by Ronie Kendig
A half hour and a load of guilt later, Shiloh sat next to Khalid, reminiscing. Their lives had intertwined in college, netting them memorable tales.
“Remember that time we visited Dome of the Rock?”
Shiloh scooted to the edge of the hospital bed and grinned. “I never felt so out of place.”
“Well, it didn’t help that you entered the main synagogue.”
She chuckled. “A few men weren’t exactly appreciative of a woman in their worship area.” Head shaking, she tried to suppress the bubble of laughter. “I can’t believe how archaic they can be.”
Khalid's dark eyes sparkled, his smile fading as he reached toward her face. “Yet you honored their wishes, gracefully.” His fingers swept her cheek. “That's what I admire about you; even if you don’t agree, you respect the culture.”
Hunching her shoulders, Shiloh sandwiched his hand against her face. “Let's just say I don’t like attention. It was easier to slip into the women's courtyard than make a display.”
“That was the first time I knew I loved you.”
She flinched, but tried to hide it behind a shrug. “Just rest, goof. We need to get you out of here.”
“You need to reconcile with God, Shiloh.”
“Khalid, please don’t do this.”
“I’ve always let you get away with that. But it's important. My parents raised me not to marry someone who does not share the same beliefs. This is a priority—”
“My priority is getting you out of here to someplace safe.”
Frustration soaked his dark features. “Where is the bracelet I made for you?”
Shiloh tensed and ducked her head.
“You still haven’t told me what's going on.” He shifted up in the bed and grimaced. Hand clamped over his side, he settled against the pillows.
“I just think …” She brushed loose hair from her face. He’d get upset if he knew everything that had happened in the last thirty hours. In his condition he didn’t need any more trauma. “I don’t like seeing you in a hospital bed. Besides, we need to log more hours for the Pacific Rim Challenge. It’ll be nice to get back out on the water.”
“I can’t dive for a while. The doctor said there was damage to my lung. It needs to heal first.” He held her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “At least I’m alive. I didn’t like lying on the beach, wondering if I would ever see you again. Thinking you might find someone else to watch out for you.”
She sat up straight. “I don’t need anyone to watch out for me.”
“But I like being there for you, helping you through the seizures.”
“Me too.” They’d talked about it once. Somehow he knew when to be there, when to whisper soothing words and act like they were just enjoying each other's company so that nobody else figured it out. He had always protected her dignity.
The air in the room thickened. Shiloh scooted off the bed and cleared her throat. “So, did they say how long you’d have to stay? What about your father?”
“Shiloh.” His tone held a gentle reprimand. “Don’t run from me.”
“Khalid, please.”
“No.”
His firm tone surprised her.
“I’ve always backed down to give you room. But I won’t walk away from this or pretend it isn’t there anymore. I love you.” His dark eyes glistened with determination and intensity. “No more hiding from me … or God. We need to face this.”
“Face what?” a voice boomed from behind.
They both jerked toward the door. Tall and impressive, Baseer Khan glared at them. His hands rested on his hips. Instinctively, Shiloh took a step from Khalid and retreated into a corner of the room. Khalid's father always made her nervous.
“Father, you made quick time.”
Baseer let the door swing shut as he moved to Khalid's side. “My only son in a hospital? Would that I was here yesterday!” He gripped the bars of the bed and leaned down. “How are you?”
Khalid shifted. “Tired, but they say that's normal.”
His father studied Shiloh. “And what is it you two have to face?”
Fire licked Shiloh's cheeks. Don’t look away. Be strong. She’d always been able to face down anyone—anyone but Baseer.
“We must talk, Father.” Khalid's voice wavered. “I have intentions toward Shiloh. I want your blessing to marry her.”
Baseer straightened. While he wasn’t the tallest man she knew, somehow his presence seemed to choke out the last molecule of oxygen from the room. His dark brow dug toward his nose, and his black eyes glowered. “What of university? And your future?”
“My future is Shiloh.”
“Khal—” His name caught in her throat. Why did he have to do this? Why now? She winced at the pain in his face as he struggled to sit up. Shiloh rushed to his side and pushed him back. It brought her within inches of Baseer. She dared not look at him. “Rest, Khalid. There's time later.”
“No,” he groused. “I nearly died. Yeshua got my attention with this incident. I don’t need another to know what I want and what is right for me.”
“What of you, Shiloh?” Baseer asked.
Panic raced through her. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
Baseer laughed. He laughed. “You have always avoided speaking your mind—”
“Not really.” She clutched a clump of Khalid's blanket.
“You didn’t let me finish.” Baseer hitched an eyebrow. “You have always avoided speaking your mind in matters of the heart.”
Anger laced a tight band around her chest. Why did they have to push? She didn’t want to talk about marriage. “I beg your pardon, but there are matters that are more pressing.”
“As in?” Baseer seemed amused.
His grin irritated her, and she saw the taunting challenge in his eyes—the one that said women knew little and should speak less. “Men chased me through the city last night.”
Khalid lunged upward, and then he dropped back against the mattress, his face contorted in pain. He groaned.
“I’ll get the nurse.” Shiloh bolted from the room— anything to free her of the suffocating conversation that pinned her between the two men. Once the staff brushed past her into Khalid's room, she waited in the quiet hallway, savoring the tranquility. If she went back in, he’d ask more questions, or put the question to her again. His father would interrogate her.
No, she couldn’t go back in.
His father emerged a moment later. When their eyes met, he stopped and studied her.
She jutted her jaw, refusing to squirm. “How is he?”
“They’ve given him something to help him rest.” Baseer nodded toward a chair. “Would you like to sit?”
“No, I—”
Dark eyes bored into hers. “What does your heart say about Khalid?”
She stilled. “He's my best friend.”
“What of marriage?”
“It scares me.”
“Good.”
She gaped at him. “Good?”
“Yes.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall next to her. “That tells me you are aware of what it takes to make a marriage work. That it's not taken lightly.”
Her heart sank. She’d been certain that once Khalid's father knew how she felt, he’d withhold his blessing. The way this little chat seemed to be heading, she’d be married by sunset. Khalid deserved better … someone better.
“I don’t want to fail him.” Her stomach twisted. “I’d never forgive myself if I let Khalid down.”
“It is as it should be.” Baseer nodded. “He is worried for your safety.”
“I’m worried for his, for mine—and Edie. I can’t find her.” She squeezed back the thought that Edie could be dead.
“You said two men followed you?”
“They were here yesterday.” Shiloh brushed her hair from her face. “I just had this feeling that they weren’t who they said they were. Then, I saw them trailing me through the city. I wasn’t sure at first, but when I started running,
they ran after me.”
She wouldn’t mention Brutus … or the coin Dr. Kuntz had given her. It had significance, she was certain. She’d also keep the fact that Brutus had paid for the hotel to herself. What would Khalid think about that? What would his father say? Taking money from a strange man while Khalid made a plea for his father's blessing on a marriage she wasn’t even sure she wanted. He deserved a humble wife—one who’d be willing to stay home and bear him a horde of children to bring honor to his name and family.
“I take it you lost them?” Baseer's words yanked her attention back to the present.
“No, I haven’t.” She looked at the clock hanging at the end of the hall. Eleven-fifteen. No wonder her stomach rumbled after skipping breakfast. “I spotted one of them out front this morning, so I came in through the back.”
“You don’t think you’re overreacting?”
“Why don’t you ask Khalid if I’m overreacting? Ask the surgeons who spent hours putting his body back together.” The storm churning within her threatened to unleash. She took a steadying breath and shrugged. “Whoever these people are, they aren’t playing games. I saw their weapons—fully automatic. Whatever they want, they think Khalid has it, or I do.”
Baseer exhaled. “Then it would seem wise to get Khalid out of here as soon as possible.” He stroked his thick, black beard. “I have friends …” He stared into space.
Shiloh let him formulate a plan while she figured out what to do next. The thought darted through her mind to call her father, but she squashed it as quickly as she would a roach. She didn’t need his help, or want it. He’d never been there for her anyway.
Half an hour later, she managed to escape the hospital with an agreement to return by sunset to help smuggle Khalid to safety. She’d spend the afternoon gathering supplies and food and then meet Khalid and his father with a rental car. That was the only way to get Khalid across town to the nearest hotel and then to the airport. Somehow, Baseer had vowed, he’d get them home to Pakistan.
The plan wasn’t foolproof, but it would have to do. In addition to the unease in her gut about Baseer, she wouldn’t leave Khalid until he returned home safely. She wished her intentions were sparked by her love for him. Were they?
Maybe Khalid was right. Was she hiding? Running from love? He was such a brilliant man … caring …
She gripped her temples. Stop it. Just stop it. Love was not the issue right now. Staying alive and getting back to the U.S. was priority number one. Pack slung over her shoulder, she steered herself through the chaos of Mumbai's busy streets. Curry and other spices mingled with the thick humidity. A white and brown dog chased a rickshaw, barking as it bounced over the uneven road. Laughter trailed a crowd of youngsters disappearing around the corner.
She shuddered. Crowds. She hated them. What she wouldn’t do for the pleasure of cool open water. Her eyes shifted to the west, where she knew the bay glimmered under the morning sun. She squinted up at the sky. It was close to noon—perfect dive time for the next two hours. Oh, to dive beneath the surface, to be enveloped in the silent serenity of the depths. She sighed.
There. Her heart sped as she caught a flash of black. Was it Brutus? She ducked behind an orange cart and picked up an orange as she peered across the open street to the other side. Yes. He sat with an older man at a sidewalk café.
So, mystery man, what are you doing on this side of town? Maybe she could turn the tables on him. If she could get the advantage …
“Kyaa aap ko yeh accha lagta hai?” The vendor shook his hand at her, waiting for the payment.
Mumbling an apology, Shiloh paid the vendor and moved away from the cart, shooting a quick glance back to Brutus. She didn’t think he had seen her.
It was still early enough that she didn’t have to rush to retrieve Khalid and Baseer for several hours, but she needed to buy supplies. That would only take a couple of hours. So she had a bit of time to spin the scenario into her favor and follow Brutus.
Down the street a block, she bought some pazham pori and a soda. Then she tucked herself into a table that afforded a partial view of her mystery man and his friend. As she took the first bite of fried plantain, she remembered where the money had come from to buy the snack. She almost tossed it to the nearby dogs. But she was hungry. And tired. She deserved this treat if for no other reason than to spend the money of a man who had tried to control her.
What was his game? He had tracked her all over Mumbai. Although she didn’t witness the bloodbath at the hotel, she recognized his voice during the shooting spree—the one yelling for the killer to stop. She tilted her head and stared down the sixty or seventy yards to the thick-chested man. The way he leaned on the table, he looked like a relaxed panther. Yet she suspected the eyes behind those black sunglasses were alert to any danger in his environment. Was this just a casual chat, or was the meeting related to the attack?
Who are you? He knew too much about her not to be government-connected. Embassy? She almost laughed. No way. He was entirely too rough around the edges. He could collapse any peace negotiations just by walking into an embassy. No, this guy didn’t waste time on small talk. All those years with her father helped her know—this guy looked and acted like CIA.
Shiloh stuck her thumbnail between her teeth. Why hadn’t he stopped her? He’d even given her money. Did that mean he wanted to buy her loyalty? Or her trust? Both?
Slouched in the chair, Shiloh crossed her legs, and cringed as she sipped her warm soda. She’d kill for a tall glass of ice. Reaching for her food, she heard the scritch of claws nearby and glanced down. The little white and brown dog sat giving her the puppy-dog pout. Shiloh tore off a piece of plantain and dropped it for the canine.
Movement across the street forced her to abandon the feeding. The table was empty. Her heart tripped. Where was … ? There. Brutus had left the café and was a half-block closer to her.
Shiloh scowled. What did he know that she didn’t? He had answers. Was it something that could keep her alive? Her muscles twitched to follow him. Counting to ten, she tried to steady her nerves and remain invisible to him. If this man was who she thought, then she was about to step into a clandestine world: spying on a spy.
Casually, she rose and forced herself to follow him. What was Brutus doing near the Christian college and government offices? He moved at a brisk pace, and after several blocks, her breath labored.
Then he rounded a corner. She hurried, afraid of losing him. She needed answers, and she was sure she could find out what he was up to if she could keep tabs on the brute. Hugging the building, Shiloh peeked around the corner and spotted him at a vendor. He popped the money toward the seller, tossed a mango in the air and caught it, and then struck out again.
Shiloh stayed with him. Where was he going? He acted like a tourist. Didn’t he have someone important to interrogate or kill?
Around one building and then another. Down the street, and up a different one. She stuck close. Cramps shot pain up her calves. Perspiration plastered her T-shirt to her skin. Why couldn’t he just get on with whatever dirty deed he was up to? To avoid being spotted, she crossed the street with a knot of pedestrians, keeping Brutus in sight. A group in front of her stopped and trapped her in the middle of their steamy body heat. Feeling the suffocation of the crowd, she pushed out— and froze.
Where’d he go?
Shiloh shoved forward to the curb. She scanned the crevices between shops. Was he hiding? She darted to the other side, straining on her tiptoes and craning her neck. A few staggering heartbeats later, he emerged from a shop with a bag tucked under his arm. Too close. Shiloh hung back and waited for him to get ahead a bit more.
Suddenly, he spun and came straight at her. Shiloh ducked her head, and with a pounding heart, she rushed into a store. The thick tobacco smoke and stale scent of a convenience shop strangled her. She hustled down one aisle and up another, weaving farther into the shop and out of sight. From behind a rack of books, she peeked out the word-painted window
. He stalked past, chomping into a mango.
What are you doing, you big oaf?
A man at the front of the aisle cut off her view. Hands at his side, he frowned at her. Shiloh apologized and hurried back outside, anxious not to lose the big guy. A sea of bodies swarmed around her.
Not again. Where was he? She probed the throng of white and tan tunics and pants and spun around. Not behind her. She jogged forward. He couldn’t have disappeared that fast. She expected him to leap out at her from a stoop just ahead, but instead she only found the barrenness of a boarded-up shop. A frustrated groan worked its way up her throat despite her best attempts to squash it. She’d trailed him for twenty minutes— only to lose him.
Fine. Enough games. Time to find out who he was and how he knew so much about her. Once more she scanned the crowds for his face before plunging her hand into her backpack. Game over. She withdrew the phone he had given her and flipped it open. Irritation ripped at her as she pressed the talk button and started the trek back toward Jail Street.
“Miss Blake.”
Her heart skipped a beat when his deep voice boomed through the phone.
8
FURY NEVER LOOKED SO BEAUTIFUL.
“Don’t you know it's not nice to follow people?” Reece chuckled when the line went dead. He slid the phone back into his pocket and leaned against the door, watching as Shiloh stomped toward Princess Street.
Once she blended into the crowd, he stepped from the stoop and headed back to his bike. Did she seriously think he didn’t know she was tailing him? He’d wanted to laugh when he switched directions, sending her spiraling into a convenience store. She had a few things to learn, but he had to hand it to her, she had guts.
Disappointment stuck to him the way the Indian heat glued his jacket to his back. He knew she’d call. Man, he almost felt let down to have her pegged so accurately. He liked a little surprise every now and then. Or maybe it was that he had hoped she would prove him wrong—show herself smarter than most. He’d expected a lot more from Jude Blake's daughter. With a quick glance at his watch, he … stopped.
No. He tapped the crystal of his watch as he stalked to his motorcycle. It wasn’t possible.