Page 95 of Deadly Betrayal
“And you?” Khalid asked, pulling his uncleinto a hug.
Next to his ear, the old man whispered, “KhanTariq is up to something.”
“Yes. We must stop the wedding.”
They stepped apart, everyone uncertain whatto say in front of their audience. Tariq opened his arms in anexpansive gesture. “I’ll have lunch brought in.” When he left toconfer with the guard by the door, Laila tugged on Khalid’s sleeve.He bent down to her. “What is it, Faroukh’s daughter?”
Her eyes filled with tears, and he grewalarmed. “Khan Tariq is a bad man. He… he killed Agha Shahram.” Shechoked off an anguished sob and he pulled her against his chest tomuffle the sound. But she had more to say. “He hurt Azitajan, and the big man.”
Stunned by the news he’d dreaded to hear, heclenched his fists behind her back. “How do you know this,azizam?”
“I saw her. Last night. The guards hit heruntil she stopped moving.”
Was Azita dead too? He immediately rejectedthe idea. Azita was alive, but the bastard’s guards had hit her.Had hurt his fiancée. Anger descended over him like a thicksuffocating avalanche. He wanted to kill Tariq and whoever had laida hand on her. But he was also furious with himself. In thatmoment, he’d have given anything to know Azita was anywhere else.He’d worked so hard to keep her away from here, from Tariq. He’ddone everything except tell her the truth. And now they weretrapped in this camp, prisoners of a madman.
Azita rested against the least bug-infestedpart of the dirt wall. With considerable difficulty anddetermination, she’d managed to drag Kaden’s heavy body over withher, and now his head lay in her lap. She’d stitched and bandagedthe cut on his eyebrow as well as the largest knife wounds on hisstomach and left thigh. Tariq and his men were brutal animals. Howcould Khalid have promised his own niece to someone so cruel anddepraved?
There was a scuffle above and the gridopened. The guard who’d returned her medical bag appeared. “I’vebrought you a blanket,khanom. Some food and more watertoo.” He was young, perhaps her own age. His eyes seemed tired, andfrom the way his gaze kept skittering away from Kaden and thebruises on her own face, he seemed to be feeling some guilt orremorse.
Gently, she slid her legs out from underKaden’s head and crawled to the opening on her knees. She didn’twant to startle the man and have him leave without giving her thesupplies he’d brought. “Tashakor, agha.This is very kind ofyou.”
When she reached up, he handed her a bag andobserved her as she opened it and checked the contents. “It’s goingto be cold tonight.”
“The blanket will help,agha…” Shepaused, hoping he’d volunteer his name. It was a technique sheoften employed at the clinic.
“I am Mustafa,khanom.”
She inclined her head in gratitude. Since hedidn’t seem in a hurry to leave, she settled on her heels and tooka few sips of the water. Not too much. Kaden needed it far morethan she.
“What happened to your headscarf?” heasked.
Her hand darted to her head where she felther loose hair. She’d forgotten she no longer wore it. Sincedeciding to rescue Laila, she’d gone completely against herculture, every aspect of it, from her headscarf to enjoying Kaden’skisses. She felt a momentary pang for the loss of her virtue. Thenit passed. “I used it to bandage his ribs,” she said, pointing toKaden’s chest. “Two are broken.”
His gaze landed on her black bag. “You are adoctor?”
“I am.”
He tapped his fingers in a nervous beat onhis knees as he shifted position in his crouch. Cautiously, shewaited while he decided what to say. He’d been kind, but perhaps itwas a ruse to get her to confide in him. “Is he…,” he started, notmeeting her gaze. “Is he going to live?”
“I’m giving him antibiotics for the infectionand ibuprofen to bring down his fever. If no one moves him, hischances of survival are good.”
“And if he is moved?”
“One of the broken ribs could puncture alung. That could kill him.”
His eyes narrowed. “You had all that in yourbag?”
Medicines were not readily available inAfghanistan, especially not in the outer provinces. He probablythought she was corrupt. Parting her hair, she showed him theinjury she’d sustained outside the Salang Tunnel.
The guard’s expression fell. “I wouldn’t haveallowed Farhang to hit you had I known, Doctor. Did it make yourinjury worse?”
While she didn’t want to antagonize the manwho was helping her, she also didn’t want to leave him free ofguilt. “My headache is more pronounced, my jaw is swollen, andbecause my companion’s need for treatment is more urgent than myown, I am at risk for an infection. I cannot know whether I’vesustained damage to my brain until I’m able to get an x-ray.” Inreality, she’d need a CT scan, but that test was available only tothe very rich.
His concerned expression grew even moreserious. “Lailakhanom’s uncle, Agha Khalid, he is yourbrother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
There was a slight sneer in the guard’s voicewhen he said, “He looks like he can afford fancy tests andmedicines.”
