15
ARIS
FUCK ME. CONSTANT STREAKS of fear, fucking worry, and savage goddamn fury pounded through me.
Jetting across the Straight of Hormuz, I kept refreshing the blinking icon on my phone screen, a high wind razoring across my face.
Yas manned the helm, Konstantin beside her wore a look of grim determination as if he knew what Roya meant. That Roya was actually everything to me, but I’d just been too stupid to acknowledge what had been right in front of my eyes.
Other speedboats zipped along on either side of us, carrying more soldiers, more weapons.
The water lapped, curling up foam, waves funneling back from the aerodynamic prows.
I’d always thought the Persian Gulf was beautiful, scenic. Now it was nothing more than a motherfucking obstacle.
Thoughts of Roya and the physical harm that could be done to her robbed me of my sanity, stealing my breath, making my muscles bulge and tense.
I believed her Uncle Abdullah was unstable enough to beat her, to abuse her in atrocious ways she might never recover from.
She could easily be raped, her purity stripped from her.
Blyad.What if some fuck hacked the bangles off of her? What if she was moved before I reached her?
Dread drilled bone-deep inside of me, plunging like a tight fist in my guts.
Nothing would settle my shit until there was blood on my hands from the killings I’d undertake, and Roya was back in my arms.
I tried to turn the worst thoughts off, shifting toward Zain who scanned across the brilliant blue water as if seeking the jutting promontory of the Iranian coast.
“What do you know of this Abdullah?” I asked him.
Stark eyes met mine. “No scruples to speak of, just foolish ambition. And I believe he may be a lunatic.”
Dragging a palm down my face, I couldn’t swallow over the huge stone in my throat.
Then something else occurred to me, and I refocused on the other man. “You and Roya never . . .”
How useless an emotion like jealousy was at a time like this, but Zain had more access to Roya on a daily basis than I ever had.
He lived in the palace that had been Roya’s prison.
His eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. “No, my friend. Not at all. We weren’t exactly on mingling terms, if you know what I mean.”
A tiny bloom of ridiculous relief made me huff a breath.
Then more guilt sank over me. “How was she treated after I brought her back?”
I probably didn’t want the answer, but I’d take full responsibility for whatever had happened to her, whatever would happen to her.
“You mean, other than being forced into an unpleasant marriage with that old bastard?”
Pressure tore at my heart. “Da.”
“Horribly. Disgracefully. And like she was the disgrace.” He squinted at me. “The Sheikh ordered all of her belongings—the clothes and stuff from the hotel—to be destroyed and left in her suite. Then she was locked in with all those ruined possessions and permitted no contact with anyone in the household.”
Because of me . . .
I was such a fucking asshole, there was no denying it.
“That swine Hamzah Al Waleedi was allowed to have an audience with her yesterday,” Zain continued, studying me.
“Fuck.” I slammed my fist down on the gunwale. “And how did that go?”
“I was on guard outside.” A slow spreading grin widened his lips. “I believe she slapped him.”
Grinning slightly too, I shook my head. “That does sound like her.”
I just hoped she held onto her sass and spirit after whatever that maniac Abdullah decided to do to her.
The hours were slipping away, but that icon kept blinking Roya’s location, showing her as static on the other side of this fucking body of water.
Yas started throttling down near a buoy, and I grabbed her shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Retrieving the cocaine shipment. Might as well not waste a trip.”
She’d clearly lost her mind. Yes, we did retrieve coke drop-offs from certain strategically placed buoys dotted around the Gulf, but now was not the motherfucking time.
Rising over her as she leaned to the side of the craft, I levered the throttle up to full speed again. Yas got knocked back in her seat but came up grinning with the netted load of bricks.
I hauled her from the captain’s chair and took over.
She looked at me quizzically. “Never known you to put pussy in front of profit.”
Half turning, I nailed Zain with a stare. “You will tell the Sheikh none of this.”
“I have no intentions of repeating or reporting anything back to that asshole.”
Good man.
The boat ride seemed endless but, finally, Roya’s icon got bigger as we got closer. Then, I saw it. Rising up from a rugged ochre clifftop sat a goddamned stone fortress complete with battlements and squat turrets.
Not exactly an Airbnb rental but definitely—unfortunately—a fortified stronghold.