Nijad’s hand slashes through the air before I’ve even completed my sentence. “Rais wouldn’t do that. I’d trust him with my life, Cara’s life, and that of my daughter, Zorah.”
“Ni’s right.” Jasim backs up his brother. “Nothing Rais has ever said or done leads me to believe he’d act against the good of Amahad, and that includes Aiza.”
Ghalib is deep in conversation with Jibran, Sofian and Khalef. After a moment he speaks louder, sending an accusing look my way. “Sheikh Rais has never given any indication he’d turn traitor.”
Why can’t they see that any man could sell his soul for the right price? My hands clench and unclench, rage bubbling up through me as I try to find something, anything, that will persuade them I’m right. Rais has turned on his own people. I’m certain of it. I prepare to give them the one piece of news they haven’t yet heard, standing to deliver it. “The night before last, Aiza told us that she was a virgin.”
“No way… Innocent? Aiza?”
I know what he’s thinking. Hell, I had thought the same way myself. “Sure, Jasim, she’s into BDSM, and she certainly played. Though she’s never allowed her subs to go all the way. She was saving herself.” As Nijad and Jasim exchange raised eyebrows, I continue. “Last night Rais made sure to change her status. And asked her to marry him. She agreed.”
“I still don’t believe it.” Jibran’s shaking his head. “The princess is a beautiful woman. I don’t blame Rais for making a move.”
Jasim’s staring at me and raises his hand to Jibran. “He could have made his move anytime over the past six years, since she turned eighteen.”
By my side Rami growls. “Everyone knows she was promised to me. He shouldn’t have touched her.”
“By our dead father,” Nijad snarls. “Not the present emir. If Aiza wants to marry Rais, there’s nothing stopping her, and I for one would be pleased.”
“Kadar would be too. It would strengthen the union with the southern desert. Aiza could do much good work here.” Jasim, now having absorbed the news, seems quite happy.
They’re getting off track. “Why now? Why this timing?” It doesn’t make sense to me. “As you said, Jasim, he needn’t have waited. He could have asked her to marry him at any time.”
Jasim shrugs. “Perhaps she was more interested in marriage now. She’ll have gained a protector in Rais. Maybe it was the right time for him to ask her.”
Nijad’s eyeing me cautiously. “Did he force her?”
Guiltily I think that we all did in some way. Almost pushed them together. “She seemed happy enough with the arrangement.” I frown as I remember her and Rais fighting, and would give my eyeteeth to know what that was about. Things had happened so fast this morning, I hadn’t had a chance to ask.
Sofian shakes his head. “That goes against him being a traitor. If he was going to kidnap her for al-Fahri, he’d have devalued her in his eyes.”
There’s general agreement, and I slam my fist on the table. “Perhaps he took his chance, as he knew she’d disappear and he’d never get it again. Perhaps that was part of the bargain.” Straightening up, I run my hands through my hair. “How the fuck do I know what he was thinking? Look at the facts. He’s taken her with him, and now they’ve both disappeared.”
Khalef’s looking bemused. “It makes more sense to me that he loves her and wants to protect her. Otherwise, why did he take her?”
“He took her to get her out of the palace,” Ghalib explains patiently. “He had it set up in case there was a direct attack on her. It’s lucky he did. She might have been trapped and hurt. Or kidnapped.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Zaram comes into the conversation and contradicts. “If she’d have run out of the suite her guards would have protected her. It didn’t take long to get the palace back under our control. The attacking force was too small to overpower us.”
“They might not have been expecting us to be so well prepared. After all, that was the idea of bringing her here. To take Amir al-Fahri if he turned up.”
Bertram and Kentwell have walked in while Zaram was speaking.
“But he didn’t turn up,” Bertram says. “The soldiers he sent were far from the cream of the crop. Unseasoned fighters who know nothing of battle at all. If that was his advance party, then he fucked up. And that’s not something he’s known for.”
“His soldiers are quite disgruntled now,” Kentwell observes. “They’ve given up all the information they have, which doesn’t amount to anything. They are paid mercenaries, and not good ones at that. They didn’t even know who the paymaster was.”
“Except for those that entered the royal suite.” I’d seen for myself, they were well trained.
“Unfortunately they can’t give up any secrets. They’re all dead. Zaki and his guards made certain of that.”
I return to the table and retake my seat. “Sheikhs, General. I know considering Rais has turned is thinking the unthinkable, but nothing else adds up. He devised an escape route with a two-seater helicopter ensuring nobody else would be able to travel with them. That route was called into use when there was an attack on the palace which didn’t have the slightest chance of success, but at the time when someone close to her knew where she was. Now we don’t know where he is, or, more to the point, where Aiza is. Or what’s fucking happening to her.” Again, I bring a hand down heavily on the table. “In my opinion we must agree we’ve got to treat him as the enemy, at least for now. I’d put top dollar that he’ll lead us straight to Amir al-Fahri.”
Zaram’s staring at me. It’s hard to tell whether he’s with me or not until he shakes his head and glances across at Nijad and Jasim. “I’m sorry, sheikhs, I wouldn’t be taking that bet. Hunter is right. It’s the only thing that makes sense. There had to be some benefit to making a futile attack on the palace, and I can’t imagine what else they had to gain. The result being that the princess is missing and Rais is the only one who knows where she is.”
Nijad puts his head in his hands, then clasps his fingers together and peers over his clenched hands. “Cara’s not found anything in the backgrounds of any of the staff, soldiers, or guards who have access to the palace. No strange payments going into bank accounts.” He turns to Jasim. “I’m sorry, Jas, as it stands, try as I might, I can’t think of any other explanation myself.”
Jasim’s face tightens. “So all the time we were thinking Aiza could be safe because she’s with Rais, we might have been wrong.”
Zaram’s phone rings, he answers immediately without apology. Unashamedly all discussion stops as we listen in, unable to interpret the reason for the call from his one-word responses at his end of the conversation. The call’s short.
Replacing his phone on the table, Zaram looks around. “They’ve spotted the helicopter. It’s obviously been downed in the desert.” He tosses Nijad a look of respect. “You were right. Rais must have been forced to land during the sandstorm.”
“Aiza?”
The general shakes his head. “They can’t tell. It does look like the helicopter made a controlled landing.”
Christ! That’s one thing. If they’d crashed, we might only be finding dead bodies inside.
“I want the satellite images analysed.” Nijad speaks again.
“I’ll arrange that,” I offer. It’s what I want to do anyway.
“I’ll get my boys on it too.” Bertram offers the services of the CIA.
“I want to get out there. If they’re trying to walk out…”
Jasim’s level of concern matches mine. I want to be there too. Doing something, anything, rather than sitting, talking, has to be better.
I point to Jasim and Nijad, both pilots. “We’ll take a couple of helicopters to the location. Check things out. Make sure the helicopter was forced down because of the weather and not by enemy fire.”
“Have you seen the Apache?” Bertram asks incredulously. “It’s fully armoured. Would take a lot to down that. One reason, I thought, why Rais chose it.”
“Hunter is right,” Nijad starts. “We’ll go to where we know she last was. If they’re on foot or hurt, then we’ll be able to help.”
“Take Zaki,” Zaram suggests. “He’s a good tracker. If there’s any footsteps to follow, he’ll find them.”
My gut clenches when I hope he won’t be leading us to bodies buried in sand.
As Jasim and Nijad rise, I say one last thing. “How are we treating Rais when we catch up to him? As a traitor…?” If so, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.
“We wait and hear what he has to say,” Nijad says firmly, still not giving up on believing the best of his friend. Taking into account everything we’ve discussed today, I’ve no conviction other than Rais has betrayed Amahad, the ruling family, and, in particular, Aiza.
Rami stands. “I’m coming too. With Rais’s behaviour, all bets are off. She might believe that she wants him, unless, of course, he’s shown his true colours by now. I’m going to convince her otherwise. She’ll be safer with me in Alair.”
No she won’t. He’ll have a fight on his hands. If anyone is going to snatch Aiza out of the traitor’s hands, it’s going to be me.
In the end we take three helicopters. Jasim and Nijad each flying the R44 four seaters, myself, Ghalib and Rami in one—I still don’t trust the prince out of my sight—and in the other, Sheikhs Jibran, Sofian and Khalaf. Zaki is piloting an EC 725 Super Cougar, which will carry Dharr, twenty troops and a full medical team and equipment prepared to deal with anything thrown at them.
Gathering the right crews together takes more time than I want to waste. I try to curb my impatience making myself focus on the benefits of going in prepared. But knowing and accepting are two different things, and I’m bouncing on my feet in my desire to get moving.
At last we’re in the air and heading for Aiza’s last known position. I barely notice the desert rushing past beneath us, concentrating on tamping down the intuition that tells me she’s in danger. She’s alone with a man who my gut tells me has betrayed her. As I get out my gun and check it for the umpteenth time, I’m convinced one of these bullets has Rais’s name on it. He’s going to die if he’s harmed one hair of my woman’s head.
My eyes stare at nothing out of the window. Aiza didn’t want to come to Amahad, and she was right to be cautious. If I have my way, she’ll be coming home with me and never stepping foot in the motherfucking desert again. Of course, there’d need to be some adjustment. I’m a Dom, she’s a Domme, we’ll need to sort out our roles. I can’t wait to have her under my whip in the dungeon. First her ass is going to glow red for so blithely trusting a traitor.
The sandstorm’s blown itself out, which means we can take a direct route. Nijad’s voice comes through my headset. “There’s the helicopter straight ahead. It’s half covered in sand.” Then we’re descending and landing close by. Even though I know she’s unlikely to have stayed with the chopper, it doesn’t stop me leaping down before the rotors stop turning, almost choking in the sand being blown up.
I’m not alone as I run for the stricken Apache, a wave of relief washing over me as we find no bodies inside.
“They couldn’t have gone further. Intake ducts are blocked.” Zaki gives his expert opinion. “Rais must have landed it safely, there’s no other damage.” Looking around, he must see people wandering off as he shouts an order. “Everyone stay here. There’s no sign of another helicopter landing, we’ll assume they’ve gone on by foot. If there’s a trail to be found, I don’t want anyone spoiling it.”
He makes sense, though it’s hard to stop myself just wanting to blindly charge off in any direction.
The sun might be dropping in the sky, but the heat is still almost unbearable, and sweat drips from my brow. Taking water out of my pack, I gulp down the welcome liquid. Although I’ve worked and lived in Amahad for some time, I never get used to the climate, and my fair skin tends to burn rather than tan. Surreptitiously I take out some sun block that I always carry with me and smooth it over my face, pulling my baseball cap over my eyes to shade them and pushing my Ray-Bans back up to the bridge of my nose.
Suddenly there’s a shout. “This way!”
As we turn to follow Zaki, Nijad’s shaking his head. “There’s nothing close in that direction.”
“And you know…?”
He points. “About ten miles that way is the location of the encampment where Cara had been brought to me. The nomads have long moved on now.” He thinks for a moment. “The oasis is still there, that could be where they’re heading.”
Cara’s my best friend. While never romantic, our friendship had started when I was a teenager fresh from the States. She needed a confidant, and so did I. I’d been furious to learn she’d been kidnapped and forced into marriage with a man she’d never met. The anger I felt at the time returns. The Kassis family’s crime worsened in my eyes, as instead of taking her to the palace, they’d delivered her to Nijad in a nomadic encampment out in the middle of the desert to disorientate her. How two broken people came to fall in love is beyond me. Nevertheless, they did, coming together to make a whole.
Nijad and Cara show any arrangement can be made to work. Which means there’s no reason a bodyguard can’t be married to a princess.
Jasim volunteers to stay with the helicopters as the rest of us get ready to search on foot. We’ll radio for him if we need him. We can’t take the choppers from here on in, else any signs on the ground will be obliterated.
We walk, following Zaki in a straight line, only skirting some of the larger dunes when we need to.
Rami comes up alongside. “Rais knew where he was going. They’re not diverting from a course.”
A little voice reminds me it might suit Rami’s purpose to put the blame on Rais. While I agree with him, I can’t help but contradict. “In the desert, if you don’t keep to a straight path, you end up going in circles.”
“The radio in the helicopter was disabled, as was the GPS,” he reminds me. “Everything points to Rais’s guilt, and that this was part of the plan.” He’s right. Though I’m still keeping the prince firmly in my sights.
Zaki holds up his hand, bringing all of us to a halt. He doesn’t need to tell us why he’s stopped, even I can see the hoof prints pointing in the direction we’ve come, and then heading off in the other way again.
Nijad swears loudly. Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, he points up ahead. “We need to get back to the helicopters. I know where he’s taken her. Alwadi Aljameel.”
I look at him in disbelief. All I can see is miles of sand with no distinctive features. Then I remember this was his home for three years, and he must be reading signs I can’t see. Still I question him. “And how do you know that?”
He swings around to me with a look of relief. “Rais is a clever man. He’s got her to a place no outsider will ever find. Only the people of the desert know that it’s there.”
“Or, perhaps, it’s somewhere perfect for an ambush,” I growl under my breath. Nothing is going to convince me of Rais’s innocence.
Chapter 37
Aiza
This can’t be happening. This man that I’ve trusted all my life, yearned for for so many years, gave my virginity to… He cannot be handing me over to a terrorist wanted by nearly every Westernized country in the world. The man who wants to use and abuse me as if I’m worth no more than a camel or a horse.
As Rais holds me still for Amir al-Fahri’s inspection, a million thoughts race through my head, including the words he’d said to me. Everything I do is for Amahad. Could he really think that selling me for any amount of money is going to help his tribespeople more than waiting for the yield from the new oilfields? Does he truly believe he’s doing the right thing? Was last night nothing more than a ploy to get me to trust him? To go with him, no questions asked?
I have to make him see sense.
While I’m terrified, I force myself to speak. “Kadar won’t be persuaded to halt oil production. I’m not that important
to him.”
Al-Fahri looks surprised that I’ve spoken, and briefly it seems like he’s going to ignore me. Then he laughs. “Twafiq wasn’t the only buyer I had lined up who was happy to follow my instructions. Kadar might be able to live with the thought you are dead, but not with the thought that every day you’re going through hell. At some point he’ll break and do exactly what I say. He’ll destroy the pipeline and halt all production on the oilfield.” He steps closer, and while Rais holds me immobile, wipes his disgusting hand down my face, making me flinch to evade the touch. He even smells evil. “I’ll send him a tape every week of you suffering abuse, of you begging him to save you. He’ll give in when he sees you broken and knows the only way to stop your torture is to do what I say. I might even give you back, when not even being back in the arms of your family will stop you longing for death.”
“I’ll never beg.” I made the same promise I’d made to Twafiq.
He chuckles. “I might even take a turn at you myself.” He moves closer, ripping off my headscarf and painfully twisting my hair in his fingers. “You can’t imagine what will be done to you, even in your worst nightmare. You feel like a woman now, you won’t when you’ve been mutilated.”
I shudder in Rais’s arms. As al-Fahri loosens his grip and steps away, I twist to try pleading my case with the sheikh. “Rais, you can’t let him take me. Not after what we just did.” As I remember what happened in the pool, I cry out, “I might already be carrying your baby.”
Al-Fahri barks another laugh. “Rais knew his reward was in sight, and he knew he could be careless. If you’re carrying a child, we’ll rip out of you. Or let you keep it to term. I’d have plenty of buyers lined up for a royal brat.”
I search for a reaction, some disgust on Rais’s face. It’s completely emotionless. Not even the thought that a child of his could be killed or sold seems to affect him.
He’s the next to speak. “Can we get on with this?” he asks, sounding bored. “Make the exchange. The money my people need in trade for the princess.”
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 31
