Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  “Where are you taking us?” At last, I find my voice though it’s hardly recognisable as mine.

  The men either ignore my question deliberately, or they can’t speak English. The truck pulls away, and I notice the rest of the convoy following. Soon the palace is left behind, and we’re heading out to the desert. The jeep bumps across the uneven sand, lurching side to side. I try to hold onto Sean as every time I’m thrown to the side his poor arm is wrenched from being attached to the vehicle.

  “I don’t generally mind the cuffs, but I can think of many better places to be tied up.” Sean’s voice is quiet, as he whispers into my ear.

  I know he’s trying to comfort me. But I can find no consolation in our predicament. “This is nothing to do with Kadar, is it? That man called me a whore, Ethan’s behind this. There’s no other reason for them to take me.”

  Despite the jostling of the jeep, Sean stills as though he’s reluctant to reply. “Ethan,” I breathe the name out, “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  My bodyguard’s hand twists and grabs mine. “Zoe, I’m so sorry, I think he has to be behind this. I can’t think of any other explanation. There’s no other reason they would take you, no one in Amahad knows that you have any relationship with Kadar except as that of an employee.” His fingers squeeze mine, “Kadar will move heaven and earth to get you back. Don’t worry.”

  “I have no relationship with Kadar,” I tell him bitterly. “I mean nothing to him.” The letter I’d written had been direct and cruel, making it clear I didn’t want to see him again under any circumstances. There was nothing in it to make him think kindly of me. I’d had to do it that way. Otherwise, there was a chance neither of us would be able to resist the pull between us. So I killed whatever embryonic feeling there was between us stone, cold dead.

  “I don’t think you’re right.” It’s clear Sean hadn’t read the letter.

  “Ethan’s going to kill me,” I voice my worst fear. But somehow, putting it into words, accepting the inevitability of my predicament calms me, and strengthens my resolve to fight. Oh, I’ll fight, I won’t go easily. And he won’t be expecting that; I’ve never fought back before.

  “He’ll have to go through me first.” Sean’s words sound like a vow to protect me.

  “My flower advisor?” For the first time since they’d taken us, I manage a small smile.

  “If they knew who I was, they’d have shot me on the spot. I thought it better if I stayed with you.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It was you who called me a chameleon, Zoe, so just go with the flow if I do anything unexpected.”

  The sudden jolt throwing me to the side, pulling on my weak wrist halting our conversation for the moment, but I am so very, very glad I’m not alone.

  We’re travelling across the sand; I guess we’re following a track or primitive road, and we’re moving quite slowly which makes me hope that our rescuers will be able to locate us. That’s assuming anyone bothers to come. After the way I worded the note to him, Kadar will probably have washed his hands of me. The thought that there’s no one else who would care to miss or look for me is upsetting, and a tear escapes down my face. I’m glad for another reason that they brought my bodyguard with me; maybe someone will be concerned enough to come for him. I turn my head so Sean doesn’t notice the wetness on my face. I’m trying to stay strong. But with Ethan on my tail, it’s a difficult thing to do.

  Sand, sand and more sand. The monotonous landscape goes on and on. Suddenly I see something different up ahead. Something is sticking up from the barren landscape. I tap Sean’s arm and draw his attention to it. As we draw closer to the object, the shape becomes clearer; it’s a helicopter. My heart drops into my stomach. We haven’t been driving long across the desert, so we can’t have covered that much distance. If rescuers were trying to track us, they might have had a chance to pursue us on the ground or even catch up. A helicopter is something else. Sean’s thinking the same thing as I hear him swear under his breath.

  I grip his hand again. “Where are they taking us?”

  He shrugs his shoulders, “No way of knowing, I haven’t heard them say a destination.” Moving his head so he can see around the driver and take in the details of the aircraft which we’re fast approaching he adds, “It’s a Sikorsky, a passenger model, probably the S-76C. If I remember rightly, the range is just under four hundred miles. So taking into account the distance it already travelled to get here, it could take us two hundred miles away.”

  He’s not looking at me and is half talking to himself, “The border with Ezirad is about fifty miles from here, so they could take us a good way into enemy territory if they wanted to.”

  “But why would Abdul-Muhsi want to take us to Ezirad? It doesn’t make sense.” I narrow my eyes, trying to think of what I know about the country.

  “Who knows how a mad man might act? On the other hand, he could be taking us back to his tribe.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “That helicopter isn’t military; it’s civilian. And I can’t see that Abdul-Muhsi could have got hold of it without outside help.”

  “Which brings us back to Ethan,” I say, despondently. He’d be able to get his hands on any number of helicopters if that’s what he wanted.

  The jeep comes to an abrupt halt, throwing me across the seat, again yanking on Sean’s hand, but I swallow my gasp of pain. The doors open, the cuff attaching Sean to the jeep is unlocked, and we’re pulled out, staggering on the hot sand. Once Sean’s got his balance he steadies me, then rolls his shoulders and gives me a rueful look. The rough journey had been tough on us both.

  Showing they need no command of English when so heavily armed, indicating the way with the aid of their guns, our driver and guard wave us towards the helicopter. We’re handcuffed together in the middle of nowhere, and there isn’t any option other than to obey.

  Chapter 31

  Kadar

  We don’t meet much opposition as we return from the armoury. It seems the majority of, what we now know are fake palace guards, have fled, or have accomplished a purpose that no longer appears to be waging war on me. The thought leaves me cold, as there could only be one other person that they could have targeted. Telling myself I won’t be much help to her if I don’t remain composed, I force my head into warrior mode as we move stealthily along the corridors. We only came across one straggler who’s shock at seeing us causes him a brief moment of hesitation which Ghalib, showing we can’t underestimate him because of his advanced years, takes advantage of, taking him out all by himself; a strong arm round the neck, a quick twist and the man is dead at our feet. Not one of us feels remorse.

  Just as we reach our goal, we’re joined by Rais and Sofian, and immediately I can see that they bring no good news. Rais quickly fills me in that the attack was direct on the harem itself, and having found no bodies; we can only assume they taken both Zoe and Sean. As the door was locked from inside the palace they couldn’t have escaped that way. I push down my desire to rant at their report. It’s time for action, not to lament what I cannot change. The only positive is that on their way back they’d investigated a sound and had found, and freed, the bona fide palace staff who the attackers had locked in the ancient dungeon.

  Our discussion is interrupted as my phone rings. I answer quickly. As expected, it’s Nijad, and he’s hopping mad. “Brother. Speak to me.”

  “Cara’s dug into Richard’s financials. He received the million pounds for leaking Zoe Baker’s whereabouts. But here’s the thing, it went into his account the week before we asked him to do so.”

  “Fuck it!” My companions turn as I slam my fist against the wall. “He was a fucking traitor all along! He sold her out for his own gain.”

  “Yes, and not only that, a couple of days ago another two hundred and fifty went in—timed to coincide with your plans to go to the Desert City.”

  One and a quarter million pounds. The cost of betrayal.

  Nijad is still talking. “Cara’s f
ound his bank account and credit cards were all maxed out. He’s been playing a little too hard in our casinos.”

  Cara is an adept computer hacker; I don’t doubt for one minute the accuracy of her findings. “How the fuck didn’t we know about this?” I rasp down the phone.

  “Because we give our employees privacy.”

  We do respect the people that we employ but expect loyalty in return. Maybe there are things we’ll need to tighten up on, but for now, I’ve got to deal with the probability that St John-Davies has Zoe in his hands. Unless I find her, she’s not going to last long. My gut twists as my mind pulls up different scenarios of what might happen to her. None of them good. With difficulty, I force those thoughts away.

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “A convoy of trucks left the palace a short while ago. We’re tracking them. I’ve got the drones sent up. They’re heading out and getting close to the border. At present, they’re a few miles away from it.”

  “Send me the coordinates and keep me posted. I need a helicopter, Nijad.”

  “There’s one waiting for you. As soon as you can let me know the palace landing pad has been cleared of insurgents, I’ll get over it to you.”

  I end the call and then look at the sheikhs surrounding me. “They’re heading for the border. I think they are Muhsi’s men, at least one of them was from his tribe.”

  Jibran’s nodding his head, and I again recall the doubts I had about him. It seemed they had some grounding when he speaks his next words, “Abdul-Muhsi dropped some hints about something going down. I ignored him. But it’s too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else.” That the other sheikhs are shaking their heads in disbelief shows me only Jibran had been party to the traitor’s thoughts.

  “Who would be with him, Jibran?” I test his loyalty, trying to get more information.

  Jibran shrugs and looks unwilling to say. But a growl from the vicious looking Rais makes him change his mind. “I can’t say for certain, but probably Fadi and Tamir.

  I rub my hand over my face, not knowing how I can cope with all the duplicity around me. I’ve a feeling I’ve two battles ahead; one against men wishing to depose me and the other to save Zee. I pray to Allah that I can win both. Or at least prevent harm coming to the woman who’s become so important to me, knowing that’s more important to me than my position of power. I feel a hand on my arm.

  “Tamir and Fadi are easily led, Emir,” Rais gives me my title. “But do they, in reality, want Abdul-Muhsi as Ruler? I doubt it. Particularly not Tamir.”

  There’s a murmur of agreement from the others. “Fadi is young and headstrong,” Ghalib starts, ignoring the fact that both Rais and Sofian are younger. “Youngsters look for change for change’s sake.”

  I take a deep breath, “They’ve got outside help.”

  Rais is nodding as if he expected it all along. “The English woman?”

  I appreciate he didn’t repeat what he’d heard and thus avoids calling her a whore. “A man called St John-Davies held her against her will; he abused her. Badly. She escaped from him and came to Amahad. I, er, I offered her my protection.”

  I get five sharp looks directed at me, but Rais is the one to spit on the ground. It’s part of what makes Amahad different, women are important to us, and no true Amahadian man would use violence against the fairer sex. If a woman is in an abusive situation, she can divorce, and even remarry. The abuser, however, is forever shunned and would find it hard to find another woman to tempt into his bed. As happened to my brother, Nijad, when his falsely earned reputation for violence had him banished to the desert.

  “Who is this, St John-Davies?” Ghalib gets straight to the point.

  “One of the richest, most powerful, men in the UK. He’s got his fingers in many pies, including communications and the military. And many men at his disposal.”

  “He will be bringing a private army?”

  “We should assume so.”

  “Your plans, Emir?”

  My head’s all over the place. I want Zoe back; I want her safe. But I also need to quash any uprising led by Abdul-Muhsi. But until we know where they are heading there’s not a lot I can do. A knee jerk reaction to follow the route the trucks had taken driving out of the city might prove to be futile. My phone rings again, giving me a few minutes grace to come up with the plan, and Nijad now provides the information I need to formulate it.

  “Brother,” I can tell by his hesitation after his greeting that it’s not going to be good news. “Speak.” I need to hear it, whatever it is.

  “The trucks met up with a helicopter; it’s in the air now, and appears to be heading into Ezirad.” He gives me a moment to digest the information before continuing, “I’ve notified the army in the desert bases. I’m going to be flying down myself and will be in the command centre. I think, Kadar, we have to assume that this will be an attempted coup.”

  “And St. John-Davies?”

  “I’ve got Cara trying to track him down. She’s working with Grade A Security. Ben Carter is here with me, and he’s flying the people he has here team down to you and getting others flown over from England. At the moment, we can’t locate St John-Davies, but our gut feel is that he’s not arrived in either Amahad or Ezirad yet. His private plane is currently outside a hanger in Dubai. It arrived last night, but he wasn’t on it but we assume it’s fuelled and ready waiting for him. Cara’s keeping a check on all the private and commercial flights heading to the airport.”

  I thank him for the information and end the call. Calling my fellow sheikhs around me, I quickly update them on the situation. Now is the time to for them all to place their cards on the table. I pull myself to my full height. If I don’t have the backing of my comrades, then I’ll have difficulty rescuing Zee. At the moment, the thought of losing control of my country is the last thing on my mind. I’d give up my life to keep her safe.

  I deepen my voice, “Sheikh Abdul-Muhsi appears to be preparing to attempt a coup. He may well have teamed up with armed forces in Ezirad; whether they are the official military or terrorists jumping on the bandwagon, or a combination of both, we don’t know. We can also assume he has the backing of Ethan St John-Davies—St John-Davies wants the woman, and he must have offered something of value to Abdul-Muhsi for him to have carried out this elaborate kidnapping. Something big enough to make him show all his cards. There won’t be a place in Amahad for him after this.” I hear the growl of agreement around me. “St John-Davies might have provided arms and most probably, men. I would now ask that you give me your support against Abdul-Muhsi. It pains me to admit that trying to use diplomacy to keep him onside has failed. As you will be aware, as a distant cousin to the Kassis family he seems set on making a claim for the throne.” I pause and glance around the five faces watching me intently. “Are you with me? Or against me?” I put the question succinctly.

  Sheikh Rais moves forwards without a second thought. Falling to his knees, he bows his head to the floor, and then sits back on his heels, his scimitar lying across the palms of his outstretched hands, “My sword is yours, Excellency.”

  As I nod in grateful acknowledgement Sofian follows suit. After a slightly anxious moment, Jibran and Wahid also pledge me their support.

  I cock my eyebrow at Ghalib, a man I have admired all my life. Would he throw in his lot with someone who kidnaps women on demand?

  “You are young, Kadar, come to the throne before your time. Have you the wisdom of your father? The sagacity to rule equitably over this country?”

  I address his challenge. “We are moving into a modern world, Ghalib. Amahad needs a ruler who can negotiate with foreign governments who would wish to exploit our new found oil fields. A leader who can bring our antiquated laws up to date to attract foreign investment so all our peoples can benefit from education and healthcare. A ruler who not only can consider the needs of the city dwellers but also of the tribes living in the desert. One man can no longer do everything, take all the decision
s. Which is precisely why I’m setting up a form of democratic government. A ruler, in today’s world, needs to make balanced decisions guided by the wisest of the wise.”

  He considers my words. “The sheikhs will be part of the new government?”

  If it gets his support, I’ll agree to that, “I give you my word.”

  Muttering something about the undesirability of change Ghalib, at last, makes a move to fall to his knees. I put out my hand to stop him. At his age, he need not make the physical show of respect.

  With a terse nod to thank me, he just bows his head, “My sword is yours.” Although he’s come to it last, there’s no hesitation or holding back, and I know I’ll be able to rely on him. After so much treachery today, I feel some measure of thankfulness and relief.

  We hold a brief council of war. The sheikhs already have the men they brought with them and are eager to start gathering other warriors from their tribes. Nijad will soon be here to coordinate the full-time military personnel. As much as I might want to, I can’t just race off into the desert after the rebels. We have to wait for more support and more information rather than running blind.

  I leave the sheikhs to go back to their temporary camps around the city and start making their preparations, making my way to the helipad. All the insurgents seem to have left the palace now, their objective achieved. The genuine palace employees are walking around looking upset and bewildered, and quickly I locate the Head of Staff and give him the job of placating them. After that, I make my way to the helipad, ready to go to the Command Centre to wait for my brother.

  As I walk, I rub my hand across my eyes and think of Zee, feeling sick at the thought of what she might be going through, and how terrified she will be. The only saving grace is that Sean appears to be with her and hopefully will stay alive to protect her. But my fear is that when they find out he is her bodyguard, how long will he be left alive to watch over her?