Page 81 of Defenders of Jawhara

Erin was about to become the future sheikha, and she could not wait.

23

PJ

PJ circled the ballroom, looking at the guests and matching faces to names. She tapped the com link in her ear, turning down the volume as Brock, who was in the control room, happily chewed her ear off with anecdotes about the different guests based on what he was finding on their social media.

“Seriously, dude. Unless you have something useful to say, shut up already,” she murmured before smiling at the couple, who gave her a strange look because she looked like she was talking to herself. She could hear Brock complaining about being stuck behind a desk while she had all the fun. “You are welcome to trade places with me, but I’m not sure you’d fit into my outfit.” She chuckled at his grumbled reply.

PJ caught her reflection and had to smile. She looked damn good in the pantsuit she’d chosen to wear. The top fit snugly around her slim form, and the loose sleeves allowed her to wear a knife strapped to her forearm. The flared pants gave her freedom of movement while allowing her to carry a sidearm without anyone knowing.

“Anything to worry about?” she asked into her com.

“All clear,” Brock replied. “The only people carrying are on our side.”

Looking up at the camera, she gave a quick nod. Slade had provided Talib with high-end infrared cameras, which they were using to make sure that none of the guests had brought weapons into the palace. So far, it looked as though everyone here had come in peace.

After everyone had gotten some much-needed rest post-rescue, Slade had met with Sheikh Kamal, Khalil, Talib, and the Slade Security staff to wrap everything up. The body of the kidnapper had been returned to Sumari, along with the body of his mother.

She had taken her own life inside the tent in the refugee camp. The palace guards had found her lying in the middle of the tent, empty eyes staring up at the ceiling, her body cold and stiff. The doctor had estimated she had died shortly after Amir and Erin had left the camp.

With both dead and the leadership of Sumari assuring Kamal that Amir and his mother had been acting on their own, the entire incident had been closed. Only, the men of Jawhara were not so easily mollified. The threat to them and their women was still a concern—one that never eased.

Sheikh Kamal and Slade discussed the remedies available to them, and it was decided that PJ would remain in Jawhara indefinitely, seeing to the safety of the two most important women in the palace, or until such time as she asked to return to the States.

PJ had only spent a few hours with both women, but she knew that theirs would be more than a standard guard and client relationship. They already had budding friendships, and PJ looked forward to spending more time with both women.

Circling back around the ballroom, PJ came to stand next to Talib, who was having his own mumbled conversation with palace security. When he saw her, he placed his hand at the small of her back and leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “Everything okay?” he asked her with his raised eyebrows, and she nodded. Already they’d learned each other’s expressions and minds.

Music began to play, and the guests all quieted before standing and turning to look towards the ballroom’s double doors. Patty Malone stepped through first and began walking down the aisle, escorted by Khalil. Next came Shira, who was dressed in a traditional thobe. Kamal and Erin had chosen to have a mixed wedding, comprising both Jawharan and American traditions.

A mix of ooohs and aaahhs flitted around the room when Erin began to walk down the aisle, escorted by her father. She looked amazing in traditional Jawharan dress.

The wedding was beautiful, even though PJ didn’t understand much of what was said. Thankfully, Talib was there, whispering a translation in her ear. Erin made a beautiful bride, and she sparkled for her new husband. Erin’s hands had been decorated with henna, and PJ could see glints of gemstones around her neck and on her fingers. The sheikh wore a traditional man’s thobe and keffiyeh in white, which looked amazing with his dark good looks.

PJ couldn’t help casting a look at Talib, thinking that he would look even more handsome in similar attire.

After the ceremony, an imam gave a speech about how the Prophet honored his wives, how to honor women, and how women should treat their husbands and honor them. An older man then stood to talk. PJ relaxed against Talib, knowing that Brock had eyes everywhere, thanks to the cameras, and the rest of the team, along with palace security, were inconspicuously placed throughout the ballroom and the palace.

Finally, the ceremony ended, and PJ and Talib took positions as Sheikh Kamal and his new wife posed for pictures before moving to the head of the line to greet their guests.

“What did you think of the ceremony?” Talib asked her as they both watched the guests.

“It was beautiful,” she answered honestly. “Both Erin and Sheikh Kamal looked incredible.”

Talib nodded in agreement. Kamal met Talib’s eyes and lifted his chin in a subtle summons, and the head of security excused himself to go speak with his sheikh. PJ took the opportunity to walk over to check on Shira, who was sitting with her aunt and uncle, which was when PJ saw the engagement ring on Shira’s finger.

Smiling at the young woman, PJ gestured to it, and Shira gave her a happy grin. “When Erin was so sick and then missing, it didn’t seem right to wear it, but now that she’s married, we thought it would be okay. What do you think?” Shira wiggled her hand in front of PJ, and she couldn’t resist laughing at the young woman’s enthusiasm.

“I think it’s beautiful. So when is the big day?”

Clutching her hand to her chest, Shira confided, “As soon as possible. We don’t want to wait. But Kamal has to formally approve the match before we can choose a date—he couldn’t before his own wedding.”

When the dancing began, Kale came over to retrieve his fiancée, and PJ moved to the edge of the dance floor. Talib approached and held out his hand.

“Would you do me the honor of granting me a dance?” he asked.

PJ almost giggled at his formality, but managed to restrain herself. She didn’t want to disrespect his invitation. “It would be my pleasure.”

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