Page 60 of Defenders of Jawhara

“Put the veil back on,” Amir growled at her.

Erin looked at him, intending to argue, but seeing his hand on his knife hilt, she decided to hold her tongue lest he force her back up on the donkey. She could already tell she was dehydrated; if she started throwing up, she could endanger the baby and herself more. The merciless heat of the desert was slowly sapping her energy and what little fluid she had consumed. Swallowing back both the nausea and her retort, she retrieved the hateful veil, shaking the sand from it before putting it back over her head.

Sighing, she glared at Amir through the mesh, wishing all sorts of evil things would happen to him.

Oh, but not until Kamal or someone else rescues me. Please let someone be on the way to find me!

Resolved to survive until that time, she gave one more glance behind her. Seeing nothing but sand and more sand, she turned, determined to prove to Amir that his opinion of Westerners was wrong. That his opinion ofherwas wrong!

As she began the arduous task of walking in the late afternoon heat, she let her thoughts drift to Kamal and the future that awaited her once she was rescued. She had fought Kamal’s dominating attitude, but more than anything, she wished he were standing by her side, directing her every move right now. Never again would she argue with his decisions about her welfare! While she didn’t regret her visits to the refugee camp, she did regret not taking her personal safety more seriously. At the very least, she should have had a second guard with her or told someone where she was going before she’d followed Amir. Next time she would heed his advice without argument. Or bring a weapon of her own. Probably both.

7

TALIB

Talib, PJ, and the rest of the small group of Americans had returned to the palace and split up to gather additional supplies that would be needed to carry out their plan. The men had split off to set up their coms post.

Now Talib stood before Sheikh Kamal, leaving PJ alone as she participated in a telephone conference with the rest of the team and Slade. He and another operative were already in the air headed for Jawhara but would not be in the country for at least another twelve hours.

“Talib, Erin is my heart,” Kamal said softly, watching Talib from across his desk.

“Your Majesty, if it is within my power, I will return Miss Malone to you.”

“Your willingness to serve the people of Jawhara is much appreciated,” Kamal began.

Talib grew uncomfortable with Kamal’s praise, not liking to be in the spotlight, preferring to stay in the shadows and just perform his duties. “Your Majesty…”

“Min fadlak!Let me have my say! We grew up together and never once did you bemoan your station in life. After I returned from college, you assumed your role within the palace, and I must confess that I never gave any thought to what you wanted to do with your life.”

Kamal paused, his mind elsewhere, but Talib knew to wait for his sheikh to continue. “Even after my father’s death, it was assumed that you would continue to serve us as you had in the past. As a protector. As a confidant. As a companion. I just want you to know that I personally appreciate everything you do for not only Jawhara, but for me. It has not gone unnoticed.”

Talib swallowed back his reply, choosing instead to simply nod in acceptance, in hopes that Kamal would move on. He much preferred him as the strong, alpha leader of a country, one who answered to no one but himself and made no excuses for his actions, nor cared for anyone’s approval but his own. Talib had admired that character trait of his cousin since he was a teen, trying to emulate it whenever possible.

Kamal wasn’t a dictator like so many other Arab leaders; he was a fair and just man who was known for being decisive and consistent. Talib appreciated the fact that Kamal’s reactions were very predictable—except when Erin Malone was concerned.

He knew that Kamal had deep feelings for the American woman and that her kidnapping had shaken his ruler. But in all the time they’d spent together, the sheikh had never once expressed any sort of concern over Talib’s life decisions, and he worried that all this stress had affected his thinking and judgment.

Needing to redirect the conversation away from him, Talib asked, “Your Majesty, have you contacted the new Sumari leadership yet?”

Kamal nodded. “I spoke with them an hour ago. They are presently rounding up and arresting everyone who is a known member of the extremist group. They have promised to offer whatever help is needed and to prosecute the perpetrators of this crime against Jawhara in any way I see suitable.”

Talib raised an eyebrow. “They do not wish to prosecute them according to Sumari law?”

“No. They are in a very delicate stage of gaining citizen support, and to execute prominent opposition leaders would only serve to weaken their cause. They have promised to have anyone directly responsible for today’s attack delivered to Jawhara when the time comes for prosecution under our law. They are still claiming that the peace agreement was not a façade and that they believe the young kidnapper is working on his own out of vengeance for his father’s death.”

“Is that likely?” Talib asked.

“Does it matter? He has dared to threaten one under my protection. More than one member of my family. He, and anyone working with him, will pay the ultimate price.”

Talib nodded, knowing that Jawharan justice would call for the immediate death of all those involved. Unlike the American justice system, there was no judge and jury in Jawhara. There was only Sheikh Kamal, the accused, and the facts. As sheikh, Kamal made all judgments of innocence and guilt—rarely asking his brother or other advisers for input.

“I will make sure everything is readied when the time comes,” he assured Kamal. Executions were rare in Jawhara because the people respected their leadership, and the swift way justice was meted out tended to discourage unlawful behavior. “I will also make sure the proper summary of these events is released to the international media, who I am told are even now en route to Jawhara.”

“Shit!” Kamal spat.

Talib hid his smile. Kamal had picked up several American curse words during his time at university, choosing to use them in times of distress rather than disrespect the Arabic language with demeaning words or gestures. Talib and Khalil had laughed about this for years, counting it as one of Kamal’s little idiosyncrasies.

Kamal saw the grin Talib was trying to hide and then realized what he’d done. “Forgive me. This situation is taxing my ability to remain civil.”

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