Page 13 of The Skeikh's Games

“Maybe we should leave,” she suggested, suddenly uneasy that they were still parked in his courtyard and may be spotted. That was not the impression she wanted to convey after her first visit.

“I have an idea,” he said as he adjusted her seat and then turned the key into the ignition. “I think your client is going to need you for the rest of the evening, so you won’t be able to get back to the office.”

Jameela looked over at him. “It would be wrong to deny my client the services he requires,” she said and bit her lips.

“Very,” he replied and sank his foot on the accelerator.

The desire that burned within them overpowered everything at present, and they spent the afternoon, locked away in Jameela’s apartment, exploring the curves and turns of their bodies. Never had she experienced such pleasure before, and she marveled at how easily he knocked her over the edge. Night found them locked in each other’s arms, lost in dreamless sleep. Such was their state of contentment.

Jameela awakened the next morning to an empty bed, a note from Al-Hafeez that he had to leave early and didn’t want to wake her, and a frantic telephone message from Ahmad, that her client had been attacked earlier that morning.

CHAPTER 8

Jameela sat there frozen as she tried to comprehend everything she had just read and heard. Surely it must be another client, for Al-Hafeez was just there with her. Ahmad must have been mistaken. Then, as if reacting to an electrical charge, she bolted out of bed and picked up her phone. She dialed Ahmad’s number and paced the floor while raking her hands through her hair. The phone only rang twice, but it seemed it had been ringing for too long. She snapped as soon as she picked up.

“What client?’ she asked nervously.

“The police found the Sheik earlier this morning slumped over the wheel of his car. He had been attacked and beaten,” the man told her.

“Oh my God!” Jameela exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hand as the felt hot tears stinging her eyes. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

“He is at the Memorial hospital, but they are only allowing family members in,” he told her.

“I need to go there,” she said as if the last few words the man had just told her had not registered into her brain.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Only family,” he repeated.

“I don’t care. He is my client, and he is hurt. I am going over there,” she almost shouted.

“Okay,” he told her. “I’m surprised at your sudden concern for him.” She knew her actions might betray her, but she didn’t have the time to think about that now. She needed to go to him.

“There is a lot about me that would,” she told him.

“Well let me know if you hear anything. It would be a damn shame if this snowballed into something worse,” he sighed.

“Something worse? Isn’t this bad enough?” Jameela asked.

“It is alleged the beating was in retaliation of Manseh’s death. The man has developed some rotten luck of late; first the gambling problem, then the murder charges, and now a beating.”

“Indeed,” Jameela replied, and she too sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to go,” she said and hurried the man off the phone. Her head was spinning and she sat down quickly to gather her bearings. She closed her eyes to quell the rising tide within her. When she did, her mind was instantly filled with memories of the short time they had spent together. She began to feel the anxiety increase, and she started hyperventilating. She was shaking as she splashed water on her face; her measly attempt at getting it together. She somehow managed to. Her nerves took over in her Volvo, and her anger clouded her vision as she sped to the hospital.

She ejected from the car as soon as it screeched to a stop and bounded the steps that led to the reception area. The woman behind the desk stared alarmingly at her as she practically crashed into the faux wooden partition.

“Sheikh Al-Hafeez Ramadan,” she said breathlessly. “Which room is he in?”

“Are you family?” the woman asked.

“No, but I am his lawyer,” she replied confidently, as if that would be enough.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ve been given strict instructions not to allow anyone but family inside,” she said and then relaxed into her chair with a face as cold as stone. There was no changing her mind, but Jameela was determined to try.

“Come on,” she said and slammed her hand on the counter. “I have a vested interest in the well-being of my client, and if you don’t allow me to see him…”

“You will what? Sue me?” the woman asked and smirked at Jameela.

“It’s okay, she can go in,” Jameela heard someone say behind her. When she turned she was face to face with the elder Ramadan.

“Sir, what happened?” Jameela rushed over to the man and asked.

---