“Which means you are keeping it,” Selena said and grinned. “I’ll take that diamond bracelet for my birthday when you get paid.”
“Get out Selena,” Jameela said and smiled.
Her ride to the precinct was filled with nothing but inner turmoil and regret. She wanted to know as much as she could about the case, and if she could do nothing, then she wouldn’t show unnecessary interest. But continuing what she was planning sent her beyond her natural morals and professional work ethics, and she wondered if she could go through with it. Was she willing to sacrifice her career so that he could pay?
When she got to the precinct the prosecutor was already there. He escorted her to the room where the accuser waited. He had a stony face, and he stared straight ahead but seeing nothing. She stood there and listened to the man rattle on about how the Sheikh had killed his brother. And just when Jameela thought things could not get any worse, she was led away to the evidence room. Not only did they have a murder weapon, a knife with strange carvings and which seemed to be an antique, but it had Al-Hafeez’s fingerprints all over it. And his was the only one they could find.
When she passed by the investigation room again the man was just walking out. He gave her an odd look, and in that moment she wasn’t sure what was the winning side; seeing Sheikh Al-Hafeez behind bars for his crime against her family and watching a crook slither away untouched, or defending him so that justice was served. The thing was, she was no longer sure for whom she should be seeking justice.
CHAPTER 4
Jameela held the card in her hand—Freya Abdul, reporter— and played with it. She turned it over and over again, even while she held the phone in her hand. She got a rush of adrenaline just then and dialed the numbers printed in bold. It had only just started ringing when she lost her nerve and hung up again. Her palms were sweaty and clammy, and her heart raced as she sat there with her eyes glued to the device. There was a mental struggle going on between being selfish and being right, and she was no longer clear on what she wanted to be the winner.
“Jameela?” she heard a far off voice calling to her. She turned to face the door and saw Selena standing there. “Where were you just now?” she asked and walked into the office.
“I was just thinking about the case,” Jameela said and placed the phone on the desk. She rubbed her hand over her eyes to kill the tiredness that already clung to her eyelids.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” the woman asked her.
“Not much. I was going over the whole thing, and trying to make a case out of it. I need to see him in a few…oh!” she exclaimed when she saw the time. “He should be here any second now,” she said and jerked up in the chair. She shuffled some items around on her desk, raked her hair behind her ears and smacked her lips. Then she noticed the odd look Selena was giving her. “What?” she asked.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you are looking forward to meeting him,” Selena said and folded her arms.
“Don’t be silly,” Jameela retorted. “The man is impossible to be around.” She did not make eye contact with Selena when she responded, and that did not go unnoticed.
“If you say so,” the woman said.
“I do say so,” Jameela said. “Now, if you would excuse me,” she said and walked off. She was just exiting the main office when she ran headlong into Al-Hafeez. He instinctively grabbed her on the arms, even before realizing who it was.
When he did, he quickly let go and cleared his throat. “I was waiting and when you didn’t show…”
“No, that’s okay,” she said as she felt the blush rising in her face. “I lost track of the time. Let’s go,” she told him and quickly walked off.
There was a deafening silence all the way down to the basement. “Oh,” she said and turned to him with a wild look in her eyes as if she had lost something. “I think I would rather use my car, if that’s okay with you.”
“Where is your car?” he asked, and she could tell he was already uncomfortable with the idea.
“It’s over here,” she told him and walked off. She squeezed her alarm button, and her car made a beeping sound just as the lights flashed. He seemed astonished that it was a Volvo, and with less reproach, he followed her inside. She kept her eyes trained on the road as she made her way to the police precinct. From the corner of her eyes she could see Al-Hafeez gazing outside, seemingly unconcerned about his current predicament. As soon as she pulled into the parking lot of the station, he instantly opened the door and got out. He then proceeded to button his black coat before standing aside to wait on her.
“Follow me,” Jameela said and cleared her throat. She was not sure how saving Al-Hafeez from the bowels of prison would count as victory. Her feelings of anger escalated to boiling point each time she was around him, yet she kept being pulled in by his aloofness and odd charm. She suspected there was more to the man than he was showing her, but that was not something she could focus on at the moment.
“Miss Harding,” the prosecutor said as they entered the precinct. He was a tall man, and very well established. She knew little about the man, but not enough apparently; she would have never pegged him as the kind of man who would take on a case of this kind. But then, she had never admired prosecutors, which was ironic at the moment considering she was defending a man she thought should be punished.
“Mr. Malinga,” she replied and nodded. Then she turned to look at Al-Hafeez, but he was just standing there and looking out of place. She walked off and she heard his footsteps close to her. The man led them to the investigation room, where they were offered seats across from the prosecutor.
He sat down and promptly shoved a file before Jameela. She looked at him curiously, and then flipped the cover open. It revealed the image of the knife that was used to kill Manseh. “Do you recognize that instrument?” the man asked Al-Hafeez.
“Is this some sort of joke?” Al-Hafeez asked.
“Just answer the question,” the man replied coldly, and locked his fingers on the hard surface of the desk.
“What is this?” Jameela asked.
“This is the weapon that was found at the scene of the crime,” Mr. Malinga told her. “As we now know it belongs to your client. I was just wondering if he had the balls to admit he recognizes it.”
“This is ridiculous,” Al-Hafeez shouted. “Everyone knows that knife is mine. How many times have my family been seen boasting it in public? It’s one of our most prized possessions.”
“And currently the murder weapon,” the man said dryly.
“Come on!” Al-Hafeez said angrily. “Do you think I would stab someone with that knife?”
“Are you saying you would stab a man with a different knife?” Mr. Malinga persisted.
“No, I didn’t say that. I was simply saying that’s not a knife that should be used for that intent.”
“Did you want Manseh dead?” the prosecutor threw at him.
“If I…” The words ended there as Al-Hafeez slammed his hand down on the desk. Both Jameela and Mr. Malinga jumped when he did. “I did not kill that man!”
“That’s what they all say,” Mr. Malinga told him. “All of you rich men think you can do as you like without consequence. Well this time, I am going to nail you to the wall!”
The entire time Jameela was there she just listened. And she was content with that too, but she knew herself too well to just sit there and listen to the prosecution bashing her client. Furthermore, her instinct told her he was not guilty. Not of this crime, at least.
“Okay, that’s enough Malinga,” she told the man. “So, the weapon was at the crime scene and it belongs to my client. Is that all you’ve got?”
“He has opportunity, motive and a murder weapon. I think I have a little more than you are willing to admit.”
“What you have is knowledge everyone else does. Sure he had a debt he owed; who didn’t? The man was a bookie and a gambler. I am sure he has plenty of people who are rejoicing now at his death. You
have opportunity? Is that more or less opportunity than any other person who wanted to kill him? It was just circumstantial that his office is close to where the body was found, and even more so that his possession was found on the scene. Did it ever occur to you that my client is being framed for a murder that he didn’t commit simply because so many people want to see him pay because he is wealthy?” She leaned back in her chair and stared the man dead in the face after she had spoken.
“It is for you to prove Miss Harding, that he isn’t guilty of the crime he is accused of. I can only present the evidence.” Mr. Malinga smiled as he and Jameela continued their legal battle of will.
“Tell me something, do you have my client at the scene of the crime?” She waited for him to answer.
“Well, no, but…” he began to reply before she cut him off.
“Is it possible that the man who went to murder your client’s brother did so of his own volition?” she asked.
“If he was acting under the advice of Mr. Ramadan…”
“So that’s another no then, right?” Jameela interrupted. “You don’t have him at the scene. All you have is your client’s brother testifying that my client killed his brother when there is nothing, other than a stolen piece of cutlery connecting my client to the unfortunate death. I expect a little better from you Mr. Malinga, but until you have an actual charge for my client, I would suggest you get your story straight. Now, if there is nothing else, I would like to confer with my client. Excuse me,” she said as she rose, and Al-Hafeez did as well, and with such abruptness it was as if something had sprung him from the chair.
Jameela walked out with Al-Hafeez on her heels, and she never once stopped to look back at him or the accuser she had to pass on the way out. When she got to the car, she wasn’t expecting a conversation from the man, so she was surprised when she felt his hand on her elbow.
“Hold on,” he told her. She turned to face him and he sighed when she did. “I’m sorry I was such an idiot before. It’s just that I am not accustomed to being in a position such as this and…”
“Hold on a second,” Jameela said as she felt her phone vibrating. Her pulse quickened when she saw that it was Freya. She ignored the call and turned to Al-Hafeez with a smile. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he told her, and his demeanor was the most docile she had ever seen him. “I was just thanking you for…for just now,” he said as he searched for words.
“It’s my job,” she told him and smiled. He smiled and nodded, and then stood back. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I will call my driver,” he told her.
“Okay, I will talk to you later then,” she replied and got into her car. She drove off and adjusted her rear view mirror as she did. When she looked back he was still standing at the bottom of the steps looking in her direction, and she felt her heart flutter. She quickly averted her eyes, as if he could catch her in the act, but she stole another glimpse just before the car turned the corner. She was undecided before, but now she was sure she would defend him against the vultures bearing down on him. She would just have to find another way to make him pay.
CHAPTER 5
The sun streaked in through the blinds in Jameela’s apartment, and made delicate patterns on her face. Her eyes fluttered as she began to feel the warmth penetrating her skin and she subconsciously noticed the room getting brighter. Her eyes cracked, and then as if electrocuted, she sprang from bed and looked at the clock. It read half past nine. Half past nine! Alarm bells went off in her head as she dashed to the bathroom. She was going to be late for work. She still had her mouth filled with foam from the toothpaste when her phone began to ring. That must be Ahmad calling to ask about her noticeable lateness. She tossed some water into her mouth, wiped it with the towel hanging from the hook on the door and raced to retrieve the device.
“Hello?” she asked into the mouthpiece.
“Why are you out of breath this early in the morning?” her friend Mansi asked.
“Mansi?” she asked. “I thought you were Ahmad.” It was only then that she stopped to breathe.
“Why would he be calling you on a Saturday?” she asked.
Oh that’s right. It was Saturday. Jameela fell back on the bed in relief, and she smiled as she realized she had some more time to sleep. “I thought this was a work day.”
“Girl, you work too much. What time should I come by you?” Mansi asked.
Jameela dug around in her mind for an answer to that question; clearly she had something planned with Mansi that she couldn’t remember at the moment. “Time?”
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Mansi wailed. “How do you ever defend anyone in court with a memory so poor as yours?”
“Maybe you should retain me, and then test my memory,” Jameela joked.
“Oh, so your memory only knows money. You should do well with that Sheikh Ramadan case then,” the girl said.
“Ugh, don’t remind me about that,” Jameela said and covered her face with the pillow to block some of the sunlight. “The man is truly detestable.”
“No matter,” Mansi replied. “It’s not like you were thinking about dating him.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and it was hard not to notice that Jameela hadn’t responded. “Oh my,” Mansi laughed. “You have thought about it.”
“N-No!” Jameela stuttered. “Yes he is handsome, but…why are we talking about my client? What time do you get here? I need to freshen up.”
Mansi was still laughing on the other end of the line. “I will be there in a half an hour.”
Jameela hung up the phone before the woman could find anything else to say. She hadn’t actively given Sheikh Al-Hafeez any thought, and she didn’t want to now. But all the while she showered and dug around in her closet for something to wear, she couldn’t deny his overwhelming impact on her senses and her memory. She had never known any man like him, the way he commanded attention even from those who would refuse to give it—such as herself. He was hard not to notice, and she now thought it in her best interest to get the case over with as soon as possible. Except that meant seeing the man more often. By the time Mansi arrived she was more than ready to go.
“Where are we going again?” she asked the woman as she hopped into the car.
“We planned this day so that we could go to the spa and just relax. Right now I think you need it more than when we set it up,” Mansi said and sank her foot on the accelerator.
“I would like to get there alive,” Jameela said as she clung to the seat. Mansi only laughed; she was always the one with the wild and reckless side.
“Relax,” she told Jameela. “So,” she began and looked over at Jameela suspiciously, “when can I meet him?”
“Him, who?” Jameela asked and absent mindedly combed her hair back.
“What do you mean him, who? Al-Hafeez,” she exclaimed.
“Mansi, why do you think I want that man in my life beyond this case?” Jameela asked, her frustration ripe on her face now.
“I didn’t say you should date him. I’m saying introduce us and I’ll take it from there,” Mansi grinned. She was a beauty, with two rows of perfect white teeth, brown eyes and shoulder length black hair. She would probably make a great candidate for the Sheikh, if only he had a heart.
“In what world would he be in your life to not affect mine? All I would see or hear about would be him. Let’s just get through this day, and possibly the rest without Al-Hafeez.”
Mansi looked over at her, and creased her brow. “You do have a thing for him.”
“Just drive Mansi!” Jameela practically shouted. She didn’t want to talk or think about the man, but it seemed that was the only thing her friend was intent upon doing.
They got to the spa, and the women indulged in the various amenities that were available. Jameela was still clad in an off white fluffy robe, her hair wrapped in a matching towel, green goo still pasted to her face when she decided she would grab a bottle of water from the mac
hine while she waited for her attendant to complete the final touches on her. She stepped out of the room and eased it shut behind her. She shook her head when she saw Mansi sitting up in the chair with her head leaning to the right, indicating she was asleep. The door clicked and she walked back to the lobby area, where she expected to find the section off the registry that bore the condiments. What she didn’t expect was the tall, handsome man that would walk into the establishment and catch her off guard. With green goo on her face.
Jameela froze, eyes peeled and adrenaline immobilizing her. Wait, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her, but the longer she stood there, the less likely it would be that he wouldn’t notice her. She slowly turned to haul her ass in the other direction when her eyes made contact with his.
She saw his face contort in recognition, even though she was partially hidden under algae, and he stepped in her direction. Too late! Jameela acted as if she didn’t see him walking towards her, and dashed off in the direction of the room. She barely managed to close the door behind her as she escaped inside. When she rested against the door, her hand on her chest as she tried to still her floundering heart, she noticed Mansi and the attendant looking at her oddly.
“What was that?” she asked as she sat upright from her former relaxed posture.
Jameela looked back thought the rectangular glass in the door and hurried over to Mansi. “You wouldn’t believe who I just saw out front? Al-Hafeez!” she continued before the woman had a chance to even guess.
ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance Page 3
