101 Nights Box Set: Volume Two Page 24

  Or maybe, it doesn’t matter, because his sweet little sister spilled the beans. From the look on his face, and what I know of his background, I somehow doubt he’s going to react the way a normal man would.

  And that kinda scares me. I joked about the guillotine with him, but I can see him having one constructed just to prove a point and then sentencing me to be the first person whose head is lopped off.

  “Open, you assholes,” I mutter to the gates, all too aware of the angry storm cloud that’s probably following me. I need to get him focused on something else, like rescuing George and Natalie. If that goes well, maybe he won’t fuck me up tomorrow when he’s officially in charge.

  Chapter Five: George

  “I swear I feel like a Thanksgiving turkey,” Natalie whispers.

  The sweltering Nijalan heat has started to give way with twilight. The bars of sunlight from the single square vent above my head have faded. I’m soaked with sweat from the day roasting.

  “We made it,” I reply.

  “Barely. I don’t think I can do another day here, George.”

  I stand, restless and displeased once more. The man who brings our water is late, and I’m starting to grow concerned about what that might mean.

  “Tell me another story?” she asks.

  Testing the door the way I have several times a day since arriving, I dwell on her request for a moment. “Not sure about a story, but I think I decided what I want to do about Alisha,” I reply.

  “Marry her.”

  “There are many steps between here and there,” I say with a chuckle. “But ... out of fear that she’ll hack me, I’m considering dating her seriously.”

  Natalie laughs. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself, George. Just treat her well. She deserves the best.”

  I smile. It’s getting harder to stay focused where I need to, and my thoughts keep sliding to Alisha, to the incredible night we spent together and how much I want every night to be like that from here on out. I like the way Alisha makes me feel alive, our back and forth, and how she helps me relax and believe life isn’t as dark as it’s seemed the past few years.

  But there are obstacles, and I’m not afraid to admit that some of those obstacles are my past and my fear. “Did she ever give you a comic book name?” I ask absently.

  “Yeah, when we were thirteen. It’s horrible.” Natalie smiles. “The Crunchy Librarian, because I used to sneak chips into the library after lunch.”

  I laugh. “I got off easy. I’m The Gladiator.”

  “Definitely better.”

  The rattle of chains comes from the door. I step back and turn to glance at her.

  She nods and hurries to the center of the container before she drops to her knees.

  “Now.” I mouth the word to her.

  Natalie doubles over as if in pain and begins moaning.

  Please let this work. “Hey, mate!” I call when the door cracks open. “Whatever you fed her earlier, she’s been vomiting half the day!”

  There’s a pause in the rustling. The door doesn’t open wider.

  “Look, I’ll sit in the back.” I make a show of moving towards the back of the container. “Just get her to a doctor!”

  Natalie’s moans grow louder.

  I can almost see the guard who brings us water in the evening hesitating beyond the door. Their orders seem to be to keep us alive – even if barely.

  “What happens to you if she dies in here?” I add and then hold my breath.

  Natalie starts crying. Unlike her moaning, her heart wrenching sobs aren’t faked, and my stomach twists to hear her pain. It makes me desperate instead of determined, a feeling I know to be dangerous if I lose my focus and act smartly.

  It has an effect on the guard, too. The chains rattle, and the door is pushed open past the usual four inches.

  “I will bring someone.” The words send hope soaring through me. He closes the door.

  Adrenaline replaces my fatigue, and I prepare to make our one shot of getting out of here count.

  Chapter Six: Alisha

  Miriam’s mother hasn’t said two words to EJ since we arrived, uninvited, to her place. It was more like an invasion; aside from George’s six team members, Malika sent another four Nijalan Security Bureau members over. One sits in the apartment with Josh while the rest are stationed in the building and at surveillance points around the block.

  After the harrowing two and a half hour journey through the back alleys of the Nijalan capitol, I wasn’t certain what to expect and showed up with a long list of apologies when Miriam’s mother opened the door. She doesn’t speak much English, so I don’t think she understood most of them, especially since I was out of breath and gasping out half of them. She opened the door to me – and then almost passed out when she saw the heir to the Nijalan throne behind me in the hallway.

  She’s been in a state of dazed incredulity since then, and it makes me want to laugh despite the craziness of our situation.

  I feel kind of bad. Miriam and her brothers are either in classes or apprenticeships, and her father is at work. It’s been her poor, overwhelmed mother and us for the past two hours. EJ is silent and seated on the couch beside his sister, who is curled up in his arms and completely enthralled in watching American cartoons with Arabic captioning.

  “Are you hungry?” Miriam’s mother asks me for the twentieth time.

  “A little.” I’m not, but I’m starting to think I’ll offend her if I don’t accept something.

  She disappears into the kitchen.

  Wanting to take my mind off waiting, I follow. “Do you need help?” I ask.

  The response is in Arabic.

  I glance back at EJ, who’s wearing a trace of a smile. “She says she can’t ask the companion of the Kingdom’s heir to cook.”

  “Probably a good thing,” I murmur. “I can only make mac-n-cheese.”

  “I love mac-n-cheese!” Layla exclaims.

  “You see this?” I tell EJ, motioning to his sister. “She’s got great taste. I don’t know what happened with you.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “I should help,” Layla says.

  Which would leave EJ and me alone for the first time since he discovered Natalie’s pregnant. “No, sweetie, you should rest,” I reply quickly.

  “No, you should help. Learn to be a working princess,” EJ counters.

  Layla’s face lights up. “Princess.” She starts to laugh then shakes her head. With effort, she stands and limps towards the kitchen.

  I resist the urge to ask if she needs help. Her features are puckered and determined, her expression similar to EJ’s when he’s not about to back down from something.

  “Have a seat, Alisha. We’re going to talk,” EJ says quietly.

  Fuck. I do it, because there’s nowhere else for me to go. Miriam’s family’s apartment is a two-bedroom home with a formal living-dining room combo, a kitchen, two bathrooms and a family room.

  “How long have you known?” EJ asks. I’m not sure how to take his calmness and am unable to read him.

  “She found out the day she was kidnapped. After you dumped her.” I can’t help but get that jab in. “She called me. I was planning on helping her disappear. We were going to raise her kid somewhere where you couldn’t find us.”

  His jaw clenches. I know this is … delicate for him. I just don’t care. He fucked over my best friend, the woman who’s been my sister since we were too young to remember not being friends. It takes a moment for him to be able to speak once more. EJ draws a breath.

  “Okay. Thank you for telling me,” he says.

  I stare at him, waiting for more.

  He’s done.

  “That’s it?” I ask, confused. “You’re not furious or upset or going to send me on a one-way trip with Hasan?”

  Amusement flickers through his gaze. I have a feeling he wants to banish me as much as ever. “No, Alisha. You saved my sister. You found my Natalie. I honestly don’t like you
, but I owe you more than I can ever repay you. You were protecting your friend.”

  “It wasn’t my secret to share,” I add, relaxing. I worked myself up over nothing, as usual.

  “I know. And you’re right. This is all my fault. The fact she can’t trust me enough to tell me, that I sent her away when I should’ve …” He drifts off. “My actions have been selfish, in part because I never expected her to be the amazing person she is.”

  I recognize the tortured expression that flashes across his face. “She’ll forgive you. Not that I necessarily want her to, but you make her happy. Or did, when you weren’t crushing her soul,” I reply.

  He raises an eyebrow at me in what I recognize from George is a sign of polite offense.

  “You’re not upset? Like truly not?”

  “I am but not for the reasons you think.”

  “Because of what your father did to you,” I guess.

  He looks away. I can tell something is twisting him up inside. We’re too much alike for me not to recognize the combination of fury and fear in his eyes. He’s reliving his past and probably has been since we escaped the palace on foot.

  “Look, EJ, I had a pretty fucked up childhood, too. The good thing is that you and Natalie are different people than your parents, and you can raise your baby the right way. It’ll probably freak you out, but you’ve got her to help you. Sometimes I think having shitty parents helps you figure out what not to do.”

  He’s listening, eyes on my face once more.

  “You don’t owe me, either,” I add with a glance towards the kitchen. “Just take care of Miriam’s family. Oh, and fix Nijala. Ninety four percent of your people live in poverty.”

  “I will,” he replies. “You going to stick around after tonight? I plan on putting George in charge of the Security Bureau.”

  I shrug. “I think we’ll have to see how that goes.”

  “You can live in the palace with Natalie.”

  “Omigod! Can I help her redecorate? You need about eighty percent less over-the-topness and two hundred percent more class.”

  “While you’re redecorating, you can upgrade the security systems. They’re older than I am.”

  I laugh. “They were easy to hack.”

  “It’s settled. You’re staying.”

  “Ah … maybe.”

  “No. You’re staying.” This is the arrogant, commanding EJ I know.

  I roll my eyes.

  “If you don’t think I won’t close down every port of entry to keep you in country, you haven’t been paying attention,” he adds icily. “Natalie will want you around, and so will George. Get used to the food here or stock up on your damn mac-n-cheese.”

  He taught me this lesson about issuing an ultimatum earlier. I have to admit – it’s kind of effective.

  I don’t respond, which he seems to take as acquiescence.

  “It’s settled,” he says.

  The idea of settling down somewhere, of a life with George, leaves me a little unsettled. The part of me that panics at the thought of commitment is writhing in her bonds. It’s not that I don’t want the rosy future he’s painting, it’s because I’m always afraid of screwing something up. Of things going wrong. Of losing George and being completely alone forever.

  “Mama!” Miriam’s voice rings out as the front door opens. It’s followed by a scream as the two bodyguards guarding the door leap up.

  “Friendly!” I shout.

  They stand down and return to their seats.

  Miriam stares at me.

  I wave. “Hi, Miriam! Come on in!”

  She looks around then wordlessly tosses her keys on the tables near the door and hurries through the guards to the family room. Her eyes settle on EJ and widen, before she backpedals into the kitchen.

  “I can’t get over how people react to you,” I murmur.

  “You get used to it,” EJ says, unconcerned. “It’s close to sunset. Malika should be calling soon.”

  Pulling my laptop off the coffee table, I open it to make sure any call that comes to EJ’s phone will bounce around the world if someone tries to trace the ping. “We’re ready,” I report.

  Layla returns a few minutes later, grinning as she holds a bowl of mac-n-cheese in her hands. EJ says nothing about it, and I’m secretly laughing. Miriam follows her, uncertainty on her features as she sneaks a look at EJ.

  She sits beside me and whispers, “How do you say in America? Wazzup?”

  I chuckle. “Long story. Short version … guess who’ll be king tomorrow? Hint: he’s on your couch watching reruns of SpongeBob.”

  She starts to smile, stops and then laughs.

  EJ addresses her in Arabic. Miriam leans forward to see around me and responds, somewhat shyly. Whatever he says next causes her to look at me and then start laughing again.

  “What did you tell her?” I ask.

  “You’ll never know,” he snaps.

  Miriam covers her mouth and giggles.

  His cell buzzes.

  My attention drops to the laptop to ensure it does its part to protect us then lifts to EJ. He stands and goes to the window at the far side of the small room, answering quietly.

  “My mother is making a feast,” Miriam tells me. “Are you staying long?”

  “No. I think we’ll have to leave soon.”

  She appears disappointed. “My father would love to meet Emir Elijah.”

  “We’ll invite you all to the palace. Then I can show you the horrible painting I told you about at dinner that one night.”

  “I would like to see it.” She grins.

  EJ lowers the phone and turns to face the room. “Miriam, may I ask yet another favor of your family?”

  “Of course.” She hops to her feet.

  “Alisha and I have somewhere to be, and my sister cannot come. I’ll leave half my security team here, if she can stay with you?”

  Layla looks up from her dinner. “I want to go, EJ.”

  “Not for this, habibati,” he replies firmly.

  “It would be our honor,” Miriam answers without hesitation.

  “Thank you.” He glances at me. “Ready?”

  I slam my laptop shut and bounce to my feet, ready to scream with excitement that the waiting is finally over. “Let’s kick some ass!”

  Chapter Seven: George

  The guard didn’t return immediately like I was expecting after peeking in to see Natalie curled up in a weeping ball in the middle of the floor. My heart started to twist for her, and my hope plunged in the fear that maybe the order had been given to let us meet our eventual demise in the damned box.

  Now, somewhere around an hour later, the chains at our door are jingling once more. From the muffled voices I can hear, there are two men this time. The amount of time it takes for them to unwind the chains from the front of the container confirms the notion that we weren’t ever meant to leave the shipping box.

  I haven’t bothered Natalie, haven’t tried to comfort her or reassure her all will be well. I think that train has passed, and she’s going to break, if we don’t get out of here now. Her heartfelt sobs render me edgy when I need to be calm, but it’s hard not to sympathize with her.

  A torch shines into the dark container. I shield my eyes and shift forward slowly, ready to pounce.

  One of them ventures into the container with a first aid kit and kneels beside her. An AK-47 is strapped to his back and a handgun is tucked into the belt of his trousers at his waist. Conservatively, he’s probably packing a knife or two somewhere on his body. He’s athletic and moves like he’s been trained to use the weapons he’s carrying. I have to assume the man with him is the same in terms of being an opponent I can’t afford to give a chance to hurt one of us.

  I’m not sure what he expects to do for her, but he sets the kit down before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bottle of stomach medicine and another toy of similar size and condition to the one she’s been absently clutching.

  She murmurs a thank
you and accepts the gift, calming as he does a quick combat check of her vitals.

  I’m not capable of the same appreciation or pity she has for the man who helped cage and weaken her – and tried to soothe his conscience by giving her toys and magazines. The most mercy he’ll get from me is a quick death, which is more than anyone on this fucking boat deserves.

  Get ready, I remind her silently, hoping she recalls our rehearsed plan despite the emotions wracking her body.

  The two guards exchange a few words, and the one beside Natalie leans back. She’s shaking but quiet, not moving from her side. He glances in my direction.

  “How are you feeling, Natalie?” I ask her, the signal we agreed upon earlier.

  “B…better.”

  She sounds awful, and no part of it is acting. With effort, she pushes onto her knees and then reaches out to the guard to help her up.

  He shifts forward, as expected, and she leans into him.

  With her weight slowing his reaction time, and her frame temporarily blocking me from his sight, I move fast. In bare feet, my footsteps make no sound as I close the distance between us. I reach him a split second before he realizes what’s happening and pin the weapon at his back in place with one hand while wrapping an arm around his neck.

  Natalie staggers away and drops. The torch clatters to the ground, and the guard outside knocks on the door, shouting a question in Arabic I can assume is asking what’s going on.

  I shift and snap the neck of the guard whose body is against mine before he can answer. Lowering him to the ground, I slip his handgun from its holster and step away to slide my feet into the shoes I’ve prepositioned.

  “Grab the tor … flashlight,” I whisper to Natalie. “Turn it off.”

  She scrambles forward. The light goes off.

  The guard outside says something else. He’s alarmed.

  Hastening towards the sound of his voice, I shove my hand between the door and its frame, ignoring the flare of pain that shoots through me as he tries to slam it closed. Years of training, discipline and pure adrenaline take over. I rip the door out of his hands, instinctively gauge the distance between his dark form and me, and raise the handgun, smashing it into his outstretched arm. The gun in his hand goes off twice, and I hear the clink of a bullet hitting the metal container behind me.