Page 71 of Defenders of Jawhara

Talib grinned at her. “It is his right. But that would be in a perfect world, and we all know that does not exist.”

“Hey, y’all, I hate to break up this scintillating conversation, but the target is going to have visual any minute now.”

“Roger that.” PJ grabbed her headscarf, looking at Talib for assistance, which he gave her, but not before planting a kiss on her upturned lips. He whispered into the ear without the com bud, so that the others couldn’t hear. “Just a little something to tide you over. When this is finished, I’m going to kiss every inch of you, and then when I’m done with that, I’ll start all over again.”

PJ felt her breath hitch and couldn’t even respond as he deftly arranged the hijab over her blonde hair and pushed her towards the tent’s opening. “Remember, keep your face down or the game will be up.”

PJ nodded as she stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. She casually glanced off in the distance, seeing the beginning of a shape start to come over the horizon. She wandered over to the camel and took up a one-sided conversation with the animal, not minding in the least when several male chuckles filtered through the com line.

“Is she telling it a bedtime story, or what?” Tim asked, never having understood PJ’s predilection to talk constantly.

“Hey, PJ, you are in the Middle East. Why don’t you tell it the story of Aladdin and the flying carpets?”

The figures approaching across the desert came into clear view—two people walking and a donkey. And what she saw gave her chills.

“Shut up, guys! If this is Miss Malone, she’s not looking too great. She appears to be walking with a limp and keeps stopping to hold her middle. Brock, did you bring your kit?”

“Sure did, hon. As soon as the bastard who hurt her is secure, I’m there.”

“Good. Okay, here goes nothing. Talib, you’re going to have to interpret for me if he starts talking fast. My Arabic isn’t that great…”

“He won’t speak standard Arabic,” Talib said. “The Sumari have their own dialect, which sounds much different. Don’t speak to him at all unless you have to and then use single words as much as possible.”

15

ERIN

Erin saw the tent and then the woman tending to the camel and almost fainted in relief. “Amir! Amir, please! Could you please see if they have any water to spare?”

Erin hesitated to ask anything from the man who had backhanded her so hard earlier that she was still seeing stars and had left her jaw throbbing something awful. Her nausea had taken over sometime during the night, and without any fluid in her stomach, she was now having dry heaves and cramping in her lower abdomen. She feared for the safety of her baby, and she had tried to refuse going any farther without adequate water.

Amir’s response to that had been to hit her. He had then threatened to tie her over the back of the donkey if she gave him any more problems, and the thought of what that would do to her made her shake with fear.

“I told you we would drink when we reached the caves. If you weren’t so pathetic and weak, we would have already arrived there.”

“Amir, please. I don’t know how much longer I can do this without something to drink.”

He gave her a disgusted look and then said, “Fine. But you will remain righthere. I will go see if they have any water to spare.”Herewas approximately fifty feet from the camp.

Amir dropped the donkey’s lead, and Erin leaned against the tired animal, watching Amir approach the camp. She covertly looked around her, disheartened when all she saw was sand and more sand. Sighing, she rested her tired head on her arms, closing her eyes in an effort to stave off more dry heaves.

Her jaw was throbbing in time with her heartbeat, and she longed to remove the heavy veil and assess the damage, but to do so would incur Amir’s wrath. He was not being nearly as patient with her today as he’d been the day before.

Kamal, I hope someone is on their way to get me.

Another stomach cramp had her moaning softly, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet and not give in to the stabbing pain.

She watched Amir approach the woman who appeared to be talking to the camel. She was dressed in the colorful garb of the Jawharan women and when she heard him approach, she quickly looked up and then averted her face. Erin could well imagine Amir’s response to that, as he’d taken great pleasure in speaking about the subjugation of women.

She was surprised when he called out to the woman in the dialect most commonly used in Jawhara, “Marhaban!”

Erin heard her soft reply, “Sabah el kheer!” The woman quickly made her way to the door of the tent, calling inside for someone. Probably her husband. Erin couldn’t hear what was said, but the woman gestured to Amir again as she pulled the flap back.

She watched Amir approach the tent and then freeze. Quickly backing up, he placed one hand on his knife hilt, and then she could hear him calling out for the occupant of the tent to show himself.

Erin held on to the donkey as she watched the scene unfold. The woman was backing away from Amir, who had drawn his blade. The woman didn’t see the packs sitting in the sand right behind her, and her foot connected with them, sending her sprawling backwards just as the man stuck his head out of the tent.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The woman’s headdress slipped off, revealing blonde hair, but Erin couldn’t see her face. Amir began shouting obscenities as he waved his knife and started to return to where she waited with the donkey. The man shouted at Amir in Arabic, and even though his voice was muffled by the keffiyeh across his face, Erin could hear him saying, “Tawakaf makanak!” over and over. “Stop! Stop!”

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