The Widow's Keeper

by Kishan Paul

  Ally slid the ring onto her finger and rushed to let them in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE SEARCH

  When she opened the door, Shariff and the guard stood on the other side. Neither of them waited for her to grant them access. Instead, they stormed past her, scanning the room.

  The constant smile was gone from his face. He grabbed her arm, surveying her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

  He ran his hand through his loose brown curls, and his chest rose when he sucked in a breath. “I heard about what happened last night.”

  The guard rushed into her private patio. “No one thought to wake me up and share it with me,” Shariff growled.

  Eddie appeared about five minutes later. “Took you long enough. Check the bathroom,” Shariff snapped and walked over to Ally. He placed his palm on her cheek, peering at her face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  She fisted her hands and resisted the urge to jerk away from him. “He waited for me in my bathroom, but no, he didn’t hurt me.”

  The patio door behind her slammed shut making her jump. Shariff dropped his hand from her. “Check the rest of the room.”

  The guard went to her bed and searched beneath it.

  Her heart raced at the thought of him looking in her closet. “They don’t need to. I’m safe now. I fell asleep and had a bad dream.”

  Shariff wandered to the corner by the armoire and picked up the crumpled blanket she’d left, tossing it on her mattress. “On the floor?”

  She didn’t answer. Eddie walked to the closet and gestured for Shariff to move. Her muscles relaxed.

  Shariff sat on the bed, stretching his legs across the mattress. “And the screaming?”

  Ally raised her chin, meeting his gaze. “A bad dream about strange men invading my room and looking through my things.”

  An amused smile tugged at his lips. He shook his head and waved at the guards. “Enough,” he ordered in Urdu. “You two can leave. She’s clearly fine.”

  The other guard left but Eddie rooted himself by the closet, his arms crossed. “Wassim has ordered I monitor her at all times.” He spoke his words in English.

  Shariff’s mouth dropped. “You can’t be serious. It was one of your own who tried to hurt her in the first place.”

  Eddie pulled out his cell phone. “Would you like for me to call him?”

  He waved it away and crossed his arms on his lap. “Well, my dear Bhaabi, it appears everyone here is either trying to kill you or are afraid you will kill them.” He jutted his chin in her direction. “And from the way you’re standing, with good reason.”

  Ally looked down at her clenched fist pressed against her chest. The hand David held in her dreams. She cleared her throat and hugged it closer. “It hurts from last night.”

  “Considering you single-handedly beat a man to death with a metal rod, I’m surprised it’s the only part of you that hurts. Now hurry up and get ready because we need to leave.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere away from this nonsense.” He smiled at Eddie. “I think I will hang out in your room, Bhaabi, while you get ready. Wouldn’t want you to kill or be killed between now and the car.”

  Ally stood at the bathroom sink. Icy water flowed from the faucet over her fisted hand and down the drain. She pried her fingers open and let the liquid wash away the heat within and with it the dreams of David. Just as she couldn’t contain the water, she couldn’t hold on to someone who no longer existed. As much as she wanted to believe it was real, he hadn’t touched her. Her mind gave her what it thought she needed to survive. She pressed the damp hand against her face. And her mind was right. Seeing and touching him, even if only an illusion, was exactly what she needed.

  She slid off the ring she found earlier and played with one of the square diamonds on the side. Like before, it slid. As the distance between the gems shrunk, the end of the middle rope popped out. The farther she slid the square, the longer it stretched, forming a small arc much like a cat’s claw. Once the squares were side by side, they clicked, and a thin, beveled blade popped out from inside of the claw. She pressed her finger against the steely edge, feeling the way it cut into the thin membrane of her skin. Ally threaded the jewelry over her knuckle; she waved it around getting comfortable with how it worked in case she needed it. Could this be the ring Leanna mentioned on the plane? The one she said not only worked as a knife but a tracking device. When she moved the diamonds apart across the band, the blade slipped back inside the claw and the rope slid into place between the other two, creating the three roped layers of the ring. She threaded the piece on to her fingers and returned to the bedroom to find Eddie still standing in the corner and Shariff leaning against the wall texting someone. He looked her over. “Ready?”

  Once she slid on her shoes, she headed for the door. “I’m ready.”

  “Hold on.” Shariff grabbed her elbow and turned her. With her back to him, she gazed at the closet. Shariff’s fingers pressed against her hips. “I am going to have to make sure you’re not hiding anything,” he whispered.

  Instead of fidgeting with her wedding ring, her thumb traced the edge of the band, which sat heavy on her right hand. Would he notice it? Her gaze fell on Eddie, standing stoically in the corner. “What would I be hiding, and where would I keep it exactly?”

  Shariff’s breath blew against her cheek when he laughed. “You managed to sneak a metal rod into your room last night and kill a man. I don’t want to spend the entirety of our trip worrying what my outcome might be. Arms out.”

  Before she could comply, his hands were already feeling around the waistband of her jeans. When his palms moved lower, a shudder ripped through her. Ally sucked in a breath and stared ahead while his hands cupped her backside. When she tried to step away, he pulled her closer.

  “I’m not done.” His voice was husky.

  She clenched her fists and stared at the white of Eddie’s knuckles. Ally rolled her shoulders back. She was not alone, and even if Eddie didn’t intervene, there was only so far Shariff would go with an audience. Ally grabbed his wandering hands and pulled them off her. “Don’t do this.”

  “All I am doing is searching you, and the sooner I’m done, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  When his hands cupped her breast, the façade of strength she worked so hard to show cracked. The heaviness of his palms against her chest, the way he squeezed, all of it, triggered not only pain but also memories she had worked hard to forget. Images of her arms and legs tied to the bed as Sayeed ripped into her flooded her mind. Her body shook while her knees weakened.

  Eddie must have noticed her reaction. The muscle on the side of his jaw twitched, and he took a step forward. The way his eyes stayed fixed on Shariff, his clear intention to harm the man who held Farah and Amirah, flipped a switch in Ally's brain. If she didn’t do something, he would.

  She turned to face Shariff. His hands immediately returned to her breasts. “Those were your brother’s favorites, too.”

  His fingers froze.

  “He liked it when I fought him.” His nails dug into her skin. “Is that what turns you on?” She smiled. “Or would you rather I stripped and got on my back?”

  He slammed his eyelids shut. “Neither.” He dropped his hands and cleared his throat. “I like my women begging for more, not begging for their lives.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE SHADOW

  Ally wiped her clammy hands on her shirt and followed Shariff down the stairs. Unlike the early morning when she descended, the bottom floor now filled with bright sunlight and activity. The sounds of a television blaring floated up the three levels of the home.

  Like the morning, all eyes fixed on her, eyes filled with anger and disgust. The hair on her neck stood. There was no question each and every one of the men, aside from the one who walked behind her, plotted her death; especially, no
w that she’d killed one of their own.

  Wassim rose from his seat and pointed at her. “That woman is no longer welcome here.”

  Shariff laughed as he descended the final steps. “Would you like for me to call my father, and let him know you are about to kick out his dead son’s widow from his home? A woman he is traveling all the way from Afghanistan to see?” He stopped at the base of the stairs and pointed his hand at her. Ally stood a few steps behind him, holding on to the banister, pretending not to listen. “But before I make the call, tell me, what business did your guard have sneaking into her room last night? I’m sure Babba’s going to want to know the answer to that question as well.”

  Wassim’s brows rose and he flashed a knowing look. “Tell your father she is a woman of no character. She’s been here barely a day and has invited many men into her bed.”

  Shariff’s back stiffened. “So she seduced him and then killed him? Is that your story?”

  Ally’s grip on the wooden railing tightened.

  “We all know who was in the wrong last night, don’t we? As for myself, yes, I entered her room just now. With your guard, mind you, assuring my bhaabi it was safe to come out, and promising her that, unlike the bastard from last night, everyone else here knows their limits and would treat her with respect.”

  Shariff waved for her to follow. “Come, Bhaabi, let’s go for a walk in the courtyard while we wait for the car.”

  He led her down the same gravel path they’d traveled the day before. His shoulders were stiff and every pore of his body oozed tension. She waited until they were a good distance from the house before she cleared her throat. “What happened back there?”

  Shariff tipped his head backward at Eddie, who walked a few yards behind. “Wassim likes to wave his unimpressive dick around and expects everyone to bow to it.”

  Ally nodded. “He doesn’t intimidate you?”

  “Not in the least.” He chuckled and poked her with his elbow. “Granted, I haven’t seen his dick, but I am sure even if I did, I would still be left unimpressed.”

  She thought about Wassim’s son. Somehow, she needed to attach him to the child. “Aadam seems to adore you.”

  Shariff’s shoulders lowered as some of his tension dissipated and smiled. “What’s not to adore?”

  “You seem comfortable with him as well.”

  “I’m good with kids.”

  She stopped by a tree and sat down with her back against its trunk, waiting for him to explain.

  “The boarding school I grew up in had students of all age ranges.”

  She grabbed Shariff’s hand and gave it a tug, encouraging him to sit beside her. The crunch of the gravel a few feet away let her know Eddie stood close by. Ally didn’t need to read his mind to know he wouldn’t be happy with the way she behaved with Shariff. But this was not just about her life. She looked up at Shariff and patted the ground next to her. “They didn’t separate you by age?”

  Shariff slid beside her and leaned against the trunk of the tree. “They did for schooling, of course, and sleeping arrangements, but those of us who had nowhere to go on the weekends and holidays spent our breaks together.”

  She imagined the boy he once was, waiting for a father who never came. “It must have been hard.” He looked at her as if not understanding. “Seeing everyone leave with their families and knowing you would be left behind.”

  Shariff stared off in the distance. “It was better than being with my father and his family.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “Anyway, it was rather fun. We became our very own dysfunctional family.”

  His hand brushed against hers. Ally glanced at her ring that sat inches from his touch. “Do you keep in touch with the kids from the school?”

  “Ha! Like I said, we were a dysfunctional family. We ran as far away from each other as possible.”

  She put her hand in her jean pocket and worked on slipping the band off her finger. “The thing about family, blood or not, is they know your history. They know the pain you’ve gone through. Sometimes they contributed to the pain, and sometimes they experienced it with you.”

  “Very true.”

  After shoving the band to the bottom of her pocket, she pulled the unadorned fingers out and placed them on her lap. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation. There was no sign of irritation or tension. She leaned forward. “I’ve heard good things about boarding schools in general, but I’ve also heard some bad things.”

  Somewhere in the courtyard, Aadam’s laughter filled the grounds. Shariff side-eyed her. “Bad things like?”

  “Like sometimes children are abused either sexually, physically, emotionally. Sometimes by the adults and sometimes by other kids.”

  He didn’t respond but she noticed the way he stiffened.

  “I hope yours was one of the good schools, and I hope your story wasn’t the same.”

  Shariff grabbed a rock from the ground and tossed it at a tree. “We all have stories, no? It’s what makes us who we are.”

  While he threw his stones, she watched him. Each pebble was flung farther and harder. She’d pushed too far. Ally cleared her throat. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your father?”

  He laughed and picked up a piece of a crumbled brick, tossing it as well. “Last year. I have to go to him, always. He doesn’t leave Kabul.” He picked up another rock and then another, throwing them at some invisible target ahead. “But the ninety-year-old bastard texts me once a week.”

  She handed him another piece of the brick. “If this place means so much to you, couldn’t you ask him for the house?”

  He stopped mid-throw and wiped his hand on his jeans. “Babba gave it to Wassim as a wedding gift for taking care of Alyah and the child. The lazy bastard does nothing but sit on his ass all day and he gets everything.”

  She eyed him. “While you do all the work and get nothing.”

  “Exactly.” Shariff grabbed her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “And my father has promised him many more gifts as long as he takes good care of his son's beloved child.” He kissed the back of her hand. “So even long after his death, Sayeed is still the favorite.”

  She stared at the locked fingers and considered her words. “The things your brother did to me could have easily turned me bitter and angry. I had to work hard to remember I was good. Once I started looking, I noticed all the good people around me. They gave me hope. They were the only reason I survived.”

  With the pad of his thumb, he traced the veins on the back of her hand. “Such an idealist.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But it’s better than the alternative. You have a choice: let go of the anger and live your life in spite of the past or allow your past to consume you.”

  “It’s too late for that. I am beyond consumed. I’ve been digested and crapped out.”

  She shook her head and honed in on the sadness in his voice. He was a child, abandoned, who believed himself unworthy. “I don’t believe you. You’re a good person, Shariff,” she lied. “And you deserve good things, good people. No matter what trauma has happened in your life, you’ve already shown you’re not like your brother or your father.”

  Shariff cocked his head and stared at her but did not respond.

  “I see it in the way you are with Aadam, even with me. Like in the bedroom, you wanted me but respected my wishes. In the same situation, Sayeed would have—and did—rape me.”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “Don’t misconstrue manners for good character, Bhaabi.”

  “You’re better than Sayeed.”

  “It’s not hard to be better than him, is it?” He leaned his head back on the tree and laughed. “What if I am aspiring to be worse than him?”

  “You’ll never get your childhood or your mother back. And no matter how hard you try to right this wrong, it will never be enough.”

  Shariff rose to his feet and reached out his hand for hers. He pulled her up and nudged his head behind him, reminding her they had co
mpany. “True. But it will feel damn good to make the old man hurt.”

  His words sunk in. She had been wrong. He didn’t plan to kill everyone tomorrow. Just everyone his father valued. “Will it?” Ally scanned over her shoulder. Eddie stood a few feet away, staring at the ground and following their every move.

  “You have no clue how good it will feel.” Shariff tugged at her, leading her along the path.

  She pressed her hand against her jeans until she felt the hard outline of the ring. “Closure is a funny thing. We all seek it, but the sad reality is that oftentimes it is not found in the ways we think it will be.”

  “Closure?” he whispered. “You’re wrong. I don’t want closure. I want pain. I want to see him suffer.”

  “He lost his wife, had to send his youngest son away, and then he outlived his oldest son. I think he may have suffered already.”

  Shariff shook his head. “You have to be able to love someone before you can suffer for them. He never saw me or my mother as his own.”

  She thought about Razaa. “I did not give birth to the boys Sayeed adopted, but I loved them as if they were. They were part of the good that kept me hoping. I wonder about them all the time.”

  His brows rose at the mention of the boys. “Do you?”

  She stared out in the distance and softened her voice. “All the time.”

  If he knew about them, he showed no indication. “Have you looked for the boys?”

  Ally stepped over the thick tree root protruding from the ground, keeping her gaze low. “I had no way of tracing them.”

  “I find it hard to believe, considering your little widow found you.”

  “I didn’t know she had.” She glanced over at him, feigning surprise. “I wish she hadn’t. Her search ended up costing us our husbands’ lives. It’s why we are both stuck in this mess with you.”

  “Stuck?” He planted their intertwined hands on his chest. “That hurts me.”