Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

by Eve Rabi

  Jake walks over to me, puts his face in mine and says, “Are you a terrorist?”

  “What?!” How could he possibly ask me a question like that? “N … no …”

  “Yes you are!” he sneers, his lips curling with contempt.

  “Wha …?” Is this guy for real?

  Jake turns to Damien. “Sorry, can’t represent a terrorist.” He picks up his attaché case and prepares to leave. “Sorry.”

  Damien flings me a murderous glare and I literally cringe. “W…why?” Damien splutters.

  Jake starts to walk out of the ward.

  Maya bursts into tears. “Please don’t walk away!” she begs. “We need you, please!”

  When I see my beloved sister begging, fury takes over. “You fucking asshole!” I shout, anger propelling me into an upright position and giving me strength from fuck knows where.

  Jake stops walking. Slowly, he turns around to look at me. “What did you call me?” he asks, his eyes mere slits.

  “Go fuck yourself!” I hiss. “I’m not a terrorist. Don’t you call me that and don’t you judge me when you don’t know the hell I’ve been through! Don’t you fucking assume that you know who I am based on my … my feeble response due to … to sedation and … and blood loss and … and trauma and all the shit that comes with being shot, when trying to flee my KIDNAPPERS you motherfucker!”

  For a moment, it’s like someone hit the pause button on life. Everyone freezes – my family, Damien, the nurses, the soldiers guarding me – all stop whatever they’re doing and stare at me.

  Right now I don’t care who’s staring. I mean, I woke up to find that not only have I been shot, but that I may never see my baby and my lover again. It’s like I’m lying on a bed of needles. If he’s going to judge me, walk away, abandon me because he thinks I am guilty, allow me the cathartic luxury of telling him to have sex with himself.

  “The last thing I need is for you, a prick who is supposed to be in my corner, giving me a hard time and making my sister CRY! An asshole who spends his time defending murderers and … and child rapists with money because he … he chases the almighty dollar. A cocksucker who might have gazillions in the bank, but is morally piss-poor.” Okay, blame some of it on the drugs they’ve given me.

  Jake’s jaw drops, spurning me on.

  “I am a soldier, you cunt. I fought for my country. I got shot in the line of duty, you son of a bitch! You ever served your country? Huh?”

  The pause button remains pressed, but I notice a newfound respect for me in the soldier’s eyes.

  “I thought not. Now, get the fuck out of here and go back to Hollywood, where you can pretend to be a human being while you break bread with the scum of society.”

  “Megan, shut the fuck up!” Damien hisses.

  Ignoring Damien, I shout, “Go, get out of here!”

  After an hour of silence, or that’s what it feels like, to my absolute astonishment, Jake smiles. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear, Ms. Saunders,” he says as he strolls back to me and drops his case. “Happy to represent you.”

  Stunned by his reaction and drained by my hissy-fit, I slump back into my bed.

  “If you can fight for your rights, like you just did, and demand a fair hearing, we’ve got a chance of being cleared of all charges. No promises, no guarantees, but there’s a good chance we can beat this. I just need you to come to the gunfight with a bazooka, not a knife. Tomorrow is round one. Bring that bazooka with.”

  With what I think is a look of admiration in his eyes, he sits down, snaps open his case, and brings out a wad of papers.

  For a while, nobody moves or speaks.

  “Megan?” I hear Maya call.

  “Megan?” I hear Jake call.

  “NURSE!” Maya screams. “She’s lost consciousness.”

  ***

  The dreaded series of interrogations starts while I’m still in the hospital. Tough is putting it mildly – the questions are accusations in disguise. They ask the same thing over and over again in different ways, obviously to trap me, to break me and get my confession that I am what they want to believe – a bona fide terrorist.

  “How is it that all your team members, including Captain Rory David, civilian Leeanne Bond, and Darla, or Darryl as you call her, were all killed … except you? Were you granted special privileges? Did you play any part in their deaths? Had this Darla/Darryl person really existed? Would you agree to a lie-detector test?”

  I agree to a lie-detector test because I never lied about anything. I just didn’t tell them about my baby, Reed, or Mahmood.

  “Were you raped?”

  “Yes, I was,” I mumble.

  “The doctors reported signs of miscarriage. Did you …?”

  I shrug. “There were times when I was injured and unconscious and thrown into a dungeon for striking one of my captives so … I’m not sure.” I am only cagey about questions of this nature, not about my actual imprisonment.

  Even though Jake steps in a lot and shields me, which makes me grow a new appreciation for him, they bombard me with questions about my association with Iraqi insurgents, the speeches, and my rescue, which they are calling it. Not sure who it was that supposedly rescued me, and right now I don’t care. I just want my precious baby and my darling Reed.

  Jake does scare them off with his clever words and devious defense and intimidating threats to sue the US government, preventing me from answering a lot of questions.

  Finally, they question me about the doctor who rescued me – Reed. Having already heard the story from the nurse, I corroborate his story and I am relieved when I think they bought it.

  When they leave, Jake walks them out of the room, smiling and chatting as he does. When he returns, his smile has disappeared and worry lines mark his forehead.

  “What’s wrong Jake?”

  “Your interrogation … I’m sorry, Megan, it’s … it’s continuing in Guantanamo Bay.” His voice is unusually humble. “Sorry.”

  My shoulders sag. Even Damien falls silent and doesn’t answer his phone for a good few minutes.

  “What exactly is Guantanamo Bay?” Maya asks.

  “It’s a detention camp,” Damien explains. “An interrogation facility the US uses. Located in Guantanamo Bay’s Naval Base. No Geneva Convention protection there for detainees.”

  “So, I’m still regarded as a terrorist, then?”

  Jake’s nod is slight, his lips thinning even more.

  Turning my head to face the wall, I think of all the horror stories I heard about Guantanamo Bay – the simulated drowning technique used on prisoners, the torture that foreign governments and human rights organisations condemn, the power drill used to extract information from suspected terrorists – and thoughts of suicide flit through my weary brain. End the pain once and for all.

  Maya paces, while Damien moves to look out of the window.

  “I’ll do my best, Megan,” Jake promises grimly.

  “Thank you, Jake,” I murmur.

  “Yes, thank you, Jake,” Maya dittos.

  “Don’t know how we are going to pay you but …”

  “Don’t worry ‘bout that, Megan. When your $1.8 million comes in, you can pay me from that.”

  I cock my head. “$1.8 …?”

  “Gone up, has it?” He sits back and smiles. “Guess the bidding war for your story continues, then.”

  Both Maya and I look at Damien with raised eyebrows.

  “Hey!” Damien snaps, as he colors under our scrutiny. “That could take years to materialize. In the meantime, what do you do for money? Huh? You need me.”

  Jake squints at Damien. “I thought you told them.”

  “So that explains why you were so helpful,” Maya sneers.

  “Maya,” I say, “Leave it alone.”

  Lips in a thin line, she nods slowly and literally backs off.

  I give a rat’s ass about the money. All I can think about is Reed. Damien can dream – I’m never going to tell my story.

/>   ***

  “Jake,” I whisper when Damien’s back is turned.

  Jake looks up at me from his paperwork. He looks tired and drained.

  “I … Jake, I wanna see the doctor who helped me. Can you please arrange it?”

  “Megan, I don’t think …”

  “Please Jake.”

  He looks at me, confusion in his bloodshot eyes.

  “I … just … I wanna thank him.”

  He nods and leaves to arrange it. When he returns, he says, “The doctor’s just left. They’ve cleared him and he was free to go. Sorr –”

  “What?! No, stop him! Quick!” I struggle to sit up.

  Jake jerks back at my reaction. “Megan, I can’t …”

  “Stop him, Jake! Bring him back.” I fight to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Please!”

  Maya enters and both she and Jake stare at me, then at each other.

  Realizing my behavior is causing suspicion, I quickly say, “He’s risked a lot, okay? It’s only right I thank …”

  “Okay, okay, calm down,” Jake says and hurries off to stop Reed.

  “What the hell, Megan?” Maya whispers.

  The arrival of the nurse saves me from responding.

  When I see Reed walk through the door, something between a choked sob and a sigh of relief escapes me.

  “We’re lucky, he was about to be whisked away to Iraq,” Jake says.

  Reed’s eyes lock with mine as he walks towards me.

  Just then Damien enters, sees Reed and mutters, “What the hell?”

  I ignore him and focus on my love. When I see him dragging his feet, unshaven, disheveled, and looking like someone who’s lost something precious, I summon every ounce of willpower not to open my arms out to him. Slowly he walks towards me, a melancholy smile on his face.

  When he sees Damien, his smile dips for a moment. When he sees Maya, he looks twice at her and his sad smile returns.

  He stands in front of me, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Hello Megan,” he says in a gruff voice.

  I try to return the greeting, but my throat constricts.

  “They tell me you are going to be okay.”

  I nod and swallow hard. “T … thanks to you.”

  He nods.

  Luckily, Damien steps aside to take another phone call.

  “This is my sister Maya,” I say.

  He smiles. “I see the resemblance.”

  Maya takes his hand and goes off on a tangent, thanking him profusely for helping me.

  “Do you … do you have a family?” I interrupt cryptically.

  “Yes.” He holds my gaze while he talks. “I have a son. He’s with my family. He’s doing okay I heard,” he hastily adds, probably for my sake. “So all is good.”

  When he talks about his son, the tears that were burning my eyes cascade down my cheeks.

  “He’s doing well,” Reed repeats at the sight of my tears.

  Damien returns, sees Reed still around, looks at me and whispers, “Must I give him some money or something?” Loud enough for everyone to hear.

  I gasp at his words.

  “Damien!” Jake’s voice is admonishing.

  Reed jerks around to look at Damien. They stand head-to-head, facing each other.

  “Well, how much do you think she’s worth?” Reed asks, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

  Damien waffles. “I … I ...”

  “It’s a joke,” Reed says, his voice devoid of all mirth.

  Damien stares at Reed for a moment, then guffaws. “Good one,” he says before he takes another call.

  Reed and I lock eyes again, taking advantage of the fact that Jake’s back is to us, while Maya watches me on TV.

  Unable to help myself, my hand drops to the side of the bed and creeps surreptitiously to touch his. His fingers extend and we squeeze each other’s hand for a moment. Summoning all the willpower I have, I fight the urge to clutch his hand to my breast, to reach out and drag him to me, to hold him and never let him go.

  He squeezes his eyes for a moment before he reluctantly draws back his hand.

  When I look up, Jake is looking at us, mouth agape, while Maya’s hands are on her mouth. We were so lost in the moment that we didn’t realize that our brief but dangerous move was seen by them.

  One of the soldiers guarding me moves forward and we all tense up. Did he see that move too?

  “Time to leave,” he says to Reed.

  There is a collective dropping of shoulders in the room.

  Reed attempts a smile. “You take care and …”

  “No!” I whisper, suddenly unable to let him walk out of my life. I reach for his hand but he almost jumps back out of my reach, a pleading look in his eyes.

  “Please … Reed,” I whisper, “I beg you, take me with you.”

  “Megan!” Maya hisses.

  “Please, Reed, please, please!”

  Jake quickly positions himself behind Reed, blocking out the soldier’s view of us, something between fear and shock in his green eyes.

  Right now, I’m too broken to care that they know. I just don’t want to say goodbye to Reed. I want him to take me with. I want him to fix this situation. I want him.

  Reed’s stare becomes glassy. Then with an audible breath, he gives a curt nod and turns around.

  “No!” I whisper. “No!”

  But he quickly walks away.

  Shrouded in despair and helplessness, I can do nothing but watch the love of my empty life walk away.

  I expect him to turn back one last time, but he doesn’t.

  How could he not turn back?

  He should have turned back.

  I want him to turn back!

  I turn to Maya. “Stop him!”

  “Megan, no!” she hisses. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “We have a baby, Maya.”

  She puts her hand over my mouth. “You’re delirious,” she whispers. “Stop! Just stop.”

  When I try to pry her hand off my mouth she turns to Jake. “Tell her to stop. They will throw her in jail for this.”

  Jake leans forward, shakes his head and says, “I warned you about this, Megan. I cannot represent you. I just can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?” Damien’s voice booms behind Jake.

  Jake quickly straightens up and purses his lips.

  “Problem?” Damien asks, giving me a you-starting-shit-again? look.

  For a while nobody speaks. Then Jake turns to Damien, takes his arm and says, “Buy me a drink, will you? Megan needs sedation.” With a knowing look at Maya, he says, “Arrange it, please.”

  Alone with Maya, I lie broken and weeping. “My baby’s name is Wyatt. Wyatt. Wyatt.”

  “Megan, please. You can’t have …”

  I lift up my sweater, pull down the covers and flash her some stretch marks. “Pregnancy gives you these, Maya.”

  Maya’s breath comes in spurts at the sight of the silver stretch marks on my stomach.

  “Wyatt – that’s his name, Maya. My baby Wyatt – he’s just three months old, and he needs me, Maya. He needs me. He needs me!”

  Maya grabs the buzzer next to me and presses it feverishly. “Nurse!” she screams. “Nuuuuurse!”

  Two nurses rush into my ward almost colliding with each other. “What is it?” they chorus.

  “Sedation!” Maya says in a shaky voice. “She’s in pain, so we need sedation. Now!”

  “Be right back,” one of the nurses says, her eyes darting between Maya and me.

  I shake my head. “I don’t want …”

  Maya puts her finger on my lips. “Don’t.”

  The nurse hurries in and administers intravenous sedation. Almost immediately, I fade.

  Maya strokes my hair. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but it’s over now,” she whispers. “It’s all gonna be okay. Just wait and see. Forget whatever happened to you. Look ahead now. All is well. You are safe.”

  As I drift off to sleep
, I hear my baby’s beautiful cry, I see my baby’s cherubic smile, and I smell his familiar baby scent. I see Reed’s sad face in front of me, I see his raw pain and hot tears soak my pillow.

  How could I lose them? How could I let this happen? How do I live without the two of them? My miracle baby, and my Angel-man.

  I want them. I need them. I don’t want to live if I have to live without them.

  I’d rather die. Now.

  In my haze, I hear the sound of something breaking.

  It’s my heart.

  End of Book One

  CAPTURED FOREVER

  Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

  Book two in the Captured Series

  Chapter One

  BACK IN THE USA

  I’m homeward bound on a C-17 airplane. Accompanying me are Damien, Maya, and a pretty, young nurse. Also on the flight are three injured U.S. soldiers – a marine, a private, and a Green Beret – who sneak suspicious looks at me throughout the flight as if I’m going to somehow detonate a pipe bomb I’m hiding fuck knows where, MacGyver-style, using, what – let’s see … the intravenous cannula inside my vein, the gauze on my wounds, and maybe … some Kleenex. After all, with all the crying I’m doing and have done thus far, there’s always a mountain of used Kleenex surrounding me.

  Accompanying the soldiers are two more U.S. Military nurses, who, when they are not eyeing me like I’m Bin Laden’s love-child, chatter and giggle non-stop with the men around them.

  Bet they haven’t had a three-month-old baby snatched from them. Bet they never had to watch helplessly as the only man who truly loved them walks away, with no promise of ever seeing him again.

  Maya, who sports a perpetual frown, says little and from time to time squeezes my hand and murmurs, “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”

  No, Maya, it’s not going to be okay! It will never be okay ever again. Stop saying that like it’s gonna make me stop crying and join in the giggling and chattering in this plane, Maya.

  Damien eyes the nurse like a lion eyeing a gazelle during a famine. Within ten minutes of takeoff, he’s handing her his business card.

  “I’m Assistant Police Commissioner,” I hear him say. “Got connections everywhere. You should look me up sometime. Let’s have a drink.” She rewards him with an adoring smile.