Dead Reckoning

by Ronie Kendig

  “Keep still.”

  Why else would he restrain her? She whimpered, “Please.”

  He shook her. “Shiloh. Be still.”

  Maybe he was the enemy. She didn’t know. But he’d protect his son. “Let me go,” she pleaded. “If they find Khalid—”

  He shoved her toward a car. “Get in.”

  She seized the moment and burst from him. Only, the alley dead-ended.

  Shiloh spun. Across the street Kodiyeri and his men scanned the area.

  No options. No outs. Her lungs burned. Her limbs shook.

  “Shiloh, come.” Baseer held open the door. “We’ll get Khalid and return to the hotel.”

  Was there really no other way? Although she feared Baseer, she feared Khalid's stinging disappointment more. It would be worse than a rejection.

  Licking her lips, she met his father's mysterious eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

  “It's me or them,” Baseer said, nodding behind him.

  Hesitation held her in place for several long seconds. Finally, she dove into the car. Seconds later, they peeled out around the corner. Shots erupted. Glass crackled. Covering her head, she bent double to shield herself. Seconds felt like hours until they no longer heard shots or screams.

  “I believe we are safe.”

  Shiloh straightened and glanced back. Crowds had scattered across the open area, their faces revealing shock … the same shock Shiloh felt. Turning to Baseer, she brushed glass from her lap and shoulders. “We’ll never be safe as long as we’re in Mumbai.”

  “We have train passage for tomorrow night.” Baseer's gaze remained on the road, his expression hard.

  After one more glance back, she dabbed the sweat from her forehead. “Am I included in that ‘we,’ or is that you and Khalid?”

  An angry flame shot through Baseer's face. “He plans to make you his wife.”

  “Why would you give your blessing? I must be the only one who's not blind. It's no secret you don’t approve of me. I don’t even share Khalid's faith.” Shiloh gripped her hands to hide the trembling.

  Baseer's knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. “It is not you that I do not approve of, but your country. My son will be persecuted. As an American you will never be accepted. The children, perhaps.”

  “Then why did you ever shelter my father so many years ago?”

  Baseer darted a look her way, then back to the road. He pointed out the windshield. “He's waiting.”

  Khalid leaned against a stone wall, cradling his side. Shiloh bailed into the backseat as he rushed toward them, his eyes hardening. “What happened?” The car shifted beneath his weight as he settled into the front seat. He glared at her. “How did you end up with my father?”

  “They seem to be one step ahead,” Baseer growled.

  Did Khalid notice how his father evaded that question? Would he call his father on it?

  “We’ll return to Karachi, and that will make your mother very happy.” He nodded to his son. “Your mother needs good news, eh?”

  Khalid gave a silent nod, his gaze still on Shiloh.

  She blinked and tore her eyes from his. Her heart broke like the glass on the floorboard. Once he knew everything, he would release her from their engagement. Why didn’t he just do it now? The longer he pretended nothing was wrong, the more people would get hurt. Especially if his father was aligned with the very men who pursued her. More and more, she suspected he was. What was Baseer Khan hiding?

  10

  YOU ARE SURE?”

  Headphones on, Reece toggled the volume control and visually confirmed the conversation was being recorded. He’d planted the bug in Abdul's office telephone two days ago. With the short lifespan, it wouldn’t work much longer.

  “Yes,” Abdul said.

  “If you can make this happen, you will be greatly rewarded. Here and in Paradise.”

  Reece didn’t recognize the other voice.

  “I’nsh Allah.”

  “You understand—he must be at the summit or this will not work.”

  “Baseer just left. He assured me it would be so.”

  “Good. Two weeks, my friend.”

  The connection cancelled.

  Reece blinked. That was it? He leaned on the small desk in the hotel room and scratched the stubble on his jaw. What did it mean? Rumors abounded that something big would happen at the Summit of the Agreed—a convention of trouble led by Syria, Iran, Pakistan, and Russia. Would India send a representative? Surely they wouldn’t violate their pact with the U.S. and France.

  Of course, Chiranjivi didn’t exactly adore the French Prime Minister. Still, the Hindu leader seemed to have better sense than to let personal vendettas cloud what was best for his country.

  Time ticked toward an international nuclear nightmare. Reece had tolerated Abdul and Baseer for the information they could provide, but learning Baseer had visited Abdul today had increased the stakes. No more hiding. No more nice guy.

  Reece needed to keep a laser sight on Shiloh Blake now. The players had just proved his worst suspicions. Baseer Khan had an alliance with Ali Abdul and was one tiny step away from Osman Sajjadi. The connection almost felt tangible.

  He flipped open his ringing phone. “Jaxon.”

  “Hello, my friend.”

  Synapses half lulled by listening to the conversation awoke. “Professor. What can I do for you?” He pulled himself out of the chair and removed the recording. “Need another good meal?” He stored the small device in the floor safe.

  “I have something you will want to see.”

  “On my way.” Reece didn’t need the location. They’d only met at one place—the sidewalk café. Within minutes he sat across from the semi-balding man and activated the jamming device on his watch. “You’ve found something?”

  “Have your people check the Kashmir Mountains.”

  “There's been unrest there for years.”

  “Yes, but nuclear?”

  Reece quirked an eyebrow. “What do you have?”

  “A friend visiting the Shangri-La Resort said they spotted a caravan of trucks ambling up out of India through the mountains like a pack of mules. Said he was certain there was a missile in one of the covered trucks.”

  Swallowing, Reece considered the man before him—a man who knew better than to send Reece on rabbit trails. “I’ll check it out.”

  Perry smiled. “Good.”

  They carried on a casual conversation as Perry devoured another plate of Tandoori chicken and Reece drank a warm soda. If anyone was watching, they looked like old friends sharing a meal. Finally, they said their good-byes and Reece strode away. He opened his secure phone and hit an autodial button. “Toby, I need a satellite shot.”

  “Where and when?”

  “Last twenty-four hours. Kashmir Mountains.”

  “Uh … what’re we looking for?”

  “Nukes.”

  “On it.”

  “Good. Flash me the images.” Reece hung up and stepped onto the curb outside his shack and shifted to full alert. The door sat ajar. Cradling his Glock between his hands, he inched sideways toward the entrance.

  Crash! Rrrrrip!

  With his toe, he nudged the door open farther and peered into the small room. A man sliced into the charpoy with a knife. Another guy stood at the side table, flipping through magazines and mail.

  In one fluid move, Reece swung inside and aimed his weapon. The man at the table reached for a weapon. Reece fired before the silver gun came out of its holster. He spun and sighted the second. Something large and black hurled through the air. He fired off two rounds before the thing broadsided his face. Reece stumbled. His vision blurred.

  Whatever hit him crashed at his feet. He blinked through the psychedelic spots. Shuffled back. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the shock from his system and assessed the room. Two men lay on the floor. He looked down, surprised to find the brick-sized safe he’d hidden in the floor. How they found it, he didn’t know. He lifted
the fireproof box. Still locked. He’d made it just in time. A grin prickled his lip with pain. With the heel of his hand, he tested the area, and winced at the sticky swollen spot.

  He kicked the door shut and made quick work of stuffing his belongings into a pack. Reece sneaked into the hidden compartment where his black beauty waited. Within minutes, he headed north on his Ducati toward the resort where Baseer Khan had holed up with Shiloh and his son.

  Tension stiffened his spine as he wove through the darkened city toward Shiloh Blake. He hoped she was still alive. His helmet-com activated, and Nielsen's face appeared on a heads-up display embedded in his visor.

  “Got my images?” Reece asked.

  “Already relayed.”

  He opened the throttle, nice and steady, easing into the intersection. “Go ahead.”

  “We don’t have all the data, but it appears Baseer Khan might be an agent provocateur.”

  Heat spread through his shoulders. Provocateur meant Baseer could be working with the Americans or the Brits, trying to force Abdul to do something that would prove his guilt.

  Nothing Reece had seen pointed to that. To collusion, yes. Not entrapment.

  “Do you have proof?”

  “Hey, we untangled these feeds, and that's the consensus. We’ve intercepted data that indicates he's working with someone. He seems to be in the right place at the right time. How he's aware, we can’t figure out yet. He hides his trail well.”

  “Dig deeper.” Reece slowed and guided his bike around a knot of pedestrians. “And fast. Someone just ransacked my shack.”

  A curse hissed through his helmet. “You’re compromised?”

  “No.” He eased the bike to stop at a light. “I have my bonafides. Run the voice analysis and confirm. But the damage they did tells me they didn’t know what they were looking for.” Which meant they didn’t know who he was—and that was good. Very good. “I’ll transmit an intercepted communiqué between Abdul and who I believe to be Sajjadi.”

  “Sajjadi? Are you kidding me? We’ve just about got a noose around Abdul and India's neck on this thing. Now you want to implicate Pakistan? You’ve always had a grudge—”

  “Just run the analysis. Let that prove me wrong.” He stretched his jaw, certain he’d have a bruise by morning, if he didn’t already.

  If what Nielsen suggested was true, he’d have to watch Baseer Khan a little closer.

  Cities and their crowds frazzled her nerves. Leaning against the splintered windowsill, Shiloh crossed her arms over her chest. Honking. Beeping. Voices. Droning cars and industrialization. Creaking rickshaws. If only she could find the solitude familiar to her on the water. Serenity and pleasure soaking into her as the warm rays reflected off the blue-green expanse. She closed her eyes, transporting her mind into the invigorating salty spray. Sea enveloping her as she submerged.

  Shiloh smiled. Fish wiggled past in her fantasy.

  Red.

  A floating body.

  She snapped open her eyes. Swallowing hard, she gripped her throat. Would that garish image forever burn in the back of her mind? Death had now replaced the tranquility of the one thing she loved most—diving. Fulfilling her dive hours for the Pacific Rim Challenge had crawled out of reach.

  “Are you okay?” Khalid's whispered words made her stiffen.

  Casting a glance at him, she nodded. “Fine.”

  His beautiful smile swam out to her as he drew closer. “You look pretty shaken.” Behind her, he gripped her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

  “Just tired.” Was he going to pretend that nothing had happened between them?

  Khalid rubbed her arms. “When will you trust me?” His breath skittered across the back of her neck.

  “I do trust you.”

  “But you hold back. You never say how you feel.”

  She clamped a hand over his, hoping the gesture conveyed what she could not muster in her heart: conviction. “I tell you more than I tell anyone. You’re my best friend, Khalid.”

  He eased onto the sill in front of her. Hands resting on her hips, he looked up and smiled. “Then marry me, Shiloh.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How can you ask me that? You know me—better than anyone else. You know what I’m like, how I feel about God, how I …” Shiloh choked down the volley of emotions. Chewing the inside of her lip, she traced the thick clouds with her eyes.

  Khalid rose, blocking her visual escape, and nudged her chin so their gazes locked. “I’ve fallen in love with you, everything about you. And I know that as smart as you are, some day you will release your anger against God.” He peeked down at her. “Today would be good.”

  Shiloh shook her head. Always prodding. Always pushing. “You deserve someone like Ruth.”

  He scowled. “Ruth? Who is Ruth?”

  “You know—Ruth, from the Bible. Humble. Pious. Thoughtful. Left all she knew to take care of her mother-in-law. Gathered scraps from the fields so they could eat.” She pressed a hand to her chest, fending off the panic and tears. “I’m not like that. I’m not wife material, Khalid.”

  “Hey,” he whispered, drawing her closer. “Easy on yourself, Miss America. I’m not looking for a servant to glean my fields,” he said with a laugh, the humor lost. “You’re all I want. Just as you are. I’d give my last breath for you.”

  Shiloh gritted her teeth and willed herself not to move, not to break his hold. Why couldn’t she just accept his proposal? Khalid Khan was the best thing that had ever happened to her. If life could bring anyone to love her, if she could find happiness, it would be with Khalid. He believed in her. Wanted the best for her. But …

  “You’ve always been so good to me,” she murmured as she searched his face, the dark brows that drew attention to his penetrating eyes so dark against his smooth olive skin. Beyond his looks, Khalid had everything a woman could possibly want in a husband. Wealth. Kindness. Gentleness. Faith. Yes, even faith, despite her dislike of it. Studies across the globe showed those with faith lived longer, fuller lives. If she ever married, she’d want reassurances that it was forever.

  “So is this your way of saying no?” He shifted back. The light in his eyes faded. “I see.”

  An aching regret constricted her lungs. How could she refuse? He’d nearly died in her arms, and even on the verge of Paradise, he’d reached out to her.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He walked away with his head hanging low. “I thought … it seemed like we had something special and deep.”

  “We do.” Could she be any more cruel? This was her fault.

  Over his shoulder, he looked at her. “How can you say that and yet refuse me?”

  “I’m not—” Her voice cracked and she gulped. “It's not … Oh, Khalid. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how or what I feel. It's all jumbled. The one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be apart from you.” The words startled her into silence.

  Khalid studied her. Finally, he returned to her side. “Then do me this honor, Shiloh. My parents have given their blessing—a miracle in itself!” His always chilly hands tracked down her arms, fingers lacing with hers. He lifted her right hand to his lips. “I tried to call your father to ask—”

  She sucked in a breath. “You what?” Arctic wind blasted through her chest.

  “It's okay, Miss America.” Khalid cupped her face. “I only wanted his blessing, but he wasn’t there. In my culture it's very important to have the blessing of both fathers. I know you aren’t speaking to yours, but I wanted to give him the opportunity.”

  “Do not ever do that again. I don’t want that man in any part of my life.”

  “Your father would not be in our marriage. Just you and me and God.”

  She tensed, but he tugged her closer. Always pushing.

  “Say yes, Shiloh. Say yes, and make me the happiest man on the Earth.”

  Her life would be empty without him. Wasn’t that love? “Okay.” What are you doing? Chin lifted, she nodded. “Y
es.” She could do this.

  A smile the size of the sun beamed back at her. He bent and kissed her.

  At first, she stiffened—how odd to kiss him! But he was tender and gentle. A reminder that this would only be the beginning of intimacy she would eventually share with him. His arms snaked around her and squeezed as he hugged her.

  “Then it is settled?” Baseer appeared from the other room. “You are agreed?”

  Khalid swung toward his father, arms still wrapped tightly around Shiloh. “She said yes!” He then swiveled her and held her shoulders, as if presenting her to his father. “Your new daughter.”

  Baseer stared hard at her.

  She smiled but knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

  With a cockeyed nod, he pursed his lips. “If you love my son, then that is all the blessing needed.”

  If you love my son … If.

  “Your mother will be angry she was not here,” Baseer said to his son. He took Shiloh's hand and held it up. “Where is the ring?”

  “I forgot!” Khalid laughed as he dug through his pant pocket. He produced a ruby ring and slid it onto her finger. “My grandmother's.”

  “Khalid, I can’t.” The ring sparkled back at her. Several small diamonds encircled the crimson stone. Why did it have to look like a droplet of blood? She shivered.

  “You are family now.” Baseer's smile carried more than congratulations—a threat seemed to lurk behind those words. “It is yours.” He shook Khalid's hand and drew him into a manly hug. “You are my only son. It is up to you and Shiloh to produce sons to continue the name.”

  Shiloh inhaled sharply. Children?

  The two men hugged again and then dove into an animated conversation about telling his mother and sister. Within seconds, they dialed Pakistan. The phone bounced from Khalid to Baseer to Shiloh, who stumbled through Nisa's nearly screamed congratulations. Finally, she handed the phone back to Khalid.

  Glancing out the window, Shiloh felt a gentle throb encircle her skull. A seizure. She tensed. Not now. Tightness captured her muscles, holding them hostage.