Chapter 4 - The Prince's Pawn

Bang, Bang goes the gun

Khalid

Rage didn’t begin to describe the sensation that shot through me as I watched blood spurt out of Callum’s nose and mouth.

The bastards hadn’t said a word—just came in and started swinging.

Looking into the big one’s sneering face—his lip curling up in a pompous expression—I felt like I had an electrical prod at my back, driving me forward to rip apart the enemy.

But I couldn’t do that. Instead, I had to stand there like an impotent idiot while these scum held guns on me.

Even as Callum lay on the floor, his face a bloody mess and dripping onto his shirt, part of me wanted to rip him apart too.

How could you not see them coming? How did you let them step in the door?

But I knew the answer. Callum had seen them coming. And didn’t reach for his gun.

Because the two men had the crest of the palace guard on their jackets—the king’s personal protection force.

Callum had likely battled with a split-second decision: let them in and hope for the best, or draw his weapon.

In the grand scheme of things, he’d made the right call, one that had likely saved his life. But nothing about this moment felt right.

“Your Royal Highness, you are to come with us,” said the one in front, the big man with obvious dental veneers and a fat neck straining beneath his shirt collar.

“And you are?” I asked, not spending one second trying to recall the name of this bastard.

“I am Captain Faisal Al-Tuwaijri of the palace guard, as I’m sure you know. You will come with us.”

“What is this?” Dave asked, rising from his chair. “Are you police?”

Shut up! I tried to communicate with my face. The last thing I needed was some American getting shot by state police.

“Dave…” whispered Aria, holding out a shaking hand. “Leave it.” She stood pressed against the wall, those weird eyes of hers wide and unblinking as she stared at her boss.

I nodded my head, flicking my eyes at Dave in the hope he would get the message. The fool didn’t speak Arabic, so he had no idea who he was dealing with. Still… why did he feel the need to insert himself into a situation he couldn’t possibly understand? His ignorance wouldn’t protect him from the gun. Or the king.

Obviously realizing he was no good to anyone, Dave sat back down.

“If the king wants my presence, sending you into my place of business with guns isn’t going to get it done. Get out!” I shouted, jabbing my finger toward the door.

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath.

“Get out?” He looked at me like my head was in flames. As a representative of the king, it was clear he’d never been spoken to like that, not even by a prince. “You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

In one fluid motion, Al-Tuwaijri flipped the pistol around in his hand, raising it high as he charged toward me.

I never got the chance to block the blow.

So fast I never saw him move, Arjun jumped out of his chair and ran past me.

“Dude run!” the skinny kid shouted, grabbing hold of Al-Tuwaijri’s gun, grunting as he tried to wrestle it from the bigger man’s hand.

The gunshot echoed through the room.

The sound was deafening, spinning my head and filling my ears with the sensation of cotton.

Arjun crumpled to the floor, blood staining his shirt. My heart clenched at the sight of the poor kid’s face.

Like he didn’t understand what had happened.

Aria screamed, pressing her body tighter against the wall, while Dave dove forward, sliding on his knees to Arjun’s side, then dragging him backward, away from the gunmen and behind the conference table.

“It’ll be okay, dude. It’ll be okay,” I heard Dave gasp, fear and the effort of dragging a grown man making his voice go high and breathy.

Fury rippled through me, my vision tunneling and going red. Was he still alive? How much blood had he lost? Was there anything I could do to save him?

“Look at me!” Captain Al-Tuwaijri barked. “The faster you come with us, the faster the medics can tend to the pajeet.”

“American,” I snapped. “He’s American. You think there’s going to be no blowback for this? You think my uncle will take the diplomatic hit for what you just did?”

The look of amusement on Al-Tuwaijri’s face made my stomach drop. My uncle didn’t care about drawing ire from the greatest military in the world, or about completely alienating the western world. And neither did the armed and angry Al-Tuwaijri.

“Again, Your Royal Highness. Come with me now, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

He flicked his eyes to Aria, still pressed flat against the back wall.

Following his predatory gaze, I saw her face stretched in terror, like a frightened deer caught in headlights—a stark contrast to the confident woman she had been just a few minutes ago.

Snorting in derision, Al-Tuwaijri marched right at Aria.

“Stop!” I barked, my heart pounding in my chest at the sight of Aria in danger. But Al-Tuwaijri ignored my command and continued to advance towards her, his weapon still drawn.

Desperation clawed at me, but if I raised a hand against the king’s guard, it was the same as striking the king himself.

My head would be on a pike by nightfall.

Al-Tuwaijri was mere steps from Aria when I saw the change in her eyes, the fear melting away into something else—rage.

Instead of shrinking back against the wall, she stepped right up to Al-Tuwaijri, her hand outstretched.

What are you doing? I thought, silently begging her not to try some stupid feminist moves she saw on television.

With a hiss, she grabbed his face, her fingers sinking into his fleshy cheekc, and leaned in close, as if to kiss him.

But there was no kiss. Al-Tuwaijri gasped at her touch, both his arms dropping to his sides and his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor.

The room froze for an instant, my breath stopping right along with the Captain’s, unable to believe what I was seeing.

Bending over him, Aria held firm, staring down at Al-Tuwaijri as he gasped for air, his flailing arms clutching at his chest.

“What’s the matter, honey? You don’t feel so good?” she seethed, spittle flicking onto the thug’s face as he continued to struggle for breath.

She’s doing this. Whatever was happening to Al-Tuwaijri, she was the one responsible. How was that possible?

“Captain!” the other gunman shouted, turning toward Aria. Callum seized the opportunity, lunging at the gunman and knocking him to the floor.

They grappled for a moment before Callum managed to wrestle the weapon from his opponent’s grasp, firing off a shot as he straddled the man.

The gunman jerked, blood from his skull spurting out onto the white floor, eliciting a satisfied smirk from Callum.

God help us all…

The sharp scent of gunpowder filled my nostrils as I turned back to Captain Al-Tuwaijri, his body convulsing beneath Aria’s grip. Within the next second or two, he went limp and lifeless, his body exhaling one final rattle.

“You...” I whispered, my gaze fixed on Aria as she released her hold on the captain’s face, her expression a mixture of fear and anger. She glanced over her shoulder toward Dave and Arjun.

All that could be seen of them from behind the conference table was Arjun’s legs; they hadn’t seen what just transpired.

She looked up at me, the anger draining, but she looked no less terrifying, those icy blue eyes drilling right down to my bones.

For an instant, I saw something raw and vulnerable in her eyes, a silent plea for understanding, for discretion. I knew nothing about her—who she was or where she came from. But I knew she had just killed a man by touching him. I knew this ability was not a surprise to her. And I knew she feared what would happen if I told anyone.

My heart raced as I contemplated the implications of her abilities.

“Callum,” I said, unable to tear my gaze from Aria’s face, “call for an ambulance.”

“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, a tremor in his voice—something I’d never heard from him before. Even with my eyes still on Aria, I could see his hands shaking as he plled out his phone from his blood-spattered jacket and dialed the number.

“This sort of thing happen often?” she asked, her voice raspy, whether in rage or fear, I couldn’t tell.

“No… or at least it didn’t used to. I’m sorry.”

It was the only thing I could say to her, but I wasn’t sorry. Far from it. Now I had two dead king’s guardsmen in my conference room, and I didn’t know what was going to happen next. But I knew for certain I wasn’t sorry they were dead.

“The ambulance is on the way,” Callum said, standing up, putting his phone back in his pocket and moving toward the conference table, giving Aria a wide berth.

His face pale, Callum bent down where Arjun still lay, the pool of blood on the floor bigger than it had been before.

“You still with us, lad?” Callum asked, kneeling down next to Arjun’s legs.

I knew I should be helping him too. This was my fault. But all I could do was stare at the woman on the floor, her legs tucked under her as she looked back at me, that hollow, desperate look still on her face.

“Once you speak with security forces, you should return to your hotel. No one will bother you there,” I said, trying to reassure her as I moved closer, coming to a stop only when I was standing directly over her.

Yes, I saw what you did. And no, I won’t tell anyone.

The king would focus his wrath on me, not the random Americans who happened to be in the room. And neither I nor Callum would tell the truth of what exactly had taken the Captain’s life.

“And what should I say to security forces?” she whispered.

I knelt down, bringing my face even with hers, even as she shrank from me, tugging at the sleeves of her abaya to cover more of her hands.

“The truth,” I said with a sigh. “You were giving your presentation when armed men interrupted. One of them had a heart attack and the other, for no reason, attacked Arjun, forcing Callum to protect us all.” I squinted at her. “You don’t speak Arabic, do you?”

She shook her head, squinting slightly as if it were a stupid question.

Maybe it was in this case. But it wasn’t unusual for companies to send Caucasian Arabic speakers to listen in. Dave obviously hadn’t seen the need.

“It’s in his side and it’s bleeding a lot,” said Dave, his voice shaking from behind the table. “Is it his kidney? Is this where kidneys are?”

“We’ll need the trauma surgeon to poke around a bit to be sure,” Callum answered. “It’s all right, lad. The doctors here are top-notch. You’ll have a scar and an exciting story to go with it for your next first date.”

Aria straightened her veil, tucking her dark hair back under the material with shaking hands, and I mentally rehearsed what I would say to her later—when we were alone.

Whatever that girl had done… she was a gift from God. Somehow, a woman with the ability to fell armed men with a single touch had come straight to me.

She was the answer to my prayers. And I would make good use of her.