Page 94 of Deadly Betrayal
After a couple sips, Azita took the canteenaway. “You will be sick.”
He was still thirsty. All the water in theGreat Lakes combined couldn’t have satisfied his craving.Carefully, she laid his head on the ground and began dabbing at hisface with something. “Don’t waste water,” he mumbled, the wordsbarely coherent to himself.
“I am using saline solution.”
Apparently, doctors were gifted with theability to understand the half-slurred, mostly unintelligiblemutterings of their patients. Azita smiled and held up somethingblack. “They returned my medical bag. It is a good sign, no? Maybethey do not want us to die in here.”
Mustering all his strength, he touched afinger to her cheek. “I’m sorry… Shahram…”
She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “Shh… Iknow.”
He caressed her cheek before letting his armdrop and closing his eyes. The need for sleep was dragging himdown. While she cleaned his cuts and applied salve to his burns, hedrifted in and out of consciousness. He should feel better, but hedidn’t. With every minute that passed, he weakened.
His head was lifted and Azita’s sweet voicefilled his mind. “You have a fever. I will give you an antibioticand something for the pain.”
She put pills in his mouth, followed bywater. Obediently, he swallowed. She was so resourceful. Where hadshe gotten the medicine? His brow furrowed. “Yours?”
Her hand stroked his head. “You need it morethan I.”
He remembered all the blood that had pouredfrom her injury, his panic, his fear that she’d die in his arms. Ifhe was worse off than she’d been, they were in trouble. How couldhe break them out of this hole if he was half dead?
Hassan.
The name came to him all of a sudden, and herecalled the plans he’d made with his old friend. How long ago hadthat been? He licked his lips. “Day?”
“Rest and try to get some sleep.”
Already he could feel the medication pullinghim under. He couldn’t sleep yet. This was important. Maybe theironly chance. “Day?” he asked again.
She sighed, sounding tired and sad. “It isFriday. The wedding is tomorrow.”
Good. Kaden smiled. As they’d agreed, Hassanwas coming to meet him in Fayzabad on the day of the wedding.Tomorrow, he and Azita would be free of this hellhole. If theysurvived that long.
Khalid paced the small room, every nervefiring with trepidation. Tariq was up to something. Was he planningto back out of their deal? To change the terms? He’d welcome anychanges that took Laila out of the equation. But he wasn’t planningto give Tariq any additional rights. They’d negotiated every detaillong and hard until they’d reached a mutually beneficial agreement.If the man changed the terms now, they certainly wouldn’t be toKhalid’s advantage. All his cards were already on the table.
A shudder ripped through him as he thought ofhis wives—Gulnaz and Samira—alone at home with the children. Hehoped they were safe, that Tariq had not sent his men after them.It hadn’t been his plan to leave his family alone for so long. AndAzita? Was she safe wherever she was?
How had this situation gotten so out ofcontrol? He worked for the office of the Minister of Mines andPetroleum. He was a powerful man, not some insignificant drone noone would realize was missing.
The door to his “room” scraped open. A guardentered, followed by Tariq. The warlord looked relaxed, a cockygleam in his eye that Khalid had not witnessed before. His gutcramped.
Tariq crossed the room, an affable smile onhis face, and clapped Khalid on the back. Khalid was not fooled. “Iwas told you wish to see my future bride, her mother, and youruncle.” Tariq pulled a chair out from the table and sat, legs wideapart, one arm resting on the tabletop.
Khalid remained standing, but he didn’t coweragainst the wall. If he were going to be president one day, hecould never let men such as Tariq intimidate him. “Yes, I haven’tseen them in a week. The house is rather quiet without my niece andsister-in-law.”
“Very well,” Tariq said like a king grantinga favor to a peasant. He signaled the guard. “Bring them in.”
The guard opened the door. His upper bodydisappeared behind it for a moment, then returned. Khalid heard thesound of light rapid steps, a set of slower ones, and a thirdplodding set accompanied by the intermittent tap of a cane. Hisbody went limp with relief. They were alive.
Laila raced into the room and threw herselfinto his arms. “Kaka Khalid!” Her affection overwhelmed him, and hedidn’t have the heart to scold her for the public display. Shewrapped herself around him in a way she hadn’t since before Faroukhhad died. As he held her, he realized she was the only person whowould ever call him uncle. Faroukh had had two older sons, bothkilled when the Taliban had taken over Kabul. Laila was the onlything he had left of his brother, a brother whose trust he’dbetrayed.
Bending his knees, he framed the girl’s facein his hands. “I have missed you, little one.” And he meant farmore than during the past week. He’d not been a kind uncle to hisbrother’s only daughter. Something he intended to remedy as soon aspossible.
Freba and Afrooz entered the room together.Freba’s features were strained, her clothing wrinkled. The usuallyproud and well-put-together woman seemed to have aged a decadesince he’d last seen her, only a week before. She eyed him warily,her gaze hostile and distrustful. Afrooz stood beside her,studiously avoiding looking at Tariq. His eyes jumped from thing tothing, a tic Faroukh had first noticed when they’d been boys. Theiruncle would acquire the tic whenever he had something to say, butdidn’t or couldn’t express it.
His mind racing with possibilities, Khaliddrew himself to his full height and, keeping Laila’s hand in his,stepped closer to Freba. He tried to communicate with his eyes howsorry he was for putting them in this situation. “I trust our hosthas been taking good care of you.”
Her eyes flicked to Tariq, then back to thefloor in front of her shoes. She nodded, a sharp brief tilt of herhead. He may have kept them fed and watered, but they were far fromcomfortable in the warlord’s camp.
