“Not a good idea,” Rais butts in forcefully. “Your Excellency, it may have been luck they allowed her to keep her watch, or it may be a trap to lure the ruling sheikhs out of the country. The three of you can’t all go.”
“I want to go and rescue my sister.” Nijad’s face grows dark, and fury emanates off him at the thought anyone would suggest otherwise.
Kadar is staring at Rais, his eyes sharpened as though they could pierce the sheikh. Rais meets his gaze head on, a challenge in his eyes. After a pregnant pause, Kadar lets out a loud sigh, makes a quick decision and backs down. “I hate to admit it. I know you are correct, Rais. I’ll stay. Nijad and Jasim will go. She’ll need family around her.”
“And a woman. I’ll come.” Cara’s eyes shine with emotion, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what she’s probably thinking.
“I, myself, will obviously go.” Rais doesn’t expect any argument, and he’s not given any.
“I want to come too.” Rami raises an eyebrow in challenge towards Kadar. “You know my views.” After a moment’s consideration, the emir gives him a nod. I frown, not at all certain I want the prince there. I want to be the one she runs to.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there. I’m meeting up with Jon, Ben and the Grade A team.”
Kadar’s looking pointedly at the bandage on my arm. “Are you fit enough?”
“I’m fine.” I dismiss his concern. “No real damage done. Ah,” I hold up my hand as a text message comes in, “will you excuse me a moment, Ben wants me to call him.”
“Put it on speaker, Hunter. That way we can all hear.”
I waste no more time answering. “Ben, I’ve got you on speaker.”
“That’s good, Hunter. I need only go over this once. Good morning, Emir.”
“Good afternoon, Ben. What have you got for us?”
“The co-ordinates Cara sent us are for a fair-sized house in a remote area of the Scottish Highlands. The type that’s used for a shooting retreat. We’re trying to trace the owner. That’s proving difficult. It appears to be owned by a shell company, and it would probably take less time to peel an onion layer by layer by the time we get to the bottom of it.
“What’s the defence like?”
“That you, General Zaram?”
“It is.”
“The house is in a decent sized clearing in the middle of a forest, long driveway heading up to it through open countryside. There’s a small loch to one side. Difficult to approach with any degree of surprise.”
“Any other way to get close?”
“Maybe via the forest to the rear? We’ll be able to assess more when we’re on site. Anything we’re seeing could be old information. We’re relying on Google Earth here.”
“Satellite pass?”
“We’re working on that now.”
There’s a strange sound on the line, and I can hear traffic. “Jon, myself, Ryan and Seth are driving to London City Airport now. We’ve chartered a plane and the pilot’s already put in a flight plan to Aberdeen. I suggest you fly straight there yourselves. We don’t want to waste time on this, so we’ll hire a couple of SUVs and get there as soon as possible, which means we’ll be ahead of you. Wouldn’t want to take the risk they might move her.”
We know where she is. Ben Carter and Jon Tharpe, two of the people I respect most in this world, are on their way to her. I allow myself to take in the first deep breath since I stepped into the room. With the time difference we should get there late afternoon local time. By this evening I will hopefully be seeing her face to face, checking with my own eyes she hasn’t been harmed.
“We’ll get moving, Ben. Keep us updated.”
“All the way, Kadar. All the way.”
Nijad looks up. “I’ve put a call into the airport. The jet should be ready when we get there.”
“Thanks, Ni. Right.” Kadar shakes his head, a pained expression on his face. “You can continue planning on the plane, there’s no time to waste.” He pauses before adding his last words, which seem to come straight from the heart. “Bring her home. Just…bring her home.”
We stand, Cara comes over to me, Nijad takes her arm and puts her behind him. At any other time it would have amused me. For now I make no comment, and instead listen to what he has to say. “Hunter, we’re going in armed. Don’t care what the fucking British laws say. Come with Jasim and me and tool yourself up.”
Music to my fucking ears. I have no problem with going in heavy. As for shooting anyone there, whoever they are, they deserve to die for laying their hands on my woman.
We travel light, no need for packing. We have no intention of hanging around in Scotland, our aim just to retrieve Aiza and then getting the hell out of Dodge.
Quickly summoned, a man who I’m told is Kadar’s personal doctor is coming along with us, together with a medical team. Why is something I’m trying not to think about. General Zaram also has a team of men.
We are whisked through the airport and the plane starts off down the runway almost before we’ve done up the seatbelts. Once in the air we put our heads together and start to plan for every eventuality. Without knowing more until we get eyes on the ground, we’re limited as to how much we can put in place. Various suggestions are thrown around of alternative scenarios, still unsure whether we’re up against an international terrorist or a bog-standard kidnapper.
“You know, even if it’s someone who’s kidnapped Aiza for ransom, they’ve already got money to come up with the organisation they did. The soldiers at the airport, two helicopters to take them away. Somebody seriously wants her,” Nijad points out.
“We can presume they won’t give her up lightly. They’ve got too much invested in this.” Rais slowly nods.
“I and my men will be taking the lead,” the general informs us. At his word I glance at the half dozen uniformed men sitting at the back of the plane. All looking like they mean business.
“No.” Rais shakes his head. “I will lead.”
“You’re not in the desert now,” Zaram retorts.
Nijad objects. “I’ll take the lead. She’s my sister.”
“With me by your side,” Jasim agrees.
“Sheikhs, you will both stay back. My job is to protect the royal family. I can’t have you putting yourselves in danger.”
Nijad and Jasim toss identical glares in Zaram’s direction and give equally identical shrugs. “Kadar’s got an heir now, and with Jasim’s son, Eti, there’s still a spare. We’re not going to be left behind. The last thing I heard, the military works for the royal family.”
Christ, this is heading for a clusterfuck. It’s time I take charge. “You’ve got two experienced hostage negotiators heading up there now. Ben Carter and Jon Tharpe are ex SAS. They’re experienced soldiers and will be in place to formulate an actual plan, unlike the theoretical ones we’ve been throwing around. They know what manpower’s coming and will be able to assess what they need. Their expertise means we should help, not hinder them. And everyone rushing in blind would be an error of immense proportions.”
“You’re right, Hunter,” Nijad agrees.
General Zaram’s lips have thinned. He doesn’t look impressed, though there’s not a lot by way of valid objection he could offer. What I’ve said makes sense.
No further information has been forthcoming, the only update that Grade A have still been unable to trace who owns the property. Cara’s at the front of the plane working diligently, trying to dig deeper, working her magic on the dark web. So far even she’s had no success. We’re still working on the basis we’ll be going in blind.
The plane journey is tedious, the six hours seeming to be double that time. A man of action, I prefer to be out doing things. I take out the Glock that I’d selected from the palace armoury and check it for the umpteenth time, patting my pockets to make sure I’ve got spare ammunition handy.
Cara’s walking towards me, presumably heading for the restroom at the end of the plane. On her
way back she drops into the empty seat opposite me. “She’ll be okay, Hunter.”
“Of course she will,” I reply as nonchalantly as I can, not wanting to give away, even to my oldest friend, how personally concerned I am about rescuing Aiza.
“No…” She leans forwards and takes one of my hands. “She will be okay.”
I glance at her sharply. She’s clearly known me too long and knows me too well.
“It’s easy to see you care for her.” As I start to deny it, she stops me. “We’ve been friends forever, Hunter. It’s your body language. I’ve sat across from you in meetings before, and I’ve never seen you so wound up as you’ve been today. You care very much for her, don’t you?”
I throw a quick look up the aisle, checking Nijad and Jasim are out of earshot. I lean forwards too, which means my forehead is touching hers. “I do, Cara. Somehow I fucking do. Never felt something like this about a woman before. She’s got me tied into knots. I want her.”
“She’s not one of your playthings.”
Our skin touching, I take comfort from my best friend’s presence. We’ve known each other for fifteen years and have always been close. “I wouldn’t toy with her, Cara. I can’t think of anyone else. I think, I know… Fuck it. I want to marry her. Start a family with her. Kids, dog, white picket fence, the lot.”
Her hands surround mine. “If you can convince her, then she could do a lot worse.”
I give a wane smile at Cara’s endorsement, then it fades. “If she’s still alive.” I voice the unthinkable.
“She’s too valuable breathing.” Cara tries to reassure me.
“For fucks sake!” Suddenly Cara’s wrapped in Nijad’s arms. “Can’t you keep your fucking hands to yourself, Hunter?”
“Ni!” Cara bats him away. “We were just talking.”
“You can fucking talk without holding hands.”
“I’ll hold your hand instead then, shall I?” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Cara’s grinning up at her husband, and he’s looking down at her with devotion in his eyes. Although Nijad’s never accepted the unusual and completely non-sexual friendship between Cara and myself, I couldn’t think of a better man for her. Even given the way that they’d met.
An announcement comes over the speakers.
“Sheikhs, gentlemen, Sheikha. Please retake your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We’re just about to commence the final approach into Aberdeen airport.”
Chapter 11
Aiza
A broker? Although the clothing that I’ve been forced to wear reminds me of the subjugation of women in some Arab states, I stand tall and proud. Letting him know if it was his intention, he hasn’t been successful in making me feel degraded. “What’s your name, and who do you work for?” My voice has a touch of arrogance. Unbeknown to him, rescue is on its way. When I get out of this I’ll do what I can to bring this man down. To help, I’ll get all the information I can. Of course, the longer I keep him talking the more time I’m giving to Kadar.
He sneers. “My name isn’t important. I work for no one.”
“Oh, come on.” He’s fuelling my temper. “Someone must have paid you to kidnap me.”
A smirk appears on his face. “You’re correct, of course. I get commission on whatever merchandise is purveyed.”
“I’m not merchandise. I’m a person,” I spit.
Now he gives an unpleasant laugh that sends chills down my spine, the tone disturbing as much as his next words. “Not anymore.”
What has he got planned for me? I push down the thought. I’ve already got a very good idea, and if I allow myself to think about it, I’d collapse in a heap of tears. Still believing it’s important to show no weakness, imperceptibly I take a deep breath then cross to the wingback chair on the opposite side of the fireplace to his, and audaciously sit down, identifying myself as an equal, a human being, not a thing.
He smirks again, leaning over to a small table, picking up a decanter and pouring amber liquid into a glass. He swirls it around, then takes a sip, smacking his lips, showing he relishes the flavour. He offers none to me. Replacing the tumbler on the table, he gives me a considered look. “It will be interesting, Princess, to see how long it will be before you lose that conceit. I would lay down good money that it wouldn’t take long.”
I breathe deeply, trying to slow the fast beating of my heart, hiding the palpitations caused by fear summoned by his words. Inwardly terrified, I raise my head in challenge and don’t deign to give him a response. Princesses don’t beg for mercy.
The silence extends. He breaks it. “You’re no longer a princess, no longer anyone at all. From this moment on you’re a slave. And that’s what you’ll be until you die. There’ll be no chance of rescue. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be.”
I’ll accept nothing of the sort. “In your dreams,” I retort.
Another huffed laugh. “No, slave. My dreams will be your nightmare.” He sits forwards. “You want to know your fate? You have been purchased. You already belong to someone else.”
“I belong to no one.”
“Slave, however much you try to deny it, you have been bought. Shortly Frank will deliver you to your buyer. I don’t imagine you’ll have any chance of escape. Your purchaser lives on a yacht—by the way, I trust you don’t get seasick?” He seems to find the suggestion amusing.
It’s a rhetorical question, I can see he doesn’t expect an answer. I don’t tell him I’m already feeling nauseous, and it isn’t from any thought of the sea. Glad my olive skin will help hide that all the blood’s drained from my face, I probe. “And who is this man?”
“Your new Master.”
I examine the man who calls himself a broker. Middle-aged. Not unattractive. Gold rings on his fingers. If I met him anywhere else there’d be nothing to warn me how evil he is. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why? It’s my business. Don’t think you can appeal to my better nature. I don’t have one. I don’t even see you anymore, you’re goods which I’ve sold.” He frowns. “It’s business, that’s all. A lucrative one. Sometimes it’s a valuable painting, sometimes an antiquity. And sometimes, a slave.”
I’m learning nothing to help myself. A frown plays at my lips, not knowing how much time I’ve got, whether Frank will take me away before Kadar has a chance to arrive. Wanting to drag this conversation out, I know I need to find the right question which will bring me some answers. A moment later, the obvious one comes to mind. The one I haven’t yet thought to ask. “Why me?”
“Why you?” He tilts his head to the side as if wondering whether to answer. “Well, that’s not difficult to answer. You’re beautiful, and your master won’t find it a hardship to break you. I’d enjoy it myself.” He smirks at me as if I should be flattered by the compliment. “It’s your relationship to Emir Kadar that’s the point. Kadar will be destroyed knowing what’s happening to his sister.”
“You’re going to tell him?”
He chuckles. “Oh, much better than that. He’ll see with his own eyes.” He picks up his drink and swallows again. “When your master takes your virginity—and you are a virgin, aren’t you?” He raises an eyebrow. When I completely ignore his personal and inappropriate question, he continues. “He’ll take you roughly and without care, and everything will be filmed. The video will be sent to your brother. When you’re whipped, left bleeding, Kadar will see it all, every single stroke laying your back open. When your master wishes to share you with his friends, every scream, every indignity, every hole, Kadar will watch.”
I look on, unable to conceal my horror as he adjusts himself in his trousers as if he is getting carried away relaying the horror that lies in my future and turning himself on.
Hurry up, Kadar. You must know where I am by now.
I hear a familiar sound, the rotors of a helicopter thump thumping, and my heart leaps in anticipation and hope. Which is almost immediately dashed.
“Ah. Our little chat is over. That is y
our transport arriving.”
It can’t be. Kadar needs more time. He’s looking away as if he’s already lost interest, dismissed me as though I mean nothing at all. According to him, I don’t. Something tells me I can’t draw this out. Whatever he’s set in motion will play out without me being able to stop it.
I don’t plead. Don’t beg. Don’t try to appeal to any conscience he clearly doesn’t possess, as our conversation has shown.
There’s a knock at the door, and Frank, together with the other, as yet unnamed man who’d accompanied me from Amahad enter. The broker, staying seated, simply nods as suddenly they surround me, pulling me none too gently from the chair.
Before I’m taken out of the room I pull back my shoulders and give my kidnapper the most arrogant look that I can. The master he referred to may indeed break me. I’ll not be leaving this man with the slightest satisfaction that he had any part in my destruction.
I can’t fight off two strong men. Determined not to break, somehow recognising they’d prefer to see me kicking and screaming, I force myself to walk calmly out of the room with them and to my fate.
My body might seem compliant, however my mind’s whirling. If no one’s coming for me, I, myself, will have to find some way of escape. I won’t allow myself to be used. I’m a princess, not a slave. No, my rank isn’t important, this fate shouldn’t befall any woman. I desperately try to tamp down the thought that while Kadar knows I was brought here, the destination of the helicopter will remain unknown. Kadar. Hurry up. Time’s running out.
If I’m gone, Kadar will question this man. From what I know, and usually try to avoid thinking about, Amahadian torture methods are both vicious and effective. In the circumstances, I’ve no doubt Kadar will employ them.
I just have to hang on until my brothers save me.
Wishing I was still wearing my iWatch, yet knowing by now it will probably have run out of charge, I allow myself to be seated in the helicopter. I’m already shivering in this inadequate clothing. Snowflakes are fluttering in the air, and in high-heeled shoes I wouldn’t get far if I tried to run. I save my energy for when it’s going to be worth it. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll take it. As Frank climbs in the helicopter to sit beside me his jacket opens, enabling me to see a gun in the holster. Now, if I could get hold of that…
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 10
