“What is your name?” he said very quietly in Arabic. “Your real name.”
Blood leached from her face. It was over. This was it. Her brain raced—she’d take whatever punishment he chose to mete out, but she had to find a way to make him help Samira. And she could not do that with Gelu standing there listening to every word. “Zakir, I—”
“Damn you!” He slammed his fist on the table, making silver cutlery jump. “You are the worst kind of traitor to a man.”
“Zakir, please—” Nikki reached out, covering his bunched fist with her hand “—this is not what you think.”
He glowered at her, vibrating under her touch. And she caught a sudden glisten of emotion in his fierce eyes. Her heart crumpled, and a lump wedged into her throat.
“I was falling for you,” he whispered darkly. “In the way that I had fallen for only one other woman. I knew you had something in your past that you wanted to hide, but I suspected it was some personal pain over a lost child, a broken relationship. But I did not believe you to be a cold-hearted, calculating enemy!” He paused, watching her. Dark silence vibrated through the room. “I watched you with those orphans in the Rahm Hills. I listened to you sing to them. I talked to the Berbers about the shepherd you’d saved. I came to believe your lies. Instead, I find you are a spy.”
Tears burned into her eyes. “Zakir…that is not true.”
Zakir slowly got to his feet, jaw tight, neck muscles cording, eyes narrowing in aggression. He came to Nikki’s side of the table, clamped his fingers in a cuff around her wrist. Nikki’s heart skittered.
Drawing her forcibly up from her chair, Zakir’s eyes tunneled into hers. Nikki couldn’t breathe with fear. She felt dizzy.
Abruptly he yanked her body hard against his, thrust his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and gripped so tight it made her eyes water. He bent his head, pressed his lips on hers, forcing her mouth open, his tongue entering angrily. Tears rolled down Nikki’s face as he pulled her even closer, cupping her buttocks. Then he caught her lip between her teeth and applied pressure. She froze, tasting blood, sensing danger. Slowly he released her lip and whispered over her mouth, “Is this how they trained you to do it? To go for the groin? To work my libido? To kiss and screw someone you plan to kill?”
She swallowed, tried to pull back. But he increased his grip. Her pulse jackhammered. Sweat prickled over her brow.
“And what kind of woman puts children into danger, using them as props for an espionage game?”
Nikki tried to open her mouth to speak, but he covered it with his own, silencing her while he moved his hand around the side of her hip. She felt it slipping between the folds of her robe and into her pocket. The pill—he knew it was in there.
Her breath caught, and her heart stopped.
Slowly he extracted the capsule from her pocket. He brought it up to her face, held it right in front of her nose.
Nikki went ice-cold.
“What’s this?” he whispered. “Zakir—
“Tell me!”
She tried to swallow. “That…that’s cold medication. I…was feeling ill.”
“You have a cold?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” He held the capsule over the goblet of red wine he’d set in front of her. Zakir split the two halves of the capsule apart, spilling a dusting of fine white powder into the burgundy liquid. Nikki gazed in horror as the poison dissolved into the dark wine.
He forked his index and middle fingers around the stem of the crystal goblet, lifted it. He held the poisoned drink out to her. “Drink, then. It’ll make your cold better.”
“I…I told you…I…I can’t…don’t drink Zakir. I…”
“I will believe nothing you say until you drink that medicine!” He shoved the glass into her hand. “Take it!”
She did, her hand beginning to shake. “Zakir, please, listen to me. I am not a spy—”
“You—” he said very quietly, darkly “—were captured on camera stealing a document from my office. And you say you are not a spy?”
Her eyes flicked to Gelu. “I…I never wanted to deceive you, Zakir. You have got to believe that.”
“Your deception—” his voice was dangerously quiet “—cost the lives of my men. You cost me millions in equipment. Your deception has destroyed military communications in my country. Now drink that wine.”
The poison inside will take between eight to twelve hours to work.
And then where would that leave Samira?
“Zakir, please listen to me. I never intended to hurt you. I am deeply sorry about what happened. More sorry than you can ever imagine. But I am not a spy. I’m not your enemy. I came into Al Na’Jar by mistake, seeking only safe passage for my orphans. You were kind. You helped us, and…and you made me believe I could fall in love with you,” she whispered, emotion pooling hot in her eyes. “Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to accept your proposal, Zakir,” she whispered. “To stay here with my children. To be your wife. But…I couldn’t.” Her voice caught. “Because you are right. I am hiding something. But it’s personal. Not political—”
“What is it?” he snapped.
“I…I’m not Nikki Hunt.”
A muscle began to quiver at the base of his jaw, and his body crackled with dark energy. Hatred filled his eyes. “Who are you? And,” he said quietly between clenched teeth, “if you lie to me now, my wrath will know no bounds.”
Nikki inhaled shakily.
If she could get Zakir to believe her real background, maybe she could buy back a measure of trust. Maybe she could still find a way to save Samira.
But she could feel Gelu’s eyes on her.
“Before I tell you who I am, I ask for just one thing, Zakir. No matter what you decide to do with me, please do not punish my children. Please promise that you will give them safe passage to the mission on Tenerife.”
“I make no promises to you,” he said coolly. “But I also don’t harm innocent children.”
Nikki nodded, moistened her lips. “My real name is Alexis Etherington, and I’m not a nurse,” she said very quietly. “I’m a doctor, an ophthalmic surgeon, and the reason I won’t drink this wine, Zakir—” she glanced down at the glass still in her right hand “—is because seven years ago alcohol nearly killed me. At the time I wished it had.” She wiped her upper lip with the base of her thumb. Zakir saw she was trembling.
“I’d experienced a terrible loss, and I didn’t know how to go on. I was using any substance I could find to self-medicate, to numb the unbearable agony that ate at me.”
“What agony?”
She inhaled deeply. “My husband hired someone to kill me. The man tried to run me off the road on Christmas Eve seven years ago. He didn’t know that my twins, Hailey and Chase, were sleeping in the back of my car. He hit my vehicle on an icy bridge. I went into a spin. It was snowing heavily, and I went right through the railing and plunged onto the highway below, where we were instantly hit by a semi.”
She fell silent, a haunted look entering her beautiful eyes. “My daughter, Hailey, died on impact. Chase took a little while longer. He died in hospital. I…I was trapped. I couldn’t get to him, to help him.”
Surprise streaked through Zakir.
This angle he did not expect. But he cautioned himself against showing sympathy. This woman had come to him with a highly toxic poison in her pocket—a uniquely prepared cyanide compound designed to kill him. Yet he couldn’t help wanting to hear the rest of the story that she was now spinning. And she was doing it with such apparent honesty in her clear, sad eyes that he desperately, achingly, wanted to hear it. And to believe it. And he detested himself for this need.
“Carry on,” he said coolly. “Why would your husband try to kill you?”
“Because he’s a sick man. He’s been diagnosed as a narcissistic sociopath and he keeps it well hidden. He is also very smart, very ambitious, and he can be exceedingly charming. He dupes people, uses them for his own
gain, and then spits them out when he’s done. And he was done with me. He was having an affair. I found out and was going to file for a divorce, and he knew he’d lose access to my inheritance and trust fund if I was successful. He’d also lose custody of the children if I got my way. So he tried to have me eliminated instead.”
“How do you know this?”
“I…can’t prove it, but I suspected that I was being watched, followed by someone in a black SUV. It almost ran me off the road once before.”
He raised an eyebrow, but Zakir said nothing.
“Then, after a Christmas party, the same black SUV was waiting outside my friend’s house. I’d gone for a drink after work, but my sitter was sick, so I took the kids with me. The vehicle followed me from the party and the driver managed to send me into a spin on the snow- and ice-covered bridge.”
“Why,” said Zakir slowly, “would your husband want to kill his own kids?”
“He didn’t. That was a mistake. The driver of the SUV didn’t know my children were in the car that night. And when Sam learned what had happened he lost it. He was beyond furious, and he tried everything in his considerable power to blame me for ‘killing’ his children.”
Zakir thought of her scars. The Caesarean. Twins. It was possible. He shook himself. She was smart. It could all be lies. She could be sucking him in again.
“While I was still recovering in hospital, Sam leaked information to the press, claiming that I had been driving drunk, that I was an alcoholic and drug addict and that I’d cancelled surgeries in the past because of it. My blood tests confirmed that there was a small amount of alcohol in my system because I’d had one glass of wine at the Christmas party. The cops dropped it, but a journalist ran with the story anyway. I had my privileges at the hospital suspended, pending investigation. Zakir,” she said, her voice thin, “I didn’t even have the will or energy to fight him, or the hospital, or the cops or my friends who weren’t sure whose side to take. I was injured myself. But more than anything I was devastated beyond grief over the loss of my two babies.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke.
Zakir’s heart torqued. Yet again, he chided himself to be cautious.
“I drowned in bottle after bottle of alcohol. I lost my medical license and my practice. But Sam wasn’t content to just let me drown like a pathetic lush. When the cops dropped their criminal investigation, he slapped me with a civil suit of his own, claiming I’d killed his children. I was a pariah. I was a shaking, stinking mess. I got to a point where I didn’t care whether I lived or died anymore.”
She swayed slightly, glancing at the chair. “Stand,” he commanded. “Tell me who your husband is. Why should he hold so much power? Why would the press be so interested in his and your lives?”
She lifted her eyes to his and his heart spasmed. Zakir swallowed, at war inside in his own body.
“My husband is Sam Etherington. He’s a senator being groomed for a run at his party leadership. He’s after the top office in the U.S.”
Something in Zakir stilled. “And you say your name is Alexis Etherington?”
She nodded. “Dr. Alexis Etherington, an ophthalmic surgeon from Washington, D.C.”
He digested the enormity of this revelation. Could this be why she’d blanched at the mention of Tariq? His brother’s interests lay in a similar field. They came from the same city.
“How did you end up in Africa?” he asked.
“I was saved by a television commercial for Mercy Missions. It showed two children, a boy and a girl, about the same age as Hailey and Chase. I…I was suddenly riveted by the image, their big eyes. The innocence. And then I heard the ad saying that Mercy Missions was a foreign organization that sets up bases in troubled countries where children are forgotten. They send in priests, nuns, teachers and nurses.” Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and Nikki fell silent for several beats, trying to compose herself. “This ad was looking for volunteer nurses. Those two children spoke to my heart, Zakir. They told me I still had a role to play in this world. And somehow it gave meaning to this terrible spiral I had descended into. I took it as a sign that I was not supposed to kill myself. I was supposed to get this message. I was destined to help save lost children. Which is what I’ve been doing in Mauritania for the past six years.”
“You still haven’t explained your new name, your passport, your papers.”
“My husband and I had a lot of parties over the years, attended by a lot of government employees. One of them was an ex-CIA operative who once drunkenly told me if I ever wanted to buy a fake ID, he knew how. I laughed it off back then. But I remembered, and I looked him up. He organized the forgeries for me, including fake nursing papers. I paid him a small fortune. As soon as I had them, I left the country.”
The story rang so true. The emotion in her eyes, in her face appeared so real. He longed to believe her…
“Remember, Nikki,” he said softly. “I will verify this. If I find one word of what you say now to be false—”
“It’s the truth, Zakir.” She sounded completely resigned, as if all energy in her body had been spent. And again compassion curled into the fire raging inside him.
He shut it down irritably. “Finish your story.”
She looked directly into his eyes, just as she had on the first day he’d met her. “I am not a weak woman, Zakir. I am not easily beaten. But the loss of my twins and Sam’s attack… I crumpled in the worst possible way. It was humiliating, and it fills me with self-loathing, but there is nothing I can do to change that. All I can do now is save my orphans.” Her eyes flicked nervously to Gelu.
“Samira especially,” she said. “I need to save Samira.”
Zakir frowned inwardly. She’d been glancing at Gelu like that all the time they’d been in here. But not at Hasan.
“What do you mean, save Samira? Do you know where she is?” Out of the corner of his good eye, Zakir saw Gelu shift. And he sensed Nikki stiffen in response. There was some kind of hidden communication happening between the two.
It made him even more suspicious. Was it possible they could be working together. This woman and his most trusted guard?
And there was still the problem of the poison in the glass in her hand.
She began to speak again, but he held his hand up abruptly, silencing her. “It’s an interesting story, Nikki. Or Alexis. Or whoever you are—”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then prove it,” he snapped. “Drink that wine.”
Panic flared in her eyes.
And his heart went stone cold. There was no doubt in Zakir’s mind from the look in her face that she knew exactly what the capsule contained. “Zakir—”
He grabbed the goblet. “You say it’s cold medication?”
She glanced at Gelu, then nodded, face sheet-white.
“Then I will drink it!” In one swift movement he raised the crystal rim to his lips and swallowed the entire contents of the glass. He braced as warmth fired across his chest, and he slapped the glass down on the table.
Her mouth fell open in sheer horror. For a nanosecond, she was unable to speak.
Then she suddenly lunged forward, grabbed his arm, terror racing across her face. “Zakir! We need to get you to a hospital! Fast!”
He glowered at her fingers digging into his arm, then he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Why?”
“There was poison in that glass! It’ll kill you within twelve hours.”
“So you came to assassinate me,” he said darkly. “Just as I suspected.”
“No! Zakir, please, just get to a hospital—”
“You are despicable, you know that,” he whispered. “The worst kind of liar.” He shook off her arm and marched toward the gilt double doors, clicking his fingers for his dogs to follow. “Open the doors!” he commanded.
His Gurkhas slid back the bolt.
“Zakir!” She lurched after him, grabbing for his arm. “Please, God, listen to me! We have to get you to a hospital now!”
&nb
sp; He swiveled around. “Why should I listen to someone who came to assassinate me?”
“I would never have given that poison to you. They tried to make me do it. That’s why they took Samira.”
“Who tried to make you?”
She shot a terrified glance at Gelu. “If I tell you they’ll kill her, Zakir.”
“And how would these people know that you told me?”
“I…I don’t know.”
He shook her off angrily. “Take her away from me!” he barked to his guards. “Lock her in her chambers. Both of you stand guard outside, and do not budge an inch until I send relief, understood?”
She fought against the guards as they grabbed her roughly by the arms. Tears sheened down her face as they dragged her away. “Please, Zakir…please just get to a hospital. You need medical attention or you’ll die.”
Unease whispered through Zakir, and inside he faltered. But he turned his back on her and marched down the corridor, making straight for his office, dogs in tow.
Immediately, he pressed the button on his intercom. “Send in my generals.”
The men entered his office with a click of their heels and bow of their heads. “Take some armed men up to Nikki Hunt’s chambers. She’s being held prisoner there. Two of my Gurkhas are guarding her outside the door—Gelu and Hasan. I want you to take Gelu by surprise, shackle him and put him in the dungeon. Hold him for questioning.”
Surprise showed in their eyes.
“It’s a simple precaution.”
Anything was possible. And Zakir had not liked the subtle interaction he’d witnessed between Gelu and Nikki.
“Go!” he ordered his generals. “Now!” Before Gelu has time to leave his post and possibly contact someone on the outside—or free Nikki. Zakir was leaving no base uncovered.
The doors swung shut, and Zakir groped for his chair, his left eye still completely blind, a blur whirling in his right. He sensed he didn’t have long before his world went dark. Forever.
The Sheik’s Command Page 18
