Page 28 of The Sheik's Vow

“Yes. I also know that the police use those videos to catch the perpetrators.”

She nodded, her fingers sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why the person kept on filming instead of stepping in to help? Or, at a minimum, call the policefor help?”

“Yes. All the time.”

She smiled, but the expression was filled with sadness. “I don’t want to be the person watching something horrible happening while not doing anything to help.”

He sighed and pulled her close again. When he felt her soft breath against his neck, he said, “I understand.”

Chapter 16

Ethan landed at the capital city’s airport and looked around. The capital of Bidar seemed like any other metropolitan city. There were skyscrapers and shorter buildings, then more lower buildings spreading outwards, until there were suburbs.

He resented the very normalcy of the city. He wanted to see the capital city look like a bunch of huts or caves. The cosmopolitan nature of the city infuriated him. Every aspect grated on him—the relentless heat, the gritty desert dust, the unfamiliar language, and the seemingly improper attire of the locals. Yet, above all, there was an insidious dread coiled around him, intensifying with every passing moment. A disturbing, nagging anticipation of dread clung to him, an unshakable premonition that whispered of impending doom, leaving him haunted by an unsettling certainty that something malevolent lurked on the horizon, inching closer with each step. The tension in the air mirrored the tightening knot of apprehension in his gut.

“She’s here!” he grumbled to himself. Ethan pictured Kaia tied to his bed, or manacled in his basement. Thankfully, that old, familiar desire surged through him, banishing that sensation of dread. However, that moment of weakness caused his temper to fire hot. His inner thoughts must be reflected on his face because the others walking along the sidewalk instinctively widened the gap around him. Their cautious glances only fueled his conviction – theyshouldtread lightly in his presence. A wealthy, powerful man, a deity in his realm, Ethan believed he held dominion over their insignificant lives. In his utopia, everything unfolded at his command, and those he deemed fools were meant to deliver his every desire, starting with the respect he craved.

Suppressing the nagging feeling, he raised his hand, summoning a taxi. If time had allowed, Ethan would have orchestrated a chauffeured pickup. However, assuming the woman was in Pitra, his arrangements had been tailored to that country. The mismatch between his expectations and reality injected an unforeseen tension into his perfectly orchestrated world, the discord echoing the impending clash of his aspirations and the unpredictable path ahead.

Kaia would pay dearly for forcing him on this relentless pursuit to Bidar. The scorching heat intensified his disdain, fueling his determination to make her suffer. His eagerness to return home to Kentucky wasn't solely driven by a desire to escape the oppressive heat, but also to unravel the unsettling nagging sensation that whispered of ominous revelations waiting to unfold. In the shadows of his anger, a chilling promise lingered—Kaia's reckoning was inevitable.

And yet, as he looked out at the city beyond the airport, a small, insidious moment of doubt clawed at him. He shook it off, remembering the images of Kaia tied up, at his mercy. Bothered by the weakness, he grumbled to himself. He was conjuring ominous shadows where none existed. It was only because he hadn’t heard from Elijah. A week had passed since the idiot’s departure, yet Elijah remained elusive. No calls, no trace at all.

In that moment, his phone buzzed. He looked down at the message, his jaw tightening as he read the words.“Last night, we found several people trying to come into the village. They were asking questions sir.”

Perhaps that was what had been plaguing him. He’d felt someone trying to interfere with his private community! Furious at the intrusion, he tapped out a message to several of his contacts, ordering them to find out who was trying to gain access. After sendingthe messages, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Ethan had cultivated a perfect environment for his needs, but in doing so, he’d also had to nurture contacts with people in high places. The people he’d just contacted were near the top of the food chain, so he considered the problem solved.

Ethan looked around, squinting in the bright sunshine while also wishing that he had a driver waiting to accept his luggage and treat him to a pre-airconditioned vehicle.

“Take me to a nice hotel,” he ordered the taxi driver.

The man didn’t jump out of the vehicle and store his luggage in the trunk. Ethan grumbled as he hefted his small suitcase into the backseat. When he was settled, the driver grunted and pulled into traffic, the meter already ticking away.

Ethan leaned back in the vinyl seat, not seeing the beautiful skyline of Bidar’s capital city. Despite his messages, Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about that worrying text message from his guards back home. Too many questions, he thought. He’d ruled over his village for more than twenty years. Why were strangers coming to examine the farms now? Had he forgotten to pay off someone at the local level? His guards hadn’t mentioned that the strangers had attained access to anyone. Still, the questions, and lack of immediate answers, bothered him.

Another text message came in, this time from the local business manager.“Someone is asking about last season’s corn harvest, sir. What should I tell them?”

“What the hell?” Ethan grumbled, irritated about news of additional problems. Why would a stranger want to know how much corn had been harvested the previous summer?

Maybe it was just an inspector. Or a tax person asking why the individuals living in the community hadn’t filed tax returns in years. They did, he thought with a grin. He ensured that every person in his village filed tax returns every year. He’d forged their signatures and deposited their tax refunds into his personal account. Hell, he’d even applied for, and been awarded, federal grantmoney, under each residents’ name. That had been an extremely lucrative process!

The department of agriculture loved new farming methods Ethan mentioned that his villagers were trying out to improve harvests. Too bad all of the previous “experiments” had been miserable failures. Damn, Ethan really loved spending that grant money on things that really mattered. Such as new toys for his special room. And new locks. Or delightfully reluctant guests.

He already knew how he was going to spend next year’s grant money. He needed a place to hide the bodies. He’d only killed one person. So far. But the thrill of ending that woman’s life, of seeing the life drain from her eyes as he slowly let her bleed to death, one welt at a time, had been too exciting to deny himself the pleasure of having that kind of fun again.

At the moment, the woman’s body was currently in the freezer stored in his basement. But he couldn’t keep her there forever. Yes, a new way to dispose of bodies seemed like a good idea. He’d have to figure out an efficient solution to the dilemma.

The taxi finally pulled up outside of one of the nicest hotels in the city. “Thank you,” he told the driver, sliding his credit card through the machine. He’d just gathered up his things when he heard an unexpected ping. Looking at the machine, he was ready to press zero for the tip. He didn’t believe in tipping anyone and definitely not someone in a foreign country. But instead of prompting him for a tip, the credit card machine displayed a red message stating that his credit card was declined.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his temper starting to simmer again. He ran the credit card through the machine again, thinking that he’d just done it too quickly the last time. He then waited the two or three seconds, fully expecting to see the tip message after his card was approved.

But again, it was declined.

Ethan muttered several expletives. “Your machine is broken!” he grumbled, then pulled some bills out of his wallet, tossing them atthe man in the front seat. It was in Pitra funds, since Ethan hadn’t bothered to exchange currencies at the airport. But he didn’t care. Let the cab driver figure out the conversion rate. He grabbed his suitcase and stepped out of the taxi. Slamming the door, he stalked into the hotel, grumbling the whole time about pathetic losers who couldn’t get their machines to work properly.

Storming through the glass doors of the hotel, Ethan looked around. The hotel was nice. Better than he expected. For some reason, he’d anticipated roughing it in any country that wasn’t in the United States or Europe. But this hotel looked exceptionally luxurious.

Walking over to the reception desk, he tried to smile, but he was still too irritated by the cab debacle. “I’d like a room for a few nights,” he announced to the receptionist before she could greet him. “I don’t have a reservation.”

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