situation—perhaps even a hallucination. He could hear the fear in her voice.

  Faisal frowned. “Who wants to kill whom?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t remember. I just know that when he finds him...” The words trailed off as though she’d lost the energy to continue. She bit her lip, chewing on it before relaxing, but her eyes narrowed. It was clear that she believed every word she had said. “He’s going to kill him.”

  She shook her head. Tears glistened and threatened to spill over.

  She looked away, her hand clutching the bed rail and her heart monitor sped up.

  “Ava?”

  He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to make all of this go away and he could do neither of those things. He thought of the man with no name who had joined Dan Adams and Ava that fateful night. Who was he? Was he a threat to Dan? To Ava? Was it possible that he had something to do with the yacht going missing? There were too many possibilities that only seemed to increase every time he went through the questions. He hated to do this to her but she had been there. She knew. If she could only remember. “What happened, Ava?”

  She looked at him, really looked at him, like she had in the past. Like she had when they’d danced together and laughed like friends and, he’d never admitted it to himself or to her but, he’d wanted so much more. That was half a decade ago—a lifetime. She shook her head and closed her eyes.

  She was fading.

  He ran a finger along her forehead, brushing back her dark hair. Her skin was damp. There were dark shadows beneath her closed eyes. She needed rest and she didn’t need him haranguing her for answers. He was afraid to leave her alone and yet afraid to not be part of the search. He knew from the physician’s report that she slept in short spurts and was awake at odd hours through the day. He sat with her the remainder of the night and she seemed to settle down as she slept through the night. This time it was he who slept off and on, watching her every moment he was awake.

  He’d been on the go almost twenty-four hours, watching her, keeping her safe while he catnapped—this was his break.

  In the early hours of the morning, he reluctantly decided to start his day. The hospital was beginning to come to life. He stopped at the nurses’ station on the way out. There he was told that Ava had another lineup of tests that day. He knew she was in good hands at the moment. The search for her father was more in need of his efforts. Ava was safe. Her father was not. So he went out with one of the volunteer pilots that morning and through the afternoon. They searched an area the Coast Guard considered important. But bad weather, the yacht’s failed equipment or the chance that the vessel had drifted far away from shipping lines could keep the craft off the radar. Despite the efforts of the United States Coast Guard, the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association and numerous other volunteers, there was still no sign of the missing yacht.

  * * *

  DAN ADAMS HAD been in and out of consciousness. There was one constant. Always the wet, hard surface pressed against his face. Sometimes the screech of a bird but more often the slap of waves against the bow awoke him. This time when he woke up the pain in his head and the light were blinding. He knew who he was but he wasn’t sure where he was. That aside, he could only think of one person, his daughter, Ava. He remembered getting her in the raft. He remembered it swinging clear of the yacht. He even remembered it hitting the water. It was the gunshot that had thrown him backward. Now, his shoulder ached but the bleeding had stopped. He’d been grazed. When the bullet had hit him, he’d been thrown into the water. After the initial impact, he had struggled and trod water before he’d finally managed to pull himself up and onto the yacht by sheer will. He wasn’t going to die, not with Ben still alive, a threat to his daughter. He remembered nothing after those traumatic moments.

  Now, his mind was filled with worry for Ava. Was she alright? Had Ben gotten her too? For it was clear in his short periods of wakefulness that Ben had left him for dead, dead and adrift at sea. He wasn’t sure but he didn’t think that there was anyone else on the yacht.

  “Av...” What should have been his daughter’s name came out no more than a choked cough. It was strange, for one moment he knew she wasn’t there and the next moment he thought she was, or maybe he just hoped. He couldn’t speak, he could barely breathe and he was fighting to live. He turned on his side and coughed. Blood mixed with spit and sea water ran in a faded stream down the deck. He tried to sit up but his head spun and his ribs ached so badly he thought he would vomit again. He imagined his ribs were broken. It wasn’t an improbable thought, for every breath was too painful to contemplate. Moving was impossible, he could barely tolerate the simple act of breathing. His head felt like it had been split open and as he slowly dragged his hand out from under his body and felt the side of his head, he could feel something warm trickling down his face. Blood.

  His thoughts were cloudy and he shivered. The breeze off the ocean was cool and it seemed to chill his already damp skin. He tried to get to his feet once but his legs shook so hard that he lost his balance and crashed to the deck. But he’d been on his feet long enough to see that at least on the deck, he was alone, and around him there was nothing—only water.

  Hours passed or it might have only been minutes.

  He didn’t know where he was or how long he’d been there.

  Finally, he pulled himself off the deck, supporting himself on one knee, both legs too shaky to stand up completely. It had been hours, days even since he’d eaten or had any water. He needed to hydrate at the least so that he could live, for if he didn’t Ben would kill Ava. If he hadn’t already.

  He reached for his phone.

  Gone.

  He remembered leaving it with Ava.

  A feeling of dread snaked down his spine. He could only hope that Ava had contacted Faisal Al-Nassar. That hope was all that now stood between them and death.

  Chapter Nine
/>
  Sunday, June 12—8:00 a.m.

  Faisal strode toward Ava’s hospital bed. He was relieved to see that, as the physician had just assured him, she was much better than the day before. Last night, when he’d sat with her, he’d been unable to tell anything of her alertness or change in status, for she’d slept through the night. His being there now seemed like it may have been more for him than her. He’d needed to know she was alright.

  Now it was clearly different. She was awake and he could see that some of the vibrancy he remembered had returned. Her eyes had life to them and there was color in her cheeks. He smiled back at Ava as she gave him a smile of recognition. It was a relief to see her conscious and what appeared to be coherent. He came forward with long strides and took her free hand between both of his.

  Her dark hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Her eyes shone with welcome despite the pallor of her skin and the beeping of machines that surrounded her.

  “You’re looking better than I expected,” Faisal said. He let go of her hand and took a step back, not wanting to overwhelm her. At the same time, he realized that what he’d just said was slightly, if not completely, insulting. It wasn’t what he had meant to say, not at all. But considering the circumstances he thought he might be forgiven. After all, he had saved her life. Unfortunately, he’d yet to save her father’s. They weren’t even sure that there was anything to save. That thought took any levity he might have felt at seeing Ava better completely away. “At least, better than yesterday,” he added as if that made his faux pas any better.

  Ava was sitting half up, propped by two pillows. And her smile was a surprise, considering what he’d said and how he’d said it. But then she hadn’t been privy to his thoughts. And looking at her he doubted whether she had the strength to come back at him the way she used to. They had enjoyed their verbal sparring during their friendship. He was reminded again of how quick she had been, now that there was no answering repartee. It was unfair even as a thought, for he knew that she was in no shape for such things. She was physically fragile but still as gorgeous as ever. Her face was slimmer, her cheekbones more defined and her lips as they’d always been, full and naturally red.

  He met the look of concern in her eyes that begged him for answers. But he didn’t have any, not yet. And he had to quit thinking about how beautiful she was, how lush her figure was even in the hospital attire. Instead, he gave her a slight smile. “How are you feeling?”

  This time, she smiled wanly as if sitting partway up with her head supported by pillows was almost too much for her. Beside her, the intravenous machine quietly beeped. He’d spoken to her physician, who had assured him that it was only a matter of getting her hydrated and then the intravenous would be discontinued. And at the speed she’d been recovering in the last few hours, she’d be ready for discharge in a day or two, at most.

  “Fai,” she said, her voice thin as she spoke in a whisper. There was a hoarse edge to the word, as if her throat was still raw from her experience. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Too long.”

  It was like yesterday and the day before had never existed. It was like she perceived everything in a different way than how it had happened. “The nurse said you saved me.” The words were weak as if it was all she could do to get them out. She closed her eyes again, as if the light hurt or maybe the effort of keeping them open was just too much.

  “I got you off the life raft, anyway,” he said in a lighthearted way. He didn’t want to act like the heavy, not in her state. Besides, this was the first true conversation they’d had since he’d rescued her.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “That’s all?” she asked and her words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. Yet there was an edge in her tone. Something that, this time, reminded him of the Ava he had known—quick-witted, sharp, never letting anything slip by her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Always modest, you saved my life,” she said with another attempt at a smile, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you doesn’t quite cover it.”

  “No thanks necessary,” he replied. He felt like they were stuck in some impersonal chat loop. Where neither wanted to admit that they had anything more intimate than a general knowledge of the other. He wanted to ask her so many questions but he didn’t want to tire her. He needed to start with the most critical. Instead she beat him to it.

  “Where’s my father? I need to see him.” Her breathing seemed to both speed up and become more shallow at the same time. Her heart monitor sped up slightly.

  “Ava.”

  Somehow her name was a substitute for the answer he couldn’t speak, at least not to her. It was too bleak. But before he could say anything more she had slipped farther back into the pillows and closed her eyes as if it was all too much. A minute passed and then two. She opened her eyes and seemed to connect with him for a second before she shut them again.

  He looked away from her as if needing a reprieve from the power of that connection. Her gaze seemed to demand that he get the answers she needed. It was ridiculous really, but that had been the Ava he knew, determined, smart—stubborn. Even now, it was as if she hadn’t been to hell and back, and it gave him hope that her memory would return soon. As it stood everything hinged on her memory. Without it, he could have no idea how she had ended up in a dinghy alone in the middle of the Atlantic or who might be left on that boat. It was all a mystery.

  He turned back. There was a shimmer of tears in her eyes and she clenched the sheet.

  “Anything you can remember, Ava? The smallest bit of information could be helpful. I know things may be a little gray right now but your memory will return.”

  Silence lay heavy between them. A metal cart lumbered down the corridor and past her room. The noise was loud and grating.

  He looked at his watch. It was large, oval faced with a black leather strap and a manual wind, a relic from another generation. He wound it as if just remembering the fact that time was slipping away and still they were not much further ahead. It was frustrating, especially when he guessed that much of what he needed to know was locked somewhere deep in Ava’s mind. He put his hand over hers as if that would make everything better, as if somehow the contact would jog her memory.

  “I have a watch like that,” she said as if that was of paramount importance. “One that winds, I mean.”

  “I know,” he said brushing his hand against the back of hers, feeling the soft skin and remembering other times. “I gave it to you.”

  Silence descended again. He waited, hoping for answers about that night, the night that mattered most. The night that had changed everything.

  “I...” Ava whispered. She shivered as if the memories of that night, few as they were, were too much and too overwhelming.

  He leaned closer.

  The only thing they knew for sure was that there were three people on the yacht that night. Dan Adams, the registered owner; Ava; and the man who had arrived later. What had happened that evening? Had there been an altercation of some kind? What had been the catalyst for her to be in that life raft? Had her father been trying to save her from a sinking vessel or from something much more deadly?

  Dan Adams might very well be the victim of foul play. But he had no evidence, and he’d yet to admit to Ava that her father was missing despite the fact that she’d asked. She was fragile right now and he didn’t know what she knew or didn’t know. All that aside, it was his job to protect her, physically, emotionally—the latter was impossible, he knew that but he’d do his best.

  “Tell me, Ava, what do you remember?” He knew he was pushing but if Dan was still alive they could well be running out of time. He didn’t offer her a hint of what little he knew. He only hoped that she could remember something of what had occurred between the time that she had ended up in a life raft and the yacht had disappeared.

&nbs
p; “I wish I could tell you, Fai, but I just don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m remembering the past.” Her voice shook. “You—school, all of that. But what happened on Dad’s yacht—nothing.”

  He nodded, expecting that, as he’d been warned by her physician, and fighting for patience when he knew that time was imperative.

  He sat down on the chair by her bedside, preferring that to looming over her, which seemed to him to be slightly intimidating. He reached over and pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. Heat seemed to run up his arm at the brief contact and he pulled back as if he’d been burned.

  “Fai,” she murmured. Her free hand lifted as if reaching for him and then dropped. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying...”

  “Don’t rush it. It will come back,” he assured her but he’d barely said that when her eyes widened.

  “Ben...he was new. They did business together, he and my father. He was there. He wanted something. What it was, I don’t know, or if I did, I don’t remember. Dad had a lot of irons in the fire, as you know. He couldn’t seem to stick to one business venture at a time. I think at one point he was even invested in a car dealership. And, of course he was successful at them all. Maybe that was the trouble,” she said with a hint of irony.

  “So Ben was on board?” He forced the excitement from his voice. Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Yes,” she said, surprise etching her voice. “Now that you’re talking about it, encouraging me to remember I mean...” She looked at him with a rather wispy smile. “I remember that now. He wasn’t expected. At least I don’t think he was. I met him once before, briefly. I remember that. He threatened...” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I can’t even remember his full name.” It was the most she had yet to say and her voice was hoarse and barely audible by the time she got to the last words.