Читать книгу Bodyguard Confessions - Donna Young - Страница 6

Arimand was dying.

Before he reached the tree, Quamar had seen the flash of the blade as the insurgent slid it below Arimand’s ribs.

The rage came to Quamar, savage and swift. But death would take its time with the old man. Slow and agonizing. Just as the rebel soldier had intended.

Most of the Al Asheera drifted away, not interested in the ragged breaths of a dying man. But one remained, the one whose knife still dripped with Arimand’s blood.

The guard’s eyes skimmed the darkness while his feet shuffled. From cold or fear, Quamar did not know. Nor did he care. The rebel had sealed his fate the moment he had slid his blade into the old man.

Quamar shifted his weight back, his shoulders forward, while his knife’s blade lay balanced between his fingers. He waited. The ache in his head had morphed into a battery of hammers beating a cadence on his temples. Having lived with the pain for many months, Quamar pushed it away, knowing from experience he had limited time before the pounding increased.

But by then, his objective would be completed.

The guard strapped his machine gun over his shoulder and with long, thin fingers reached for a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

Quamar let loose the blade, heard the familiar thunk as steel impaled skull. He spared no more than a glance when the body crumpled to the ground.

After snagging the guard’s machine gun, he pulled his knife free. He wiped the blade on the dead man and slipped into the darkness. Scanning the courtyard, Quamar noted that the killing had gone unnoticed. Instead, all stood watching the pillar of flames lick at the midnight sky.

“Arimand.” For safety, he covered the older man’s mouth with gentle fingers. The papery skin flexed beneath. “Be silent, and I will cut you down.”

Arimand shook his head, forcing Quamar to release his mouth. “No, leave me. I am well beyond help now,” the old guard rasped, pain etched in all the grooves of his face. “Anna Cambridge, the prince. Find them. Save them.”

“Anna Cambridge?” He pictured her long, blond hair, her depthless blue eyes. It was not hard—for months the woman had haunted his dreams. “If she is here, she is dead,” he said flatly. Another life to avenge.

“No. Hassan leads the Al Asheera.” The dark eyes bore into Quamar. “He ordered them to hunt her down. Go now, find her and the child. Take them to your father.” Arimand inhaled sharply. “Promise me,” he said after a moment, his voice harsh, unyielding.

“I promise you.”

Arimand nodded, then closed his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain. “You and Jarek…you both were…. If I had sons…” Arimand stopped, his eyes blinked, opened, their focus softening. “One more promise…”

Quamar nodded, stopping the words he knew hovered on Arimand’s lips. Agony ripped through Quamar, forcing him to tighten his jaw. He’d spent half his childhood with this man, had grown to love him as a son would.

“Go with Allah.” Quamar leaned forward and kissed the old man’s lined cheek. Without a sound, he slid his own knife between Arimand’s ribs and into his heart.

Arimand gasped, his heartbeat stopped beneath Quamar’s hand—and with it his suffering. Quamar dropped his forehead to Arimand’s. “May he keep you always.”

It took most of his will, but Quamar stepped away, knowing Arimand died a warrior. With honor, dignity. Courage.

Quamar moved back toward the tree, his gaze searching for danger among the shadows. Suddenly, a burst of laughter drew his attention. His eyes narrowed on the trio of men, their interest focused past the jeep to the wall beyond.

Curious, Quamar followed their line of sight, then froze. He swore silently. If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he would have missed the rustle of the bushes, the movement of shadows.

The flash of pale, blond hair.

WITH HER KNIFE IN HER side waistband, Anna hugged Rashid close and lay on her back. Her stomach churned under the baby’s weight, sending the bile back to her throat. She’d come too far to lose her nerve now. Using her heels, she pushed herself headfirst through the hole and into the courtyard.

Blood pounded in her eardrums, its rhythm a fast staccato that matched the beat of her heart. Anna dragged in a long breath, then made it two, fighting off the wave of weakness that seeped into her limbs. “Just a bout of nerves,” she whispered and rose to her feet. I can do this, damn it.

Anna forced herself to take first one step, then another. She had started the third when a hand fisted her hair and yanked her back. Anna screamed and struck out, blindly trying to gouge at the unseen features. When she found bare skin, she dug in her fingers.

A string of curse words spewed from somewhere above her head, but the hands locked tighter around the back of her neck, squeezing until the pain took her breath, forced her to her knees and into the light of the courtyard.

While another laughed, Anna bit back her cry of fear and instead concentrated on the cold steel of the knife hidden in her waistband.

From her position, she saw three of them. Identical, with their masks of red, their swords unsheathed.

War cries sounded in the distance. Soon, she knew, there would be more. She snaked her hand to her side, then gripped her knife.

No warning came. No noise, no scent, not even the ping of a bullet. One moment, a soldier held Anna, the next he froze, his features stiff with disbelief as he fell dead beside her—a knife embedded in the back of his neck.

The other two turned in unison, but neither had time to do much more. Anna saw the flash of a sword, heard the slap of steel against skin, then the screams of pain. Both men fell next to their friend. They, too, were dead.

“Get up.” A large, meaty hand grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, jarring her knife free. With a thud it hit the ground. Her captor’s eyes strayed to the blade, then back to her.

“Pick up your weapon,” the man ordered, leaving his own in the dead soldier. “Now.” While his hand remained tight on her arm, he allowed her to stoop and grab the knife. For a moment she hesitated, gripping the handle.

“Do not be a fool.” His words were clipped, his tone annoyed. The man was a mountain of gloom towering over her with the crimson scarf draping most of his face. At five-six, her head came midway to his chest. His black robes caught in the wind and flitted against her in a devil’s dance, setting off a shiver of trepidation. By sheer willpower, she forced her fear back and stood her ground.

“I am your only way out, Anna Cambridge.”

The Al Asheera closed in, fanning out in a half circle and forcing the giant to shift his back to the tunnel’s vent.

“For now,” she answered, her chin raised, but the fear grew at his mention of her name. Quickly, she put the blade in her waistband, but left her fingers hovering over its handle.

Her action, while subtle, didn’t go unnoticed. Anna heard the grunt of surprise, then caught the giant’s gaze. His dark irises flickered with something—approval, maybe—before he shuttered the emotion closed.

Anna counted more than a dozen Al Asheera, some with swords raised high, others with guns leveled.

A spray of bullets peppered the ground in front of the rebels, kicking up dirt and forcing them to stop within feet of Anna and the giant. So close she caught the sour scent of their bodies, felt their excitement ripple through the air.

Her skin crawled with revulsion. Anna cradled Rashid with her free arm, for the hundredth time grateful he slept.

“Come any closer and die.” Her captor’s voice was pitched low, while the words he spoke were French. The language second only to Arabic in Taer.

The nearest soldier, older than most, with a scar that reached from his temple to nose, hesitated only slightly before he stepped toward the baby.

Her captor’s rifle discharged. Anna stifled a scream as Scar Face jerked, then stumbled while his hands grasped at his chest. Men shifted out of the way, let Scar Face fall, ignored him as he writhed on the ground in agony.

“Anyone else wish to come forward?”

“You cannot kill us all,” came the reply. A chorus of grunts followed his remarks.

“Move one more inch and you will be the second to die, Zahid,” her captor responded.

Anna gasped, recognizing the name. Zahid Al Asadi, cousin to King Jarek Al Asadi of Taer. The betrayal knifed through her.

Zahid salaamed, his black eyes flickering first over Anna, then Rashid. “We meet again, Miss Cambridge.” Anna’s gaze shifted toward the middle of the half circle until it rested on the man who spoke. Dressed as the rest with black robes and his red headgear, he wasn’t large in size. A good head beneath most of the men, with shorter legs and a fairly broad upper body. So large in fact it made him look top-heavy.

Before Anna could answer, Zahid turned toward the stranger. “And you are?”

The giant shook next to her. But when she spared a quick glance, she saw the set of his shoulders, the narrowed eyes and knew it wasn’t fear that caused him to vibrate, but rage. “I am a man holding an M4 assault rifle,” the giant rasped. Anna heard the click of the weapon, saw the Al Asheera shift back before he continued. “The bullets will cut most of you down in three seconds. Starting with you, Zahid.” Without hesitation he grabbed Anna by the scruff of the neck and brought her forward.

“You, in turn, will be firing at me and this woman.” When she cursed him and struggled, he tightened his grip. “Be quiet,” he snapped, his gaze not leaving the mob. “This is the daughter of the president of the United States. In her arms she holds Prince Rashid Al Asadi. What do you think will happen when they die in the cross fire?”

Zahid’s stance shifted, but not before Anna noticed the tight fists at his sides. “All right.” Zahid’s words were slick with oil, his tone cajoling. “You have made your point.”

The stranger released Anna. “As of this moment, they are my property. But I am more than willing to…sell them for a price.”

“If you care about our cause, you—”

“I have no allegiance to your crusade. I care only about their worth in ransom.”

Surprised, Anna glanced up. So the man wasn’t Al Asheera. He might work for another faction of terrorists, but it did not matter at this point. Escaping from one man would be much easier than escaping from a dozen.

“We will escort you into the palace,” Zahid responded. “And I will personally see you are rewarded.”

The man’s laugh was no different than his words, low and raspy. He nudged Anna behind him. The temptation to run prodded her, but she managed to quiet the urge. If she ran now, they would have no alternative but to shoot.

“I will find my own way to the palace.” Steadily, they backed away, the giant’s body now shielding her and the baby, his gun never wavering on the mob that followed. “Tell your father, Zahid, I will be in contact.”

The giant swung his machine gun toward the jeep and let go a burst of gunfire. An explosion shattered the air, the jeep burned in a ball of fire, putting a wall of flames between them and the soldiers.

Two of the rebels screamed in rage and rushed through the fire, but their robes caught the sparks and ignited. Some tried to save them, while others cried out and ran from the blaze.

The giant fired into the remaining Al Asheera even as he pushed her back toward the vent.

“Go through,” he ordered. “Now.”

Zahid grabbed a man, using him as human shield. Bullets struck the man’s chest. Still Zahid held him.

“Go!” When the giant’s weapon jammed, he threw it to the ground.

Anna hit the dirt, clutching Rashid. She slid back through the open vent, losing her slippers in the process.

For a big man, the giant moved with an eerie swiftness. She hadn’t risen to her feet before he stood beside her. Once again looming over her.

Desperate, Anna kicked the back of his knee and sent him crashing to the ground. Without waiting she started running, dragging her hand along the wall to keep her balance. His curses filled the air, but she didn’t let the viciousness deter her. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Her chest clenched, the panic swelled, threatening to collapse her already shaky legs.

While the walls were brick, the ground was still dirt. Sharp pebbles bit into her feet, causing her to stumble more than once, but sheer willpower kept her from crying out.

Suddenly, she was grabbed and pushed toward the wall. The giant’s body, hard and immovable, covered her and Rashid.

Behind them an explosion hit the air, the tunnel shuddered and the earth trembled. The wall collapsed in a roar of rocks and dirt.

Before she could gather her thoughts, he jerked away and grabbed her arm. “Grenades. Go!”

They ran through the obscurity—him leading the way with unnerving accuracy.

Only after long minutes did he stop.

A cloak of darkness surrounded them, its air clogged with dust and smoke. Anna tried to draw in a breath, ease the weight of fear in her chest but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.

“Shallow breaths.” The whispered order brushed her ear while his body pressed closer to her, its hard lines, the breadth of chest defined against her naked shoulders. A shiver of—what?—anticipation, fear—ran through her.

“We are safe for the moment. I detonated the grenades to stop them.”

“You’re sure?” She struggled to find his outline in the pitch-black, unnerved by the detached voice floating above her head.

“Yes, I am sure,” he answered with derision. “We are under the city. Far enough away to rest a moment. But only a moment.”

“Good.” She snagged her knife, jabbed the point into his stomach, backing him up a step. “Now, if you don’t let me go, I’ll kill you.”