by Holly Rayner
Panicking, he crawled on his knees toward the front of the van, where a gated window separated him from the driver.
“How much are they paying you?” Osman asked.
“Enough to ignore you,” the man grunted. His stench nearly sent Osman reeling backward, but he stayed propped on his knees, desperate to negotiate.
“I’ll double it. I’ll triple it. Turn your alliance and I’ll see you retire in a villa with servants waiting on you for the rest of your life.”
The man turned at this, staring at Osman as though considering his offer.
“He said you’d offer such things. Then he said he’d double whatever you said, no matter how extravagant. I think I’ll take that offer—but thank you, Your Highness. That will be quite nice to relay to him when we arrive,” he said with a grin. The man was missing several teeth.
Osman thrashed against his bonds, feeling the handcuffs cut his wrists, and not caring. “Who are you working for?!” he yelled.
“No need to lower your voice for me, Your Highness. These walls are soundproof. You go ahead and shout it out, if you feel like it. I’m going to listen to some music until my partner returns. Should be any minute—I’m sure he made quick work of your girl. He’s quite the professional, if you know what I mean.”
With that, the man slammed a metal grate between them closed, cutting Osman off.
Defeated, he scooted back to the van’s doors and sat staring ahead with a blank expression. If they’d taken Beth, or worse, it would be all his fault. He hung his head, feeling utterly hopeless.
“Please be okay, Beth. Please,” he whispered. Surrounded by soundproofed walls, his voice sank into the silence; no one was there to hear.
NINE
Beth
“Stop flirting with him!” Beth implored her reflection in the mirror.
She glared at her rosy cheeks—his doing, of course. When she’d woken up that morning she’d been surprised by an entourage of people waiting to enter the room. A masseuse, a manicurist, really a whole spa had walked in and insisted that she be pampered all day long. By the end of it Beth had felt like an entirely new person, a queen even, and she’d luxuriated in every minute of it.
When it had come time to get dressed, she had been quick to make up her mind. It would be the cocktail dress, and maybe, just possibly, she would think about it as a date. The way Osman had stared at her when she’d entered the room had made her breath catch in her throat. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to hear it. She was even luckier when her plan to bug his phone actually had an opening. She’d dropped her scarf in the hallway on purpose, silently hoping a maid wouldn’t pick it up for her. Once he’d taken his phone out, she’d seen her chance.
Guessing correctly, she was able to bank on his chivalry, and when he disappeared from sight she’d pulled out a perfectly flat black circle the size of a pea. Pulling out his phone cover, she’d placed the dot on the back of his phone and pressed it back into its case, leaving it on the side table. By the time he was back with her scarf, she was in place and ready to go. Now was not the time to deal with a Sheikh who probably wouldn’t appreciate having his phone tracked, but she would need to know where he was at all times if she was ever going to keep him safe.
Now, after several minutes of fighting with her reflection in a bathroom, Beth pulled her own phone out of her purse and contemplated calling her mom. With the time difference, it would be early morning back home, but what would she even say? Hi Mom, I think I’m falling for my employer after two days of work, how are you?
She was so lost in thought that when she was grabbed from behind, she barely had time to register that she was being attacked.
Quickly Beth twisted her body to gain the upper hand, using her assailant’s size and weight against him. She brought his head down against the porcelain toilet, knocking him out instantly.
Not a good start, she thought as she replaced her phone in her purse and sprinted from the bathroom, grateful that she’d chosen flats as her footwear for the evening.
She bolted over to the table they had been seated at, and her stomach dropped.
The table was empty.
Beth rounded on the nearest waiter. “You! Did you see where the man at this table went?”
The man addressed her in a language she didn’t understand. He pointed at the table and pointed at her, making absolutely no sense at all.
“Does anyone here speak English?!” Beth cried, and no one answered. The place was busy, and all the wait staff seemed more interested in serving the tables that actually had people sitting at them.
Annoyed, Beth pulled out her phone and turned on the tracker for Osman’s phone. A blinking red dot flashed about 400 feet from the restaurant.
She bolted out the front door, her eyes glued to her phone as she navigated the streets closer and closer to that dot. As she got within a block, she pinned herself to a brick wall and glanced down a dark alleyway.
There, parked on the side street, was an inconspicuous black van. Beth saw that the engine was running. The bastard was waiting for something, but he was ready to pull out at a moment’s notice.
Beth teased her hair and smoothed down her dress. Then she sauntered up to the driver’s window, and tapped on it. The driver, a fat, dark-skinned man, jumped and looked out at her with bugged out eyes. She smiled invitingly and signaled for him to roll the window down. He did, just a crack.
“I was hoping you could help me, sir. I’m lost you see, and I was so grateful to see your van here.”
The man stared at her, then looked down at her chest, which showed just a sliver of cleavage, before rolling the window all the way down.
“My help comes at a price,” the fat man said, leaning out the window for a kiss.
Beth could see the yellow stains on his white shirt, smell the reek of body odor coming from every pore. She batted her eyes invitingly. She smiled and leaned in, before grabbing his neck and tossing him into a choke hold.
As he gasped, astonished, she hissed at him, “If you’re waiting for your friend, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He’ll be in the ladies’ room for quite some time.”
The man struggled for a minute or two before finally passing out, and Beth opened the door and pulled him to the ground.
Hopping into the driver’s seat, she pulled open the metal window cover to find Osman, alone, with his hands tied behind his back. His head was down, but when he looked up and saw her in the driver’s seat, he jumped forward on his knees.
“Beth! Thank God!” he said, his voice hoarse.
Without hesitation, Beth pulled the van out of the alley and screeched onto the highway. She had no idea where to go, but anywhere but there sounded good at the moment.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to call for help when you get kidnapped?” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
“The van walls are soundproofed and I couldn’t reach my phone with the cuffs on. Believe me, I tried. How did you find me?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she said, not wanting to admit right away that she’d bugged him. “Right now we need a safe house, and fast.”
“Keep going north, all the way up the coast. My family has a villa there that we haven’t used since my father died. I don’t think anyone will suspect us of being there, but it should be stocked with the basics.”
“Got it,” she replied, and hit the gas. Looking down, Beth saw that the morons who had been driving the van before had neglected to fill the tank.
“How far is this place?” she asked, calculating.
“About fifty miles,” he said, giving her directions.
They drove in near silence up the coast, the ocean tides crashing against the shore. Beth’s eyes kept darting to the fuel bar as it sank closer and closer to empty. They drove down winding roads that had no street lights to soften the pitch black of night.
Finally, Osman said, “Turn left there,” and the yellow fuel icon flashed onto the dashboard just as she pulled into the driv
eway.
In normal circumstances, Beth would have considered the house to be a mansion. However, compared to Osman’s estate, it was basically the equivalent of a modest country home.
Glancing around, Beth found the handcuff keys in a cup holder and moved around to the back of the van.
“The keys you ordered, sir?” she said, dangling them in the air as Osman awkwardly exited the back of the van with his hands behind his back.
“Not a moment too soon. These things are killing me,” he replied.
Beth stood behind him, pulling his hands out gently to access the keyhole to the cuffs. She frowned as she glimpsed small cuts on the sides of his wrists.
“We’ll need to clean these cuts when we get inside. Who knows how many people the cuffs have been used on.”
Beth made for the front door, but was held back when Osman held onto her wrist. She turned to look at him. Without warning, he pulled her into a fierce hug.
“Thank you,” he breathed into her hair.
Beth was frozen, unsure what to do. As they stood in the dark, her tension eased ever so slightly, enough to allow her to relax her body into his. She told herself that he needed comfort after a horrible ordeal. This was sometimes part of the job, too. She tried not to breathe him in again, and, after a few moments, gently pulled away.
“I need to check the house for anything suspicious. Come on,” she said, leading the way, then stopping at the door.
Osman walked over to one of many potted plants surrounding the exterior of the house and dug into the side of a random pot, brushing off a dirt-covered key. The door opened with a groan, and Beth saw Osman flinch. He wasn’t used to this sort of thing, she realized.
In the pitch black of the house, Beth reached for his hand, and he held it tight.
“Do you have some kind of lighting in here?” she asked Osman’s dark outline.
“Of course, but do you think it’s wise to use it?”
“What about candles? That’s subtle enough.”
Osman took the lead then, pulling Beth along in the dark. The only discernable sound was their breath as he navigated down a cool hallway and into a darkened room.
“Don’t move,” he said, releasing her hand and holding his out in front of himself to avoid bumping into any furniture. Beth heard him open a drawer and take something out. Soon after, Osman’s face was illuminated by a match, which lit a series of thick white candles, and the room glowed warmly.
“Good. Now let’s check the house. Come with me, if you want,” she said.
“Like I’m going to be left alone after all that.”
Together they searched the house, finding nothing but sheet-covered furniture and a lot of dust. When they got to the kitchen, Beth was satisfied to see a good stockpile of canned goods and bottled water. They could hole up here for a while until she could get to the bottom of this.
Osman led Beth to a small sitting room, where they plopped down, exhausted, on a soft couch. In one of the bathrooms Beth had been able to snag a first aid kit, and, forcing herself to sit up, she moved closer to Osman and grabbed his hands, holding them out so she could clean up his wrists. She dabbed at the cuts, trying to ignore him staring at her in the candlelight.
“How did you get so good at this?” he whispered.
“Everyone gets first aid training in the military—it’s not all killing and warfare. A lot of the time it’s healing the wounded and patching what was broken.”
She wrapped some gauze around his wrists to prevent infection. They would be fine by morning, she knew, but there was no harm in taking precautions.
“That’s not what I meant,” Osman said, pulling his hands back as she leaned back and lay her head back against the sofa. “How are you so calm, so capable? You always know what to do. I don’t even know how you found me in that van. If you hadn’t…” he shuddered.
Beth turned her head to look at him. She was so tired. “When you’re a woman in a man’s world, you learn to fend for yourself. There was no prince charming to come rescue me when things went wrong, so I had to become my own rescuer. I always had my mom, and to some extent my dad, too, but a lot of the time it felt like they needed me more than I needed them, so I guess I rose to the occasion. That’s what you do when the world throws rocks at you. You toughen up. You find a way.”
Osman stared at her, and Beth met his gaze until she couldn’t. She didn’t want to know what he saw.
“You deserve to be saved every once in a while, too,” he said.
“I’ve been saved before. Many times.”
“By who?”
“By my brothers and sisters in arms.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, stifling a yawn, which made Beth yawn in return.
“We should get some sleep,” she said, hardly able to open her eyes.
Osman blinked, then handed her a candle. “The master bedroom is down that hall and to the right. You take it,” he said, rising.
“Where will you sleep?” Beth asked.
Osman smiled. “I have a room here, from when we used to take summer holidays, when I was a kid. It’s just down the hall from yours, on the left.”
They walked side by side down the hallway until they reached Beth’s room. Osman took a few steps forward, and turned.
“Goodnight, Beth. I feel as though I’ll be thanking you on the hour every day for the rest of my life.”
“Please don’t,” she yawned. “I don’t need that kind of worship for just doing my job. Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Osman.”
She couldn’t help grinning at that. Waving him off, she closed the door to face a spacious, comfortable-looking bedroom.
Beyond exhausted, she kicked off her shoes and unstrapped her purse from her shoulder, amazed that somehow it had managed to survive all the battles she had fought this evening. Lying face down on the bed, she immediately lost consciousness.
***
Beth was dreaming. She was swimming in a lake of fire, sweat dripping from her face and stinging her eyes. She swatted at the flames, fighting desperately to get out of the roasting blaze.
“No!” she shouted as she sat upright in bed, her heart pounding. Her whole body was dripping with sweat, her black cocktail dress soaked. Holding her hands out in front of her, she walked like a zombie to the door, opening it to see Osman was already out there, further down the hallway, his candle flickering in the darkness.
Beth took a deep breath, gazing around. There were no signs of fire. So why was the house so hot?
“Where is your thermostat?” she asked, and Osman took her hand once more and guided her to the living room, holding the candle up to see the temperature. It was over one hundred degrees.
Beth wiped more sweat out of her eyes. “It says the air conditioning is on. Where is your electrical unit, so I can take a look?”
“This way,” Osman said, wiping his own sweat away. He looked tired and worn down. Beth wondered if he’d been sleeping at all, or simply reliving the events of his kidnapping. His hand was moist in hers as they made their way down into a basement, and over to what looked like the heating and cooling system.
“Hold that up for me, will you?” Beth asked.
When no light arrived, she looked up expectantly.
“I’m sure I’ve done this before. You hold the candle and I’ll take a look,” Osman said, handing the candle to her as he bent to examine the wiring and switches.
Beth took a step back, holding the candle close enough for him to see the box. A hot drop of sweat rolled down her back as Osman stared hopelessly at the wires. Taking a peek, Beth could see there was a fuse that had been turned the wrong way.
She waited as long as she could for him to figure it out, but her throat grew dry as her body continued to melt in the sweltering heat. Finally, she reached over his shoulder, flicking the fuse the right way. A burst of cold air washed over them, an instant relief.
Osman turned and grinned at her. “Is there nothing yo
u can’t do, Beth Coolidge?” he asked before heading back up the stairs. She followed behind.
I can’t keep you out of my mind, she thought. So that’s something.
They made their way back to their rooms in silence, Beth lying back down and basking in the cool breeze that washed over her. Another wave of exhaustion hit, and before she knew it, she was passed out again. There were no more dreams of fire.
TEN
Beth
Beth woke up to soft morning light. She stretched, and immediately flinched. Her muscles were sore as hell—probably from beating up a series of large men over the past two days. She took a mental note to keep up her exercise regimen, to ensure her muscles stayed strong for whatever lay ahead.
