Chapter 14—Sheiks VIII by CJ
Her fate was sealed. It was her own fault, however. She was going to die because she had waited too long to find inspiration to live.
Nida left the doctor’s room with a heavy heart, but not in despair. She had known all along that not taking treatment a year ago when she’d first been found sick would lead to this. Hoping that a last minute effort would save her life had been a gamble…a gamble she had known could fail.
She felt weak in body though she was strong in spirit. Only if she had been such a strong woman years before she wouldn’t have ended up being Jabbar’s wife. If she had been stronger then, she would have left with Razi, defied her father and her king, and followed her heart. But she’d been a weaker woman, a woman concerned for duty and honor and, of course, concerned for her father. If she had run away with Razi, it would have sealed his fate with the Shakirs. It would have been his death.
Being dutiful had kept her father alive and in the good graces of King Haddad, but it had not made her life fulfilling. And now, she was going to die, perhaps even before this war was over.
She knew Razi, Prince Abdul-Razzaq, was moving in from the south. She heard the whispers of the guards, eavesdropped on the advisors to her husband. Silently she wished Razi would break through Jabbar’s forces, but she knew Jabbar was putting all his might into the south now, trying to defeat his brother.
If Jabbar succeeded in that quest, Nida would be crushed and then would willingly die. After all, if Razi was defeated, what did she have to live for?
She halted in the long hall and grasped the finely carved wood. She paid the luxury of the palace little notice and the pain in her body felt like her insides were being burned alive. Gasping, she doubled over and tried to stifle a cry, but it escaped her lips just the same. She was sorry for the noise for it brought not only the doctor to her side, but also her husband.
“Nida?” Jabbar questioned with concerned eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No…just…ahhh,” she moaned again and if it weren’t for the hands holding her, she would have fallen.
“She is sick, King Jabbar,” the doctor announced. “Too sick. She should be placed in bed and I will begin pain-relief therapy.”
That was the last stage before death, Nida realized, and apparently so did Jabbar.
“You should have told me months ago about her condition, doctor,” Jabbar insisted in a menacing voice as he hoisted Nida into his arms and began striding down the hall. “It was your duty to inform me.”
“No, it is your wife’s duty,” the doctor countered and Nida felt Jabbar halt with her in his arms and turn to face the trailing doctor.
“You dare question your king?”
Placing a hand on Jabbar’s face, Nida turned his eyes to her and she pleaded, “Please, Jabbar, not now. The doctor did as I asked. He begged me to tell you, I swore him to secrecy a year ago.”
“Yes, and refused treatment since,” Jabbar ground out.
“Just let me die, my husband. Please…”
Jabbar spun around and strode quickly to Nida’s room. Gently he placed her in bed and then knelt on the floor beside it.
“You cannot die,” he demanded. “I will not allow it.”
Nida gave a small smile. Sometimes, she loved him. Times like these when he acted like a man and showed kind emotion instead of a dictator who seemed to hate all.
“You may be a mighty king, but you are not a god. I will die, Jabbar.”
“Have you already given up?”
She shook her head. “I have not given up, I have accepted my fate. And my fate will happen sooner now rather than later.”
Her husband truly looked pained for a moment, then grasped her hand in his, held it tightly and ground out, “If you die, I will never be human again. You are my only link to decency. You are everything my father did not teach me to be, Nida. And though I have not been a good husband to you, I have always loved you. I have loved you since the day you came to my palace and befriended my little brother instead of me. I have always loved you.”
She felt tears pool in her eyes and she closed them to both the emotional pain as well as the physical pain. Her life had not been fair, Jabbar’s life had not been fair. His father had brought him up to be a monster and perhaps only Razi had been the one lucky enough to escape the brutal walls of Johar’s palace and find some fairness in life.
And Nida had wanted to live to see Razi again, but she wondered now if that would ever happen.
“Please…stop this…” Nida began saying in whisper for that was all she could manage. “Stop this…fighting.”
The doctor entered then with an IV bag for her and she shook her head and tried to brush him away. But when he was done and she felt the soothing lull of the painkillers he’d injected into her system, she realized Jabbar was gone. Had he even heard her plead? She didn’t know.
**
The baby arrived early, but at least they made it the crucial two weeks the doctors had been concerned about. Alexi Rafee Armanjani was a bit small, but entirely healthy and born with a dark olive complexion and shining bright eyes like his father.
He was named for the two men who had so greatly influenced Shawna’s life. Alexi for Marcus—it was his middle name—and Rafee for the mighty prince who had fathered him.
Billy hadn’t been able to stay for the birth, he’d only been allotted a few days to spend with his sister. By the time he had left he had given her his good opinion on Marcus.
“He’s a really good guy, Shawna. You’ll be happy with him,” Billy had reported before he had left her with a kiss on the head and a promise from her that she would call when the baby arrived.
She remained in the hospital with the baby for a few extra days, just so the doctors could be sure Alexi was gaining weight and his lungs functioning as they should since he was a few weeks early. And by the time they made it back to the lake house Shawna started taking brisk walks and lifting light weights. She made certain not to over-do it, but her body felt fit and the birth had been easy. After three weeks, she was ready to leave for Johar. Despite the fact that Doc Miller advised against her leaving so soon, she insisted she was ready. And Marcus made the arrangements for them to leave.
He was still hesitant, however. Shawna could sense it, especially the night before they left. She found him sitting in her room, holding a sleeping Alexi in his arms and watching Kess sleep soundly on the bed. He rocked gently back and forth in the wooden rocker and he never even heard her enter until she whispered his name.
“Marcus, I think it’s safe to say they’re both down for the count,” Shawna insisted as she looked down at Alexi, his dark hair and face the only parts visible. Marcus had bundled him tightly and just like his easy rapport with Kess, his way with a newborn was so natural as well.
“I know, I just wanted a few more minutes,” Marcus insisted.
Shawna rubbed his head, then leaned down and kissed his cheek. She still adored the man, possibly more now since seeing him with Alexi, and she knew the moment they returned from Johar she would cement that love by agreeing to marry him. Right now, however, she had to keep her mind on other things.
“How do you do it, Shawna?” Marcus then asked her. “How do you just walk away from them to go into war?”
“If I were a man, would you be asking me the same thing?”
He gave her a lopsided grin, that grin she’d fallen madly in love with and replied, “If you were a man, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be here right now. After all, I’m not attracted to men.”
She rolled his eyes at another of his lame jokes then heard him add, “And if you were a man, I’d be asking you the same thing. None of the operatives I work with have young kids. How does a parent abandon their child?”
“I’m not abandoning them,” she argued. “I’m taking care of a duty I had to Rafee.”
“Duty is for unattached twenty-year-olds and crazy guys like me,” Marcus returned. “Duty is not for mothers and fathers. Their only duty should be to their immediate family.”
“Marcus, don’t make this harder than it already is for me. I’m not just walking away from my kids, you know. It does kill me. It tears me apart. But I have to.”
“And if something happens to you, what will come of Kess and Alexi?” Marcus posed.
“They’ve been willed to my brother Eddie and his wife. They will have custody. And I stole your phone earlier this week and had my lawyer take care of adding Alexi to the will Rafee had done just before the war. I also made sure you were given visitation rights. I want you to be able to see them should anything happen to me.”
With a hard glint in his eyes, Marcus insisted, “I want more than to just see these kids. I want to be their father. And I understand you wanting your brother to raise them. So…I suppose that just means that nothing, absolutely nothing, can happen to you, so we can come back here, get married and live happily ever after.”
His tone was light as he finished, though he’d been deadly serious sounding when he’d insisted he wanted to be the kids’ father. Shawna knew he wanted that and she wanted that as well…just after Johar.
“Then let’s make this a fast trip, take out this dictator and get on with our lives, honey. Okay?”
Marcus kissed Alexi’s dark head, then stood and gently placed the baby in the bassinet. The children were going to Doc Miller’s in the morning. A CIA friend of Marcus’s was going to hang around for extra security. Everything was planned and all was going to be fine. Shawna knew it in her soul.
“Okay, darlin’,” Marcus replied. “Okay.”
**
The evening breeze was warm, not hot, as winter had settled in. But Rafee knew it would soon turn into a cold night. He could smell it on the air and feel it in the growing wind. For now, however, the breeze was pleasant.
He lounged on an outcropping of rocks toward the end of the ravine, keeping watch over the desert sands. Not that there had been much in the way of military activity lately, but still, he stood his watch, trying to interact as much as possible with the rebel men since the death of Ali over three weeks ago.
Right now he was alone. All the men had moved to another location to smoke and relieve the others on watch. Rafee cherished the moment to be alone and revel in the soft breeze. It was a breeze that reminded him of his last vacation with Shawna.
Their villa on the French Riviera had been the spot they’d chosen to relax for three days without Kess. Their darling angel had remained in Kumar with her grandparents and cousins and Shawna and Rafee had jetted off to
Well, never had Shawna bored Rafee. She was always full of surprises, always fun, always loving, always romantic and pleasing to him. He pictured the beautiful satisfied look on her face now, as she’d lain amongst the tangled white sheets of their large bed in
That smile he loved.
That smile always told him she loved him.
That smile he could barely remember it had been so long since he’d seen it.
His body heated at the memories of his wife. Rarely had he thought like a sensual man while fighting this war. His mind had been so focused on tactics and weapons and winning. Funny how single-mindedly determined he could be. He wondered if other men were as determined as he to simply shut everything else out and just fight, just endure. Could others allow their wives and children and families to assume them dead, in order to seal a victory? Or was he the only one callous enough to do so and never give in to his weaknesses, never even remember he was a man with needs?
He had almost succumbed to his weaknesses when he’d phoned Shawna. Almost. But he had come to his senses in time to turn off that phone before he jeopardized her life again. After all, it had been his fault she and Kess had been in danger. If he wasn’t Prince Rafee, if he wasn’t the Armanjani family warrior, then never would Shawna and Kess have had to disappear into hiding.
But he was the blood of the Armanjanis and all the warrior sheiks who had come before him. He was the protector of his country and because of that, he had to fight on and finish this war so he could get back to being a man instead of an insanely determined fighter.
The sands were too quiet these days and he realized that something militarily was happening. Either Johar’s forces were rapidly weakening, or Jabbar had moved them to focus and fight in a certain location. They had to find out and they had to make a decision to move on. This war had to end and end quickly.
A man returned to post and Rafee left him with a slap on the shoulder. He hurried back to the caves and ravines and called together a meeting with Emir, Samad and Isis. They needed to think about changing tactics.
The assembled group agreed that it was time to find a different way to fight this war. Intel that had just been brought back from their scouts confirmed that Jabbar’s forces had mainly been moved to a more southern trajectory. Rafee knew that was where Razi was fighting and since the major battles were going to be heading south, the rebel group was going to split up and try to move into the capital city via the north and west, while some would move to assist in the south.
Two groups would conduct their campaign in the city or as close to the city as possible. And their goal would be to find Jabbar and kill him. With the help of Emir and Isis, that was very possible.
“But what of Abra and Kadeem?” Samad inquired of Rafee quietly when they had finished their planning. “We need to place them in safety. They have seen enough fighting.”
“They have. I will talk with Emir. We’ll find them a location,” Rafee assured him.
And they did. It was agreed that Emir, Samad, Isis and Rafee would drop Abra and Kadeem off in the northern village that harbored Jenny and Emile, and another small band of rebels would head west into the city. Anyone who was tired of fighting could leave. Otherwise, they needed to move south and west and try to hurt Jabbar’s forces however they could. Everyone had to be careful and everyone had to be willing to keep sacrificing if they remained. Rafee chose two capable men to lead the other groups and with the small rebel band divided into three, Rafee hoped it wouldn’t spell their doom.
They moved quickly once the decision was made and within twenty-four hours weapons had been divided, supplies dispersed and the groups went their separate ways. The closer they moved to the northern village, the tenser Emir became. Rafee could read it on the young man’s face and as he drove, he slapped the man on the shoulder and declared, “She’ll remember you, Emir. I assure you.”
Emir gave him a ghost of a smile and by nightfall, they arrived in the northern village. It was a quaint, traditional fishing village, and Emir had assured Rafee that there were no friends of Jabbar’s in the north. Several decades before the northern groups had staged a protest against harsh Shakir rule and had suffered dearly at the hands of a then young King Haddad. Since then, the north had been resolute in their hatred for Shakir rule. If King Haddad had been a monster to them, King Jabbar was now considered the devil.
They parked quietly not far from the house and Emir insisted he should go inside first and ease the news of arrivals to everyone. Especially ease the news about Rafee to Jenny.
“She still thinks you’re dead, Rafee,” Emir told him and Rafee nodded and remained behind, curious how Jenny would react to him being alive for it would give him an inkling as to how Shawna may react…just an inkling.
**
Emir knocked on the wooden door and when the old man he knew so well answered it and quickly ushered him in with a smile, Emir was relieved that all looked right and safe still.
His grandmother noticed him first. She let out a prayer, then walked to him, hugging him fiercely and telling him how she had known all along he’d return to her safely.
And then Jenny entered the small, rustic kitchen. She was just lowering her head scarf and asking about having some tea, speaking in the northern dialect of the region, when she halted dead in her tracks and stared with an open-mouth at Emir.
“Emir?” Jenny said his name as more of a question than a statement.
With nerves he still hadn’t shaken since they’d begun this journey to the north, Emir slowly walked around the wooden table, all the while keeping his eyes on Jenny.
Her brown hair was longer and curled around her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled in the dim light and her skin looked so smooth and untanned. No doubt she’d been getting little light upon her face, always staying inside or keeping covered. That was what he had instructed for her safety and it was evident in the porcelain paleness of her face. But it wasn’t an unhealthy paleness, it was a clean, white look that would no doubt contrast greatly with his dirty and sun-darkened skin.
“Jenny, my love,” Emir said to her in her language though it was heavy on his tongue for he had not spoken it in months. “Jenny, how have you…”
He didn’t even have a chance to finish his question before she threw herself into his arms. She clung to him, whispering that she loved him in English and Arabic and easily transitioning from one language to another. He didn’t care what language she used, he was just glad she still felt the same about him.
“Emir, I was so scared, so worried you’d never come back to us,” Jenny sobbed and only when he took a step back from her, did he notice her tears.
“Do not cry,” he told her. “I am safe. Have you been safe?”
Jenny nodded. “We’ve been perfectly fine.”
Then she stepped back and took a long, critical look at him.
“Em, you’re a mess!” she exclaimed. “Dirty, unshaven, your clothes torn to shreds…what on earth have you been doing?”
“Fighting a war, my dear.” He smiled self-consciously. “I will get cleaned up later. For now…I have some wonderful news for you. I have brought…some of your family.”
“Family? Mine? Who?” Jenny asked and she was grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door before he had a chance to explain.
“Jenny, please, wait,” he was insisting and before he had the opportunity to halt her, she released his hand and pulling her headscarf over her head, raced out the front door.
He heard her quick intake of breath and as he ran after her, he caught her and pulled her to him just before she let out a scream.
“Don’t,” he insisted. “Don’t be afraid. Rafee is alive.”
Jenny was shaking her head and repeating, “No, no, no,” over and over again.
“Jenny,” Rafee said quietly, but Jenny wouldn’t look at him.
“Em, you told me he was dead. You told me he died right in front of you. You told me…”
“And it wasn’t a lie. He was dead…or so I thought. My friends in the desert found him, Samad found him. He’s alive, Jenny, just look at him.”
“Jenny,” Rafee said again and finally Jenny pulled away from Emir and looked at her brother-in-law. “My dear child, I am alive and well. Samad’s here too. We’re both alive and well.”
Jenny threw herself into Rafee’s arms, finally accepting him as alive, and hugged him tightly. He returned the embrace and then Samad moved forward and kissed her and hugged her, telling her how glad he was that she was healthy and safe. Jenny cried some more, but she never broke down. She remained standing tall, wiping at her tears and smiling at her family.
“God, Rafee,” she finally said after the shock and greetings were over, “everyone thinks you’re dead. It’s been in the papers and I’m sure Shawna’s heard. Or, have you told her you’re alive yet? Have you called your mother and Nik and…”
Immediately Rafee placed a hand over Jenny’s mouth. “Please, do not utter my name so loudly. I am still dead as far as everyone knows. You cannot, must not, utter a word otherwise, Jenny. Not even to the family. Do you understand?”
Jenny nodded, wide-eyed, and then Rafee smiled warmly at her and turned to Abra and Kadeem.
“And, I have a very big favor to ask of you,” Rafee began.
**
The old man who owned the dwelling also owned the house next to it. It had been his brother’s house and he had rented it for a few years to an old widower who had died in the past few months. Currently, the small house was empty, so Rafee and his group settled in there, after eating with their hosts and thanking them for their hospitality. But they didn’t want to talk tactics in their hosts’ presences and involve them any further, so they had gratefully taken the empty house next door.
Isis and Samad were in a bedroom together. No doubt they were finding the privacy quite enjoyable. He couldn’t hear them, however, and that was fortunate. His cousin could worry about sex, Rafee had an evil dictator to worry about.
Emir had remained behind, no doubt to visit with his grandmother Emile and Jenny. After watching the way the two mooned over each other during dinner, though, it was more than likely that he’d remained in the other house simply to be with Jenny and steal a few private moments.
Kadeem and Abra were asleep in the other small bedrooms and Rafee had opted for the lumpy old couch in the living room. It may be old, musty smelling and completely unfashionable, but it was a far cry better than a cave floor.
He slept with a gun under his pillow, a rifle at his side and a knife in his boot…just in case. But the only sounds he could hear in the distance were of the waves crashing on the shore, not of bullets flying or bombs exploding.
Rafee closed his eyes, trying to ensure himself they were all safe, and was just about to fall over that edge of consciousness when he heard the scrape of feet on the floor. He popped open his eyes but did not see uniformed soldiers looming above him. No, he only caught sight of a waif-thin woman at the window.
“I did not mean to wake you, Rafee,” Abra announced without even looking back at him. She had a sixth sense that she’d no doubt honed during all those months in the desert. “I simply could not sleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep yet anyhow,” Rafee insisted, remaining on his back and staring at the ceiling, knowing instinctively that Abra was still grieving over her husband.
“I want to sleep, but I can hear them,” Abra added quietly.
Rafee chuckled and again didn’t want to be reminded of anything that wasn’t about war or Jabbar dying.
“My cousin sometimes lacks discretion,” Rafee said lightly.
“Your cousin is lucky. As I lay there, I kept trying to remember the last time my husband and I had been alone and intimate. I think it was months ago.”
“That was more information than I really needed, Abra,” Rafee quipped. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to talk about her hurt over losing her husband, it was that Rafee didn’t want to be reminded that he was missing his own wife intensely right now.
“I know and it is completely inappropriate for me to be burdening you, a man, with such talk,” she spoke out. “But you are westernized so it is all right, is it not?”
“I suppose if one is ‘westernized,’ then everything goes,” he drawled sarcastically.
“I miss my husband, Rafee. I miss having a companion, I miss his company. He was a good man.” He heard a hiccup in her voice and he realized this was the first time she’d cried over the loss of her husband since that fateful day. Since then, she’d been stoic. Perhaps then, he needed to just let her talk, to grieve some. After all, his own wife must have gone through these same emotions, trying to recall his smiles, his laugh, the sound of his voice. Trying to remember the last time they’d made love…
“He was a good man,” Rafee agreed.
“We had an arranged marriage. Our parents knew one another. We grew up in the same village, but we wanted to be married despite the arrangement. I went from my father’s house to his. I have never been on my own,” she continued and turned away from the window to stare down at Rafee.
“You are not on your own. My family and I will take you in, Abra. You will be well cared for,” Rafee insisted, finally pushing to his feet.
“I do not want to burden your family,” she argued. “But my village…it was destroyed many years ago by King Haddad. Our families died, that is why we joined the resistance movement. I have nowhere else to go but to rely upon the charity of others.”
“You will be no burden to my family. Kadeem will be no burden. I made Ali a promise to care for you both, and I will. Besides,” Rafee said with a smile, “I have your blood in my veins. I suppose that means we’re related now.”
Abra laughed. It was the first laugh she had given in weeks and it was genuine.
“I’m not sure that’s how it works, but for our purposes, we’ll say its so.” She smiled, gave him a friendly hug and started for the hall. “I’ll go back to sleep now. Do you think they’re finished?”
“Knowing my cousin, probably not,” Rafee quipped.
She laughed all the way down the hall and Rafee prayed she and the boy fared well. He hoped they were happy with him and his family and he wondered just how in the hell he was going to explain to Shawna that he was alive, had a new teenage son and a widow to add to their worries.
**
They were riding in her convertible Mustang, top down, and the fall sun warm upon their faces. Later that night, they’d kissed passionately in the back-seat, only to be disrupted by Jenny. It had been the beginning of their romance and Shawna smiled.
Then she heard the waves breaking on the shore outside their bedroom. The French doors were open, Rafee was naked and his body was magnificent and she wanted him again, even though they’d just made love for hours in the huge canopy bed.
“My naked butler. I could get used to you serving me naked everyday,” she told him.
He’d grinned at her with mischief in his eyes. Anyone who never thought he smiled, never thought he laughed didn’t know him at all.
“Oh, I could lie around naked with you everyday, sweetheart, but I wouldn’t want to intimidate all the other men of the family,” he teased her back.
He handed her a cold glass of tea and sat next to her on the bed. She sipped at it and allowed her free hand to trace the lines of definition on his chest while her eyes roamed over his masculine traits appreciatively.
“Yes, you would intimidate them indeed,” she purred.
Sitting up and allowing the sheet to fall away from her chest, Shawna set the glass on the polished end table and looped her arms around his neck.
“But you don’t intimidate me, darling husband,” she told him. “I know you’re really a pussy-cat inside.”
“Is it normal to call men domesticated cats in your culture, Shawna?” he inquired with a light tone.
“Oh yeah, it’s a real compliment,” she fibbed.
He poked her in the ribs and she squealed. He knew her weaknesses like no one else. Then he stripped the covers away from her and looked over her naked form hungrily.
“Just for that insult,” he growled, “I think I’m going to have to take you again.”
“Take me where?” she asked innocently.
With a glare that looked more menacing that it really was, Rafee scooped her up in his arms and walked out of the bedroom. His bare feet slapped on the marble floors, Shawna protested loudly, and after several turns through the large villa, they were outside on the cement deck by the pool.
“Oh, no you don’t, Raf!” she warned him.
“Oh, yes, I think I will,” he replied and promptly tossed her into the deep end.
The cool water had been a shock to her skin and just as Rafee stood laughing at her from the deck, a woman let out a scream of shock. Rafee turned around and there, having dropped her laundry basket and her hands covering her mouth to prevent more screams, was the plump middle-aged French maid.
She began muttering apologies in her native language and completely embarrassed, Rafee covered himself with his hands and tried to apologize as well.
Shawna laughed mercilessly from the pool and finally, after the maid began laughing hysterically as she gathered the laundry from the ground, Rafee dove into the water and surfaced with a blush on his cheeks. The maid scurried off, but not before halting and stealing one last look in Rafee’s direction.
“That was embarrassing,” Rafee drawled.
“That’s what you get for pulling me out of our warm bed and tossing me here,” Shawna insisted as she moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
He raised his eyebrows and appeared pleased. “Well, if it gets me into this position again, I’m not sorry I did it.”
“Come on, I’m easy this weekend. You don’t have to beg,” she teased as she kissed him.
He kissed her back, holding her securely, tenderly…milling around in the water, more interested in just being in her arms rather than making love again. And their tender evening lasted for hours…
**
“Rafee,” Shawna mumbled and suddenly jerked awake.
Marcus looked at her oddly as he sat across from her on the small chartered jet. She could read the concern in his eyes, but she held up a hand, stood and paced toward the back of the plane.
“You all right?” he asked her as he remained in his seat.
“I’m fine.”
“You just said your dead husband’s name,” he drawled.
“Yeah, I know.” She didn’t elaborate, she didn’t explain. The memory had been so vivid, so real. And it was a private memory shared only between her and Rafee. Well, maybe that French housekeeper had caught part of the act, but it had been all her and Rafee.
“You look pale, Shawna,” Marcus then remarked. “Perhaps it was too soon after the birth to leave.”
“It wasn’t too soon. I’m fine,” she argued rather harshly and when she caught the frown on Marcus’s chiseled lips, she smiled weakly and added, “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. You’re tense. I am too.”
She moved back to her seat and pushed her hair out of her face, pulled it back tightly and placed it in a ponytail.
“I’m just worried about what we might find in Johar. I’m worried about the kids, my family, the Armanjanis. And I’m still concerned over that phone call I got weeks ago.”
“It was probably Samad,” Marcus surmised.
“Yeah, probably. But why didn’t he call back later, then? If it was him, and he’s all right, why didn’t he call back?”
Marcus wrinkled his brow at her. “You think he’s hurt?”
“I hope to God he’s not. I couldn’t make it through another death, Marcus. Not someone like Samad or Joseph. I just...couldn’t.”
Marcus nodded, reached out and gently touched her cheek then announced, “We’ll be in Kumar in two hours. Rest while you can, Shawna, there won’t be much rest once we cross the Johar border.”
**
They waited until everyone had left for bed and the village was silent. Lights were off in windows, no one roamed the cobblestone streets and only the ocean sounds were audible. Together, hand in hand, Jenny and Emir walked out toward the sea to be together for Emir was going to leave once again in the morning.
“I wish you were done with this,” Jenny told him as Emir moved his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled against him. “I miss you terribly when you’re gone. And I want to go home.”
“I know, Jenny. But not much longer. Hopefully, not much longer.”
“I’m not very good at this…worrying about you while you’re off to war. It’s difficult.”
He squeezed her shoulders as their bare feet made contact with the soft sand. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you, but I must fight on. We’re so very close to getting Jabbar.”
She shivered at just hearing Jabbar’s name and recalled the dismal days she’s been at his palace. The man had watched her, threatened her, tried to manipulate her. She hated him, but she feared for Nida.
“I could really care less what comes of Jabbar, but please, do not hurt Nida,” Jenny pleaded with Emir and halting, she faced him and grasped his clean shirt. He’d bathed and he looked like a new man without the torn clothes and layers of desert dirt.
He smiled at her reassuringly and insisted, “Nida will never be harmed. She is not part of this war. She is not part of Jabbar’s evil plans. I assure you, she will be taken care of if I have any say in the matter.”
“Make sure you tell that to Samad and Rafee. Sometimes when they see red…” She shook her head.
“I realize they are headstrong, but they have both been very capable leaders. I respect them both very much and trust them, as I hope they trust and respect me. That way, I’ll have a few Armanjani allies on my side when I have to speak to Sheik Nikash about marrying you.”
He flashed her a white smile again and Jenny stood on her toes to meet his lips. The kiss began friendly, but soon, it was fire between them. The heat consumed them as they sank to the sand and Jenny’s hands explored Emir carelessly. It was careless for she didn’t understand just what kind of affect such wanton touches had on a man, especially on a man that had been to war for several months.
She was being bold and she’d told herself while Emir was gone that when she saw him again, she’d make sure he knew she never wanted him to leave her again. And so when her hands traveled under his shirt, caressing his muscular chest, then dipped low and across the evidence of his intense enjoyment, she hoped she conveyed her feelings.
He groaned and caught her bottom lip in his teeth. When she gasped, he deepened the kiss with his tongue, his hands flaring on her waist and pulling her tightly against him. For a moment, her hand increased its pressure on him and she was positive he was going to relent and strip them both of their clothes as his hand moved higher to cover her breast. But when she urged in a hot whisper, “Please, Emir, please…” he let out a strangled curse and rolled away from her.
“You do not know what you are doing to me, Jenny,” Emir insisted and he remained lying in the sand, his hands covering his face as Jenny pushed up to an elbow to stare at him.
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” she teased and reached over, tugging on his sleeve. “Come back over here.”
“No,” he stated resolute.
“You don’t want to? Didn’t you miss me?” she asked, wondering if somehow his feelings for her had changed while he was away fighting.
“I would not be a man if I didn’t want to. But like I have said before, I am determined not to. Not until…not until a lot of things change. Not until this war is over, not until I have Sheik Nikash’s permission to marry you, not until…”
“Not until I’m your wife?” Jenny asked with exasperation. “That may be a while. And we may not last that long.”
He frowned at her in the dark and she realized he misunderstood her meaning. “I don’t mean that our relationship won’t last, Emir, I meant you and I may have physical meltdowns from all this kissing and no real action thing. That’s all.”
“Oh,” he said, chuckling. He pushed to a seated position and smiled down at her. “I thought for a moment you were going to get rid of me if I didn’t let you have your way with me.”
She smiled at him and slid next to him. Innocently she laid her head on his shoulder and he again wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The moon was full and bright above them, the water an inky black that shimmered when the moon’s silvery light reflected off the swells. It was peaceful, as peaceful as Jenny had ever seen it since she’d been in the village.
“I won’t get rid of you over that,” Jenny declared. “That’s only something American men do to their women. Cads.”
Suddenly Emir let her go and leaned back in the sand, propping his head up with his bent elbow and looking at her with a smug smile. “So, it’s happened to you before, has it?”
“No,” she defended, smacking him playfully. “I only had one boyfriend before you and we parted on mutual terms. He never pushed me for anything. He was a good guy.”
“Then what happened?”
“We outgrew one another and I started having strange dreams about this hot military officer…”
Jenny laughed but Emir’s smile disappeared at her words.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
“No. But you do realize I’m not a military officer any longer, don’t you? I’m AWOL. Technically, if the military found me, they could shoot me on sight. I’m a fugitive in my own country.”
Jenny gulped. She’d never really thought of it that way.
“I have no future here, Jenny, if Jabbar is not defeated. I must make sure he is unseated.”
“And if Razi…uh, Prince Abdul, gets the throne? What for you then?” she inquired, hoping he’d say he still didn’t have a future in Johar and would move on to Kumar to be with her or even on to
“Then, I will do whatever it is he needs of me,” he stated and at those words, Jenny looked away.
“I suppose it was me who said something wrong this time,” Emir drawled and reached out to touch Jenny’s arm and regain her attention. “What is it?”
Jenny sighed, fiddled with the sand for a moment, gathered her thoughts and explained, “You do realize I will have to go back to
Emir was silent and he too found distraction in the grains of sand before he said, “Then you’ll return to American to start school and I will just have to find a way to visit you as often as I can. We’ll make it work, Jenny, I swear it to you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her then. She immediately felt the heat building and knew that now was not their time for her to push him physically. When things settled, when her family knew of her plans, when the war was over…
“We’ll make it work, Emir. I know we will.”
**
The fighting was intense now. Day and night the shells fell on both sides. Casualties were mounting, the wounded and dead were too many to count. But Razi’s side had an advantage. They were fighting for a cause and none of them deserted. Johar’s side, however, seemed to start giving up more willingly.
It was rumored that news was traveling through all of Johar that if Prince Abdul-Razzaq won, there would be more freedoms in the land. He was said to be a more generous ruler, one who promised economic growth and the halt to all political imprisonments.
Razi wasn’t sure where those rumors had started, but he knew that if he were to rule, he’d certainly try and uphold such ideas. First, he had to win this war however, if he was going to accomplish anything for Johar.
And some support suddenly arrived from the east. Small raiding parties began hitting the flanks of the Johar forces and creating distractions that were hurting. And right now, Razi would take any distraction for Johar’s military that he could get.
Despite the full on assault by Johar, however, Razi and Colonel Bishr were making rapid progress. This was the final push, the realized, and it would either make or break them as they neared the capital city.
**
They landed in Kumar and Shawna was prepared to see more destruction than greeted her. The city hadn’t been hit as badly as first thought and once Rafee and his men had begun pushing into Johar, much of the fighting had been concentrated there, not in Kumar. And, with the urging of Sheik Aarif and the other royal families of the U.A.E., much rebuilding had taken place in the past few months and life was starting to get back to normal in Kumar…nearly.
There was a military escort to greet Shawna and Marcus and they were immediately ushered to General Nabir. He spoke with Marcus behind closed doors and thirty minutes later, Shawna and Marcus, along with an armed military soldier, were racing toward the Johar border in a desert vehicle. They were to meet up with the other CIA men and Joseph.
It was hours they traveled. They spoke little and Shawna kept nervously tugging at her desert tan flak-vest. It was heavy with ceramic plates in the front for protection and around her waist was strapped a Glock 45 and ammunition. An MP-5 rifle sat propped next to her seat. She had all the equipment she needed; she only prayed they found their target before his military found them.
There was evidence of much fighting in the Johar desert. Tanks, vehicles, weapons systems, all lay burnt out and strewn on the ground. The smell of death permeated Shawna’s nose and she frowned at the few bodies they still saw lying on the ground. Most, it appeared, had been taken away, but there were still some left…
She shut her eyes to the carnage and wondered if they would run across Rafee’s body. She couldn’t get his image out of his mind now that they were in Johar. Pictures of him and their life together flitted through her mind and as much as she tried to shut them out, she couldn’t.
As if on cue, the soldier riding with them indicated for Marcus to halt. He braked next to what looked to have once been a military camp. Torn canvas from tents, destroyed vehicles and pock-marked ground from fallen bombs littered the area. The soldier jumped out and Marcus followed.
“What’s this?” Shawna asked.
Marcus looked at her with serious eyes as he replied, “This is where Rafee was when the blast happened. This is where he died.”
Shawna felt the wind exit her lungs in a rush and if she hadn’t been seated, she would have fallen down.
“Coming?” Marcus inquired after a long moment, and slowly Shawna slid out of the vehicle.
The Kumarian soldier was sifting through the rubble, kicking things over and pulling up canvas. When Marcus and Shawna approached he explained to them in accented English, “They had to abandon this spot when the Johar forces moved in. When our military was able to come back and look for Prince Rafee, it had been several months. Nothing was found here. No bodies, no evidence that he’d been here…nothing.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Shawna blurted out.
“It only means that his body is gone. And knowing King Jabbar,” the soldier said, “he could have recovered Rafee’s remains to use as a trophy.”
Shawna suddenly blanched. She reached out for something…anything…to hold her up as he imagined her wonderful husband, his body in the hands of a man like Jabbar. It was sacrilegious to do such a thing, but she wouldn’t put Jabbar past it.
Marcus was there, he reached out and tugged her against him, soothed her with words and then she heard him say to the soldier, “This was Rafee’s wife.”
“I am sorry…I did not realize…” the man mumbled then. “I thought she was an American agent…like you, Agent Snow.”
Shawna shook her head and pulled away from Marcus, her strength renewed.
“No, I’m no agent. And it’s been nine, ten months now since Rafee’s been gone. It doesn’t matter what happened to his body now. He’s dead, he’s not coming back.”
They left that spot and as they drove again in silence, Shawna asked quietly, “Why did you take me there, Marcus?”
“I thought you’d want to see for yourself. I thought you’d need that closure.”
She nodded, yes, it was certainly a reality check seeing the place where Rafee had died. And, it was hammering home to her just what exactly she was getting herself into now. But she’d come this far, she wasn’t going to turn tail and run. She wasn’t a coward and she wasn’t afraid of fighting. She was ready.
Another two hours brought them to a camp. Unlike the deserted camp where Rafee had perished, this one was inhabited. It was inhabited by CIA men, Armanjanis, U.A.E. special forces units and Joseph.
Shawna jumped out of the car and raced to her brother when she spotted his dirty and grimy form. He was barking out some order like a true military officer and when he saw her, when he did a double-take in surprise, she ran into his arms.
He hugged her like he’d never hugged her before, hugged her for a long while, and when he finally pulled back he was frowning down at her.
“What in the hell are you doing here, Shawna?” he asked her, his eyes still filled with shock and disbelief.
“I came to fight. I came to make sure Jabbar dies. I came for a little revenge.”
Joseph closed his eyes, cursed, then gritted his teeth and locked his gaze on hers. “Damn it all…get home. Get your ass back home now. This is no place for you.”
Feeling his fingers dig harshly into her arms, Shawna shook them loose, pushed him away and blurted out, “I’m fighting, Joseph, whether you like it or not!”
“Over my dead body,” Joseph quipped.
Shawna narrowed her eyes at her brother and replied coolly, “That can easily be arranged, brother.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Sheiks of Kumar VIII: Return of the Prince – Chapter 15 (coming soon)