GUARDIANS: Mission To Rescue Innocence (Beauty 0f Life Book 7)

by Laura Acton

  Dan swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” When Blaze’s hand lightly clasped his neck, Dan turned and smiled at him, receiving a grin in return.

  Relief washed over Blaze. His grin broadened as he recalled Brody’s claim that Danny must be safeguarded by an entire flock of guardian angels given all the shit he endures and still lives. Yeah, it would take a whole flock plus all of us, but the kid is definitely worthy of all our efforts.

  Ifran drew their attention as he said, “Regarding the other matter.” His gaze landed on Michael. “Although we did not express this earlier, we are saddened by what you endured at the hands of Panin Savelievich and glad you were rescued. The man is a repulsive slob with no redeeming qualities.”

  Mike perked up as he made a connection. “So, you know where he is?”

  “Yes. However, we cannot grant your desire to turn him over to Russian authorities. The risk of Fakhir’s involvement becoming known is too great.”

  “Is he alive?” Mike asked.

  Ifran nodded. “Yes.”

  Mike clenched his fists. “What do you plan to do with him?”

  “Come with me if you would like to find out.” Ifran rose as he said, “Father, would you care to join us?”

  “No. I left the matter in your hands. I will remain here.” Umar lifted his coffee and sipped as the others all followed Ifran out.

  Al Sattar Palace – Hallway – 1545 Hours

  Shareef spotted the men exiting his father’s reception room. Still upset Ifran excluded him from the negotiations by sealing everyone out he decided to take matters into his own hands and discover the reason for all the secrecy. Shareef waited until they all passed then stealthily followed.

  Dungeon and Daggers

  69

  June 8

  Al Sattar Palace – Sewer Prison – 1600 Hours

  The rank odor of the dungeon assaulted the senses of seven men as they entered a dim room containing six cells with solid iron doors. Two of the men’s discomfort grew not only because their clothing clung to their bodies in the stifling humidity, but the dank surroundings brought buried memories to the surface. Ifran moved forward to speak with their jailer, Mastoor, unaware Shareef stood in the shadows observing the proceedings.

  Dan unconsciously moved closer to Blaze as the sense of being trapped built in him. He fought visions of there as he warily tracked the movements of a robed man holding a whip. “Not grape man. Not there,” Dan whispered unaware he spoke out loud until Blaze’s hand landed on his back.

  “Easy, son. I’m here, and you are not there,” Blaze murmured when he realized the combination of things, the smell of feces, tiny cells, and a man with a long whip all heightened Blondie’s fears and recollections of torture.

  Jaasir overheard both remarks and wondered at the cause as he took up a position close to Panin’s cell. He didn’t expect any problems, but Jaasir prepared to protect the crown prince anyway.

  Scanning an age-old dungeon, perhaps several hundreds of years old, brought to mind the cellar Mike had been confined to by the couple. He battled against the terrifying images of his past. Memories of being disoriented, hungry, abused, and being scared of his own shadow. He sucked in a deep breath trying to calm himself … wrong move. The scent of excrement overwhelmed his olfactory receptors causing his face to screw up in disgust.

  Charles noted Michael’s reaction. “Are you alright, son?”

  “Yes. Unpleasant odors and memories. I’m fine now.” Mike squared his shoulders, unwilling to give Panin any indication of his discomfort.

  Shareef studied the four men. Charles, he was acquainted with, and he just called the bald man son. The blond he recognized as the one who saved Anwar from a snake bite. Shareef understood mistaking a malpolon for a cobra. He had done so as a young teen. Staring down at a hissing snake, reared up and ready to strike, had frightened him so badly he refused to go in the bushes for months. Of his four brothers, only Ifran had not teased him.

  The raven-haired man had worn an expression of grave concern when everyone gathered around in the garden after the serpent incident. Shareef wondered who they were, why they accompanied the Galloways, and mostly why Ifran would bring all four down to their secret prison. He waited quietly to find out and became more bewildered when Mastoor moved towards the cell of Savelievich. Why would Ifran reveal we imprisoned him? Of what benefit could this have in business dealings? Why all the secrecy?

  The squeaking hinges signaled to Panin to assume the position. Seven days of unrelenting mercilessness from his overseer taught him to comply without hesitation. He lay on his stomach with his forehead to the brick flooring not making eye contact and not moving a muscle. The latter the result of aching more than command.

  Panin remained prone until the guard with a whip barked at him to rise. The sting of the lash caused him to learn the Arabic words rather quickly. He now comprehended, rise, crawl, kneel, and stop. Moving to raw knees, the threadbare clothing he wore not providing much protection from the rough brick, Panin kept his hands flat on the surface, and his eyes lowered. As ordered, he crawled through the portal, halting once clearing the opening.

  Finding Panin in rags and on his knees in a submissive manner filled Mike with a perverse and somewhat disturbing sense of pleasure. He thought himself above wanting to see his fellow man suffer. He justified his reaction telling himself Panin was no man. He is a vicious animal which preyed on innocent children and ruined the lives of countless others, many subjected to far worse.

  Still battling nausea, a symptom of the snake bite, the sight of Savelievich turned Dan’s stomach. Three memories also slammed into his head and competed for dominance. One, his first-hand knowledge of being at the mercy of others who showed no humanity, left in one’s filth and deprived of everything. Two, the smiling face of the beady-eyed bastard in the foyer as Panin handed him the Visinata and claimed it was not drugged. Three, the intense pain which came from being poisoned.

  Dan swallowed hard hoping to prevent his stomach contents from reappearing. He took two steps backward, not in fear, but to facilitate a quick exit if he couldn’t hold his nausea at bay. He did not want to disgrace himself in front of the baron and crown prince by upchucking the residual of his breakfast in their presence.

  “You may rise,” Ifran commanded in a flat tone.

  When the cold, impersonal voice of the man making his life hell by imprisoning him in this miserable, foul-smelling shithouse spoke to him, Panin labored to heft himself up from the mucky ground. Though weaker, he weighed a few pounds less than a week ago due to a restricted amount of food, allowing him to raise his girth. As he wiped his hands on his rags, he glared at Ifran.

  Saleet rested a hand on the holstered gun at his shoulder, ready to react should Savelievich attempt to attack Ifran again. The second day of his confinement, the offensive slob tried to escape by unexpectedly rushing the prince. Mastoor stopped him by flicking his whip around Savelievich’s ankles, causing the obese man to smack the ground like a beached whale. After that, they moved him to a solitary cell depriving him of any human contact in the hours he was not busy scrubbing the sewers.

  “You have visitors,” Ifran said and turned to the others.

  Panin spotted a distinguished older man with coppery blond hair streaked with white. Vaguely familiar, Panin couldn’t place him as his mind whirled questioning why Ifran brought these people to visit him. His eyes shifted to an imposing, broad chested, black-haired man who glared at him with what he swore were flames sparking in hazel eyes.

  When his gaze landed on Magic Mike, minus hair, a wild, giddy thought struck Panin. Perhaps the other two men are bounty hunters, and they brought Mike to the Al Sattars. He turned back to Ifran with a smug expression. “You brought me a playmate. Is he to be imprisoned also?”

  Charles strode forward, an angry scowl on his face as fury filled him upon seeing the man who harmed his son. “You filthy son of an unwed mother. You deserve this life
for all the despicable things you have done. If by some miracle you ever escape, it will not make a difference. After what you did to my son, I do not care what deep, dark, third-world jungle you attempt to disappear into I will hunt you down. You will be safe nowhere. Every resource at my disposal will be expended. Whatever must be done, I will do.”

  Despite his uneasiness in being near Panin again, Mike chuckled at his dad’s upscale version of swearing. Never once had he heard his father utter the word bastard. “Dad, really? Son of an unwed mother?”

  Charles glanced at Michael. Viewing his mirth, some of the anger ebbed out. Regaining his composure, Charles defended his choice of words. “Vulgar words are not included in my vocabulary.”

  “Well, they’re in mine.” Mike noted his father’s smirk right before he turned to Ifran. “What fate awaits the rat bastard?”

  Ifran said, “We have sentenced him to life in prison with no option of parole for his part in Fakhir’s death and crimes against humanity. He will dwell here in the bowels of the earth where an animal like him belongs.”

  Mike nodded. “Okay. I wanted him dead, but an existence similar to what he subjected others to is fitting.”

  Panin stared with disbelief at the three men until another familiar voice, one he would never forget, chimed in from farther back causing him to turn and squint until the face came into focus.

  “I agree. A fate worse than death,” Dan said from his position near the back, shadowy corner of the area.

  Panin’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the specter. His voice quivered as he spoke to the ghost, “You’re dead.”

  Dan took one step closer, more into the light. “No. I am very much alive, though the poison you slipped me made me wish for death at one point.”

  Grasping an opportunity, the only one his mind could conjure, Panin roared as he pointed at the fake Maks, “He murdered Fakhir! That is the man who shot your brother.”

  Before anyone could say anything, Shareef withdrew his khanjar and seized the man Panin indicated, placing his double-edged, curved, watered crucible steel blade to the blond man’s neck. Shareef hissed, “I will gladly slit your throat if you so much as move an inch.”

  Dan froze as his eyes searched out Blaze’s and he chided himself for being unaware of his surroundings and allowing the man get the drop on him. Part of him blamed the drowsy effects of the antihistamines.

  “Shareef! Release him this instant,” Ifran ordered.

  “No! He killed Fakhir. I followed father’s orders not to search for him, but he came here of his own free will. He must die. A life for a life. I must avenge our brother’s death.”

  Blaze inhaled rapidly through his nose, ignoring the stench as his hazel eyes connected with sapphire ones. He refrained from moving, willing Blondie to hold still. He didn’t dare draw his weapon on a member of the royal family. He hoped Ifran could defuse the situation.

  A wicked smile came to Panin as he witnessed the scene.

  Umar entered behind Shareef, glad he listened to his gut and followed his guests to the dungeon. Without delay, he moved around his now youngest son. “Shareef, honor has been satisfied. Release Daniel now.”

  Disbelief entered both Shareef’s and Panin’s eyes at the emir’s words.

  “Father, he is a murderer,” Shareef argued, keeping his blade firmly against the skin shielding the jugular of his brother’s killer.

  “If I must tell you a third time, Shareef, the consequences will be quite severe. Lower your khanjar now.” Umar’s obsidian gaze penetrated his son’s equally dark eyes.

  Reluctantly, Shareef lowered his dagger as he said, “How does letting him go free satisfy honor?”

  Dan took four steps towards Blaze, putting distance between him and the knife-wielding man.

  Fury built in Panin as he witnessed the man referred to as Daniel released, while he remained enslaved. In the distraction, as everyone’s attention focused on the emir, he grabbed the crown prince. Yanking him backward, Panin wrapped one arm around Ifran’s neck in a stranglehold as his other hand withdrew the jambiya, a heavy double-edged dagger made of Damascus steel, from its jeweled scabbard at Ifran’s waist.

  Placing the wickedly sharp blade, one capable of slicing through muscle easily, to Ifran’s belly, Panin demanded, “I will cut his stomach wide open if you do not release me. You are letting the one who executed Fakhir go. That man caused his death, not me.”

  Blaze was closest to Ifran, and he weighed his options as Panin stated his demands. Again, he realized drawing his pistol would be foolhardy with Saleet and Jaasir armed. Blondie was not armed per a decision they made in the jet not wanting to give the Al Sattars additional reason to view him as a threat if they discovered the kid killed Fakhir … a moot point now. Mike was armed, and in his peripheral vision he noticed him moving to cover his father.

  Rushing Panin might result in him following through on his threat to gut Ifran unless distracted. Flicking his eyes to Blondie, he communicated silently. A slight nod from Blondie indicated he understood.

  Assuming the cocky persona he used in the club, Dan strode five paces to the left, drawing Panin’s attention to himself and away from Blaze as he yelled, “Hey, lard ass! I should’ve killed you in the auction room.”

  As Panin’s body shifted and his eyes turned to the Maks impostor, Blaze made his move. He rushed forward, and one hand grabbed the wrist holding the Arabian dagger while his other wrenched the arm from around Ifran’s throat as he spun, sending all three stumbling backward off-balance.

  Ifran reached out to break his fall, going right as the other two went left, all ending up on the ground. Stunned at the speed of Blain, Ifran stared from his position on the floor while Blain strove to disarm Panin.

  Blaze struggled with the sweaty and slippery man to gain control over the knife. He grunted as the curved tip sliced him before he snapped Panin’s wrist. The dagger clattered to the brick floor as a shriek of pain from Savelievich echoed off the stone walls.

  Saleet, Jaasir, and Mastoor converged on the pair, pulling Savelievich away.

  Blaze lay on his back as his hand went to his wound but found it stopped by Blondie.

  Dan knelt next to Blaze clasping his hand, keeping it from the gash. “Don’t touch. Your hands are covered in filth. Easy now, lie still. Let me take care of you. That was a risky move … too risky.”

  Riding the wave of adrenaline, Blaze chuckled. “Hey, that’s my line.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits.” Dan gave him a lopsided grin. He glanced down at the increasing red on Blaze’s white shirt. “I wish Patch was here.”

  Blaze blew out a breath as the pain in his side made itself known. “Yeah, me too.”

  Neither Dan nor Blaze paid much attention to the flurry of activity around them. The guards shoved Panin back into his cell and slammed the door. Umar and Charles rushed for Ifran to help him up. Mike kept an eye on Shareef, uncertain if the man might still try to kill Dan in the chaos of the moment.

  Without a second thought, Dan stripped off his button-down shirt then pulled off his t-shirt to use as a pressure bandage. So focused on tending Blaze’s knife wound, he didn’t hear the gasps as his scars were revealed to the men in the room. He folded the cotton material and pressed hard on Blaze’s side.

  Shareef toyed with his blade, confused by the events which just occurred. He stared at the scared back of Daniel and wondered how he came by all the thin lines. He finally sheathed his weapon when the blond addressed his father.

  Dan peered up at the emir, “Your Majesty, he needs a doctor.”

  Gazing at the young man, one too young to have endured the torture which the scarring on his torso spoke of, Umar said, “Yes, by all means. Saleet, send for the doctor and meet us in their suite.”

  Mike knelt and asked, “Can you walk?”

  Nodding Blaze sat up with Blondie’s assistance.

  “Wait, I need to tie the padding in place before we move him.” Dan reached for his dress shirt, intend
ing to use it to secure the folded t-shirt to Blaze’s side. A hand on his shoulder halted his motion.

  Unbuckling his belt, Ifran said, “Use this.” He handed it over after sliding off the scabbard.

  Mike took the leather strap from Dan. “I’ll do this while you put your shirt on. Probably best not to walk shirtless through the palace.”

  It was then Dan realized his scars were on display. He swiftly pulled on his shirt and buttoned up as Mike wrapped the belt around Blaze. Once both finished, they each took one of Blaze’s arms and lifted him. Slinging Blaze’s arm over his shoulders, Dan said, “Lean on me. I got you.”

  Blaze allowed Blondie to bear his weight as he became a bit dizzy. He shook his head to clear his vision before they started walking towards the stairs.

  Shareef watched then snagged his brother’s arm before he could leave. “Will you explain what is going on here?”

  Ifran nodded. “Once our guest is tended I will explain.” At Panin’s continued screaming he instructed Mastoor, “Shut him up.”

  As his sons left, Umar halted next to Mastoor and spoke in a soft undertone which did not carry to the others. “Make him pay for attacking my son.”

  Both Sides of the Fence

  70

  June 8

  Al Sattar Palace – Guest Suite – 1645 Hours

  Laid on a twin bed, Blaze grimaced as Mike stripped him of his filthy pants and Blondie continued to apply pressure to the wound on his abdomen. The three were not in the room alone for long as a cadre of men bustled in and attempted to shoo Blondie and Mike out … only successful in removing Mike as Blondie refused to leave.

  Dan relinquished his spot to the doctor but stood at the foot of the bed, unwilling to be pushed from the room. He would not leave Blaze alone. His keen eyes tracked every movement as the medical staff worked on the man he regarded as his dad. Worry etched his features as the t-shirt was lifted away revealing a gash running from Blaze’s navel to his left side.