Sheik Defense

by Ryshia Kennie

  He’d thought this was a targeted hit. It was about Ava. He hadn’t expected what he found when he entered the main office. There, the same woman who had eaten up all the charm he could throw at her now lay in front of the check-in counter on her back, a bullet hole in her chest, blood covering her blouse. Her eyes were open and she looked rather surprised. He squatted down. He knew what the outcome was before he did it—he took her pulse anyway.

  “Sweet hell,” he muttered as he strode out of the office.

  Faisal could hear the sirens now. He jogged back to get Ava. The police would want to speak to her too. He slipped into the passenger seat leaving her in the driver’s seat. He put a hand over hers as she reached as if to turn the key and start the vehicle. Her bottom lip quivered and he moved closer putting his arm over her shoulder, offering her comfort with his touch and protection always.

  “You came back for a reason, Ava. What was it?” he asked softly.

  “Dad told me to read his emails and I did when I got here to Tristan. Darrell Chan said that he had proof that Dad had sold him land, that his name was on documents he had in hand. Dad claimed he’d never made such a transaction.”

  “Your father had no interest in real estate but his name carries a lot of weight.”

  “Exactly,” she interrupted. “But Chan had documents with Dad’s signature on them. Dad told me the proof of his innocence was here, in Tristan.”

  “He told you to come here?”

  She looked rather sheepish. “No. He told me to tell you.”

  “And you didn’t.” Anger ran through him at how she’d endangered herself.

  “I’m sorry, Fai.” Her voice trembled. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned to look at him. “But I found the proof to clear his name. The signatures on the transactions filed in Tristan are forged. I know Dad’s signature. I need to go back and get the evidence.”

  He shook his head. “Is this it?” he interrupted her as he pulled out the envelope he’d taken from her hotel room.

  “Yes. They’re copies of both land transactions that Ben filed with forgeries of my father’s signature. The last one was what was going to make Ben Whyte rich.”

  “And where Darrell Chan balked.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Dad planned to come here and collect the evidence himself but if he couldn’t, if something happened, he wanted me to tell the authorities or you what had happened and where the proof was. That’s what he told me before the argument, before...” Her voice broke.

  “Ava,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Ben didn’t know that my father was onto him. He arrived unexpectedly that night on the yacht, I’m not sure why.”

  “And your father somehow revealed what he knew or more likely Ben guessed,” Faisal said. “Ben probably didn’t know that Chan had already contacted your father.”

  She shook her head. “No and Dad didn’t tell him, not then. Not while I was around.”

  “From what I can see, this land doesn’t even belong to Ben or your father,” Faisal said. “It was a fake transaction from start to finish.”

  “Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “I think my father confronted Ben that night. A stupid move on his part,” she said with sadness laced through the words.

  * * *

  “FAISAL AL-NASSAR?” The sheriff’s deputy called out fifteen minutes later as he approached the motel office which the local police had now cordoned off with yellow tape.

  “Yes. That’s me,” he said, coming forward with his arm outstretched. They shared a firm shake. Ava was at his elbow like a silent shadow.

  “Hell of a mess. We’re not used to murder in this town,” Davis said as he came up beside the deputy a few minutes later. There was something that sounded like strain in his voice.

  Faisal had told the deputy what he knew only minutes ago and Ava had added what she’d heard along with what she had found at the land registry office.

  “We’ll be interviewing the other guests, seeing if anyone saw anything.” Davis tipped his cap. “You say that one was a hit man?”

  “Yes.” He gave him Aaron Detrick’s number. “He has the information on that. I know if there’s any way for them to pin something on their suspect they’ll be more than grateful to you.”

  “RCMP you say. Be a first—never worked with a foreign government,” Davis said with an off-kilter smile.

  Faisal almost smiled at that. He doubted if he’d be working much with one now. If the case crossed borders it would be more than the police in this little town would see but rather the county sheriff, who had already stepped in, would be involved.

  The police officer’s phone rang and he walked away to take the call while the deputy had moved on to examine other evidence. Two minutes later, Davis came over to where Faisal stood beside Ava. Her arm brushed his side as if touching him somehow gave her some solace.

  “There was a sighting of a middle-aged man matching the description of this Ben Whyte just five miles outside of town. He was heading north.” He looked at Ava. “The sheriff’s office is on that. I think based on that, you’re more than likely safe. Let me know what hotel you change to but stick here in Tristan. That’s an order.” He looked at Faisal. “Barring an emergency, I’ll need you around for at least the next twenty-four hours.” He shook Faisal’s hand. He’d offered him a different level of respect than he would any other witness as soon as he’d learned of Faisal’s connection to Nassar Security.

  But no matter what had transpired, the truth was that Ben Whyte was still on the loose and Faisal wasn’t so sure that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Factoring out the manager of the motel who had been an unfortunate casualty, one man had died as he’d tried to take out another. Ben Whyte had lived. He’d been just outside Ava’s motel room when Faisal had removed her from danger. The one thing that was clear was that Ben Whyte’s work wasn’t finished and that meant only one thing. He’d be back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Fai,” Ava murmured.

  She insisted on calling him by that abbreviated version of his name, one that only some of those closest to him used. Every time she did, it was like she had touched him with the heat of a lover’s hand. It was outrageous, ridiculous. And he wanted to tell her to stop calling him that as much as he wanted her to call him that every day of his life. Few, except his brothers, called him by that name. He seemed swamped with nostalgia as he drove. He remembered the first time he had met her. He’d been enthralled with her. He would have dated her if he hadn’t liked her so much, and if he hadn’t been dating someone else. There were so many ifs. None of his romantic entanglements at that time had turned out well. He didn’t want to wreck a good friendship. That’s what he’d told himself then. But the truth was that she slightly intimidated him with her drive to succeed. He’d never met anyone like her. And at the time, he’d been too young to appreciate her maturity. That combined with her drive gave her that edge. It was an edge that, for a young man, had been frightening. And he’d have died before he’d have admitted he was frightened of anything. That had been a long time ago. His thoughts shifted.

  Two people had died, a man and a woman. He was used to it. She wasn’t.

  “You’re alright?”

  “Fine,” she replied with a failed attempt at a smile. “At least I will be given time.”

  He knew that. If anyone, any layperson, could come back from this, it was Ava. The thought dropped. Thirty minutes later they stopped at a gas station with a small grocery and picked up a few things to have a casual meal. They had ready-made sandwiches and potato salad along with disposable plates and cutlery.

  “Is that your stomach I hear?” Faisal asked. They had just settled into their new room in another place. It was an end room on the first floor of a hotel on the oth
er side of town. He was putting potato salad on paper plates. The small counter was crowded with a coffeemaker and a microwave, leaving little space to work. He banged his hand once on the coffeemaker almost sending the carafe flying. He picked up the bottle of juice he’d bought from the motel vending machine and poured them each a glass. He took a plate and a glass over to her.

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile.

  He made a second trip to get his own sandwich and drink. He made himself comfortable in the only other place to sit besides the two beds—an overstuffed, yet harder-than-rock faux leather chair.

  She looked at him, her bare foot tucked under her legs as she stretched out on one of two twin beds. Her smile was contagious, whimsical and yet amused—a sign that even amid trouble and tragedy, life would eventually go on.

  She took a bite of the sandwich. “Heaven,” she said with a smile.

  It dawned on him as he saw the slight shake of her hand and the ravenous way she bit into the sandwich that she hadn’t eaten recently. “When was the last time you ate something that was cooked?”

  “Something that wasn’t peanut butter—is that what you mean?” she asked. “There wasn’t any time to get groceries or, more accurately, I was too tired to hunt for anything better,” she said before he could reply. She shook her head with a wry smile. “I guess that the last time, factoring out hospital food—” she grimaced “—was that night on the yacht.”

  “Ava, I’m sorry. And you’ve got nothing more than another sandwich, I’ll—”

  “No.” She stopped him. “This is all I need for now. Promise me a good breakfast tomorrow and everything will be fine.”

  “Deal,” he said with a laugh that was more expectation than amusement.

  They ate in silence for a minute.

  He finished his sandwich and came over to sit on the corner of the bed near her. She didn’t look at him but instead wiped her mouth with a napkin. The sandwich had been thick with roast beef, lettuce and mayonnaise. A dab of mayonnaise was still on the upper corner of her mouth. He wiped it gently away. “I wish I could say that I won’t ask you any more questions, knowing how much they upset you. But unfortunately—”

  “You have no choice,” she interrupted. “Don’t feel bad. It needs to be discussed, figured out. Dad’s name needs to be cleared. His name was used to steal millions of dollars and if he hadn’t stumbled on the plot, it would have been much more. Ben Whyte used his good nature, convinced him he was helping a friend and then took advantage of him. First it was just financial support but then he forged his signature on land deeds. He was selling land that he didn’t own and using my father’s reputation to validate himself.”

  She was standing now, pacing.

  He got up, taking her hands in his. “Ava. I’m so sorry you had to go through any of this.”

  “It’s almost over, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” he assured her.

  She looked at him with wide, troubled eyes. “I missed you, Fai,” she murmured.

  “Why did you run? You know I would have protected you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you hurt, I...” Her gaze traveled to his waist where his Glock was holstered. “I should have known better. I regretted it later. If I could undo...”

  “You doubted me?”

  “Never... I...” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It was a stupid mistake, sweetheart.”

  “Sweetheart,” she repeated and looked up at him with a troubled frown.

  “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

  “I hope I never am in such a situation, ever,” she said instead.

  “You won’t be,” he said grimly, his hands settling on her shoulders as he drew her closer. “I’ll protect you always, Ava,” he said in a low growl as his head bent and his lips met hers. At first the kiss was soft and hesitant, then it deepened and his tongue teased her lips to open. She felt so soft and vulnerable as he held her but he knew that was an illusion. He’d seen her strength. She’d proved it before and in spades these last few days. She was everything he’d ever imagined and more.

  His phone rang.

  He held her tighter.

  The phone rang again and he reluctantly let her go.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after he’d seen the number display. “I need to take this. I’ll be just outside.”

  “I think I’ll run a shower,” she said looking slightly bemused.

  He wasn’t sure what his brother Talib was calling about, but it would be something important. His timing couldn’t have been worse.

  He opened the door and stepped outside. The parking lot was dimly lit, similar to that of the Blue Moon Motel. He supposed it was a way of saving money. They weren’t making a lot based on the price of the rooms. The Blue Moon. The comparison was like a warning running uncomfortably through him.

  “Faisal?”

  What Talib said next had his full attention.

  “Coast Guard just reported in. They’ve found a Caucasian male on a yacht. He was found by an American container ship. The yacht drifted into the shipping lane. The man is alive but unconscious. They haven’t made an identification yet, but...”

  “There’s a good chance it might be Dan Adams,” Faisal said with a note of relief. “The IMO number matches,” he said referring to the International Maritime Organization number on a boat’s hull that identified it for the lifetime of the craft. “I’ll keep it quiet until we have something for sure. There’s no point in getting Ava’s hopes up.”

  “She thinks he’s dead?” Talib asked the question, which was more of a statement.

  “Yeah. I haven’t dissuaded her. There’s too much at risk. Ben Whyte is still on the loose, and only four hours ago, the manager of the motel Ava had checked into was killed, as was Dallas Tenorson. He was hired to take out Ben Whyte.”

  “Bugger,” Talib muttered. “This case is one ball of ugly.”

  “We’re wrapping it up,” Faisal said. “If the survivor turns out to be Dan, that will just be the icing on the cake. In the meantime, once the police have investigated and the weather improves on the east coast, we’ll be moving on, heading back to Miami. We’re hanging here in case we can provide the police with any more information. Ava’s memory is back. I hope that what she remembers fills in any remaining gaps we have.

  “Evidence points to the fact that Ben Whyte double-crossed the wrong man.” He went on to explain to Talib what had happened earlier in the Blue Moon parking lot.

  There were still questions. After he hung up with Faisal he strode the length of the lot. He stood there for a minute, breathing as if fresh air alone would give him the answers he needed. His mind went back to Darrell Chan. They knew that he was in Hong Kong at the moment. But they also knew that he had the resources to reach anyone he wanted anywhere in the world. The question was if he had the motive to do so. From what they’d gathered he did. Ben Whyte was still alive. It was only a matter of time before Darrell Chan hired someone else to take him out. That is if he hadn’t already.

  He headed back to the room but stopped when he saw that the door was open. He’d closed the door but he hadn’t locked it. He’d been right outside, there had been no need to lock it. He should have locked the damn door.

  There was a scuffling noise inside and then a small gasp. He’d recognize that voice anywhere—Ava.

  He pushed open the door without hesitation. He used the element of surprise as his gun was already in both hands, ready for use.

  “What the hell?” Faisal stopped dead at the sight in front of him. Ava was being dragged backward by the sinewy tanned arm of a man who had a gun to her head.

  “Come any closer and she dies.”

  “There’s no need for this,” Faisal said calmly as he
watched Ben Whyte and prepared himself for any unexpected moves. The man didn’t know him and yet he wasn’t asking who he was. That didn’t bode well.

  “I thought I could just kill her and end this, but that’s not true anymore is it?” Ben snarled.

  “If this is about money, I can give you what you want and more.”

  Ben cursed, dropping one expletive after another. “Liar. You don’t think I know that you want me dead.”

  “I’m not lying. I can get you out of the country a rich man. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The words were difficult to say when what he really wanted to do was launch himself at the creep who held the woman he loved. The thought blazed through his mind without hesitation. It was overridden by his outrage over the situation she was in and his fear for her life. And, as a result, he skated right over the fact that a truth had again been laid bare if not in public, in his own heart.

  Ben moved back, his grip on Ava’s neck causing her to choke and clutch his arm with both hands as if she could pry the sinewy limb from her neck.

  “I guarantee—a million dollars on the table. You walk out of here a free man.” He’d throw the damn money in a bag along with this piece of scum and drive him out of the country if necessary. At least that’s what he’d tell him. In the end, he would drive him straight into the arms of the authorities and a jail cell, or kill him if necessary.

  He deliberately tried to keep his eyes from Ava who had nothing but a towel around her. Her hair hung wet along her face and dripped down the towel. A long strand ran down the side of her neck. He pulled his attention away from her.

  “I’m an Al-Nassar, we have...”

  “I know who you are,” Ben snarled. “Chan would have given me ten.”

  “I can easily do ten million,” Faisal said as if this was nothing more serious than a game of poker.

  He could feel his heart pounding. The stakes were higher than he could have imagined with Ava’s life on the line. He was seriously making this up as he went along. He was using anything that was believable. Anything that would get Ava out of this man’s arms and safe. That was all that mattered, and he’d say anything he needed to up until then.