by Pamela Clare
Now it was Kristi’s turn to be confused. “No, that’s not true. It was just Malik and his friend. The Nigerian police and army were still a few hours away. If Malik hadn’t moved in when he did… It would have been a lot worse.”
“Malik,” her mother said. “That’s an unusual name.”
Yeah, her mother was curious. Kristi knew she would be.
Kristi shared a little. “He’s a former Army Ranger. He works as a security operative with Cobra—or he did. He gave up his job to come after me.”
“You must thank him for us,” her father said. “That is a great sacrifice for a man to make. We are in his debt. I hope to thank him one day in person.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t know what happens next.” Kristi realized she’d been talking for almost twenty minutes. “I should probably go. I’m using Malik’s phone. I need to take a shower and have some breakfast.”
Her mother urged her to come home as quickly as possible, and her father gave her some tips about recovering from a concussion. Kristi reminded her father that she was an RN and asked her parents to pass on her love to Michael, her older brother. Then she ended the call.
Malik sat on the armchair, now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “How’d that go?”
She walked over to him, gave him his phone. “My father said to thank you and to tell you that they are in your debt. My dad wants to meet you.”
Men’s voices came from the other side of the door.
Malik kissed her. “I think the Nigerian police are back.”
“Oh, right.” She grabbed some clothes from the bag of things Malik had bought for her—panties, jeans, a purple leopard-print blouse. “Can you hold them off while I take a quick shower?”
“You’ve got it.”
9
Malik sat on the sofa, cup of coffee in hand, listening while a female officer with the Nigeria Police Force asked Kristi to recount what had happened and then followed with an endless stream of questions. Kristi answered as best she could. At least they’d waited until she’d showered and had breakfast before they’d started on her.
David, who sat beside him reading a newspaper, leaned closer. “Relax, my friend. They are not going to hurt her. You and I are here, as are Bruno and Idris. I can see why you thought she was worth leaving your job and risking your life. She is fine—and smart and very brave.”
David had already explained to Malik in private that the Nigerian National Police and the army were taking credit for rescuing Kristi. “It would not look good to say that a foreigner came into the country without authorization and did what the NPF and army hadn’t done. Also, if they take the credit, no one has to arrest us for your forged documents.”
“That works for me.” It didn’t matter to Malik anyway. He hadn’t come here for glory or to get his face on the TV news. He’d come here for Kristi.
Only Kristi.
What was it about her that drew him to her? Hell, yes, she was smart and funny. She was beautiful, too—silky light brown skin, those sweet brown eyes, full lips, lush breasts with large, dark nipples. And, yes, they fucked like they were made for each other, their physical connection combustible. But it was more than that. Even sitting across the room, he felt a pull, a physical need to be closer to her.
Don’t let this end the way it ended in Antarctica.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Yeah, their situation was still complicated. His job—if he had one—took him from home every couple of weeks. She technically had three months left on her contract here, though they would probably release her, given the circumstances. Then again, she was stubborn enough to choose to stay. For all he knew, she had another job lined up somewhere far away when she was done here.
But none of that seemed to matter now.
“Did anyone leave or enter the camp while you were there?” the officer asked.
“Not that I saw, but they rarely let me go out of the hut. Some of the younger men went into the forest from time to time for firewood. One day, they caught a little duiker and dragged it into camp to eat.”
Malik had no idea what a duiker was, but he was impressed that she did.
“Did you ever see them speaking by mobile phone to anyone?” the officer asked.
Kristi shook her head. “No.”
“Did they ever talk about their activities in front of you? It’s rare for a random group of bandits to be involved in human trafficking on their own.”
“They talked about robbing people. When they argued about me, they mentioned selling women. I thought they must be sex traffickers.” She seemed calm and collected, but Malik knew her well enough to see that this was hard for her. “Peter said that they usually shared women … before selling them.”
Motherfucker.
Malik didn’t enjoy killing, but he’d make an exception for that bastard.
“Did you overhear any of the bandits talking about the people they worked for?”
Nearby, Obi quit playing around on David’s smartphone, his gaze on Kristi now.
Kristi’s brow furrowed as she considered the question. “I only knew that Jidda was in charge.”
Obi went back to his game.
“Thank you, Ms. Chang.” The officer glanced at her watch. “We are taking you to our main headquarters here in Kaduna for a short press conference.”
What the hell?
Kristi looked just as surprised by this as Malik.
“You don’t have to say anything to the press. We want to let the country know that you are safe and that the bandits have been killed.”
So, the NPF wanted a PR victory and needed Kristi and her bruised face as a prop.
Malik was about to object when David leaned in again. “It’s part of the deal.”
He stood. “Wherever Kristi goes, I go.”
The officer got a bemused expression on her face. “She will be safe. We will have armed officers with her at all times.”
David stood, set his paper aside. “Mr. Jones is her husband. It’s … uh… a secret, and they are in love. You know how it is. Newlyweds.”
Malik met Kristi’s gaze, expecting to see embarrassment or awkwardness. Instead, her eyes held only warmth.
His pulse skipped.
Kristi stood. “I would like to have my husband with me.”
“Very well—but no firearms.” The officer gathered up her digital recorder and notepad and spoke into her mic to let the officers downstairs know that she was finished and would be coming down. “Mr. Jones is coming with us.”
It was settled.
Kristi sat in the back of a police SUV with Malik, another vehicle ahead of them and one following behind, lights flashing. She spoke to Malik in a whisper. “Why do they get credit for rescuing me? It was you and David, not the NPF.”
He leaned close, whispered in her ear, the minty scent of his toothpaste and the spice of his shaving cream tickling her nose. “It’s a deal David cut with them last night when you were sleeping. I wasn’t operating legally in the country. My firearms permits were forged. This way, they get the PR boost, and David and I don’t go to prison.”
Her heart melted. “Oh, Malik! You broke the law to come after me?”
His lips quirked in a lopsided grin. “You make that sound like a big deal.”
For her, it was a big deal. If not for him, she would be trapped in a living hell.
She took his hand, held it tight. “Thank you.”
They approached a building that was surrounded by a low concrete wall painted sulfur yellow, dark blue, and green and displaying a sign that read Nigeria Police Force. The parking lot was full—television vans with satellite dishes on top, SUVs, reporters, photographers.
The sight of it put butterflies in her stomach. She wasn’t used to being in front of cameras. But if this kept the Nigerian authorities from arresting Malik and David, she’d do whatever they asked of her.
Malik looked around them, a worried frown o
n his face. “Is there a rear entrance, a way to get inside where she won’t have to face reporters?”
“Yes, Mr. Jones. That is where we are going.”
They drove to a gated entrance in back and straight up to the covered rear door, where several uniformed officers awaited them.
From there, it was a whirlwind. An officer opened her door and escorted her and Malik inside and down a hallway, where she was introduced to the police commissioner for Kaduna. A serious man with a razor-thin mustache, he wore a black beret and a blue uniform with several medals pinned to his chest.
“Ms. Chang, I am Commissioner Ahmed Busari. I’m glad to see you safe and unhurt. From what I hear, you are an incredibly brave and clever young woman.”
“Thank you.” She held out her hand, and they shook. “And thanks for all the Nigeria Police Force has done for me. I’m very grateful.”
Malik held out his hand. “Malik Jones, sir.”
The commissioner shook Malik’s hand, his expression going hard. “I know who you are. Next time you take up arms against Nigerians, you might not be so lucky.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then a white man in a black business suit and blue tie walked up to them, an American flag on his lapel. “Ms. Chang, I’m Richard Hartley, the US consul general. I am so relieved to see you safe and sound. Your safety has been the top priority of my office for several days now.”
Kristi forced herself to smile. She’d love to tell him exactly what she thought of his priorities. They hadn’t done a thing to help her. “Thank you for your concern.”
He was somewhat less cordial to Malik but shook his hand. “I think the State Department wants to have a chat with your boss, Mr. Jones.”
“I resigned from Cobra before I left the US. Cobra wasn’t involved.”
Hartley stared at him. “You came alone? You’ve got balls of steel.”
Malik threw Hartley’s language back in his face. “She truly was my top priority.”
“Yes, well, I think we’re about to start.” Hartley ushered Kristi away from Malik to a large conference room with a long table and podium at one end. “You can sit here beside me.”
Cameras clicked and whirred, at least a hundred reporters filling the seats, cameras and microphones at the ready. CNN. BBC. Al Jazeera.
Had her abduction made international news?
Kristi took her seat, looked out at the sea of faces and lenses.
Hartley patted her hand in a way that felt patronizing. “Don’t let them get to you.”
She gave him her sweetest smile. “I just spent four days in a camp with murderers and sex traffickers and watched them die in a hail of bullets. I don’t think the press is going to scare me.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Yes, well…”
But then Commissioner Busari took the microphone.
Busari described her rescue for the press and was accurate in every detail—except for who’d actually done the rescuing. He went on at length about the bandits and assured the public that the NPF wouldn’t rest until all bandits were in prison.
Then Hartley took the microphone. He thanked the NPF for rescuing Kristi and talked about the warm relationship between the United States and Nigeria. “Ms. Chang, would you like to say a few words?”
That hadn’t been part of the plan. They’d told her she wouldn’t have to speak.
Nevertheless, Kristi stood, walked to the podium. “I want to thank the NPF for their bravery in rescuing me. Without their intervention, I might not be alive right now. I also want to thank the Nigerian people for their kindness and warmth. I’ve worked as a nurse here for nine months, and I’ve come to love this country and its people so much.”
At least that last part was true.
When she stepped away from the microphone, the room exploded with questions.
“Ms. Chang, can you tell us what happened?”
“Do you know who was behind this group of bandits?”
“Ms. Chang, were you tortured or abused in any way?”
She smiled, waved, and followed Hartley out of the room.
Hartley gave her a patronizing smile. “Well done.”
As they walked down the hallway toward the room where Malik waited, she saw a notice on one wall. It was a warning of some kind, a wanted poster with several faces. On it were two words that were somehow familiar: Sky Kings.
Malik was glad to get away from the bureaucrats and reporters. Now, he could focus on getting Kristi home—unless she wasn’t planning on leaving yet. “When we get back to the hotel, we can look at flights back to the US.”
The consulate was bringing her belongings to the hotel, including her passport.
She didn’t seem to hear him, her mind elsewhere.
“Kristi?” He squeezed her hand.
She looked up, startled. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”
He repeated what he’d said. “That’s assuming you aren’t going to be stubborn and insist on fulfilling all twelve months of your contract.”
She got a look of feigned innocence on her face. “Moi? Stubborn?”
“Hell, yes, you.” Oh, how he wanted to kiss that smile off her lips.
“I feel bad leaving the other nurses and volunteers in a lurch, but I also have an obligation to my parents. They’ve been through hell worrying about me. My mother just wants me to come home. It would be selfish to make them worry more by staying.”
Malik wouldn’t argue with that. “I think your coworkers would understand. Besides, it might not be safe for you to stay. The men David and I took out had families, buddies. Everyone in Nigeria knows who you are now.”
Her brow bent in a worried frown. “I hadn’t thought about that. Do you think I could be a target?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. I could ask Shields to do a threat assessment if you want.”
Kristi shook her head. “No need for that. The best thing I can do for my parents is to go back to the US. I don’t want to worry them any more than I already have.”
Malik knew her well enough to understand this was hard for her. Kristi wasn’t the kind of person who gave up when the going got rough. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision.”
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re biased. You didn’t think I should come here in the first place.”
“That wasn’t bias. That was experience talking.” He’d seen shit here that would sicken her, shit he’d keep to himself—for her sake.
They arrived at the hotel, and NPF officers escorted them up to their suite, where they found David talking on the phone and Obi sulking on the sofa.
Kristi sat beside the boy. “What’s wrong?”
“He is sending me away.” Obi clearly wasn’t happy.
“What do you mean, buddy?” Malik felt for the boy. He didn’t know the kid’s full story, but a life of suffering had given him the eyes of an old man.
David ended his call and answered Malik’s question. “I am taking him to live with my sister. She is a schoolteacher and lives here in Kaduna with her husband and three children. She can teach you to read and write, Obi. You will have a home with a mother and a father. That’s better than living in an orphanage. Wouldn’t you like to go to school and spend your days playing with other boys?”
Obi didn’t look convinced.
Kristi sat down beside him. “It’s okay to be scared. New things are always scary. But you are brave, Obi. I know how brave you are. If you can survive in a bandit camp, you can go to school and meet a new family. This won’t be nearly as scary as that.”
While Kristi spoke with Obi, Malik turned to David. “You’re doing a good thing in finding a home for him.”
“He cannot live with me, but he is a good boy. I don’t want him to end up on the streets or turning to banditry himself.”
No, they didn’t want th
at.
Malik glanced over at the sofa, where Kristi was checking the kid’s burns.
Then her head snapped up, a look of realization on her face. “Obi, can you go get the ointment the doctor gave you?”
The boy stood and walked toward David’s room.
Kristi stood and walked over to David. “Who are the Sky Kings?”
David frowned. “Where did you hear about them?”
“It was something Obi said when I first treated his burns in the camp. He said Jidda was the only one who answered to the Sky Kings—or something like that. I saw a poster in the police station with those words on it, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. It just came back to me.”
“Pack your things—now. We must get you out of Kaduna as soon as possible.” David stood, strode to his room, calling someone on his phone, his voice drifting back to them. “Get the helicopter ready. We’ll be there within the hour—two adults.”
Kristi looked up at Malik through wide eyes. “What’s happening? Who are the Sky Kings?”
“I don’t know.” Malik typed a quick message to Shields asking for every bit of intel she could gather on them. “But I’m going to find out.”
10
Kristi followed Malik into his room. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure, but if David says it’s time to go, we go. He’ll fill us in when he’s able.” Malik picked up his duffel bag, fished around inside, and pulled out a small box. He opened the box, took something out, and walked over to her. “This is a GPS tag. Keep it hidden on your body somewhere. If we are separated for any reason, this will enable Cobra to track you. Do not take it off.”
His words scared her. “Do you think that will happen?”
“I’m just doing everything I can to protect you.”
“Thanks.” Kristi took the strange little patch. It looked like a computer chip with a sticky adhesive side. She peeled off the adhesive and stuck the chip inside her bra.
