Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

by Eve Rabi

  When they’re almost at the car, I open my door and jump into the back seat, leaving the engine running.

  Rashaad hops into the driver’s seat while Reed gets into the back with Wyatt and me.

  “Go! Go!” Rashid says as he buckles up in the front passenger’s seat.

  As we speed off, militants careen around the corner and blast away at us. Bullets whizz and smash into metal around us as we hurtle away from the bunker, and I’m terrified we’re not going to make it out of here alive.

  But after minutes of speeding through dirt roads, Rashaad finally slows down, looks in the rear mirror and announces, “Lost them!”

  There is a collective sigh of relief in the BMW.

  Reed and I hug each other for a long time.

  “Don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper.

  “I won’t,” he says. “I won’t. I will never leave you guys again. Never!” We hug again.

  “Leeanne …” I think of my friend and my protector, and I start to cry. “It’s my fault … the email …”

  He shakes his head slowly, and I feel his helplessness.

  “She’s got kids,” I say into his chest.

  “I know, I know, I know,” he says and hugs me harder, ignoring the fact that his brothers are listening.

  When I calm down, I look at Reed’s brothers. “Thank you,” I say to them. “I really appreciate it.”

  They grunt something inaudible.

  “Where did you get the guns from?”

  “Mahmood,” he says.

  “You serious?”

  “Yeah, he helped me escape from the dungeon too.”

  I look at him slack-jawed. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure, but I suspect he’s really not who he says he appears to be.”

  “Yeah! You know what – he’s asked me not to mention him.”

  “Then let’s not,” Reed says. “Omar’s men will kill him if they find out, so say nothing.”

  I sit back and look out the window. What a guardian angel Mahmood was.

  “Hey, don’t think ‘bout him – think ‘bout me,” Reed says and turns my face to look at him.

  I give a small smile and wrap my arms around him again, unable to believe that we’re back in each other’s arms.

  When Reed becomes really quiet and stares vacantly out of the window, Í turn his face to look at me, my eyes questioning.

  “The priests …” he shakes his head. “They tried to save you.” He frowns and looks at his hands. “It all went wrong, Megan. I killed a man – I’m a doctor; I’m supposed to save lives. I didn’t mean to. I … it just happened.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down and his eyes turn glassy.

  “Baby,” I say, “It couldn’t be …”

  Suddenly, bullets sing around us, crashing into the metal and shattering glass in the BMW. Reed shoves my head onto my knees, all the while shielding Wyatt and me with his body.

  Rashaad guns the BMW again, but to our dismay, the vehicles behind us are gaining and bullets smash around us. Rashaad floors it, and I’m terrified we are going to crash sometime soon.

  “Lost them again!” Rashaad announces and drops speed.

  Reed sits up and frantically checks out Wyatt, who is screaming his head off. “He’s okay,” he finally announces, his voice filled with relief.

  He puts his arm around my waist and draws me to him. “You okay?”

  Suddenly, he stiffens, then slowly draws out his arm from around my waist. We both stare at his hand. It’s covered with blood. Mine.

  “Meg … Megan!” he shouts.

  “Shot, Reed,” I whisper.

  “What?!” Rashid shouts. “What’s wrong?”

  “Megan!” Reed shouts and turns me to him.

  “She’s been hit!” Rashaad says.

  “Megan, please!” Reed begs as my head lolls.

  I hear everything they say, but some black clouds drift by.

  “Take her to the Green Zone!” Rashid shouts.

  “No!” Reed says. “I’ll treat her. I’ll take care of her!”

  “They’re behind us and they want her back,” Rashid says, panic in his voice. “Take her there, brother. It’s our only choice.”

  “Yes, Reedwan,” Rashaad says. “The American soldiers there – they will give her the necessary care. If you want her to live, you have to take her to the Green Zone.”

  As Rashaad speeds along, the arguing between the men becomes muted and black clouds hover. Their conversation becomes a buzz now.

  I hear the screeching of tires and feel a jolt as the car stops. Reed lowers me on the back seat and gets out. The black clouds increase.

  When I open my eyes, I’m lying across the back seat, staring at the roof of the BMW. Reed is driving. Nobody else is in the car.

  Then, I’m alone in the back seat of the car. Reed is no longer in the driver’s seat. “Reed,” I call softly. “Don’t leave me. Wy …”

  Reed suddenly reappears above me, shirtless. He hurriedly scoops me up and runs. I groan in pain.

  “I’m sorry to do this sweetheart, but you’re going to be okay,” he pants as he staggers forward with me in his arms. “I promise. I promise! You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, baby. I love you so much. Please don’t die! Please don’t … die! Wyatt and I need you. Please …”

  “Wy …”

  Arms grab at me, move me around, prick me with needles. An oxygen mask is slipped onto my face. I hear American accents all around, but I see no faces.

  “BP?”

  “Seventy over forty. Diastolic plummeting!”

  “Shit!”

  “Diastolic at thirty!”

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  Another sharp jab on my arm.

  “We’re losing her!” are the last words I hear before a wave of black takes me away.

  Chapter Thirty

  I open my heavy eyelids and blink to focus. Two intravenous therapy lines on both my hands, a machine I’m hooked to that beeps every ten seconds, white and silver stick-on patches on my chest, and the sharp smell of antiseptic … I’m in a hospital. “What the …?”

  Wyatt! Reed! I crane my neck to look for them. They’re nowhere in sight.

  A nurse with scarlet lips and a blonde ponytail writes in a chart. At the entrance to the ward I’m in stand two US soldiers, cradling M-16s and talking to each other in hushed tones.

  The nurse looks up at me and gasps. “You’re awake, Megan. Wonderful!?” Her excited drawl tells me she may be from Austin, Texas. “I gotta notify the doctor that you’re alive – eh, awake!”

  I try to sit up. “Where am …?” It is then I notice the handcuffs on my left arm. I’m chained to the bedrail.

  “You’ve arrested me?!”

  “Don’t do that now,” the nurse cautions. “Jus’ calm down. Everythin’s gon be okay. You’re at the Ramstein Military Airbase in Germany, hon, and we’re takin’ care of you. But I’m gon ‘company you back to LA, so don’t you worry ‘bout a thing now. Okay, hon?”

  “Germany? Ramstein?” Oh my God. How did this happen? Oh my God!

  “Yeah. Your surgery went … well, it was touch-and-go for a while there, hon.” She squeezes my hand gently. “Your husband has been waitin’ and waitin’ for ya. I’ll jus’ nip over an’ tell him you’re awake.” She lowers her voice and leans closer, a twinkle in her eyes. “He’s so charmin’ an’ haaandsome.”

  I relax a little when I hear that Reed is here. “Outside?”

  “He’s on the phone.”

  I nod. Where’s Wyatt? My mind is still muddied. “How … how did I get here?”

  “You don’t ‘member?”

  I shake my head.

  “Cos you don’t, hon! Well, apparently you escaped from the insurgents and managed to flag down a passin’ motorist. Turns out he was a doctor and you, you poor thing, you begged him to take you to the Green Zone, which he did, but then they started shootin’ at him, so he took off his shirt to show them that he wasn’t strapp
ed with explosives and all that stuff, and he was shoutin’, ‘Megan Saunders! I got Megan Saunders! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ Was waving like a madman. When they discovered it really was you, they rushed you here and removed two slugs and now …” she smiles pleasantly, “you’re awake and talkin’ and you gon be …”

  Suddenly, memories of that night in the bunker come flooding back to me. Omar laughing at the case of money, Leeanne being dragged into the room, Reed shooting Omar, Mahmood running with Wyatt in his arms, blood everywhere …

  The line on the machine I’m hooked up to starts jumping and a river of sweat runs down my back.

  “…it ain’t no more. Dropped a bunker¬¬-buster minutes after you arrived, so it’s all dust now, hon.”

  “They bombed the bunker?!”

  Oh my God! What about Shaida and Bygone and the injured men? Mahmood! Oh God! Oh God!

  Just then, to add to my horror, Damien strolls in, phone in hand, a huge smile on his face. “He’s my husband?”

  “He sure is.”

  No! No! No! No! NOOOO!

  Where’s my baby? Where’s Reed?

  “Hello darling.” Damien leans over and kisses my cheek. I recoil inwardly at the feel of his lips on my skin.

  Get away! Get away! Get away!

  He hugs me and I flinch. He frowns as he looks at me.

  “Damien, what are you doing here?” I ask, fighting the urge to shout and scream at him.

  “Hey, I’m still your husband,” he says in a defensive tone. “I love you, and FYI, I never initiated divorce proceedings in the end.”

  “But … but ...”

  “Megan, whatever happened is in the past. I’m here for you, my love.” He strokes my forehead

  and I jerk my head away.

  Don’t touch me! Don’t talk to me! Wyatt! Reed! Oh God, how did things go so terribly wrong?

  So if Damien is here, where is Reed?

  Needing to desperately get rid of Damien, I mutter something incoherent then pretend to doze off.

  The moment Damien steps out of the room, I open my eyes and look at the nurse. “What happened to the doctor who brought me here?”

  “They got him.”

  Got him? I struggle to sit up again. “Wha … whadyamean?” A feeling of intense dread oozes through me. “A … arrested him?”

  “Not quite arrested him, darlin’,” she says as she takes my blood pressure. “They only gon release him when they confirm his story.” She leans close and mouths, “Can’t trust any of ‘em. Na ha!”

  Okay, so they didn’t arrest him. I slowly sink back into my bed. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

  “Wanna see something interesting?”

  Before I can answer, the nurse flicks the TV remote. My face appears on CNN.

  I gasp.

  “Not only CNN – every channel,” she says as she continues flipping. “Worldwide.”

  One channel runs the soft drink commercial I made about six years ago, while the other discusses me. I can’t understand everything they’re saying, but my pictures flash constantly.

  “You’re big news right now, hon. Got plenty explainin’ to do though.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to make sense of this situation I’m in. Imagine, I closed my eyes and lost my baby and my lover.

  Wyatt. A dull pain fills my chest and tears spring to my eyes. This is a dream. It can’t be happening. I could not have lost my baby and Reed so quickly.

  The nurse holds up a pink sweater with the words, I made it in glitter. “Your sister brought this. Lovely shade. An instant pick-me-up whenever …”

  “My sister?”

  “Yeah, she’s around, just stepped out to sign some forms. Never left your side for the past two days.”

  “Two days?” Wyatt’s been without me and Reed for two days?! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to go get my baby.

  Even though I protest, the nurse brushes my hair and applies lip gloss to my chapped lips. “There! Don’t you look fine already?”

  How much do they know? What did Reed really tell them? What if they never release him? What about Wyatt?

  When I see my sister Maya walk through the door, I burst into tears.

  “Oh Megan!” she cries as she takes me in her arms. “You made it. Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re okay.”

  I hold her with one arm and bawl.

  The two guards look at us for a while, then resume their chatting.

  “Mom and dad are on their …”

  Before she can finish my, mom and dad rush through the door. We hug each other and cry. Both say very little, they just stare at me with a mixture of sadness, concern, and disbelief in their eyes.

  Damien re-enters the ward, playing with his cell phone, his eyes dancing. “Sixteen,” he says, after a curt nod to my parents.

  “Sixteen …?” Maya asks.

  He nods. “Sixteen people want to interview you, Megan, my love. And me, for that matter. They want to hear what I have to say. Can you believe it? Me?”

  Maya rolls her eyes.

  “Don’t say a word to anyone,” he warns both of us. “Refer everyone to me.”

  “Why?” Maya asks.

  “Eh, well, I’m thinking, maybe we can get a little money from the interview to help pay Megan’s legal bills. Going to run into thousands, you know.”

  “Tell him to go,” I mumble to Maya. “Now. Please!”

  “Eh, Damien, you shouldn’t be here,” Maya says.

  Damien’s stare is cold and hard, making her flinch.

  “I mean, you did renounce her, remember?”

  “Hey!” He jerks his head towards the door. “See those guys there? They ain’t no bouncers. They’re here ’cause she’s in shit street. She’s going to jail for a very, very long time.”

  My mom groans while my dad’s shoulders sag.

  “The only person right now who can help her with this?” He stabs his chest with his index finger. “Me!”

  Maya looks at me, a worried look in her eye. “Maybe ... maybe she just needs a good lawyer?”

  “How you gonna afford that, sister dear?” Damien asks, his tone mocking. “Sell a kidney?”

  “I … well …”

  “I could mortgage my house,” my dad says in a timid voice.

  “And if she loses the case and goes to jail?” Damien snaps. “You lose your daughter and your house. At your age? What about your wife? Where does she live then?”

  “Stop!” I say, not wanting to even hear of my dad losing his humble home that he worked his whole life for.

  “Remember, her interrogation begins in an hour or so and anything she says … anything …will be held against her and used against her. Unless she has a lawyer. A good one. A hotshot like the one I got her.”

  “In an hour?” My stomach knots.

  “You got her a lawyer already?” Maya asks, surprise mixed with relief on her face.

  He gives a satisfied smirk. “Sure did. Jake Daniels will be here in …” he squints at his wristwatch, “fifteen minutes.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Maya says and glances at the door.

  “I kid you not, Mayaaaaa,” he mocks. “I’m on top of it. Do you know who Jake Daniels is? I don’t think you do, so I’ll tell you who he is, Mayaaaaa. He’s the attorney who got off Harry Dukakes, that actor who murdered that crooked cop. Remember that case? Huh, Mayaaaaa?”

  “Eh …” Maya blinks rapidly.

  “He’s the hot-shot attorney who got millionaire Elijah Deberis off on that child molestation case. Heard of that case?” His mirthless grin widens at Maya’s stammering.

  “Without me, she’ll get herself a legal aid lawyer who gargles with cheap whisky each morning and who carries a hip flask, and who’ll probably be drunk during her trial and she, my dear Mayaaaa, will spend her retirement in Guantanamo Bay. Cos with the new security law, she can be held in Guantanamo Bay indefinitely and without trial even though she’s a US Citizen. You want me out of the picture, p
repare for that.”

  He pummels his chest, an arrogant look on his face. “I am her savior right now. I am as good as … as … God! I leave, I take all my contacts, my help with. You can’t afford Jake. But I can. I leave, Jake goes with me. You want that? You actually want to chance Megan’s future on it?”

  Maya looks at me, then at my parents, and holds her head with both hands.

  My dad stares at the carpet, looking hunched and old, while worry lines cross my mother’s forehead.

  Damien looks at me. “We together on this, or do I ask Jake to take the next plane out? Huh? Decide now. You got a minute before I leave you alone in Germany.”

  A glance at my family and I see their expectant faces, feel them silently urging me to take the lifeline thrown to me by my capable and well-connected husband, who threatens to leave me in Germany.

  “Yes,” I hear myself say, as I sell my soul to the devil.

  “You sure Megan?” Maya asks.

  “Yeah,” I squeeze her hand, “it’ll be okay.”

  Even though my family tries to hide it, there’s a collective sigh of relief all round at my decision to accept Damien’s help. If I’m not mistaken, I see a look of relief on Damien’s face too. Confusing.

  “Smart move,” Damien says. “Must at all times present a united front.”

  Funny, you never thought about a united front when you sold me out, you double-crossing asshole.

  Damien glances at the two guards. “Get used to them. They’ll be shadowing you till this whole fucking shit is cleared and …” he suddenly smiles. “Ah, here’s my man, Jake!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jake Daniels, my attorney appointed by Damien, fills my ward with his presence. Tall and beefy with green eyes and thick sandy hair, he looks at me and shakes his head slowly. “Fuck! You look like shit!”

  Damien guffaws at Jake’s words.

  I don’t get offended because … that’s Jake. Damien and him have been friends for years. The first night I met Damien, he was hanging with Jake. He knows I don’t care for him mainly because he, like Damien, is an arrogant prick with a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude.

  But he’s a brilliant attorney who, as Damien said, is highly paid and sought after by fucked-up celebrities and society’s wealthy assholes.