by Mina Khan
He should have known his words would return to bite him in the ass. Rukh licked his dry lips. He needed to stop pussyfooting around and tell her all. Now.
“Hakuna Matata,” the “no worries” song, belted into the room and she whipped out her cell phone. “Sorry, I have to get this.”
He nodded and moved away from her.
“Hey Bob, thanks for calling me back. I need you and your camera.”
While she was on the phone, Rukh stepped into the bathroom and transformed himself into a tall, slender man, pale as cream with a drop of coffee. A curtain of honey-wheat blond hair fell straight and silky to just below his shoulders. He made sure that his face was elongated, the square chin softened, the full lips turned thin. A few days’ growth of facial hair gave him the look of a guy on vacation. Only his eyes remained the color of oceans. Within minutes he was dressed in a bright red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans.
He stepped out and bowed to her. “Meet Alexander Karlsson, the retiring assassin.”
“Yikes, you look like a scrawny, Swedish Fabio with a bad wardrobe.” Sarah walked around and checked him out. “You really are a master of disguise. You’ll have to do Brad Pitt for me someday soon.”
When he glowered, she laughed. “Never mind, I’m kinda partial to the Rukh look.” She reached up and touched his face. “How do you make yourself look thinner?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said, tapping his wristwatch. “Your disguise is in the bathroom.”
Sarah changed into the clothes he’d conjured up. Dressed in a UT orange T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and scuffed sneakers she looked like a college kid. “This is it?”
“Nope.” He stepped away to reveal a wig, a cap and sunglasses lying on the bed. Jasmine laughed as she wrapped her curls into a tight knot and donned a black wig sporting dreadlocks. She jammed the bright Rastafarian knit cap on top and donned a pair of sunglasses.
“Personally, I think the cap is a bit much,” she said.
Rukh ignored the heaviness in his gut. So many things could go wrong at this meet. But he’d risk anything to keep Jasmine safe. He winked. “It’s you, babe.”
Chapter Seven
Rukh settled down at a table under the shade of a gigantic umbrella with an iced coffee in the Whole Foods’ patio. Families and groups of friends occupied nearby tables, laughing over coffees and pastries. Oblivious and carefree.
Surrounded by the crowd, exposed in broad daylight and waiting for his contact gave him the jitters. Rukh forced himself to drink as he scanned one building after another. Any one of them could be hiding a sniper. The bullet would hit before he’d hear the report of the rifle, leaving him no time to thin his substance. The speed of the bullet would drive it deep into his being, the poison of the metal would shred his essence, leave it in tatters. Healing would be slow and full of pain.
Then there was the possibility of accident and ricochet. And casualties. The chubby toddler waving a rattle, or the Willie Nelson look alike in the battered cowboy hat. Shit. Bile churned in his gut. He shoved the coffee away. His heart yearned for Jasmine.
Casually, he leaned back in his chair and glanced over at the live band performing under the covered area. She swayed to the music at the fringe of the patio, languid and sensuous in her movements. Heaven and hell, she was gorgeous…even in that getup. If he hadn’t watched her transform, he wouldn’t have recognized her and that was good. But where was the photographer?
On the dot of four, a man carrying a briefcase and a cup of coffee stopped by Rukh’s table. Dressed in a dark blue suit, red and silver power tie and sunglasses, he could have stepped out of Forbes Magazine. His short blond hair glinted in the afternoon sun.
“Hi. Do you have the time?”
Rukh glanced at his watch and then back at him. Was this his contact? If not, the man would probably think him a certifiable loon and vacate the area. Worked either way. “One-thirty a.m. Kabul, 10:00 p.m. Belfast, or 4:00 p.m. Austin.”
The man flashed a toothpaste ad smile. “Aloha. Finally we meet.”
Rukh inclined his head and tossed out a half smile. “Aloha to you too.”
The guy shifted from foot to foot, then cocked his head toward one of the empty chairs at the table. “Could I borrow that for a sec?”
Rukh nodded and looked away at the traffic streaming past on 6th Street—cars, bicycles and a bright yellow duckmobile filled with happy tourists. But he studied his contact through the corner of his eye. Thank God for reflective lenses.
The guy set his coffee on the table and pulled out the chair. Then he lifted his left foot on it and retied his shoe.
“Thanks.” He straightened up and picked up his coffee. Bending, he grabbed a case. “Sayonara,” he said before sauntering away.
Rukh watched the guy as he threaded through the crowd. Such an ordinary, pleasant looking man.
After he disappeared from view, Rukh glanced down. His blood buzzed with electric excitement. The man had taken the dummy case he’d brought from the hotel instead of his own. Rukh hoped the unmarked bills had plenty of incriminating fingerprints.
He scraped back his chair and tossed his trash into a nearby can. He picked up the case gingerly, not by its handles where the man had grasped it, but from underneath and one side. Lugging the case, he made his way to the parking garage and Sarah’s car. She and the photographer Bob, who had his digital camera, were waiting for him. “So was that anyone you know?” Rukh asked.
Both newshounds grinned and said “Lover Boy!” in unison.
“Okay then, let’s go take care of this.” He slid into the backseat.
They arranged to meet investigator Tim Garza at a coffee shop that was near the D.A.’s office.
Even though Rukh didn’t need the immunity and legal paperwork because he could simply disappear, he stuck to his persona. He hadn’t found time to explain his djinn heritage to Sarah, and she needed a real life source for her story to run with all the new developments.
Besides, the papers would help him get an acceptable, legal job, buy a house with a mortgage, give Jasmine the normal guy she wanted. So the blond Alexander Karlsson cut a deal with the D.A., FBI and other alphabet soup agencies. He became John Smith, ordinary American citizen. And, along with Sarah, went into temporary protective custody.
By Saturday noon, Rukh was pacing from room to room in the tiny little bungalow hidden on a quiet street in Travis Heights. But Sarah sat at the kitchen table leafing through her notes and typing away at her laptop, a total workaholic.
“All work and no play makes Rukh cranky.”
She glanced up, her eyes glazed. “What? You aren’t working.”
“Yes, but you are.” He unbuttoned his shirt, teased it off and tossed it at her. Did a slow swivel of the hips. “How about some exercise?”
“Tempting.” She smiled. “But I have to revise the story with this latest development and send it in to the paper. This is big, even bigger than what I originally had.”
Disappointment must have shown on his face, because she crooked her finger and beckoned.
When he was almost at her chair, she stood and stretched. Her full breasts rose up and strained her T-shirt, making him happier in seconds. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. Oh yeah, this was more like it. He leaned in for a kiss and received one. Slow and sensual, like drinking perfectly aged port with a sweet long finish. Warmth tingled through his cells, built to a flood and washed through every inch of his being. A soft protest escaped him as she pulled away.
“I really need to get this done. But afterwards I’ll be ready for all kinds of exercise and games. Promise.” Sarah pulled down his head until their foreheads touched. “Thank you for helping me with this story, for being honest.”
Honest. Rukh ducked his head, grabbed his shirt and turned away. He hadn’t been completely honest and it never seemed to be the right time to give her the djinn talk. Regret swamped him, but she was already glancing at her computer. “I guess I better let
you get back to work,” he said. “Want something to eat?”
“A sandwich would be great,” she said, settling into her chair.
When he returned with her sandwich and a bottle of water, she rewarded him with another kiss. A quick one, full of promise. “I just have to send it in.” She’d just clicked the mouse when her phone rang. She grabbed it out of her bag.
“Don’t answer it.”
She glanced at the small screen. “It’s Eric. I have to take it.”
He grabbed the arms of her chair and leaned down, trapping her. “There’s a reason why we are in a safe house.”
“I know,” she said. “The story is running tomorrow. I want to give the governor a chance to refute the charges.”
“Why?” The phone continued its jolly song, annoying the hell out of him.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“What if they trace the call and find us?”
“Garza’s guys will be right behind,” she said. “He’s got the state police keeping an eye on everyone involved.”
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Rukh moved away from her. He didn’t like it, but Sarah had made up her mind. Stubborn woman.
He heard her say hello. She must have hit speaker because a voice, boyish and weary at the same time, floated into the room. “Hey, Sarah. I’ve got good news.”
“And it is…”
“Jake’s agreed to an exclusive interview with you. Be at the governor’s mansion at 3:00 p.m. today.”
That was less than two hours from now. He whipped around and they stared at each other. Tension stretched taut between them. Still holding his gaze, Sarah grimaced. “Sorry, that’s not possible.”
“You’re turning down an interview?” The man’s voice spiked with surprise, then turned grim. “You’re running the story without giving him a chance? I always respected you as a journalist.”
“I’ve earned that respect,” she said. “And you know better than anyone else that I’ve been trying to get an interview, even a statement out of him.”
“He’s been busy.”
“The story about his relationship with Alex Gingrich is still running,” Sarah countered. “I can’t meet with him, but I’d be happy to talk to him on the phone.”
A deep sigh rolled into the room like an arctic wind. The temperature dropped and light from the windows dimmed, muted to gray, as if the sun had disappeared. Cold shot through Rukh, turning his essence to ice.
Static crackled on the line, accompanied by the hollow sound of rushing wind. Sarah scrunched up her face and snapped the phone shut. “Shit, seems like I lost him.”
Rukh couldn’t stop staring at the phone, which now lay on the table. Pale green mist poured from it like soft tendrils of smoke, thickened and gathered into a cloud. The charred scent of ash tinged the air as the sickly haze drifted toward Sarah, who sat frozen and gaping.
Awareness of a malevolent presence swept over him. “Sarah, move!”
The shapeless miasma hardened into a shape—a hand—and lunged for Sarah.
Cold fingers wrapped around her throat, choking off her breath. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Her mind screamed in silence at the familiar touch reminiscent of nightmares and death settled on her skin. The other world, the one she’d convinced herself didn’t exist, had broken through once more.
Behind her, the computer died with a soft blip. Next came the soft tinkling of the shaking chandelier, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Sarah flinched as slivers fell around her like snowflakes. She’d never sit under a chandelier again…if she survived.
Her body shook in terror as the sulfur fog roiled and compacted into a thick, muscular male shape. A surreal swamp monster. Two eyes, angry and yellow, glowered.
“You had to make this difficult.”
Eric’s soft voice emerging from the thing’s black maw stunned her, stopped her struggles. His fingers loosened and Sarah drew in a huge lungful of fetid air stinking of brimstone. Coughs burned her throat and left her teary-eyed. “Eric?”
“My name is Eyr-hek.” Ripples shivered across the green mass in front of her until Eric’s features bubbled up from beneath. He shot her a sad smile. “I didn’t want it to come to this.”
“What? Why are you doing this?”
“I had it all planned, get Jake into the White House and then I’d continue to be the puppeteer. Life as the power behind the Oval Office would be sweet.” His face darkened into a scowl. “But you had to find out about Jake and Alex.”
“The story’s already gone to press.”
He laughed. “Nah, it’s just gone to your editor, otherwise you wouldn’t still want to talk to Jake.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll take care of him too.”
Sorrow welled inside. Poor, fat, funny Grayson. She fortified her mental walls. Eyr-hek couldn’t learn about Tim’s investigation. He wouldn’t win.
She saw a chair rise up in the air and crash down on the monster’s head, break into pieces.
Roaring, the creature whipped around and she dangled in his clutch like an old teddy bear that’d lost its stuffing. She yelped.
“Pick on someone your own size,” Rukh said.
A whimper escaped her lips as the man she’d loved and touched all over melted into an inky blackness then reformed into a tall, leanly muscled shadow creature. A silver sheen cascaded over his sculpted body like moonlight. Cold blue eyes glittered with rage.
“Stay out of this, half-breed,” the green djinn rumbled, standing tall. “This is not your concern.”
“Sarah is very much my concern,” Rukh said. “She is my heart mate.” The words left behind a twinge of nerves as they escaped his lips. He didn’t dare glance at Sarah to see how she took the news.
“Too bad.” Eyr-hek sneered, his essence reeking of arrogance. “She is a nuisance that needs to be eliminated.”
“So you hired me to take care of business, and the two purse-thieves?”
“No, that was all Jake and his greedy lover attempting damage control. The fools actually tried to hide the mess from everyone, including me.” A cold smile flitted across Eyr-hek’s face, cruel and hard. “But I’m here now and I’ll take care of her.”
Sarah started gagging as she tried to push away the fingers tightening around her throat. Her legs jerked in a desperate dance. Eyes bulged wide with fear as agonized noises came from her throat.
Rukh snapped into action. He shoved wind at Eyr-hek with all the power he could muster. The djinn bowled ass-over-head across the room, taking Sarah along for the ride. A thin scream tore from her throat.
A bolt of flame shot through the air, missing Rukh as he leapt out of the way, and set a curtain on fire. He’d always been fast, but years of dodging blows had honed the skill.
With an angry growl, Eyr-hek flung Sarah from him.
Rukh’s breath lodged in his throat as her body arced through the air. She hit a wall with a sickening crunch and crumpled to the floor. Oh damn. He raced toward her.
Cold icicles knifed into his left arm and a biting chill invaded his essence. Frost coated his skin in a layer of white. A breath hissed out of Rukh, as he staggered and clutched his arm, which now hung at his side, numb and useless. Damn. Thoughts churned in his head as he fell. Never take your eyes off the danger. Assassin 101. He’d let himself get distracted.
Now flames flew at him again. He rolled this way and that to avoid getting hit. The raw energy scorched the rich cherrywood floor. Smoke drifted up.
“You dare take me on? You think you’re a match for a real full-blooded djinn?” Eyr-hek stalked forward.
Rukh scurried backwards on one hand and knees. Survival trumped dignity. He bumped up against the couch. The very same one he’d napped on earlier in the day, the one where he’d hidden his gun. He slumped against its soft velvety body, slipped his good hand between the cushions.
“My family has spent eons marrying and breeding power.” Eyr-hek threw up his hands and silver electricity sizzled from each finger. The rest o
f the curtains burst into flames. “You’re nothing.”
Rukh whipped out the gun and aimed it. The familiar weight of the 9mm Beretta centered him. Discomfort streaked up his arm when his finger, devoid of his human guise, touched the metal of the trigger. He ignored it and squeezed. Bullets riddled into the other djinn and a cry cracked the air. Eyr-hek blurred and tottered; his eyes showcased pain and shock.
Rukh leaned back against the couch and let the now empty weapon drop to his side. He pulled in deep breaths, exhaled, and waited for other djinn to fall. And waited. Why wasn’t he on the ground, writhing and moaning?
Instead, Eyr-hek grimaced as his body pushed out the bullets one by one. They clattered to the floor. What the hell? He’d never seen that happen so quick before. The guy was a bad-ass.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson, mutt.”
Rukh lashed out with his good arm. A whirling tornado went chest to chest with Eyr-hek. Furniture, laptop and other debris caught up in the wind battered the other djinn. He staggered back, threw up an invisible shield.
The storm died and everything thumped to the ground.
Rukh laughed. “You’re so powerful that you hide behind a shield.”
Eyr-hek glared and began lowering the shield. At the first crack, Rukh pushed off the ground and jumped inside. He threw up his own shield, trapping them both in a protective bubble. Now he could unleash full power without worrying about Sarah. He may not be multitalented, but he could wield his one power. With a flick of his wrist he made all the air in the bubble vanish.
The other djinn’s face paled as tremors shook his essence. His mouth opened and shut like a fish left to die on dry land. His hands reached out.
Rukh couldn’t resist a smirk and some smacktalk mind to mind. Let’s see you work fire and ice without any oxygen.
Eyr-hek’s predator eyes—cold and yellow like polished citrines—flared bright. But electricity still works in a vacuum.