Chapter 13—Sheiks VIII by CJ
Billy tried to contact his sergeant, but as usual, the man didn’t have his cell phone turned on. The man owned one, he just never used it. And, if he was on a stake-out somewhere, he wouldn’t get back to Billy for days. It was just how the man operated.
Sighing with frustration, he snapped his phone shut and turned for Shawna’s hospital room. He halted in front of the door and peaked through the small window in the door. Agent Marcus Snow was lounging on the bed next to Shawna, holding her closely while she snuggled against his chest.
Billy hesitated and stepped back from the window before they saw him. He gritted his teeth because he wasn’t exactly pleased with this set-up. Sure, he was an overprotective brother and with Joseph at war and Eddie back home in San Francisco without a clue, it was up to Billy to worry. Seeing Shawna with anyone other than Rafee was just…weird. Yet Billy liked what he knew of Marcus so far. The man had charisma and he seemed to have Shawna’s best interest at heart…besides agreeing to cart her off to Johar after the baby was born!
But damn it, he wasn’t Rafee. As nice as the man was, as caring, as handsome…it didn’t matter because he wasn’t that stubborn, hard-headed prince from the desert who had been Shawna’s only love. Did she really love Marcus as she claimed or was he simply convenient for her?
God, he didn’t want to speculate and didn’t want to second guess his sister, who had been through so much already, but he was her brother and that was his job. Joseph would do the same if he were here. Right?
With a slight groan, Billy fisted the cell phone in his hand then pushed the speed dial for the dispatch center in San Francisco. He may as well decide to find his sergeant so he could stay for a few days with Shawna. He hadn’t taken time off in months, he deserved a bit of a vacation.
Claire, the nicest, most upbeat and efficient dispatcher in Billy’s book picked up the line and her smoky, sexy voice brought a smile to his lips. He hadn’t talked to her in ages, not since those Johar thugs had been hiding outside Eddie’s house, and he was glad he reached her now. It was always good to hear a friendly voice when one was feeling a bit confused about one’s sister.
“Dispatch Center, Claire speaking,” she said and Billy immediately replied, “If it isn’t my favorite dispatcher.”
“So many of you men in blue say that, which one am I speaking to now?” she asked with a hint of humor in her words.
“Detective Billy Patrick.”
“Detective Patrick, so good to hear from you. You never brought me my coffee, you know. You promised…” She was teasing him and he was thankful for the laugh.
“Yeah, I know. But I promise to bring you two cups of coffee if you find my sergeant for me,” he replied, as always putting a bit of a flirtatious tone to his words. He was a horrible flirt with women, he realized, probably worse than Prince Zaki had ever been!
“Hmmm, well, when you put it that way…” She was quiet for a moment and Billy heard the clicking of a keyboard. “He’s on a stake-out this morning. I can raise him on the air. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him I need a few days off. Family emergency. He can reach me on my cell phone.”
“Family emergency? Is everything all right?” Her concern sounded genuine and though Billy had never seen her face, never met her, he certainly always felt like he knew her when they talked on the phone for police business.
“Uh… yeah. Long story.”
“That’s right, you’re connected to that royal family from the Mid-East. The one that’s in a war right now. Is everyone all right?”
“You keep up on the news,” Billy drawled, slightly impressed. “And yeah, everyone’s all right…currently.”
“Well, that’s good. I’ll let your sergeant know, hopefully he’ll call you back. And if not, you have my permission to take time off,” she said with a laugh that Billy found rather sexy sounding—strange, especially since he’d never seen her.
“Since I have your permission…” he teased back and she laughed again.
“I think you have a reputation as being a horrible flirt, detective,” Claire said and before he could halt his tongue, Billy blurted out, “Then perhaps one day we’ll have to meet face to face and you can see for yourself if it’s true.”
“Hmmm, maybe,” was all she said before she signed off.
Trying to get a date over the phone from a woman he’d never met before…yeah, he was an insanely horrible flirt indeed!
**
Joseph felt like he was punched in the gut when the bombs had fallen around them and the Johar troops had moved closer. He and the men had fought like demons to hold off the advancing troops and when he’d heard word that Aasim had perished in the bombing raid, he’d nearly lost his cookies.
They’d held off Johar’s advancement long enough to beat a hasty retreat and now that they were safe, now that they had called back to the family and told them the horrible news and sent Aasim’s body home, Joseph felt wasted.
He didn’t want to fight any longer. He was worn out, he was angry, he was sad, he was worried—he was every negative emotion a man could be and he just didn’t have the physical fortitude to continue.
“You all just need to go home,” he told Nik, Zak and Devesh as they sat around the newly formed camp, dirty and grimy and looking as worn as Joseph felt. “One of your own just died. Go home.”
With a renewed determination in his eyes, Nik looked at Joseph and asked, “Do you think us so weak, Joseph, that we’d give up just because one of us is gone? No, this is our homeland, we will fight to the death.”
“And when that death comes,” Joseph asked, “who will comfort your wives and children? We’ve lost Rafee, we’ve lost Aasim. Jenny’s missing. What more has to happen before we just…stop this insanity?”
“We will fight until there is none of us left to fight,” Nik insisted.
“Oh, so next will be the women and children out here with guns, huh?” Joseph quipped.
“If it means keeping our homeland safe…then yes.”
“You all are insane! Just freakin’….insane!” Joseph screamed, finally completely losing his cool. He jumped to his feet and felt like stomping, felt like running, felt like…
Then Zak’s cool voice interjected with, “In the history of your own country, Joseph, tell me people haven’t made similar sacrifices?”
Joseph halted and gritted his teeth. Okay, people had. Time and time again. The Revolutionary War against the world’s power
“So, we lose Aasim and just keep going?” he finally asked.
The men all nodded and Nik said quietly, “We just keep going.”
**
Rafee and Emir were already running toward Samad when the news sunk in. Ali and his men had been hit? How? When?
Isis gasped, looking pale and Samad cursed. When Rafee and Emir reached him, their eyes were lit with that fire of wanting to fight.
“You heard?” Rafee asked and Samad nodded.
“We must go to his aid. Grab what weapons and ammo you have. Meet us down by the Jeep in two minutes,” Rafee ordered then he and Emir ran off again, zipping past Kadeem and Abra without a word.
“What is going on?” Abra asked worriedly and Isis immediately took charge and led Kadeem and Abra away saying, “Let’s have a chat, okay?”
Isis would handle the news to them, meanwhile, Samad had to stick by Rafee so he didn’t get his ass killed again. That’s all he needed to have happen!
The three men jumped into the sturdy desert Jeep and raced across the desert. It was easy to hide in the barren desert of Johar, but apparently Ali had been found. Did Jabbar know where their entire camp was, or had it just been a lucky hit on a lonely vehicle traversing the sands? Samad prayed it wasn’t more and he leaned over toward Rafee to ask.
“Do you think this is a set-up? A trick of some sort to drive us out of hiding?” Samad offered and immediately Rafee slammed on the brakes behind an outcropping of rocks. Emir, riding in the back with his rifle at the ready slid into the back of the front seats.
“Hell,” Rafee grumbled.
“Didn’t think of that, did you, cousin?” Samad drawled.
“No, that sort of diabolical thinking is what I have you around for,” Rafee quipped back.
He dug into a backpack, pulled out military grade binoculars and, using the rocks for cover, searched their perimeter.
“No one’s around,” he reported.
“Then it should be safe enough to proceed,” Samad suggested.
Rafee got back in the Jeep and they continued their course east, toward Johar’s capital city.
Several miles later, they pulled up their vehicle and surveyed the landscape again. In fact, they followed that routine ever so often, just to ensure they were not being followed, watched or ambushed. When they saw the wreckage in the distance, there was no one around. Still, they approached slowly.
The bodies of all the men on the excursion to Johar’s capital were in the burnt out, turned over Jeep. All but one, that is. Several yards away, lying in the desert heat was Ali.
While Emir checked the three men in the Jeep, one of who was Abra’s young husband, Samad and Rafee sprinted to Ali. The man was barely alive. Barely.
“We have to move him,” Samad insisted. “It’s his only chance.”
Carefully, they moved the half-dead man. He groaned when they set him in the Jeep, all the while mumbling, “Don’t let Jabbar win. Don’t let Jabbar win.”
“Shhh,” Rafee tried to sooth the older man. “Save your strength, we’ll get you back to camp and Isis and Abra will fix you up in no time.”
Though his words were confidant, Samad saw the flicker of concern in Rafee’s golden gaze. Only those who truly knew Rafee could read such a shift, but it was there.
Emir joined them, shaking his head and indicating that all the men in the Jeep were dead. Samad swallowed and felt a stab of pain for poor Abra. The sweet young woman had Emir trained, Kadeem on a short leash and Rafee’s confidence. She was a dynamic package, a capable woman, and now she was going to be devastated. Devastated just like Shawna was now thinking that Rafee was dead.
“We’ll get you back,” Rafee again insisted to Ali as he drove like a bat out of hell through the wasteland of Johar.
When they finally made it to the ravines that hid the rebels, Ali was barely breathing. Soldiers carried his limp body into the caves and Samad saw the sorrow and anxiety in their eyes. This was their leader. This was the man whom they had relied upon for years and he was now going to die. There would be no fixing Ali. There would be no coming back from the dead like Rafee, for this was a mortal man and not a freak of nature like Samad’s ornery cousin.
Kadeem, that shy, curious boy was at his father’s side the moment Ali was gently laid upon the ground. He held Ali’s hand and a single tear spilled from his eyes. In a whisper, Ali instructed his boy, “You stay with Rafee and Abra. They will care for you, my son.”
The boy nodded and Abra was crying beside Ali and demanding that she would fix him. But Ali knew the score and slowly shook his head and weakly touched the young woman’s face.
“I cannot be fixed,” Ali mumbled in a whisper.
“But…we fixed Rafee…” Abra argued.
“We did not fix him. He fixed himself. I do not have that power inside me. I am an old man, Abra. Take care of my boy. I am sorry your husband perished.” His eyes closed and he coughed and it sounded thick to Samad’s ears. He wished this was the
“Father,” Kadeem was crying now, more tears spilling from his eyes and Abra wrapped the boy in her arms, rocked him gently, and proved to all that she would be a good protector for the young teen.
“I am still here my son,” Ali said quietly, opening his eyes with much effort. Then he looked for Rafee and for a moment, Samad was positive the man had gained strength. Perhaps his self-diagnosis was incorrect? But the strength entered and left his eyes quickly as he spoke to the prince.
“You will defeat Jabbar, Rafee. You must. You are the only one who can lead this group. Lead them well and raise my son to be a strong man…like you.”
Rafee dropped to his knees and touched the man’s face. “I will raise your son. I will lead this group, Ali. And I will make sure that Jabbar is defeated if it takes me an entire lifetime.”
Damn but his cousin was a stubborn son-of-a-gun! With words like that, they’d never leave the desert and Shawna would never get her husband back. And when the elder man perished in that cave, when his last breath left his body and Rafee touched both Kadeem and Abra reassuringly and then briskly exited the cave for the shadowed ravine outside, Samad followed.
“I know it was all a bit emotional in there, Rafee, but damn it…we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives out here fighting that insane dictator,” Samad insisted.
Rafee turned quickly, caught Samad by the shirt and his eyes glowed evilly. Samad was positive something strange had happened to Rafee ever since his “death.” It was almost as if the man was…possessed…by a strange power. Eyes shouldn’t glow like that. No, not unless someone was a cat caught in light, a demon or a damned Greek god!
“I will fulfill my promises and my duties,” Rafee spat out with a low growl.
“I realize that, but what about your duty to your wife? Have you forgotten about her? About Kess?” Samad challenged.
It was then that Rafee’s fist connected with his face and Samad hit the dirt like a rock. His head exploded in pain, his eyes watered and all he could do was roll around on the ground for a second and try not to cry like a baby. He’d been hit by Rafee before…pummeled…but never, ever had his punch carried such weight, such…fire!
“Samad,” Rafee said, his voice apologetic. The man knelt beside him and touched his arm. “I’m sorry…I did not mean…”
“Like hell you didn’t, you arrogant, self-serving, bastard!” Samad spit out, still on his back on the ground. “I’d hate you but I’m related to you.”
“I know and sometimes I feel the exact same way about you,” Rafee returned. He assisted Samad to a sitting position and added, “I’m upset over Ali. He was a good man. A man who didn’t have to die.”
“No, but isn’t that what this entire war has been about…good men who didn’t have to die? Men like you?”
Rafee stood, offered Samad his hand and pulled him to his feet.
“I will not notify Shawna,” Rafee declared. “Not until I am through. Her safety and Kess’s safety is at stake. Or didn’t you realize that when you were all shot at when you landed in San Francisco? Or when that group found Eddie’s house where my baby was staying? Do you know what would come of me should either of them ever die?”
“I get your damned reasoning, cousin,” Samad answered back, “but I don’t see how you can keep doing it. How? Didn’t you see the pain on Abra’s face in there, losing her husband and her father-figure? Imagine how Shawna feels.”
“I imagine it every damned night, Samad. Every awful, long, miserable damned night.”
**
Rafee stalked away from his cousin. He could only take Samad for so long these days. The war made him too edgy. Had he not been married to his soul-mate, had he not had a child of his own, he wouldn’t have been quite so edgy. But Shawna and Kess had made him weak in many ways and he alternately rejoiced that fact and cursed it.
Ali had died and that hurt Rafee to the core. The man had saved his life and given Rafee a platform from which to fight this war without revealing himself. Losing Ali was a horrible, horrible blow.
And now, Rafee had the added distraction of Abra and Kadeem. They were now his charges along with the rag-tag rebel group. He’d once been a leader of military men, of high-speed, low-drag special forces troops. Now, he was a ring-leader for a group of desert rebels who were underfed, undersupplied and overwrought from the tensions of the war. But he was a warrior and warriors fought with the strengths they had. And what they had was the element of surprise.
When he halted his mad walk in the now dark night, he was back at their Jeep. The engine ticked quietly and he used the time to reorganize their supplies to keep his mind distracted. He pulled out the extra rifles and lined them up by the fender. He found the two ammo boxes and stacked them neatly. Then his hand landed on their satellite phone and he stiffened. It was an urge so strong it nearly killed him. He stared at the black contraption in his hand and literally told himself, “Don’t do it.”
But the pull was too strong. He had to hear her voice…just once.
He dialed Shawna’s cell phone number praying he could just hear her voice without revealing anything to her. But would it make him weak, would it force him to quit before he had fulfilled his duty to family and country?
A groggy voice saying, “Hello,” filled his ears and he knew as soon as he heard her voice that it had been a mistake. His legs gave way and he slid down the Jeep to the sand, his back supported by the wheel, his butt in the sand.
“Hello?” she said again, the static horrible on their connection, her voice barely audible. “Is anyone there?”
He remained silent, unable to speak and fearing that if he did, Shawna would only be scared witless.
Their silence and the static was deafening over the thousands of miles between them and only after Shawna barked out, “Is this a joke?” was Rafee able to utter, “Sha…Shawna.”
He heard her quick intake of breath and then an angry, “Who is this? Is this some sort of sick prank?”
In the background he barely heard a male voice ask, “Who is it, babe?” and he knew immediately it was Agent Snow. At least the man was still there with Shawna, still taking care of her.
“I don’t know,” Shawna was saying and then a male voice spoke clearly into the phone, “May I help you?”
It was Marcus and with his connection now severed to Shawna, Rafee shut down the phone, dropped in next to him and covered his face with his hands.
“Give me strength,” he prayed and tugged at his hair, pulled at it until he felt the pain. “Please, Allah, give me strength.”
**
“Oh, God, they found me,” Shawna uttered as she pushed up in the hospital bed and tried to stand.
Marcus was at her side as he pocketed her cell phone and put a hand on her shoulder.
“No one’s found you,” he assured her, “and by the way, what in the hell are you doing keeping your cell phone on? Didn’t we have this little safety briefing way back when?”
She wanted to put up a stubborn front, but the fear she felt from that strange phone call was keeping her from being too strong. The lines had been filled with so much static it had been eerie. And that voice…a deep male voice that almost sounded like Rafee’s yet certainly couldn’t have been.
She’d seen a horror movie like this before, where some dead person called from the grave and though it had been a horrible thriller, it popped into her mind now.
“I just like to have my phone handy,” she was defending as Marcus pulled her phone back out of his pocket and looked at the display.
“I’m not familiar with his number that called you. Do you know it?” he asked and showed her. She shook her head.
“I’m going to call it in and see if anyone can trace it. Meanwhile, I’m going to see if I can have a friend or two come out here and serve as a little extra security…and see how long Billy can stay. Just in case.” He was so efficient, so professional when he was in the groove. So different from the man who told jokes easily and kissed her gently on the front porch!
Before he walked out of the room, he halted, placed a hand on her belly and asked, “How’s our boy?”
Shawna felt the little baby kicking away in her stomach and she smiled. “I think he’s fine.”
“Good. I’ll be right outside,” Marcus told her, kissed her on the head, and left.
Shawna laid back down, stared at the beige wall and ran that voice through her head once again. Rafee calling from the grave? She was certifiable. But what she wouldn’t give to hear his voice one more time…just one more time.
**
Those pansy Westerners always insisted that torture never worked. Well, Jabbar had proof positive that it did and the battered and bloody body that his soldiers were dragging out of the room now was a perfect example of the effectiveness of a good torture technique.
Through lots of work and effort on his men’s part, they’d tracked down a so-called “contact” of the desert rebel group. He’d been their city contact, a man responsible for sending out supplies and though he obviously had not known where their hide-out was, he had known that their leader was on his way. Sending out scouting groups, they’d located a Jeep and blown it away. Jabbar was pretty certain he’d killed the men, including their leader. Ali al-Sayeed, former palace physician to King Haddad, had been their leader and it was no surprise to Jabbar.
When the man had worked for his father years ago, he’d actually been like a voice of peace for the king. He’d been that little angel sitting on Haddad’s shoulder, telling him that certain acts were dishonest. And during the time that Ali had been in Haddad’s confidences, things had been rather quiet and boring in Johar. But after much prodding and prompting by Jabbar, after a few lies and slick deals, the friendship had been soundly ruined and Ali had never returned to the palace. And now…he was dead.
Hopefully that would lead to the destruction of his rebels. Without their mighty leader, they would crumble.
Jabbar smiled smugly and felt like celebrating. After all, his victories of late had been so few that he had to be sure to cherish the ones he had, just to keep his morale up.
But a knock on his study door a few moments later squashed any feelings of celebration he may have been feeling. A dirty, bloodied body was dragged in, but it wasn’t the same one that had just left. Pinned to its shirt was a rolled up note and his guard handed it to him.
“This…uh…package, king, just arrived for you,” the dutiful soldier said, his voice hesitant to even make the announcement.
Jabbar didn’t recognize the man for his appearance was swollen and dirty from the desert and from death. He smelled dead too and the stench tickled his nose slightly.
Turning away, he read the note and cursed.
“Nice try, brother,” the note said. “Better luck next time. I’m coming for you. Love always, Abdul-Razzaq.”
Cursing, Jabbar kicked over his chair, then strode toward the dead body and kicked it several times. His assassin, no doubt, had been found and murdered by his weak, pathetic little brother! Well, if Abdul thought he was coming for Jabbar, the young prince had another thing coming. Jabbar was going to up the ante on the southern border and see how well Abdul and Colonel Bishr could hold them off then. Just see!
**
Marcus asked Billy to stay with Shawna for a while and he found a private spot up on the roof of the hospital to conduct a little business. He knew a tech analyst for the CIA who was the best, and he was hoping she was at her desk. She was and after passing on the foreign number that had rang on Shawna’s cell, it wasn’t long before that analyst was able to provide Marcus with a little intel.
The intel wasn’t great news, it was perplexing news. The number was linked to a satellite phone and when he asked to have the call traced back to its spot of origin, he was told it had come from Johar. Where exactly couldn’t be located, but they knew the general area.
After receiving that information, Marcus remained on the roof for a while, mulling it all over. Who had called Shawna? His first guess was that maybe her good friend Samad had been trying to reach her. It was the only thing that made sense. Joseph, her brother, would have been calling in on one of the CIA satellite phones and he’d heard that the other Armanjani men were with him as well. So…that either meant Samad was trying to contact Shawna or Rafee was phoning from the dead.
That thought had briefly crossed his mind. Now that he was on the verge of happiness with an amazing woman, it would just be his luck that her dead husband would find a phone in hell and use it!
But Marcus wasn’t a superstitious man and didn’t believe in ghosts. He believed in facts and reality and there was a reasonable answer to why someone had phoned Shawna from Johar.
Of course, he wouldn’t put it past King Jabbar to be phoning. After all, the man had sent plenty of thugs Shawna’s way. Yet why would he care about coming after her now that Rafee was gone? It made no sense, and from what he’d heard from the war, Jabbar was having a hard enough time fighting in Johar, he certainly didn’t have men to spare to chase people around
Still, it nagged at him and so relenting, he went through the process of phoning his team in Johar.
Agent Dutton Banks answered their satellite phone and from the sounds in the background, there was no current fighting going on in their immediate location.
“Banks, it’s Snow,” Marcus said and he heard the other agent sigh with weary.
“Snowman, hey, how’re you doing? Hopefully, you got a cushier assignment than us.”
“Heck yeah, cushy. You all holding up okay?”
“Right as rain, man. Only…we lost another of the Armanjani clan last night. Aerial attack.”
The news sunk like a stone in Marcus’s gut and for a moment, he wished he hadn’t been convinced to leave his unit behind and baby-sit Shawna. Then again, if he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t be with her now. And he loved her, loved her insanely, so it had been his good fortune to leave the war and take care of her and Kess.
“Who did you lose?” Marcus inquired after a long silence.
“Aasim al-Fulani. One of the in-laws. Good guy.”
“I’m sorry, Banks. Really sorry. How’s everyone else holding up?”
“Fine. Joseph Patrick’s about had it but…he’s a fighter. He’ll find his stride again. And as for all these fancy princes…heck, they’re tough. Real tough.”
“You all stay out of trouble,” Marcus told him and after hearing of all that had recently befallen Banks and the men, he felt like a fool for wanting to ask about Rafee. But he did anyhow just because he had to be one hundred percent sure. “Hey, before you go…tell me one thing. Rafee…was he really dead?”
He recalled the conversation that had taken place in the Kumar palace and recalled that a plot had been hatched for Sheik Laxman to play opossum. Would Prince Rafee really be so diabolical, so conniving, so…cruel, to play the same game of pretend dead knowing his wife and child would be devastated? Would he?
Marcus felt a chill travel down his spine and he forced such thoughts from his mind. He hadn’t known Rafee well enough to determine if that is something he’d do, but he was going to double-check, just in case.
“What do you mean, was he really dead? No, Marcus, we just thought we’d ruin his wife’s life for the heck of it! Of course he was dead. Broken, limp, not breathing…that kind of dead.”
“You checked?” Marcus prodded.
“No, but Joseph did. He put his damned fingers on the man’s pulse and it wasn’t there. He even punched him a few times just to make sure. Dead. Besides, had Rafee found a heartbeat later, there is no way the man would have lived. He was torn apart. It looked like at least a limb or two was broken, his face gashed open…not to mention the internal damages that he must have suffered. No, he was gone. As gone as Aasim was last night. Shame.”
Marcus let out an anxious breath. He felt better, knowing he was being silly, but damn it, he had found a wonderful woman and he didn’t want to lose her, he didn’t want there to be any snags later. For if there were, his entire heart would be crushed.
“Okay, I just had to be sure…” Marcus explained. “See…we got a call from a phone traced to the Johar desert. No one said anything other than Rafee’s wife’s name. It was strange.”
“It wasn’t any of us,” Banks assured him. “But aren’t there a few other Armanjanis out and about in this war? Joseph mentioned a cousin…sort of a black sheep. And that Shakir prince who married an Armanjani…she’s out here somewhere with him. There are a lot of people who could have called. A lot.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right.” And he hung up, convinced that Banks’s words had to be correct.
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The Sheiks of Kumar VIII: Return of the Prince – Chapter 14