Page 153 of Deadly Betrayal
Laila’s sweet face, poking out from under thebed, wavered in her blurred vision. They were never getting out ofhere. Azita’s knees wobbled as she took several faltering stepstoward the door. She needed to see Kaden one last time. She neededhis face to be the last thing she saw before she died. Only thencould she leave this earth a happy woman. She turned the knob.
The door flew open and Azita was thrown back,landing in a heap by the bed. The gun fell to the floor. Khan Tariqthundered into the room. His face was red, glowing with a sheen ofsweat. In his hands he held a large weapon, and its barrel waspointed at her chest. His eyes were dark, narrowed. Those of anenraged bull. “Where is she? Where is my bride?”
Resignation had led her to the door. Now,reality nailed her to the floor. Khan Tariq had gone mad. In hisdesperate attempt to avenge himself from the humiliation of afailed wedding, he would kill anyone who got between him and Laila.He grabbed Azita by the throat, lifting her off the floor. “Whereis she, you deceitful whore?”
“The… the woman took her.” Azita didn’t needto fake the cries strangling her voice or the tears pouring downher cheeks.
Tariq dropped her like she was trash.Crossing the room in two strides, he stuck his head out the windowand fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. Azita held herbreath as the man dialed. If he was calling the woman—
Something buzzed. Khan Tariq’s eyes roved theroom before falling on the lump at Azita’s back. Shoving her aside,he tore off the coverlet, exposing the woman’s unconsciousbody.
Tariq’s eyes glazed over with hatred, and ashis gaze locked on hers, Azita knew her end had come.
Chapter 36
Blood dripped into Kaden’s eyes. He wiped itaway with the back of his hand as he and the enemy circled eachother. The knife in his hand was slick with the red stuff, and itthirsted for more. Crouched low, he waited for the perfect momentto strike. Everything around him disappeared: Khalid’s frightenedmumblings, Jake’s incoherent shouts between sprays of bullets, andthe steady pop-pop of Stiles’s weapon.
The warlord’s man dropped low and swiped atKaden’s leg. Using the advantage of his greater height, Kaden roseand pushed down on the man’s neck, flattening him on the floor.Then, grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair, he held the knife tohis throat. “What do you want?” he asked in broken Pashto.
The man struggled to get away from theKABAR’s black blade. Kaden sandwiched him with his body. “Starttalking or I’m going to make this painful.”
“The g-girl.”
Jesus Christ. The man was obsessed withLaila. An obsession like that could never lead to anythinggood.
“What’s your name?” Kaden asked, tugging onthe man’s hair.
“Ishaq.”
“Tariq’s brother?”
“Bale.” Yes.
Peering past the blood, Kaden searched theman’s face and recognized him as one of the men who’d been in theroom when Kaden had been tortured at Tariq’s camp. He jabbed a kneeinto Ishaq’s ribs. “You enjoy pain?”
“No.” The man grunted and twisted away fromhim, only succeeding in pushing his neck against the blade. Hestilled.
Kaden chuckled, the sound entirely devoid ofhumor.
Ishaq panted. “That is… that is my brother’sway.” He gasped when Kaden yanked on his hair, forcing his neck toarch. “Not mine.” He ended on a high note.
The suite looked like a battleground. Deadbodies were piled in the doorway and several lay haphazardly aroundthe room. At no time did he recall seeing Tariq, but that didn’tmean anything. In the haze of a fight, the only thing Kaden saw wasthe enemy in front of him.
“Where is he?”
“With his bride.”
Laila? Fuck. His gaze flew to the open doorto the girl’s room. His next thought was for Azita. Christ. She wasin there alone with a maniac. Flipping the knife around, hehammered the hilt into Ishaq’s temple; keeping the man alive mightprove useful, if Tariq cared about his family at all. Ishaqcrumpled to the carpet. Kaden jumped up and swung the AK-47 off hisshoulder, gripping it firmly as he approached the doorway from theside.
Sounds started to filter through the noise offighting. Screams. Anguished cries. Whether Azita’s or Laila’s, hecouldn’t tell nor did the difference matter. His family was introuble. Whipping around the corner, he charged into the room,ready to take the bastard down. His fingers hovered over thetrigger, his desire to squeeze it almost irresistible.
What Kaden saw next made his heart seize. Hestumbled as his breath jammed in his throat and his knees locked.The coward held Azita in front of him with a weapon aimed at herhead. He smiled lazily. “You want her, American?” Tariq paused, hisexpression changing, morphing into something Kaden could onlydescribe as evil. Crazed. “Give me the girl! Give me my bride!”Tariq shouted.
Azita watched Kaden, her eyes beautifulpools, like the purest of seas. Strands of hair clung to her cheeksas she strained against her captor. She was frightened, but notcowed. “I love you,” she mouthed, and Kaden had never felt suchdespair. How was he going to get her away from the murderousbastard? Christ, he loved her.
He wasn’t losing her. Not today. Notever.
As subtly as possible, he searched the roomfor a sign of Laila. The child had to be under the bed or in thecloset. Although, there was some sort of bundle behind Azita at thefoot of the bed. He hoped it wasn’t the kid. Circling Tariq, Kadenwaited for a good opening to subdue the warlord. A bullet betweenthe eyes would do the trick. It was risky though. If Azita moved,he’d shoot her instead.
