Sheik Defense

by Ryshia Kennie

  “A tragedy,” Faisal said, thinking of the girl.

  “Chan never missed a beat,” Aaron said.

  “He’s tough,” Faisal said with a hint of sarcasm.

  “And more importantly smart, but he tripped up this time. We were able to ID the last hit man he used but we’ve got no evidence to pin on Darrell. We have suspicion based on recent activity and a witness who insists they’ll commit suicide before they admit what they know on the record. So unofficially, like I said, his name is Dallas Tenorson. He’s been in and out of juvie, is from a broken home—the classic story. His record from juvie has been purged so now there’s no record, nothing to prevent him from moving freely around the country or across borders. He has a passport. Now thirty years old and has never held a steady job. So how is he surviving? Contract work, if you get my drift.”

  Faisal’s laugh was dry. It wasn’t a drift but a slam in the head. Everything he’d heard up until the hit man’s description had been enough to make him sick. This Dallas—he deserved what he got. Up to no good and destroying other people’s lives. Faisal wouldn’t mind being the one to take him out. He pushed his thoughts aside. Instead he said, “I’m guessing that you’ve got nothing to pin him with.”

  “No evidence. We know he’s transient and smart enough to cover his tracks. There was no paperwork found for the two previous hits, no electronic trail—phone trail, nothing. They had to have met in person but there’s no witness either. We had a guy undercover, but he didn’t get close enough to nail him, just close enough to make some pretty valid assumptions. Anyway, I’m telling you this so you can keep a watch out. I’ve sent you a picture too. Should be on your phone now. That’s pretty much all I can do. Anything else and I’ll be stepping over a line. Trouble with the law,” he laughed. “Okay, it wasn’t funny.”

  Faisal chuckled. “Not really, but thanks for the effort, man.”

  After Faisal disconnected, he wondered what else there might be. He knew he was lucky in his line of work to have established such a connection. He could only be grateful for what he got.

  From everything he knew and from what Aaron had told him, he knew that time was running out. Chan was on his way to Hong Kong and, if he followed his former pattern, being crossed, in this case defrauded, meant he’d put the pins in place. Someone was going to die and he’d bet that someone might be Ben Whyte. But with Ben potentially on Ava’s trail, that left her in the middle.

  He just hoped and prayed that he hadn’t arrived too late.

  Chapter Twenty

  Faisal took a room in a run-down motel on the outskirts of town. That was where he began his search for Ava. As far as choice there wasn’t any. It appeared that all the motels on the edge of town were run-down. But it was there that he’d be less noticed. It wasn’t unlike other towns. The only exception was that Tristan was more worn—more forgotten.

  Finding Ava was critical. Ben might be here too but his priority was making sure Ava was safe and literally out of the line of fire. He ached to see her but despite the small size of this town, it might not be that easy.

  He was dressed down and the vehicle he’d rented was a few years old. And after the last few days running between searching the water and going to the hospital, his after-five shadow had turned into stubble. He was not unlike many of the scruffy men he’d seen in the nearby Flying J. Or the two men he’d seen enter the diner next door. If someone was going to remain unseen, the best thing to do was remain on the fringes. The people who didn’t fit, and those that had secrets, congregated there. He’d seen these types of places again and again while working a variety of cases across the country. They were places where secrets could be hidden. Knowing that, it was the logical place to start. And it was really only a place to set up his home base. He doubted if he would be spending much time in this room. The best way to start searching for Ava was by questioning the people who lived here. Someone had seen her. Someone knew who she was and he’d find that someone if it took all night.

  Ava. He’d never forgotten her and he knew now that he never would. He only hoped that he could find her, that she was safe, that if she were willing, he could hold her in his arms again.

  But he’d no sooner dropped his small duffel bag on the worn double bed in the grim little room than a gunshot sounded outside blowing any of his hopes aside. He was on his feet and his Glock was in both hands. An engine revved. Glass crashed and someone shouted and then there was silence.

  The silence didn’t last long. It was soon filled with a woman’s voice and a string of curses. Her shouts filled the parking lot. He pulled the ratty curtain back and could see a woman standing in the fading evening light with her hands on her hips only six feet to the right and in front of him. It looked to him like she was the aggressor. As such, she didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. She hurled a bottle onto the pavement. Shards of green glass scattered in every direction and glinted under the light of a nearby parking lot. Ten or so feet away, a biker with black leather chaps and a faded red bandanna on his head shook his fist at her; in his left hand he held a handgun. He could guess now what had happened. There’d been a fight and now the gun was being used as a scare tactic, nothing more. Still, he didn’t like it. The woman, no matter how worn out she looked or what her occupation, didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

  Faisal opened the door to his room and stepped out. It was clear now, from the gestures of the biker as he left the lot, that the shot had only been meant to frighten and not harm. It was also clear that the woman, now that she had thrown the bottle, was unarmed. It had been the biker who had shot in the air.

  “Ma’am, are you alright?”

  The woman’s eyes were wild, her hair in tangles. She was wearing a faded yellow wifebeater shirt. The cotton sagged and her dark nipples were clear against the thin fabric. Wife beater. He grimaced. But as much as he hated the term for the sleeveless T-shirt, here it seemed troublingly appropriate. But despite her revealing and worn-out attire, her legs were positioned in a fighting stance. Her hands were in fists and her arms were rigid at her side.

  Oblivious to his words, she told him where to go in words he had no respect for.

  The woman turned her attention to him. “I’m not interested in you either. No man is getting anything free. You want...”

  “No.” He cut her off. “I’m not interested.”

  “Not good enough for you, boy?” she asked. Her double chin quivered and her brow wrinkled. She ran a hand through her hair, which was platinum blond with mud-brown roots.

  “You’re beautiful, ma’am,” he said. Flattery was a powerful tool to manipulate people. He thought that maybe she deserved a compliment—he doubted if she got any from the looks of her and this place. This area, this hotel, all of it, didn’t attract the kind of people who were into niceties.

  “You’ll do,” she said with a smile. “Flattery and chivalry will get you everywhere,” she said in a tone and with words that hinted at more sophistication than the earlier incident and her appearance indicated.

  He held his phone out to her with a picture of Ava. “Have you seen this woman?”

  She paused. “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully, chewing her bottom lip. “She was here this morning, asking for work. I run this joint in case you’re asking. Not that it’s much.” She shook her head. “Anyway, as far as rooms, we’ve got none but the Blue Moon down the road does. I told her to go there.” She looked at him with more street wisdom than real smarts. “For a fifty I’ll give you a bit more.” Her eyes roved over him.

  Faisal couldn’t help himself, he gave her the fifty. “Treat yourself,” he said gruffly. He hoped if nothing else, the money would keep her off her back and give her some dignity, at least for one night.

  He turned and headed for the SUV. He needed to get to the Blue Moon and he needed to do it, like, yesterday.

  * * *r />
  AVA WAS EXHAUSTED. She’d gone from a hospital bed to cleaning rooms in the space of less than two days. The evening sun had just set as Ava turned out the light and slipped into bed. Despite being physically drained, it was still early and she couldn’t sleep. Instead, she was plagued by thoughts and possibilities. She’d learned that land transactions were not immediately filed online in Tristan if at all. In the land registry’s dismal and tiny office, the woman in charge was good-natured and after paying the fee she requested, was more than willing to give her a photocopy of the deed and transfer documents for the land her father had told her about that fateful night on the yacht. In fact, she’d given her copies of two land transfers—the second had come as a surprise but it too had her father’s forged signature.

  Now she had the evidence that at least the signature on the piece of land in question that Ben Whyte was selling wasn’t her father’s. Tomorrow she’d turn what she had over to the authorities. Today wasn’t an option as the county sheriff’s office was in the next town and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hand this over to the local police office which consisted of two officers. When she’d asked the librarian about them she’d been given a lackluster review.

  She hated being here, hated everything about this place. The sooner she could deliver what she’d found to the authorities, the sooner she could get out of here. She didn’t feel safe here, not in this shoebox of a room, not in this town. Her breath came in on a hitch as she thought of Faisal.

  She could hear his voice like he was here, low, deep and confident. She remembered how he’d told her that she was safe when she’d been in the hospital. And she’d felt safe not because of where she was but because he’d been there. She never should have left him or tried to do this on her own. Now she longed to hear his voice. She needed him and yet she’d run from the help he’d offered. She’d done the right thing, she reassured herself. As much as she longed for him, this was on her.

  She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Too tired to get up and too distracted with her whirling thoughts to sleep. A car pulled up. She tensed. Instinct told her to leave the light off, as if she sensed something wrong. There was a knock on the room to her right and then silence. There was no one there. That room was empty.

  Who did they want?

  Who were they looking for?

  She felt like a kid holding her breath at the scary part of a movie. Instead of holding her breath she was remaining still, quiet, listening.

  The footsteps crunched on the gravel. That meant they were coming closer. It was a strange fact she’d noted on arrival, that the end units had gravel stalls while the rest of the parking lot was paved. It was like the pavers had run out or became exhausted by the project before completion. Either way, she’d seen it as an odd little bonus. It made detecting someone nearby, especially in a vehicle, somewhat easier.

  She sat up, swinging her feet to the ground, thankful that she’d slept in her T-shirt and scrub pants.

  She couldn’t stand another minute without finding out who was there. But when she peeked out the peephole, there was nothing. The peephole had a limited range though. She took a step back. Her heart pounded as if instinct was again telling her what her other senses couldn’t, that something was wrong.

  A bang on the edge of the parking lot, as if someone had hit a metal pole with a large heavy object, had her biting back a shriek and jumping away from the door. Could it be gunfire? But that was insane—or was it? She remembered her employer mentioning something about a nearby gun range. That explained it. A sigh of relief raced through her. But she had to make certain. She pulled the faded blue cotton curtain back a few inches and peeked out. She could see nothing, the lighting was too weak. She thought of her exit strategy. If there was a problem, the front was already compromised. The bathroom window was small but she could fit; she’d already checked out that option. There wasn’t a threat, she told herself through gritted teeth. Relax.

  She squinted as if that would allow her to see more than what the filmy light of the one parking lot light and her outside unit light allowed. The parking lot was half-empty but the motel was only half-full. It turned out that had worked in her favor, for she’d only had to work a partial shift to finish up what another employee hadn’t. Physically, she couldn’t have done more. Traveling here had taken what little energy she had.

  The motel sign sent a thin bluish stream of light across the parking lot, from the north side. Nothing moved. She took a deep breath and let the curtain drop. Then she retreated to the bed, where she perched as if she might need to leap up and run.

  Seconds and then minutes ticked by.

  She began to relax when she heard footsteps again. Again, they seemed close to her room. Then they stopped. Somehow the silence was more frightening. Again, she moved to the window, glanced sideways and crouched down, peering over the window ledge. What she saw frightened her. A man stood in the faint light. He was maybe fifteen feet from her front door. A car door banged. His back was to her, facing the parking lot before he moved away deeper into the lot. Then he turned. She knew that profile, that large, rather hooked nose was distinctive. The light outlined him perfectly.

  Ben Whyte.

  Her mouth went dry and her hand shook as she dropped the curtain. Did he know she was here? In this room? Had he discovered that Anne Brown was Ava Adams?

  She stood up. She looked at what stood between her and danger: a weak safety chain, an economy lock and a cheap flimsy door. Again, she crouched down, trying to keep out of sight. She nervously lifted the curtain, an inch, then two. She peeked out the window. Now she could see the shadow of what looked like a man crouched low and moving from the fringes of the parking lot directly toward her. He was coming in at a different angle, not walking upright as if he had honest business but rather as if he was sneaking in. Whoever he was, this was someone different.

  Her heart raced and her mouth was dry. None of this boded well. She hadn’t been comfortable from the beginning and had slept in her clothes as if prepared to run. Now her fear had been validated.

  She backed up and spun around, heading for the bathroom where the small window led to the back alley.

  She needed to get out fast while she still had the chance.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Faisal had stopped in the office of the Blue Moon Hotel. The office was separate from the row of units that sat diagonally from it. He’d walked in from the street, not wanting to call attention to himself or alert anyone to his presence.

  He walked into the office prepared to face whoever was manning this operation with all the charm he could muster. A woman lifted her head from the desk, looked at him with rheumy dark eyes and smiled. Her disheveled bleached blond hair was giving him déjà vu, for it reminded him of the manager’s style in the hotel he had checked into. He pushed that thought aside. He needed information and he needed to concentrate to get it.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her round, out-of-shape body leaned over the counter, spilling her large breasts literally onto the counter. He kept his eyes on her face, ignored her disappointed look and smiled his most charming smile.

  “Beautiful night,” he said.

  “It is.”

  And from there he turned on the charm. It was a gift that he rarely used but one that came naturally. Ironically, he’d used it twice in the space of an hour. He gave his full attention to the woman on the other side of the counter. By the time he was done with his “feel good,” “you’re the greatest” routine, he’d asked the questions he needed to and gotten the answer to each of them. She readily identified Ava from a picture.

  “She checked in this morning. Poor thing needed work. She covered an afternoon shift,” she said, her eyes roving over him. “She’s in the end unit.”

  He left the office with a smile and a quick salute and headed away from the uni
ts she’d pointed at. He’d seen movement he couldn’t identity, and putting himself into a possible line of fire was no way to help Ava.

  He moved quietly along the fringes of the parking lot of the Blue Moon Motel. It was dark and there was no traffic on the road that skirted the motel that he now knew Ava was staying at. He crouched down using the darkness as cover. He paused for a moment to take stock of the situation. He gave himself a minute and then two, for he was hidden behind a boulder that looked like it had been placed there in an aborted attempt at landscaping. Ahead, the lot was dimly lit by a light on one side and the blue light that thinly streamed from the motel sign. The place was run-down, the motel itself painted a faded and dismal gray. Ironically, that fact was at complete odds with what one might expect given the motel’s name—Blue Moon Motel. The only thing blue was the annoying sign that cast blue tendrils of light across everything.

  His attention turned toward the movement he saw by the end unit. It was the bulky shadow of a man. He had a picture on his phone, thanks to his RCMP contact, of the hit man but in the muted light from this distance, he wasn’t identifying anything. A shadow moved farther away. The bulk indicated it might be another man. The first man was nearer the building, while the other man was yards away, putting him on the edge of the parking lot. A gunshot echoed through the night and he hit the ground near the sidewalk, where he immediately rose to his haunches and moved behind the hood of the nearest vehicle.

  Dallas Tenorson or Ben Whyte or both could be here or not and it was all supposition. The only thing that was for sure was that a gun had been fired. He was pretty sure it had been from the man nearer the motel units aiming for a second one in the parking lot. But the man at the fringes had not fired back. That in itself was an interesting fact.