There’s a headphone set by my side. As Frank puts his on, I do likewise. Immediately I can clearly hear what the pilot is saying. He’s preparing to take off. As the helicopter rises into the air, I have an idea.
It must be worth a try. “I’m a princess,” I start. “I have money. Take me to an airport and I’ll give you any amount you like.” If they ask for more than I have access to, Kadar would help. What am I thinking? My brother’s more likely to trap them and kill them. That would be no more than they deserve.
I know they’ve heard me as Frank throws me a strange look, but no one answers. While they talk among themselves they ignore me, at times mentioning the package they have to deliver. It’s apparent my kidnapper was right. They’re already dehumanising me.
A sob rises. I stuff my fist in my mouth to stop it escaping, willing myself to stay strong. Kadar won’t give up. While I’m not close to my brothers, by stealing me away they’ve insulted the monarchy and the country. That is what will be driving Kadar on. He wouldn’t let such affront to Amahad go unpunished.
It doesn’t seem long before the thumping of the rotors changes to a rhythmic thwack thwack thwack sound, which I know from my familiarity with such mode of travel means it’s coming into land. But where? I peer out of the window in the gloom of the darkening skies—night falls early in this part of the world. I can see nothing beneath us, only the wane light of the moon reflecting off waves. He told me I would be taken to a yacht.
I hate the sea, a feeling that appears to be reciprocated, as each time I’ve been on a boat the movement of the waves makes me ill. Well, this man who’s apparently bought me, and who I refuse to call Master, will get what he deserves if he tries to force himself upon me and I’m violently sick.
I swallow rapidly as we descend, giving myself a silent lecture, reminding myself to be brave. Despite all the years when I tried to forget my origins, I’m now repeating to myself, you’re a princess. Princess Aiza. And no one, or anything that’s done to me, will ever take my identity away.
The chopper lands with a slight lurch, making me clasp the harness, worried we’ll be blown off the helipad into the sea. I can hear the wind outside, and already feel the motion of the yacht. My stomach, churning with fear, threatens to rebel.
Frank leans over and unfastens my harness and rips my headset off my head. “Out.”
As the other man opens the door, I obey, knowing there’s no point struggling to stay in my seat. Again I get a glimpse of Frank’s gun. My problem is, unless I can immobilise him in some way, there’s no way to get my hands on it. I’d only be using guesswork if I tried to fire it. As Hunter had pointed out, firearms training wasn’t in my curriculum.
A man in white uniform approaches, gives a nod to the men who’d brought me here, then speaks to me curtly. “This way.”
The wind’s blowing, the snow’s changed to sleet. Looking around I can’t see far in the darkness, not knowing whether we’re close to land or far out at sea, nor, if the former, which direction the coast is. If I tried to escape by swimming I’d probably die of hypothermia within minutes. I’m still not that close to giving up. With nothing else to do, I go through the door indicated, stumbling in my high heels.
The uniformed man leads, I follow, my eyes searching for some kind of weapon, but the hallway is bare with doors off the side. I start to get an idea this yacht is enormous, certainly much bigger than I expected. Soon we come to big double doors. He pushes them open, stands aside to let me enter, then disappears without a word.
I step inside, then pause with my back to the doorway. While the size of the boat had already led me to believe it’s owner has to be loaded, his wealth is apparent by the size of the room and the furnishings within. The artwork on the walls appear to be originals, the gold fittings, I would guess, real and not gilt. I’m not unused to such opulence, having lived my formative years in the palace of Amahad, but to find it floating on the sea is surprising. The room is huge, larger than I expected, and when a man removes himself from the chair he’d been sitting in at the far end, I take a moment to examine him.
He’s dressed in Arabian robes, his head covered. It’s hard to tell his age, he’s well past the flush of youth, lines betraying his years. Middle-aged is the closest I can place him. His mouth is thin, his nose aquiline, his eyes too close together.
He’s tall and walks with a purposeful stride as he approaches me.
I pull myself up straight, refusing to cower.
He pauses a short distance away. “Kunt tufadil altahaduth biallughat al'iinjliziat 'aw alearabia?”
Should I stay silent? Mute? Or face up to him? “English,” I reply, as he asks me what language I’d prefer to converse in, deciding the only way to get information is to speak.
“English, Master,” he corrects, adding, “Slave.”
For a response I just draw back my shoulders.
He laughs. “Let me explain your situation. You are on my yacht, the Master of the Sea. An appropriate name, don’t you think?” He pauses, I say nothing. “It has ten guest cabins as well as the master suite. Unoccupied now, of course, while we get to know each other. After I’ve trained you I’ll start inviting guests. I have a crew of fifty who have their own accommodation. Fifty men and women who are fiercely loyal to me. It would be useless for you to try to bribe any of them. Any attempt will be reported to me and severely punished. Do you understand me?”
The last four words are snarled out, the suddenness hitting me like a physical blow. Still I offer no answer.
My lack of response doesn’t appear to faze him. Instead he chuckles. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” He stares at me for a moment. “You need to understand, I own you, completely. Your home is this yacht, and you will never leave. You will never put your feet on land again. You will be here for the remainder of your life, and how long that lasts will be completely up to me.” His eyes, meeting mine so directly, seem to mesmerize me. “If you behave as I wish, I may reward you. Or I may punish you for my own enjoyment. If you don’t obey me, you will receive retribution, the likes of which you cannot yet imagine. You are here solely for my pleasure. Nothing I do will ever be for yours. You are not a person, you’re not a human being. You’re not even an animal. You are my toy. Are you appreciating your situation yet?”
I’m shaking. However much I try to remain poised, the terrible words coming out of his mouth are affecting me.
“The only way you can make your life easier is to do what I say, when I say it. If I ask you to put your hand in fire you will do so for my entertainment. If I tell you to have sex with a dog, you’ll do it.” He walks behind me and then circles back to my front. “I don’t expect you to pretend to enjoy anything I ask of you. I don’t want your pleasure, real or faked. It’s your tears, your screams that I desire. Are you understanding me yet?”
Chapter 12
Rais
I’m not one for sitting still for long periods. Even in meetings I prefer to walk around, quick to start fidgeting if I’m forced to remain in my chair. The long flight has tried my patience. Now, sitting in the SUV with Jasim beside me isn’t helping to calm me. My leg bounces with frustration. My one desire is to get to our destination and rescue Aiza. The journey to get to her is taking forever.
“I suppose you look on her like a little sister, too?” Jasim asks, his eyes not missing my agitation.
Not fucking likely. Now’s not the time to reveal my true interest. Kadar knows, of course, though he obviously hasn’t enlightened his brothers. “I’ve known her most of her life.” That’s the truth, though the way I view her has decidedly changed over the years.
He seems to want to talk rather than brood in silence. “She used to annoy the hell out of me and Nijad. Always following us around.”
A snort from the front seat. “We discouraged that pretty fast. When she was born we were already at boarding school, only coming home for the summer holidays. We had better things to do with our time. Like learning to be men
.”
“And Kadar was being trained as a clone of the emir.” I’d seen how the family had lived for myself while spending time at the palace and training in the desert alongside Jasim and Nijad.
“I suppose we were quite hard on her.” Jasim closes his eyes for a moment, then shakes his head. “I can’t think of one time we actually treated her as anything other than a nuisance.” He glances at me with an apologetic shrug.
“She grew up before we noticed, Jasim. I couldn’t say I know her at all,” Nijad adds dejectedly.
Silence falls. I suspect they’re wondering whether they’ll get the chance to make it up to their sister. Not that the brothers know it, but while they’d been away getting on with their lives I had taken pity on the young girl, giving her her first riding lessons when she came to stay in the southern desert—another location where she was sent to be out of sight. Not then having an inkling the child I was leading around on a pony would grow into such a beautiful woman, independent enough to turn her back on her royal heritage and use her own money to fund charity work. The exact kind of woman I want by my side and in my life. The affection I’d felt for the girl having morphed into something far deeper and far more mature.
Hunter, driving due to his familiarity with driving on the left, has kept quiet during our discussion. He might have been concentrating on the road, or, not having known Aiza as a child, he wouldn’t have had much to communicate. He does, however, speak now. “Aiza’s an amazing woman.”
“You seemed quite taken with her at my wedding,” Nijad says, and I note that he seems much more relaxed with Hunter when Cara’s not around. He’s left his wife with the plane. She can continue to work there and, quite rightly, Nijad refused to have her exposed to any danger.
“I was,” Hunter admits. “I spent time talking to her at Kadar’s wedding too. I admit I’ve not had a lot to do with her in between, but we had interesting conversations the night I brought her here. I give you fair warning, I intend to get to know her much better.”
I growl under my breath.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Hunter?” Jasim sounds amused.
“Why not?”
I could certainly tell him why not.
I see Nijad stiffen in the front seat. “I’m not sure you’d be right for her, Hunter.” I’m surprised he’s refraining from saying much else. It’s well know he’s always maintained his suspicions about Hunter’s intentions towards his wife.
“Aiza’s a grown woman,” Hunter reminds him. “She should be allowed to make decisions for herself. If it’s me she wants, you’re not going to stand in my way, Nijad.”
“I won’t have her back only to lose her,” Nijad starts, and quiets Hunter’s interruption with a growl. “Neither will I prevent her doing what she wants to do. But I won’t be pressing your case.”
I want to throttle the man driving. At least now he’s showed his hand I can be better prepared. Without giving my own interest away, I remind Hunter there’s yet another rival. “I think you’ll have a fight on your hands with Rami. He’s made it quite clear that he’s going to make a move.” Rami, who I thought was my only competition, is in the vehicle following us. Behind are the other hired SUVs carrying the military men.
“Rami’s far too weak for her. Oh, he’s a decent enough chap, but Aiza needs a strong man. She needs a Dom, not a sub.”
“Sub?” The man by my side laughs. “You think Rami’s submissive, Hunter?”
“Actually, I think he is too, Jasim. He’s like a puppy, eager to please.” Nijad’s summed up the prince well in my estimation.
“Perhaps Aiza would like to teach him new tricks.” Jasim chuckles again.
Hunter’s phone rings. He answers immediately, putting it through the car’s speakers.
“Your position, Hunter?” Ben Carter asks, his voice immediately recognisable.
Hunter’s head lifts as though he’s consulting the Sat Nav. “About twenty minutes away.”
“We’ve just got into position, had to hike through the woods at the back. While we were moving in there was a development I don’t like. A helicopter arrived. Only stayed a few minutes, then left.”
“It was picking someone up,” Hunter replies quickly, his voice sounding strained.
“Or dropping someone off.”
“Either way, I don’t like it. What’s the plan, Ben?”
“Ryan got close enough to get the identity of the helicopter. I’ll try and find out if it’s filed a flight plan. Jon’s already trying to get it tracked by satellite.”
He breaks off, and I hear murmured voices, then he’s back. “We can’t follow it on the ground. We’ll stick to the original plan. If she’s still there, we’ll get to her, if she’s not, hopefully there’ll be someone in the hunting lodge who’ll be able to tell us where they’ve taken her.”
“Hold off until we get there,” Nijad commands. “We go in together.”
I crack my knuckles. If there’s anyone there and Aiza’s been taken away, I’ll be asking questions to which they’ll have to fucking respond, and in such a way that leaves them no other choice other than to tell us all they know. I might have watched my lieutenant, Mustapha, a time or two. He’s an expert at torture.
Nearing the location, we pull off the road where Ben had indicated. The Grade A senior partners appear out of the trees as if by magic as we prepare for whatever might lie ahead. All of us having divested ourselves of our robes, and we’re dressed alike in dark jeans, black jumpers and jackets. Leaving the warmth of the SUV, I pull my coat around me, noticing the cold which immediately starts seeping into my desert bones. Snowflakes flutter around me as I momentatily remove the jacket to slide on the armoured vest Ben’s handed out.
Our group huddles around, and Jon updates us. “There’s a rear entrance Ryan’s already checked out. One man in the main room to the left of the hall. A butler and cook were seen in the kitchen. Two guards left with the helicopter, and there were three more that we saw.”
We outnumber them, that’s good. Ben gives us directions. General Zaram and his men will make the first advance along with Ben’s team. Hunter will stay back with us. Once they immobilise the guards we’ll go in and search for Aiza.
Armed with stun grenades, guns and knives, we’re only paces behind them as attacks are made at various locations around the ground floor.
It’s not a fair fight. Our attack took the people inside totally unawares, our trained soldiers easily overpowering untrained guards. Ryan and Seth run up the stairs to check out the rest of the house, with calls of ‘clear’ echoing as they look into each room.
Jasim, Nijad, Hunter, Rami and I go into the elegantly furnished room where our prey is sitting. Presumably the man who owns or leases this house.
As Jon appears shaking his head and says the words I dread to hear, “She’s not here. Found the room where she was kept. In the fucking basement,” I notice he’s holding an iWatch in his hand, and then he slides it into his pocket.
Snarling, I throw myself at the Caucasian man who sits sneering, not even bothering to get up. My hand around his throat, I pull him up out of his chair, pushing him back until he slams up against a wall. “Where the fuck is she?” I spit at him, shaking him so hard his teeth rattle.
Unease appears in his eyes.
“Talk.” Nijad approaches. “Don’t mistake us for fools. Rais, loosen your hand. He can’t say anything like that.”
I hadn’t realised the man’s face is turning red as my hand constricts his airway. I loosen my fingers slightly, however don’t let him go.
“Where’s the princess?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gasps.
I’ve no patience. I hit him hard in the stomach. “Aiza Kassis. We know she was held prisoner in this house. Who are you, and why did you take her?”
My blow had knocked the wind out of him, but still he denies it. “You’re mistaken, I don’t even know who you’re talking about. There’s b
een no woman here.”
Jasim comes up alongside his brother, taking the iWatch from his pocket and dangling it in front of the man. “This says you’re lying.” He glances at me and nods. “I’ve heard some of the methods my friend Rais here uses to get people to talk. They’re quite inventive. I’m not quite sure I’ve got the stomach for it myself. Why don’t we leave you alone with him for a while? Rais?”
An ugly grin comes to my face. “Sure, Jasim.” There’s nothing I’d like more.
Nijad puts his hand on my arm. “Just make sure he can talk. Doesn’t matter if he can’t walk, or ever fuck again.”
“If you don’t get results, I’ll try myself.” Now Rami joins in.
“He’s wet himself,” Jon throws in conversationally.
“I’ll talk. I’ll talk.” The man is trembling, his face, at last, full of fear.
“Fucking talk then.” Curling my hand around his neck, I throw him into the middle of the floor. “What’s your name and what have you done with Aiza?”
Stunned by the force of hitting the floor, he pulls himself into a sitting position and brushes his hair back off his face. Wild eyes scan the angry men facing him. If he’s seeking one to appeal too, he’ll come up lacking.
“My name’s Chris Germaine. I’m a broker.” He shakes his head as though hating that he has to admit it. “I was paid to procure Princess Aiza.”
Procure her? “Who paid you?” I advance menacingly.
“Sheikh Twafiq al Karim bin Ajam,” he spits out as if he can’t talk fast enough. “He bought her.”
As Nijad and Jasim exchange glances, I stare at Germaine. There was something in the way he said it. “That’s not all, is it? Who paid you to take her?”
“Twafiq…”
My boot kicks out and connects, oh dear, with his balls. He curls up. “I want the truth and nothing but the whole fucking truth,” I roar.
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 11
