The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) (15 page)

“I forgot to have his papers brought along. I'll have them sent.” She didn't immediately move, even when the gelding was led away.

He bent his head to put his mouth near her ear, hands holding her hips so she couldn't step forward. “I think you did that on purpose, so you could stay here longer and wait for their arrival.”

Swatting at his wrists, she twisted her hips out of his hands and faced him. Scoffing, she brushed aside the loose strands of hair that were blowing every which way. “That's ridiculous. Your ego is bigger than the world. I'll have them sent
after
I return home.”

If he'd been of the mind, he could have easily trapped her against his body and refused to let go. But unless he knew she liked it and wanted him to, he wouldn't force the issue. Which led him to consider what kind of a lover she would make, sometimes soft and gentle, other times fiery and stubborn.

“Does that mean you're still leaving in the morning?”

“Yes, it does. In fact, I need to go pack. I'll be leaving before dawn, so if you could make the proper arrangements to fly me home, I would appreciate it.” Sessily turned, then paused to say, “Congratulations on your win.”

And people said
he
was an enigma. Ahsan regarded her with a steady look that seemed to make her slightly uncomfortable. She shifted weight on her feet, and he
had that sensation once more that there was something she wasn't saying. Since she was so determined to leave, he saw no reason to bait her to stay.

“Right, then. I'll have someone bring up the keys to the car you're going to take, and the information about your flight.” Without saying another word, he stalked past her for the palace.

Fantastic. She'd offended him. Did it matter? Maybe he deserved to be offended. Sessily blew another piece of hair out of her face and watched him walk off. Probably to go deal with his growing harem or to order the kidnapping of more. With the brand of his hands still burning through her jeans to her skin, she followed in his wake, unable to catch up without jogging.

Entering the courtyard, she wound her way past the pretty scenery to the door he'd already disappeared through. Once inside, she only caught a glimpse as he rounded into a doorway at the far end of the hall.

This was the way it needed to happen. Distance between them would allow her time to come up with a plan. But the more she thought about using the contents of the vial, the more heartsick she became. She wasn't a cold-blooded killer, yet if she did nothing, then terrible things would happen to Iris. Rubbing her forehead with her fingers, she ascended to her suite and closed the door.

For an hour, she paced. Paced and contemplated, paced and fretted, paced and threw out no less than ten ideas on how to get around her situation. The setting of the sun beyond her balcony doors was a constant reminder of the time crunch. Her opportunity to use the contents of the vial was fading fast. She had to sprinkle the powder on food during a meal, or in a drink, and if she didn't do something quick, she would go downstairs to find he'd already eaten and wasn't hungry.

Then what would she do? If she pushed him to take another meal, he might get suspicious. Dropping it in a drink was a second option, no less tricky than the first.

Think, think, think.
What to do? She wanted to just grab a car and flee the scene. Get as far away as she could. This was an impossible task, one that made her more nauseated and worried by the second. Now that the time was upon her, she couldn't make her feet go to the door and downstairs to find him. To pretend like nothing was wrong, to dump a toxic addition over his food knowing that with each bite, he would eventually die.

No. No, she couldn't—wouldn't—do it. There was another way. But what? Wringing her hands, she failed to come up with a single 'out'. As darkness descended in full, the stress to do
something
became overwhelming.

After a quick shower to wash away the dust and sweat from the race, she changed into a pair of cool linen slacks of cream and a sage green shirt of silk. The slinky material felt good on her overheated skin. Affixing her newly washed and dried hair half up-half down, secured with a thin barrette, she made her way to the first floor, intending to find Ahsan.

She didn't make it more than a few steps before a shocking sight met her in the foyer. The women, all of them, were being escorted to the front doors. Ahsan was there, along with several other members of his staff. A running engine beyond on the drive suggested the women were being taken away from the palace.

Two of the girls glanced Sessily's way, one with a look of calculation, the other with what appeared to be guilt.

Fear shot straight through her gut. Had the women told Ahsan her plans? Had they bartered for their freedom, as the one suggested they might, if Sessily went back on her word? But they hadn't given her enough time. Ahsan's men might have scared them into confession as well, the truth spilling out in order to be spared any pain. Perhaps the women had no choice, and rather than experience more torture at the hands of their captors, had opted to tell what they knew.

It put Sessily in the terrible position that she might now be in Ahsan's cross-hairs. What would he do? Would his amiable disposition disappear to be replaced with an Ahsan she'd never seen? Frozen in
place, Sessily wasn't sure what to do. Ahsan hadn't seen her yet, there was still time to disappear and escape. Even if she had to go overland through the desert in the dark, it was better than becoming his prisoner. It
wasn't
better for Iris, however—unless she could come up with some convincing lie about escaping for this reason or that. Bashir couldn't hold it against her, or her sister, if she'd had no choice but to flee.

Backtracking to her room, intent on retrieving her phone and a couple bottles of water stocked in a small fridge, along with better shoes, she worked on the reasons for the need to leave. Once she'd found shelter somewhere, she would be forced to contact Bashir to explain. The more realistic her plan, the better for her and Iris.

Ten minutes later, with athletic shoes on her feet, phone in her pocket and the water tucked under her elbow, she made her way back down to the foyer, finding it empty of the women—of everyone. Ahsan wasn't anywhere to be seen, and hadn't come up to her room to berate her, or worse, for attempting to free the women. No one else had come, either, leaving Sessily to believe she'd gotten lucky and found an 'in between' few minutes to get herself gone before Ahsan exacted revenge.

Exiting out the back door, she traversed the courtyard, nodding to a few security members as she passed, relieved when none stopped her. Ahsan must have thought to handle her himself.

At the stables, there was one hand working late into the evening that Sessily had to deal with. She pretended to be as nonchalant as she could.

“Can I help you, Miss?” he asked in halting English. He was swarthy skinned, tall and thin and much less broad than his boss. Young, too, perhaps in his late teens.

“I just wanted to come say a last goodbye to my horse, that's all. I won't be in your way, will I?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, no. Please.” One hand gestured toward a far stall where the gelding had been shacked up for the night.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” Sessily stepped on, brisk strides putting quick distance between them. The gelding's stall happened to be around the corner, out of sight, which would further aid her escape. Sliding the bottles into her pockets now that there was no one to wonder about the odd shape against her thighs, she bypassed the gelding's stall and discreetly let herself out one of the back doors.

Beyond the first large pasture, Sessily experienced her first breath of hesitation. The desert stretched far and wide an expanse so encompassing and intimidating that she second guessed her decision to march off into the unforgiving sands. If she got lost out here, which was entirely possible, the two bottles of water wouldn't last long. She couldn't follow the road leading toward the private airstrip, either, or someone traveling along it might see her.

There had to be other roads near the airstrip, though, leading toward towns deeper inland or toward the coast. All she needed to do was reach one of them, call Bashir, and explain that she'd been forced to leave. Unhappy and annoyed, he would likely have to come get her anyway. She knew too much to risk letting her go.

What happened then, she couldn't guess. Perhaps Bashir, realizing his plot had failed, would send the girls home and start over with some new plan.

Glancing back to the palace that rose higher than the stables in the distance, she realized that after this, there was no going back to the way things had been between her and Ahsan. If she embarked on this journey, any trust he'd built in her would be
shattered.

Again, she had to ask herself why it mattered. She'd seen the proof of what his real life was like in
both text and face-to-face. He wasn't the man he pretended to be. His own brother, for reasons she could only guess at, wanted him dead. The circumstances were far more complicated than she'd expected them to be. If he'd given her
any
reason at all to believe he wasn't involved in the trafficking of human flesh, she might have gone to him and spilled the whole story. Might have confided in him,
trusted
him.

There was a small part of her that still wanted to. A desperate piece that argued there was more to what she'd seen than met the eye. To fall back on their attraction and banter, to go with the gut instinct that said he was not like his brother.

What her heart wanted, and what her head demanded, were two different things. The reality was that she had to trust her eyes. Trust the proof she'd read and seen. And the cold, hard truth was that it appeared he'd pulled the wool over many people's eyes.

With renewed determination, she headed off across the sand, marking the place she knew the road to be. Following it with her eyes, she imagined the curves and straightaways, even if she couldn't see them, landing on the general direction she thought the airstrip to be. It wasn't hundreds of miles from the strip to the palace, and she decided that sooner than later, the tall, blinking lights denoting the air strip's presence in the desert should come into view within an hour, two at the most. She would use that as a guide to find the road and follow it the opposite direction, toward the nearest town.

The walk would give her time to come up with a believable reason for her escape.

She only hoped Bashir wouldn't harm Iris in the meantime.

. . .

With every last ounce of questioning behind him, Ahsan saw the last woman into the back of the second vehicle and closed the door. For the last half hour, he'd stood on his porch and repeatedly assured the women they would endure no harm in leaving. He meant to see them home, or to the location of their choosing, with no gimmicks or tricks. Many suffered extreme paranoia and needed to hear him make promises for their safety.

Earlier, it had been like pulling teeth to get first one, then the rest, to finally break their silence and speak. The replies, some of them at least, had been illuminating. Bashir's first group, the 'dancers' sent to the gala, had all been given as little information as necessary to do their job. Which had been to 'please' Ahsan and make sure to be seen by as many people as possible upon arrival at the party. Afterward, they had been instructed to do as Ahsan asked, or else. Their backgrounds were varied and difficult, but he assured them time and again that he was intent on seeing them safely home. Where ever that may be. The second, newer group rescued by his brethren could give little in the way of detail barring a few blurry descriptions and fuzzy locations after their kidnappings. They'd been hood-sacked or taken in the dark, preventing them from getting a good look at their captors or whereabouts.

Still. He extracted a few nuggets of information that were worthy of follow up. With any luck, they would eventually lead the Royal Elite members to the center of this new ring, and possibly back to Bashir.

Inside, he closed the door and pushed a hand through his hair. One major task down, several to go.

He glanced at the staircase as he passed, tempted to go up and see how Sessily was faring. She hadn't been all that receptive to him earlier, and his previous annoyance still lingered.

He'd promised to let her drive one of his cars to the airport in the morning, and he set one of his men to the task of digging up the keys to a suitable SUV. Instead of taking them up himself, he had them delivered on a tray outside her door, left for her to find. Allowing her to leave without so much as a goodbye wasn't in his nature as the host of his household, yet he'd had the distinct impression she meant to go without saying goodbye, either. That their exchange earlier was the last he would hear from her before she departed for home.

Halfway to his office, his cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

“Yeah.”

“I tracked her all the way back to a little village in Romania. It seems her mother died when she was fourteen. The father left for war in a neighboring skirmish and as far as I can tell, hasn't been heard from since. A sister, Iris Pavel, hasn't been seen in weeks. If this information from locals is correct, Sessily works as a baker's aid and has nothing to do with any stable,” Eli said.

Ahsan frowned as he walked. A baker's aid? “I knew about the mother, and that the father had been 'away on business' or something. But I thought it had to do with the stables, not war. Are you sure she's not affiliated with a small set up there?”

“Not that I've discovered. Anyone who knows her all point to a small bakery shop, which I plan to visit soon. Someone mentioned she used to exercise horses for a local, but that was all. She isn't in charge of any stable of any size or note.”

Ahsan grunted and stepped into his suite, closing the door behind him. “All right, so she works as a baker's aid in a small town--”