Page 88 of Deadly Betrayal
“And you decided to follow the carjackers.”Burly Man was rightfully skeptical.
“I wanted my car back.”
“Was it the car or somethinginthecar you wanted back?” Burly Man waggled his thick eyebrows, makingthem undulate like a caterpillar. Tall Man leered.
Azita! Everything inside Khalid went cold, asthough he’d been submerged in Kabul River in winter. Had Tariq’smen found her? Taken her away from the American? Although the manwas a nuisance, Christiansen was capable of protecting her. Butwould he, after the hint Khalid had fed him regarding Azita’sinvolvement in the ambush? If she’d admitted the role she’d playedand he’d abandoned her with her brother, she was as good asdead.
Khalid swallowed around the constriction inhis throat. How he hated Americans, especially this one. They had away of insinuating themselves into a situation and making theirvictimsneedthem. He raised his eyebrows as he said asilent prayer that Azita had somehow escaped Tariq’s men.
Returning his thoughts to Burly Man’squestion, he shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he absolutely did notfeel. “Nothing of import.”
Tariq relaxed into the large throne-likechair in the receiving room and waited for his men to arrive withthe hostages. Allah was rewarding him for his discipline andperseverance. Nothing would derail his wedding day, and themarriage would render his alliance with Khalid unbreakable. Oncethe man was elected president, Tariq would be his puppet master andthe true leader of Afghanistan.
A few feet away, his young bride-to-be stoodquivering. He frowned just for the pleasure of seeing her cower.Power was intoxicating, perhaps more so than sex. Still, he lookedforward to his upcoming nuptials. It would be a pleasure to breakin little Laila with her curious eyes and naïve ways. Unlike hisother wives, she hadn’t been hardened by life. When she wasn’thuddled in fear, her brown gaze shone with a joy he hadn’texperienced since childhood.
“Come,azizam.” He held out his handand drew her to his side. “Stand with me as I decide what to dowith our… guests.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Wedding guests?”
Such innocence. He arched a brow. “Perhaps.”If the hostages were who he expected, Laila’s identification wouldseal their fate.
The front door opened. Mustafa poked his headin. After a quick greeting, he asked, “Khan Tariq, do you wish tosee them now?”
“Please.” He laid a hand on Laila’s shoulder,forcing her to her knees. “My future bride and I are eager to speakto our guests.”
Several of his men dragged in two hostages,one male, the other female. Both had sacks over their heads andtheir hands were bound behind their backs. Laila tried to rise. Hepushed her back down. “Hush, child.” She hung her head and twistedher hands in her lap, but her eyes were glued to the couple.
The door opened again. Two more of his mencarried a body between them. Laila’s eyes grew round andfrightened, her lips pale and thin. Tariq’s groin twitched. Oh yes.He and his new bride would get on very well.
They laid the body at his feet. He almostlaughed when Laila pressed against his knees in her quest to getfarther away from the dead man. Mustafa removed the vest coveringthe man’s head. “Laila,” Tariq said. “Do you know this man?”
“No.” Her reply came quickly. She didn’t evenlift her face from the folds of hisshalwar. Under othercircumstances, he’d find her actions sweet. Not today. Today, shewas disobeying him andthathe didn’t tolerate fromanyone.
He gripped her chin between his fingers. Shewinced at the pressure. “Do not make me ask again.” He twisted herface toward the body laid out before them.
With obvious reluctance, she opened her eyes.She quivered beautifully against his leg and under his fingers, andhe knew the exact moment when she recognized the dead man. Her lidsslammed shut, and she whipped her head around, away from thecorpse. Toward him.
It was progress.
“Who is he,azizam?” Tariq askedsoftly.
“I-I saw a photograph of him once. His nameis Shahram.” Her voice disappeared in a great sob that shook herfrail body.
He slid a hand over her shoulder and squeezedher neck. Not too hard, just enough for her to know who was incharge. “Good girl. Where did you see the photo?”
“With… with Azitajan’s things.”
“Your father’s second wife?” he asked,wanting her to confirm the connection between the man at his feetand the woman Laila had said was in the photo with the movie starand his bodyguard.
The hooded woman bucked against herrestraints. She tried to scream, but it was blocked by the gag.
Laila looked over her shoulder at thecommotion. A tightening of his fingers brought her attention backto him. She hunched, curving her neck away from the hold. “Forgiveme, Khan Tariq.”
“My question,” he prompted her throughgritted teeth.
“Yes, I saw the photo of Shahram among herthings.”
The woman’s struggles escalated as though shesensed her freedom fleeing. He motioned, and Mirzal backhanded her.The violent strike rang loudly in the room. She fell to her side onthe dirty floor, and her struggles abated.
