Chapter 8 - The Prince's Pawn

A View to Die For

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Aria

A dull throb pulsed through my head, making me wince as I stirred awake. My body felt heavy, my eyes even heavier.

What happened?

 I pried my eyes open, trying to adjust to the dim light.

I was in a bedroom—not my hotel room. 

The memory of Callum pointing a gun at me came screeching back and I jerked my head to look down at my chest, sending a wave of dizziness and nausea through me.

He shot me!

Sure enough, there was a big, square band-aid stuck right above my left boob, the dull ache telling me the dart pierced the muscle.

Who put that there? I sucked in my breath at the thought of Khalid pressing his fingers against me, maybe letting them travel… Or maybe it wasn’t Khalid.

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around the room, half expecting to see Callum sitting in the corner with his gun still trained on me.

No one was there.

The room tilted dangerously around me as I tried to catch my breath. The tranquilizer was obviously still in my system, making everything feel slow. I gritted my teeth, determined to push through. I needed to figure out where I was and, more importantly, how I could get the hell out of here.

Whatever Khalid wanted from me, it couldn’t be good. There was no way I was going to hang out here and wait for him to tell me what it was.

For all I knew, he was into weird human trafficking shit and my abilities made me more valuable. Once men get to a certain level of rich, the rules of decency cease to apply to them. 

He’d told me as much in the hotel room.

I blinked several times and my vision finally cleared. Thick Turkish carpets covered the floor, and an overstuffed velvet sofa and chairs were arranged around a carved wooden coffee table. Even from the bed, I could see that the en suite bathroom was glorious. Gold and ivory everywhere, the heavy comforter draped over me obviously expensive and looking brand new.

 Everything was opulent, excessive. For some people, this was the life they dreamed of. To me, it was vice, just as shameful as a table covered in cocaine and rolled-up dollar bills.

I threw the comforter off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, knowing I had to get out of there. I looked down at myself, relieved to see I was still wearing the abaya. At least they had that modicum of decency.

With shaking legs, I pushed off from the bed, steadying myself against the ornate dresser beside it. I took a moment to move my tongue around my mouth, trying to bring some semblance of moisture back. What I wouldn’t give for a glass of water and Tylenol-3.

I swallowed the taste of fear as I moved toward the door, listening for any sounds coming from the hall. Would I open it to see some musclebound goon standing right outside?

And if I did, what would I do about it?

I could grab him and deal with him the same way I had that prick who shot Arjun… but what if there were two guards? Or three?

I couldn’t take out all of them.

With a deep breath, I turned the handle, thrusting myself out into the hallway in a clumsy leap.

The silence was oppressive, suffocating. As I turned my head from left to right, I saw more beautiful furnishings, but no people. I allowed a quick sigh of relief before tiptoeing down the hall—away from the dead end.

I tetered through the narrow halls, dragging my fingers across the wall to keep my balance. It was like the floor was swaying beneath me, every now and again lurching me to the side.

How long will these drugs last?

Finally, I reached what appeared to be a door leading outside. There was a window, but it was pitch black out there, so I couldn’t see what was on the other side.

I hesitated, once again confronted with the possibility of armed assholes ready to knock my teeth out. But the need to survive won out once more. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and went out into the night air.

The rain came down in sheets, the wind whipping it sideways. I was soaked in seconds, the heavy fabric of my abaya weighing me down like a weighted blanket almost immediately.

As I walked further outside, I understood that it wasn’t the drugs that made the floor sway between my feet.

I was on a boat. A yacht from the looks of it.

I walked to the railing and peered out at the churning sea stretching endlessly into the night. No land was visible, only the infinite expanse of gray ocean.

Trapped… there’s no escape.

My teeth chattering, the hopelessness of it all settled on my shoulders, weakening my knees.

Just before I let out a sob, I felt the dreadful certainty I was no longer alone. Probably I never had been… they’d just been watching from a distance. After all, why would they guard me? I wasn’t going anywhere.

I slowly turned around, back toward the door, and there he was—Callum. His looming figure filled up the doorway, his blackened eyes and bandaged nose making him look like an absolute serial killer.

He’d discarded his suit jacket and now his shoulder holster and the pistol it held stood out boldly from his white shirt.

“Enjoying the view, Yanker?” he called, his voice smooth but carrying an undeniable edge.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” I shouted back, not bothering to play nice. I was soaking wet, on a boat, being held captive by foreign royalty. No more using my “telephone voice” with these assholes.

“Does it look like anyone’s mucking about with you?” he shot back, stepping into the rain, the water soaking through his shirt in seconds. “He gave you a chance to do this the easy way, you said no. So we’ll be doing it the hard way, then.”

“It? What’s it? And what do you think will happen when I tell the U.S. Embassy about this little stunt?” I demanded, taking several steps toward him.

My fingers flexed, eager to grab hold of him like I had that creep in the conference room. The way I had with the dog when I was little.

Even as a kid, I understood the dog couldn’t be reasoned with. I was afraid and knew I would die if I didn’t stop this thing from ripping my throat out. So I did. As surprised as I was to realize I was capable of such a thing, I never felt sorry. Not once. He was feral, dangerous, and couldn’t be placated. As I grew older, I figured out some humans had that same energy. I was pretty sure I was looking at one right now.

Callum didn’t miss a thing. In a flash, he pulled out a long, silver-tipped cane from behind the door frame, holding it out in front of him like a sword. “That’s close enough, thank you. You’ll be keeping those hands to yourself, or you’ll be right sorry. Understand?” he barked, the intensity in his voice making me shake.

So he knew.

Part of me had hoped they would wildly overestimate my abilities. Maybe they would think I could kill them just by looking at them. But Callum had obviously seen enough to realize that it was all based on touch. If I couldn’t lay hands on you—skin to skin—I was just as weak and useless as every other girl.

“You won’t be going to any embassy,” he stated, no sign of amusement in his voice. “You see, we’re too far out for you to swim, and don’t imagine you can get hold of a lifeboat unnoticed. And for what it’s worth, even if you get hold of the radio, good luck with the Crown authorities who come out. You won’t like what happens when they get here.”

“What do you want?” I screamed at him.

He stepped back into the doorway, reaching with his free hand, and coming back with a massive white towel.

“I want you to dry off and come with me. Someone wants to talk to you.”

Someone, huh? I shivered violently, my fingers starting to go numb. Though I was grateful for the rain. At least I could hope it hid the single, frustrated tear sliding down my face.

I was fucked. I couldn’t run, my preferred defense mechanism. And I couldn’t fight, at least not at the moment.

All I could do was obey, the very thought of which made me want to puke.

I couldn’t bring myself to say okay, so all I did was nod.

A small smile played upon his lips, as if he found amusement in my submission.

Even though he wasn’t the one calling the shots, I had every confidence Callum would be the one I saw most often.

The one who would make it hurt if I didn’t do as I was told.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, stepping deeper inside the doorway, holding the towel out to me like some kind of a treat.

As I walked toward him, I grit my teeth, pushing away my fear and trying to focus on rationality.

There had to be a reason they wanted me, and it most likely wasn’t human trafficking. So what the hell was it? What could an Arab prince with almost limitless resources want from me?

Psychic or no, what could I possibly give him that he couldn’t get for himself?

There was only one way to find out…

Stepping closer, I reached out my hand and took the towel from Callum, drying myself off as I followed him back into the yacht.

Both of us dripping wet, he pressed his back against the wall and jerked his head, indicating I should go first.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” I snapped, wiping off my face with the towel.

“No worries. I’ll let you know when to turn,” he said, waving the cane at me.

Fucker… I wonder if there’s any antifreeze on this boat.