YazminaLion Are (8 page)

“Yazmina,” a voice called through the broken window.

She tilted up her head. “Arcan!”

“Give me your hand! We’ll get you out of here.”

Carefully, she climbed through the window. Arcan scooped her up and carried her in his arms.

Yazmina couldn’t contain her tears. “How did you…? I thought you were dead!”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried.

Arcan was alive.

She was saved.

Chapter Nine

Fatah Al-Rahad sat in front of a magnificent teakwood desk he’d imported from Bali. Usually, books, papers, writing instruments, and his high-powered laptop were sprawled on this desk. This time, he only had a five-thousand-piece wooden jigsaw puzzle on it. It was custom-made, and the picture depicted a pride of lions frolicking in the Serengeti sun.

This pride of lions was unique. Usually, a common pride consisted of a ruling male alpha, a couple of younger males, some lionesses and cubs. This particular pride consisted of only male lions.

The puzzle he was working on right now was from a picture he’d snapped himself two years prior when he was on vacation in Tanzania. His girlfriend back then was a scientist who studied the Serengeti ecosystem. His interest in wildlife had started because of her. At that time, his curiosity about that specific pride had led him into some extensive research about lions.

Indeed, such a pride was damnably unique. Perhaps it was an anomaly that it existed in the world. Fatah could barely contain his excitement when he discovered their secret. That abnormal pride had turned out to be shapeshifters. A group of humans with an abnormal genetic disposition that allowed them to change into animals at will. It bent the laws of physics and put a hole in the theory of evolution.

Fatah himself was a realist at heart, but born as the heir of a wealthy sheikh, he had to hide his idealistic views to fit in. The people where he came from were religious and judgmental, with thousand-year-old customs that sometimes suffocated him. He was glad that he’d spent most of his youth overseas, studying in Great Britain and America. His education had enabled him to widen his knowledge and his views.

Once he’d stumbled on the K’stal pride, Fatah had semi-obsessively observed them. Their mating habits. Their adaptability with the environment. He’d learned everything he could about them. And he kept it to himself. He never intended to share it with the world.

The K’stal pride was his delightful little secret.

The wooden puzzle was almost complete—only three pieces left. Fatah paused for a cup of warm tea. He eyed the puzzle pieces. Like the puzzle, soon his plan would come to fruition. He’d calculated every possibility that could go wrong with his plan, but he was confident that as long as he pushed the pawns in the correct direction, everything would go as planned.

His beloved sister would be able to leave the country with the man she loved.

Fatah put down his cup and finished the puzzle. He looked at it with blossoming pride. He’d enjoyed complicated games like this one ever since he was little. Unlike his father, who’d always been brash in making decisions. The Al-Rahad family had been wealthy for five generations. His grandfather had been a shrewd merchant. Unfortunately, his father wasn’t. His father was a spendthrift and a bad businessman. Under his father, their family fortune had been dwindling from its former glory, but Fatah planned to restore that. As soon as he got his master’s degree from Cambridge, he’d persuade his father to retire, and he’d put everything in order.

His younger brothers, Daneem and Murtaza, were more like their father—hotheaded and rash. When they heard that their youngest sibling had run away from the arranged marriage, Daneem’s first reaction was to punish Yazmina for her defiance. Daneem had flown in from Los Angeles screaming about an honor killing.

The Al-Rahad family was known as modern and progressive in the tight religious community and never allowed themselves to be associated with extremists, but his second younger brother had mingled with the wrong crowd in L.A. Luckily, Fatah was able to put a lid on it and promised his father he’d handle everything appropriately.

The door of his study room crashed open and Daneem marched inside. “They’ve taken Yazmina!” Daneem looked upset.

“Who?” Fatah pretended he was shocked.

“I don’t know! Murtaza said it was the same people who took her in the first place. That American—the Yankee.”

“Daneem, how many times have I told you, not all Americans are Yankees. During the civil war—”

“Yankee… whatever, we have to get her back! How can we face Father when he learns Yazmina has been snatched away again? How can he face Chief Jabbur?”

Yes, indeed. How could Father face Chief Jabbur in the first place when that damn Bedu asked for my sister as payment for the cursed horse
? Fatah thought darkly. He had opposed his father’s decision strongly from the beginning. It was a laughable demand at first. At least that was what he thought. How dare that filthy man from the backwater desert ask his father to give up his only daughter? It was preposterous. Only Fatah hadn’t calculated how much influence Chief Jabbur had on his father. He couldn’t fathom what his father was thinking when he decided to give up Yazmina. It was unimaginable! But the worst was yet to come. Fatah was left to fend off the unwelcome questions from relatives and friends while his father strutted around haughtily as if he’d done a righteous thing; he was a man of his word.

Fatah had sworn it would be the last foolishness his father would ever do.

He also knew that Yazmina had been crushed by her father’s decision, but as a girl, she didn’t have a voice. From a spy Fatah had planted in the house, he found out that his sister was planning a daring escape. He admired her guts. However, Yazmina’s plan was full of holes. Their cousins in New York would never betray his father; they were deeply indebted to the family. If Yazmina went to them, Fatah had no doubt they’d sell her out. Besides, Fatah didn’t want his sister arriving in America in a crate. There had to be another way to save her without anyone knowing he’d helped.

A friend in immigration had notified him that one of the Rarhs had come to Dubai, and Fatah saw this as an opportunity to help Yazmina. His sister needed somebody who was strong and wouldn’t be influenced by the long reach of the Al-Rahad family. Fatah himself couldn’t contain his excitement when he thought of matching his sister with Arcan Rarh. Rarh was single, and he was well off. His personality and demeanor had made Fatah sure he’d take good care of Yazmina.

And the opportunity presented itself.

Fatah ordered his men to capture Arcan Rarh while he was in his lion form and put him on the same ship as his sister. He arranged to have the captain throw Yazmina into the lion cage.

It was a big gamble, but it paid off.

Having studied the K’stal pride for the last two years, Fatah knew none of them would turn away from anyone who needed them.

Fatah’s intricate plan went into motion.

However, it didn’t go quite as he’d expected. Daneem sneaked behind his back and hired some mercenaries to retrieve Yazmina; the hired muscle had even wounded Rarh.

Fatah stepped in when Yazmina was retrieved by the mercenaries. He knew, deep inside, that Arcan Rarh would do anything to get Yazmina back.

Like pieces of a puzzle that fit into the picture, Fatah’s prediction came true. Arcan and his pride had come for Yazmina.

The last piece of the puzzle was for him to execute his part.

Fatah had to distract Daneem and his henchmen so Yazmina could safely leave the country.

“Did you tell Father about this?” asked Fatah, putting out an air of disapproval.

“Yes. Father contacted the police to put a watch on the borders. Ten minutes ago, we had a hit.”

“We did?” Fatah was alarmed.

“They reported that a man matching the description of the one who took Yazmina was spotted in Dubai Airport. We need to be there when they arrest him.”

Fatah got up immediately. “Have Nasri prepare the car. We have no time to spare.”

Dubai International Airport was one of the busiest airports in the world. When Fatah and Daneem arrived in the marble-gleaming atrium, the director of the facility and the captain of the Dubai police were waiting for them. They briefly exchanged greetings.

“Our security personnel noted that a Caucasian man similar to the wanted person boarded a South African Airways flight not long ago. A hundred and ninety-two centimeters tall, a hundred kilograms in weight. Blond hair. The station master has ordered the plane not to take off, giving us chance to capture this person,” the airport director explained.

“Where’s the plane now?” asked Daneem impatiently. He and the administrator from Blue Ocean both looked eager to nab the subject. The mercenaries had been promised a million dollars in additional bonuses if they could catch the man Yazmina had run away with.

“In Terminal Three.”

“Excuse me,” Fatah interrupted. “I’m more concerned about my sister’s well-being. Have you located her by any chance?”

“My apologies, sir. We haven’t been able too. Please understand that we have millions of passengers going through this airport each day. Even with the facial recognition software employed at the gate, it is still a daunting task. We’ve been on high alert since the warning was issued. So far, we’ve got nothing.” The director inclined his head.

“What about the other venue?” Fatah asked the police captain.

“We’ve been working with the port authority on this matter. If your sister is still in the city, we’ll find her,” said the captain with confidence.

Fatah nodded slightly.

“We’re wasting time here!” said Daneem with urgency. “We want to apprehend that suspect.”

The director spread his hands and they followed in his footsteps. It took them quite some time to reach Terminal Three, where international flights arrived and departed every hour. They exited the building and drove in an open-top vehicle towards the plane. The South African Airways flight had left for the runway before the stationmaster cancelled their takeoff status and ordered their return to the terminal.

“How did you spot the suspect, Director?” asked Fatah.

“One of our security personnel flagged him as he boarded the plane. He immediately called this to our attention,” said the director.

“Do you have the name of this passenger?”

“Michael Sutton. His passport was issued by the British embassy.”

“He must be traveling with a fake passport,” said Daneem quickly.

The director looked uncertain. “If he is, we would have caught this sooner at the gate. He must have an excellent forgery.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said the captain.

Up ahead, the body of the SAA airplane came into view. The hatch was open and a long ladder was connected to the hardtop. Several ground personnel were crowded around the ladder, waiting for them.

Fatah and the others got out of the vehicle, and one of the ground personnel approached the director. He produced a passenger manifest for the SAA flight. The director went through it carefully then turned to Fatah. “Michael Sutton is on board. Seat 16A, economy class.”

The two security specialists and their administrator immediately climbed the ladder into the plane. Daneem and the captain followed. Fatah boarded behind the director.

Inside the plane, the passengers were restless. Some of them complained to the aircrew, and the rest were more interested in seeing what was going on. The captain and the security specialists located the suspect.

The captain compared the person of interest with the document he had. “Are you Michael Sutton?” he asked in heavily accented English.

The man looked flustered. “Yes, I am. What’s going on?”

“Could you step aside, please?”

“What the hell is this all about?”

“Please, step aside and present your documentation.” The captain’s voice rose a notch.

The man named Michael Sutton obeyed gingerly.

Daneem scowled and turned to Fatah.
“Layssa howa. It’s not him
.
”

“No, he’s not Mr. Rarh,” Fatah parroted.

He checked his watch. Two-thirty PM. He smiled in secret. They wouldn’t find Arcan Rarh and Yazmina here. The two of them were in Al-Maktoum airport, on a private charter. Fatah had facilitated the rental of a new Dassault Falcon private jet to the Rarh party. Judging by the time, they’d have taken off about ten minutes ago.

Fatah turned around and glanced outside the windows.
Godspeed, Sister. I could only do this much. I hope you’ll be happy with your new life.

Farewell.

For now.

Chapter Ten

Yazmina nervously walked behind Sarah and Caly in the passenger terminal in Al-Maktoum airport, wheeling her suitcase. They were all dressed in blue stewardess uniforms from a nondescript airline. Yazmina was particularly anxious that someone would recognize her and catch her red-handed. Everyone had convinced her everything would be all right as long as she didn’t break character. Her hair felt weird—she’d never cut it this short. It was a tradition that a female member of the family would only cut her hair after she got married. They’d only trim it every so often to keep their tresses healthy.

However, she liked her new look, and the color too, even though it was just a temporary hair dye. Jennifer had completed her makeover with a pair of gray lenses, provocative makeup and skin-lightening body paint, transforming her into someone she barely recognized. She couldn’t believe what she saw.

I’m… beautiful.

Arcan had stared at her with such a look when they were separated earlier, it made her proud. She was giddy the whole time they drove to the airport. For the first time in her life, she felt like a true woman. She didn’t need to hide anything beneath a hijab.

“Suzanne,” said Caly. “You’re falling behind.”

“Suzanne” was Yazmina’s cover name. All the documentation she had on her now said her name was Suzanne Chastain, a freelance flight attendant from Paris, France. And at present, “Suzanne Chastain” was hired to accompany a group of wealthy businessmen on a flight to London.