Sheikh Defence

He glanced at his watch and then over at Craig. As if to confirm his faith in him, Craig nodded and gave a thumbs-up less than a minute after the connection broke.

“I have the coordinates,” Craig said.

Forty minutes later they landed. He left Craig to his own devices as he transferred to a sea rescue helicopter.

“I’d say it was good to see you, but unfortunately I can’t—the circumstances suck,” the pilot, Jer Keller, said. They’d flown together on a number of rescues. Jer was the same age as Faisal. He had married young and already had twin toddlers with his childhood sweetheart. But despite the differences in their home life, they both shared a passion for this. If Nassar Security hadn’t existed, Faisal would have chosen a career in sea rescue. Getting the opportunity to be involved, as rare as it was, was usually a thrill. Not this time.

“At least we have hope that someone lived.” He shook his head. Somehow the way he had pronounced those words sounded grim.

Sam Sanders, a blond man in his midforties, came up to them and shook each of their hands. He was an early retiree from the Coast Guard, an experienced member of Search and Rescue who had helped out as winchman in previous rescues.

“Sam,” Faisal said and clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Wish we met under better circumstances.”

Sam nodded in his quiet, rather stoic way. “Hopefully we’ll be successful and you’ll have use of me.” It was pretty much the last thing he said for the duration of the flight.

They’d been in the air for five minutes when Faisal moved to the back where the side doors were open.

“Better view or just being hopeful?” Jer asked through his mic.

“Both,” he said. There was no way to predict how this was going to turn out despite his hopes. All he knew was that there was a storm brewing. Already the air seemed heavier, more humid. It was the intensity of the feeling, not the humidity, that reminded him of home, of Marrakech. But it had been a long time since he’d been home for anything more than a short visit. Wyoming was home now and humidity wasn’t an issue. Not like here. He could feel the air, thick and difficult to breath. He loved the feel of open spaces, the small population, the sweeping plains and the blessed winter. The congestion of a city like Miami or the one of his birth, Marrakech, overwhelmed his senses. He’d known that since he was a boy. It was the reason why, for almost the last decade, he’d lived in Wyoming. It was a vast state with a sparse population that fit his personality like nothing else. He loved the town of Jackson. It was small, a good place to dig in one’s heels. He could never imagine going back. Big cities were fun in the moment but anything more than a day or two and he was antsy. Unfortunately he was here in Miami for as long as it took to solve this case.

They’d been flying for well over an hour. Jer and he had caught up on where each of them were in their lives. For five minutes they flew in silence.

“Do you see it?” Jer asked.

“I do.” He was hanging half out of the chopper. Ahead of them and slightly less than fifty miles off the coast of Paradise Island was a speck that didn’t fit. A minute later and it was clear that it was a small dark gray dinghy.

“Bang on, Craig,” he said as if the tech was actually present. His coordinates had been near perfect, for the craft was only a mile away from where his tech had tracked it. It was barely visible as it rose and fell in waves that were growing larger with every minute.

“Raft,” Jer said unnecessarily as he read off the coordinates. “We may have us a survivor.”

The helicopter buzzed closer and it was hard to tell who or what they might be faced with. Faisal could only hope that there were at least two people in that life raft, the right two people—Dan and Ava Adams.

Tension mixed with excitement settled within the confines of the helicopter. The odds that this could be anyone else, considering even what little they knew, were remote.

“It’s loaded,” Jer said as he dipped the helicopter and lost altitude.

His gaze swept the area while never letting the life raft leave his sight. Dan and Ava had to be alive. He refused to accept another scenario. He looked at his watch as he estimated the hours they might have been in the water.

Faisal got into position to be dropped down. The flight suit he’d donned an hour earlier seemed both familiar and restrictive. He should have a wetsuit but he hadn’t thought of that. Emotion had blinded him. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and let the adrenaline fire him up as it always did.

“One occupant,” Faisal muttered a few minutes later as he slipped the harness on and prepared to be dropped. His heart sank. That meant that one of them might not have made it.

He wasn’t going to assume anything. This could be Ava Adams or Dan Adams or it could even be someone else who had been on that yacht, someone he wasn’t aware of. For now, he was focused on rescue, nothing more.

Whoever was in the raft hadn’t moved. And it was impossible to tell from this distance if they were alive or dead.

Chapter Four

“We’ve got a survivor.” Jer’s overly enthusiastic voice seemed oddly disembodied as it came through the headset.

Faisal didn’t respond, not even to the whoop that followed Jer’s statement. Neither were something that needed a response. Neither the enthusiasm nor the words that preceded it needed confirmation. They had all seen, as the waves rocked the raft, the movement within the small craft. But the move had been slight and gave no indication as to the condition of their survivor. Those thoughts ran through his mind as he focused on the details of his descent.

Sam turned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Faisal returned the gesture feeling pumped and optimistic.

The ocean was rough and the raft was clearly visible now. In fact, they were close enough to see that the survivor was alone, and that she was no longer moving. They could also see that her feet were bare. Her peach-colored wrap barely covered her torso and was the only spot of color against the dark gray craft and the stormy gray of the ocean only hinting at blue. Her dark hair spread like tangled clumps of seaweed around her. Her body seemed to rock with the movement of the water, rising and falling, offering no resistance. It was as if she were barely alive and, despite the movement they’d seen minutes earlier, that they might be too late.

Faisal pushed that thought away. He was poised at the open doorway, wanting to move into action.

“She looks in rough shape,” Jer said as he turned the helicopter around, bringing it closer to the raft. He cleared his throat. They both knew that despite Jer’s earlier enthusiasm, which was so typical of him, that what he said now only reflected his doubt that they had a survivor at all.

“We’ll get her to Mercy in Miami.”

“I’ll let them know the status and give the Coast Guard a heads-up too.”

“Possible survivor,” he said for Jer’s benefit so that he could relay the information. He only prayed it was true. If it were, they’d got here in the nick of time. She was in the middle of nowhere and way underdressed for the overnight conditions. Water in the life raft was causing it to list and that only caused more waves to crest the top of the small craft and fill it with more water. It was only a matter of time before this life raft sank.

They were closer now and it was clearer than it had been earlier that she wasn’t dead. She’d moved. It had only been a slight, maybe involuntary action because she’d been still since but it was movement. Relief raced through him while at the same time he wished more than just the three of them were here to rescue her. If they’d had time they would have brought a medic with them. But the timing had been off and the swiftness with which they’d had to move out had prevented any of that. The only thing they could do was make tracks to the emergency room.

It was a fairly easy descent. What wasn’t going to be easy was the landing. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while but it wasn’t unfamiliar, none of it was, not the work nor the pilot he was currently working with. Jer and he had worked together before many times and, despite his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the best.

Minutes later he was lowering himself toward the raft. He waved at Sam once as he gave a direction before twisting in the wind churned up by the helicopter blades. He angled toward the raft as much as he could but the conditions were against him. The wind was kicking up faster than he’d anticipated. The life raft was rocking in the waves. Despite Jer’s expertise in keeping the helicopter in position, and Sam’s with the winch line, it was taking all his skill to keep on target.

Already, he could see that this rescue was going to be much more difficult than they’d thought. They’d factored in as much as they could. While the wind had been part of that, there was no correcting for the force of the wind twisting him as he descended. That combined with a rough ocean had both the weather and the raft working against them. She’d moved only once since that slight movement almost ten minutes ago when they’d first spotted her. Had both times only been a figment of his imagination? Had it been only the result of the freefall of the raft as it fell within the trough of the waves? Yet he’d factored that, and they hadn’t thought so at the time. Still, he wondered.

Dark hair streamed down her back. He was close enough now to see that she was slim and long legged, and while he shouldn’t be sure without seeing her face, he knew without doubt who she was. And his heart pounded in response to that knowing.

He wanted to hurry the last few seconds up, get on the raft. But he couldn’t rush, couldn’t afford a mistake. Instead he took in details, as if that would take the edge off his impatience. She had little on, a silk cover that was soaked and covered nothing. What looked like a man’s jacket was draped over her ankles like it had slipped down during the night. Her face was hidden from him by her hair. That was a concern for she was lying facedown. She could have suffocated against the rubber or drowned in the water that covered some of the bottom of the dinghy.

Ava. It had to be her. But if it was, this wasn’t how he’d imagined their reunion. This wasn’t how he’d imagined her at all. It had been five years since he’d seen her. She’d texted him a couple of times and he’d texted back and then they’d both gotten caught up in their own lives. They’d been friends and yet there’d been something else there. They’d both felt it and yet they’d never acted on it.

Ava. He’d never forgotten her.

It was odd to be thinking such things in the dark heart of a rescue. All his attention should be focused on landing in rough seas. Normally he would have focused but nothing about this situation was normal. His feet tentatively touched the edge of the raft and then lifted off. It was too small. He didn’t know if it would hold both of them.

He had to try.

She moved.

Even in the awkward position he was in, relief shot through him. The wind twisted him yet again and he fought to come in at the right angle, to position himself with feet on the raft, not in the water. Either way, he’d get to her, but getting wet wasn’t in his plan. At least, it wasn’t the option he’d choose.

He pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to concentrate on the task ahead of him. He was hanging just over the life raft. As he determined how much of his weight the small vessel could take, she turned onto her side and opened her eyes. He put his foot down on the rubber to stop a slight spin. It was the last thing he did for over half a minute as he was caught in a memory he’d thought was long forgotten. It had been a youthful connection replaced by the reality called life and the space of five years. But the depths of those blue eyes reminded him that he’d never forgotten. The connection was brief. She closed her eyes again with a sigh as if she knew that she was safe even as she slipped back into unconsciousness. He couldn’t waste time looking at her pale face or the full lips that were almost as pallid as the porcelain skin of her slim neck. There wasn’t time to consider anything—she needed to get medical help. He went over her with quick hands and eyes. He made sure that there wasn’t any injury that needed immediate attention, no blood or awkward positioning of limbs. There was nothing except an unnatural stillness that meant she’d slipped back into unconsciousness. A pass of his hand beneath her nostrils told him that she continued to breathe.

He had to get her into the helicopter and to the hospital as quickly as possible. The mysteries of why she was here and where her father was would have to remain just that. The US Coast Guard, the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association and a swarm of volunteers were searching the waters for the yacht. Hopefully Dan Adams was still on board and there’d be answers. If they found the yacht without him, despite having found Ava, the chances of succeeding twice were slim. The Atlantic was a big place and even now the waves were rough with weather reports saying it wasn’t going to get any better. His focus returned to where Ava Adams lay unmoving with nothing but six square feet of air-inflated rubber to protect her from the elements. She wasn’t even wearing a life jacket. That reality horrified him as he thought of all the possibilities and of how lucky she’d been. The Ava he knew was a poor swimmer. If she’d ended up in the water, she would have drowned in waves like this. She’d been lucky he’d arrived when he had.

It was five minutes before he had her harnessed and buckled against him. It had been awkward trying to balance on the dinghy and maneuver her into the harness. Now, he held her tight against his chest, his arm around her, her breasts pressed against his chest. It seemed inappropriate and wrong. And yet all he could do was hold one arm over the harness that held her and the other a safe distance away as he held the winch line. He looked up and signaled Sam to take them up. The roar of the helicopter blades and the crash of the waves below them made communicating impossible. The line twisted, and they turned, facing away from the empty life raft as the line slowly took them up.

She moaned and it was odd hearing her voice for the first time in so long. She opened her eyes. He hadn’t expected that nor her unseeing gaze. It was as unexpected as the first time. This time her eyes held nothing but desperation and panic.

“Find my father.” Her words were so low and breathy. It was like it took all her energy just to breathe.

“We will,” he said. He held her tighter, her body damp and cold, and her curves pressed into him, teasing him in ways that he could not ignore.

His thoughts were blown away with her next words.

“He’ll kill him.”

Chapter Five

He’ll kill him.

With Ava safely in the helicopter, her words still echoed in his mind. Unfortunately, after that cryptic statement, she’d passed out. There was no clue as to who she might be referring to. The yacht had officially held two passengers, Dan Adams and Ava. Did someone want them dead? And if so, who?

They hadn’t arrived a moment too soon.

Getting her into the helicopter was difficult, getting her on the stretcher, no easier. She’d been limp, and because of that, dead weight. She’d floated back into unconsciousness for a while after he’d gotten her into the helicopter and before he’d pulled up the rescue gear. A few minutes, not a whole lot more.

She grimaced and then squinted as if she couldn’t focus. She wasn’t looking at anything; in fact, her eyes were half-closed and hidden by long dark lashes. Her eyes opened a little wider but again remained unfocused on either him or anything else.

He remembered those eyes so full of intelligence and passion. He remembered the vivid blue piercing challenge of them and he remembered the vulnerability behind her shrewd intellect. Despite what he’d told himself over the years, he’d forgotten nothing about her. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Irrelevant. He needed to keep her safe, get her warm and get her to the hospital.

The only assessment he could make was that she didn’t seem to be seeing him. She wasn’t looking at him or around him—instead it was as if she didn’t see him or anything else at all. It was like she was asleep with her eyes open.

“What happened, Ava?” he asked in an undertone. Sam had moved from the winch just behind him up to the copilot seat beside Jer. Faisal was alone with Ava. Her misty blue gaze seemed to float past him, not taking him in or even her surroundings. She seemed to slip in and out of awareness. Her moments of lucidity were sometimes just moments of opening her eyes. She was unfocused as if nothing was part of her reality. He didn’t expect an answer. He wasn’t sure why he had asked the question. She was in a fragile state but at least now she had a chance. He hoped that they could say the same about her father, Dan Adams.

“Dad,” she whispered as she closed her eyes. But that one word wasn’t an answer, it only raised more questions.

“No, Ava. It’s me, Faisal.” He looked at the face that he remembered so well. The high cheekbones were pale, taut over the bones of her face. A few freckles that he hadn’t known she had seemed to stand out against her pale skin. There was so little that had changed and yet so much. She’d been twenty the last time he’d seen her and he’d been twenty-two. For the majority of the years since then, he’d headed the Wyoming branch of Nassar Security. He hadn’t forgotten Ava. He’d gone one way and she’d gone another. She’d continued with her schooling. He’d heard from Emir only weeks ago that she’d graduated with a PhD in psychology. Life had happened to them and their friendship had slipped under the radar for a time.

There had always been the promise of something more. But she’d been too young and he’d been with someone else. They’d been friends but always there had been the hint of something more. In another time, if he had been wiser things might have been different.

Seconds later, she opened her eyes. He was startled, for it looked like she had been crying. As if she knew, even in her half-conscious state, that she’d been the sole survivor. She closed her eyes again without having focused on him or on anything else in the chopper. It was like she was there and yet wasn’t.

“How’s she doing?” Jer asked.

“In and out of consciousness,” he said.

“He killed him,” she murmured a few minutes later as she opened and then again closed her eyes.

There was no point asking who. Sooner or later she would come to and then she would remember and be able to tell him what had happened. If it was too much later, they would find the information by other means.

He pulled another blanket over her. He reached for a third, rolled it and put it under her calves, thus elevating her legs. At least the fact that she’d shivered was evidence that she hadn’t fallen too far into her unconscious state.

He needed to get some heat on her. More important, he knew that he had to get her out of the wet clothes that clung to her skin. The wet material was only chilling her even further and making the blanket useless. He pulled the blankets back, using one of them to shield what he could of her body. He peeled away the flimsy material. Her skin was damp. He tried to preserve her modesty. But there was only so much he could do. He left her panties on. They were damp too but what he’d done had been enough. At least she wouldn’t arrive in the emergency room completely naked. Not that it mattered, but yet it did matter and he wasn’t sure why. He tucked another blanket around her.

He put a hand on Ava’s forehead. The contact sent a tingle through his hand as if there were still a connection between them. But there was nothing, all of that was over. It was stupid of him to think of that. Silly to remember something that had been nothing but a flirtatious friendship despite what he had wanted. It had been a long time ago. They were different people. He was sure she’d changed, much as he had. He regretted not following up with her. If he had then he’d know who she’d become, what had happened to the happy girl with the quick wit. He took his attention to the immediate. She was warm. There was a sheen to her forehead, like a fever might be developing. Her forehead was moist and not, he knew, from her time in the dinghy. He hoped she didn’t have a fever but the heat he was feeling didn’t bode well. It didn’t matter. They would get her to the hospital and she’d be fine. It was the location of her father that was more disconcerting. For his fate was unknown.

“Dad,” she murmured.

This time there was expectation in the way she said the word, as if she thought her father might make an appearance.

“Find my father,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“It’s Faisal,” he said, hoping that his voice might somehow bring her back to consciousness.

He leaned closer. “You’re alright.” It wasn’t a question but a statement meant to reassure her, to let her know that she was no longer alone.

She pushed him away but it was barely a tap as her one hand dropped and her other didn’t even lift. Nor did she open her eyes. Her head moved to the side as if she were trying to do more but was too weak. “Kill...”

“What?” Sam asked.

“What the hell?” Jer’s voice came through the headset. “What’s she talking about? Kill who, what?”

“I wish I knew,” Faisal said. His attention never left her face. But Ava had closed her eyes again as if that one disturbing word was too much. “Maybe something about what she’s been through. Maybe nothing.”

“Nothing. I doubt that,” Jer replied. “Kill is a fairly intense word in any context.”

“True,” Faisal agreed.

“I’ve been in contact with Miami’s Mercy Hospital. They’re the closest and they’re expecting us.” Jer’s voice came over his earpiece. “Contacted Search and Rescue too. They’ll pass the info on that we’ve found Ava Adams.”

Below, the ocean swept out around them but there was no sign of the missing yacht nor was there any sign of land. Wherever Dan Adams was, they could only hope he was alive and could hang on. The horizon stretched out in front of them and seemed to mock the fact that help was now minutes away.

* * *

BEN WHYTE ROLLED over and moaned. The sun was glaring in his eyes and he couldn’t stand to look at it. He’d dragged himself to shore in the wee hours of the night. He’d lost track of time during a swim that had seemed to go on forever. He hadn’t realized that he’d been that far from shore. It was all supposed to be so much easier than it actually had been. The dispute and resulting fight should never have happened.

Dan Adams, he thought with disdain. The man was an idiot. He hadn’t thought so only days ago, but it was clear now. Dan had signed his own death certificate by admitting what he knew and then confronting him with it. The Dan of the past would never have done that. He would have silently turned him in.

He looked behind him where he could see the distant rise of Paradise Island hotels and other high-rises. But on this strip of sand there was nothing. He needed to ferry over to the main island where the cruise ships were. From there he could slip on the below deck crew entrance on a ship heading for Florida. His hand slid into his pocket and pulled out a debit card and a small wad of soggy bills. He was taking a chance but he could use the card to get a ticket on the ferry.

He guesstimated that he’d swum for well over an hour before collapsing on this stretch of sand and passing out exhausted for the rest of the night. The only thing motivating him to stay alive was the fact that there was too much at stake for him to die. He was one transaction away from being a rich man and that idiot Dan Adams had almost ruined it all, him and his damn daughter. The meddlesome little witch.

He’d needed Dan. His reputation in their partnership was gold. The land didn’t exist, at least not land owned by him, but by the time the damn foreigners found out about it, it would be too late. Except Dan wanted to pull out of the partnership.