by Sara Fawkes
“The main floor has a variety of shops, catering to the hotel’s diverse clientele.” This part seemed almost a rote delivery, as if she’d rehearsed or practiced this part several times. “The concierge can help you with any tour options, and access to a private car comes as an option with these rooms.” Amyrah beamed at me. “You can also ask me any questions and I will do my best to help you.”
I studied the girl before me. “You live here in the hotel, don’t you?” Something about the delivery of that speech made me think she was often called to help out the guests.
Amyrah flushed and looked down shyly. “We do have a family home,” she conceded, “but when my parents died, my brother moved me here permanently.”
The simple way she spoke about her parents’ death made my heart break. “I lost my parents a few years back too,” I murmured, looking around the room to control my sudden tears.
“Oh!” Amyrah touched my arm. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
I almost broke down in tears at her selfless expression. Time, it seemed however, had given me enough strength not to do so; the memory hurt, but it was not the horrible ache I’d once been faced with. A thought occurred to me and I latched on like a bulldog. “That’s it, we’re going shopping.”
The sudden change in conversation left Amyrah blinking. “What?”
I smiled at her surprise, tugging at her arm. “Come shopping with me. We don’t have to buy anything, but we can still have fun. Anyway, the guys are probably doing their manly stuff, so let’s be girls for once.”
A bemused smile crossed the girl’s face, and I winked. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
As it turned out, Amyrah was a lot of fun when it came to “girl stuff”. The rarity of this kind of trip for her was immediately apparent. From the way she ogled many of the window treatments for the stores, I could tell she didn’t do this often. She knew where each and every store in the hotel was located, but her wide eyes told me she rarely, if ever, went inside.
So I dragged her into several high-end boutiques, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her. The idea of showing her legs or arms in public seemed scandalous to the Arab girl, so I changed my criteria a bit and began looking at floor-length, long sleeves gowns. Not too surprising, there were quite a few of those to be had, as well as many different headscarves in a variety of styles. For me, it was a slight culture shock; from the outside, the stores all looked like what you’d find in expensive American shopping areas. Once you started taking a closer look however, their selection obviously catered to a different, more local crowd.
Amyrah tried on several of the more colorful scarves and I was able to see her with her with her hair down. She really was a pretty girl, with long hair as dark as her brother’s. I finally managed to get her to try one some of the dresses, promising her that nobody else would see her. It took a few dresses before she let me see her in a floor-length, long-sleeved red gown that went up to her neck but otherwise showed her curves. She fidgeted in front of me, tugging at the fabric. “It’s very tight.”
As far as I could see it was probably a size too big, but I beamed at her. “You look fantastic!”
A shy smile tugged at her lips. “I do, don’t I?” she murmured, looking at herself in the mirror. Then her face fell. “But my brother would never approve.”
“He doesn’t have to know about...”
“My brother knows everything.” She pinched her lips. “I should not have done even this.”
I tried not to let her see my own disappointment when she walked out of the dressing room in her old clothes. “Not even any of the scarves?” I asked, and saw the reluctance in her face as she shook her head.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said, lips tugging up in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Well, this didn’t turn out like I’d planned. Not that I’d had much of a plan, but I hadn’t thought things would end on a sour note. There was a lot about Arab culture I didn’t get, but I could see that Amyrah was unhappy, and I felt like much of the blame was mine. We exited the shop quietly, heading back toward the lobby, and I snuck a look at the other girl. I’d been cooped up with too much testosterone lately; first, locked in a house under constant guard, then stuck aboard a ship full of men.
What I really wanted to do was be girly, even if only for a little while, but apparently I’d screwed that up too.
“Listen,” I said, trying to salvage the day, “I had fun. I’m sorry if I pushed you down a road you didn’t like, but I’ll try to be better.” I poked at my clothing. “What I need right now is to change out of these clothes and wash up, but maybe we can meet down here afterwards?”
I didn’t realize I’d been bracing myself for a refusal until I saw her answering smile and felt the tension drain out of my body. “I would love to,” she said, her air regal but the smile showing her true feelings, and I grinned back in response.
We quickly arrived back at the lobby, and as I glanced toward the entryway I saw a dark man watching us. My smile wavered and I looked away, and then back behind us. My time with the Hamilton men, it seemed, had made me paranoid, and I nudge Amyrah when I saw another man staring in our direction. “Do you have anyone watching over you?” I murmured.
Amyrah gave me a puzzled look. “When I leave the hotel, yes, we do have security,” she replied.
Maybe that was it. An overprotective brother would probably explain the dark figures I was sure were following us. I snorted. “Men.”
I wasn’t expecting an answer, but beside me Amyrah laughed. “Yes,” she said simply, and we shared a smile before parting ways, promising to meet down here in an hour. That gave me enough time to shower and change clothes, and I was looking forward to it.
Unfortunately, the moment I came to my room, I realized that my plans were going to be difficult. Arguing male voices came from inside, and I groaned aloud as I pushed the door open. Lucas was sprawled in a chair just inside the doorway, a glass of some concoction in one hand. Nearby, Jeremiah was pacing, clearly agitated about something.
“What are you two doing in my room?” I demanded as I moved into the large living room.
Lucas raised a glass to me. “You have the biggest room,” he said lightly, gracing me with a trademark grin.
I rolled my eyes, not in the mood to deal with either man. “You two can head to your own rooms,” I snapped, folding my arms. “I need to take a shower and change clothes.”
“Fantastic!” Lucas set his drink down on the end table. “I’ll join you.”
I couldn’t do anything more than stare in shock, but Jeremiah stopped pacing at his brother’s glib statement. “Loki,” he growled, clenching his fists.
“You know, I can always tell when you’re angry,” Lucas said, pointing at his brother. “It becomes ‘Loki this’ or ‘Loki that’, which I think translates to ‘I want to wring your neck.’ No, seriously, tell me I’m wrong.”
The two men seemed to have forgotten about me, and for that I was glad. My heart was beating too fast, and I struggled to collect my thoughts. The reminder of my actions aboard the ship was painful, harder still because Jeremiah was standing right there. If I looked at it too close, the guilt threatened to eat me alive.
“Anyway,” Lucas continued, “you’ll have to excuse my brother. He found out today that he is persona non grata back in America.”
The news jarred me back to the present. “What do you mean,” I asked, “he’s not allowed back in the country?”
“Oh, nothing so interesting as that. Little brother here kept a stranglehold on the media, and with him out of the picture they’re suddenly publishing all sorts of fun facts.”
Jeremiah grunted. “I’m telling you, the timing is too much of a coincidence.”
“And I think you’re just bitter not being in total control anymore.”
“The best way to deal with this is to be there in person.” Jeremiah paced the floor, alive with nervous energy I didn’t remember seei
ng before today. “Instead, I’m stuck half the world away while my name is dragged through the mud.”
“Oh, boo hoo, poor little brother is worried about his reputation.” Lucas rolled his eyes. “Excuse me if I don’t shed a tear about the horrible loss.”
Bitterness rang loud and clear from the scarred man’s voice, and his words only served to make Jeremiah angrier. I knew I’d stepped into an argument that had been brewing for quite some time. The humorless mirth with which Lucas egged on his brother and the tense set to Jeremiah’s shoulders told me this would be a fine time to make an exit.
“Fine,” Lucas said to his brother as I turned to go, “you leave. Go home to your ivory tower. But Miss Delacourt is staying here with me.” He snorted. “You’ve proven incapable of keeping her safe. How many times has she been taken out from under your nose?”
I whirled around at my name, staring at the arms dealer incredulously. Indignation robbed me of speech, but I saw Jeremiah turn at the insult. Lucas didn’t seem to care about the danger he was in. He stared out the window over the desert skyline, sipping from his glass, as Jeremiah advanced.
There were small bottles in the bar before me, but I didn’t want to throw anything hard at them. I could tell that, in a minute, there would be enough fighting where I couldn’t do a thing. A spray nozzle lay beside the sink and I grabbed it up, aimed at the two men nearby, and pulled the trigger.
Seltzer water gushed out, dousing them and momentarily distracting them from mutually assured destruction. Lucas cursed, bolting up from the chair. Jeremiah also reversed course, backpedalling from the stream of liquid. I followed their retreats, keeping the spray trained on each man as they tried to get away. The extension for the nozzle only went so far, eventually tugging me to a stop a few feet from the bar.
“If you want to fight,” I said, giving in to anger, “do it in your own rooms. Now get out of mine!”
The ground beneath me was slippery but I kept my focus on the two men who had matching faces of incredulity. Dropping the seltzer sprayer, I lifted my chin and glared at them. “I’m going to take a shower,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “When I get out, I want both of you to be long gone.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, I swept past them and stomped down the hallway, slamming the bathroom door in an undignified fashion. The bathroom was just as gorgeous as the rest of the suite, but I was too worked up to care. Making sure the door was locked, I started the shower and grabbed a towel, stripping and stepping into the warm spray.
With the water going, I couldn’t hear anything going on outside and prayed they had left. I took my time in the shower, but eventually switched the water off and stepped out. Once I’d dried myself off, I poked my head out into the hallway. Silence greeted me. “Hello?”
No replies.
I padded down the hallway, peeking into the living room. Someone had wiped up the mess made by the seltzer water, leaving the damp rags in the bar sink, but otherwise I was alone. Huffing again, I went back to the bedroom to ready myself to meet Amyrah.
The downstairs lobby was full when the elevator doors opened, many of the people congregating at the nearby bar. Most of the people milling about were obviously westerners; I heard English being spoken with a variety of accents. I guessed it was some kind of conference just letting out from somewhere in the hotel, and hurried through the crowd toward the restaurant. I’d promised Amyrah to meet her within an hour, but had taken a few minutes too many with getting ready.
The restaurant also looked full, and I craned my neck to look for Amyrah. Sometimes I wished I was taller, as the flats I’d worn didn’t lend me much height. Squeezing through the crowd, I leaned in toward the curved bar to get what I hoped was a better view and saw a woman in a white headscarf. I wasn’t sure it was Amyrah until she waved to me, then disappeared into the crowd of people.
There weren’t as many people away from the bar itself, which made moving through the crowd easier. When I saw the woman again, I relaxed as I saw the big smile on her face. The bustle of a nearby kitchen grew louder, and as I neared Amyrah she jerked sideways suddenly, disappearing from my view.
I stopped, surprised. Craning my neck around a man who’d moved in front of me, I found I couldn’t see Amyrah anymore. My skin prickled and, shoving the man aside, I ignored his angry yell as I moved quickly to the last spot where I’d seen the Muslim girl. When I’d gotten to the spot near the kitchen door where I’d last seen her, I looked all around but saw no other white headscarves, only the flowing hair of the Western female guests.
There was a crash in the kitchen, and my head jerked sideways. I gave a moment’s pause, biting my lip as I realized I could get into real trouble if I was wrong, then barged into the kitchen. The sound of cutlery and fire rose up around me, but I could have sworn I heard a woman’s cry from my left. The kitchen staff were agitated, several of the men waving their arms in the air and shouting in Arabic, but I ignored them and took off after the cry. Several were incensed that I’d entered but I danced away from them, following what I hoped was the right lead.
I heard another angry woman’s cry and, rounding the corner, saw a man carrying a robed figure in his arms. The figure was putting up a fight, and I recognized the now-dislodged white scarf still half-covering dark hair. I passed a tray holding an empty champagne bottle and grabbed it up as a weapon. Amyrah struggled in the man’s arms, and I knew the moment she saw me because her dark eyes widened. The last of my indecision melted away and I took the last few steps necessary and brought the bottle hard against the man’s head.
He staggered, dropping Amyrah to the floor. When he turned back toward me I was already swinging the bottle a second time. This time it clipped him on the temple and he went down, sprawling across the ground as if dead. Dropping the bottle through limp fingers, I stared at the figure at my feet in horror. He was wearing hotel employee colors, and blood trickled down a gash to the right of his forehead.
Ahead of me, Amyrah struggled to stand, and I stepped over the prone man to help the girl to her feet. She was staring down at her assailant, babbling in Arabic and clearly scared out of her wits. I said her name, then repeated it before she finally raised her eyes to me. “We need to go.”
My words took a moment to register but she nodded. I grabbed her hand and pulled her after me, already lost in the maze of corridors. This looked more like the servants’ entrances than anything a hotel guest was meant to see. The walls were a pale utilitarian cream, nowhere near as decadent as the rest of the building. I pulled us through several twists and turns, then stopped and faced Amyrah. “We should get to a public area. Do you know your way out of here?”
Having something to do snapped the girl out of her shock. “The shopping area is this way,” she said, turning down yet another of the hallways. I followed close behind, wishing now that I’d kept ahold of that glass bottle. The halls in this section were mostly empty, but I knew when we grew closer to the shopping district because I could hear the hum of voices grow louder.
The door Amyrah pushed through led us out into another hallway that was different than the ones behind us. This one had mosaics on the wall and tiled floors, and I realized we were somewhere that guests would normally see. Sure enough, we spilled out directly into the main shopping area. I breathed a sigh of relief the moment I knew we were in public. Most of the people walking past ignored us, but at least I knew they were there to see if we needed help.
I nudged Amyrah. “Which way to the lobby?” All I could think about was finding Jeremiah or Lucas. They’d know what to do with this situation.
“Yes, this way.”
We walked quickly, trying not to appear like we were running from something or someone. I looked around, trying to spot anyone else out of the ordinary. For the most part we were ignored; the mall was filled with a myriad of different cultures and nationalities, none of whom seemed interested in us. We were almost to the lobby and, I hoped, safe when I saw a man on the far w
all zero in on our location. Uh oh. “Amyrah,” I murmured as the dark figure started toward us, “we may need to run.”
The shorter girl needed no encouragement; she took off immediately, and I followed right behind her. Sure enough, the man I’d been watching started after us, bringing his hand to his mouth. Oh God, I thought, there’s more of them?
Ahead of us, at the mouth of the lobby, two more dark figures appeared. We skidded to a halt, looking for somewhere else to duck and hide. The ramp however was only wood paneled walls and mosaic tile floors; no doors or exits of any kind marred its surface. Amyrah huddled close to me as the three men rapidly advanced on us.
Up toward the lobby, a familiar silhouette stood outlined by the glass entrance. “Help,” I all but screamed, and nearly collapsed in relief when the figure turned toward me. My cry made the three men pause and look toward where I’d called.
That was all the time it took for Jeremiah to reach our position.
The single man who had followed us up the ramp took off back toward the mall, but the other two waiting in the lobby weren’t as lucky. Jeremiah grabbed both, throwing one to the wall while he dealt with the other. I covered my mouth when I saw a knife appear in the other man’s hand, but the commando quickly disarmed him, then lashed out at our assailant’s knee. The man went down with a howl, and Jeremiah turned to face the other man who seemed intent on following the third man back into the crowded mall. Jeremiah swung the man around into one of the tables as I realized a crowd was forming around us.
From the lobby, large men in suits barreled toward our location. The man on the ground struggled to his feet and Jeremiah turned, swiping the man’s legs out from under him. The injured attacker went down but the distraction was all the second needed; he pushed away from the door, slipping past Jeremiah and taking off toward the mall. By then, security had arrived at our location, and Jeremiah raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. The man at our feet tried to crawl away and Jeremiah put a foot down heavily between the man’s shoulder blades, holding him on the floor.