Shaz’s smile disappeared. “I’m serious about your security. You’re far away from home, and I don’t want any of you in more danger than necessary.”
“I hear you,” Ryan said, to reassure his cousin. “But I doubt these men need you worrying about them.”
“Whatever. Just remember that at the end of the day, they’re my brothers. They hurt. I hurt.”
“That, I also get loud and clear.”
Dro stalked toward the door without a word.
“Hey, where are you going?” Ryan asked.
“To see if this guy is legit,” Dro said over his shoulder.
“Need company?” Daron asked.
“No. I don’t want him to get suspicious. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Be careful,” the men all said at the same time, including Shaz.
When the door closed, Ryan turned his gaze on Daron. “I know I’m probably annoying the crap out of you, but are you sure we can get this bug in place tonight?”
He stood to stretch his legs, and with one hand massaging the back of his head, he added, “I have a lot riding on this and will do anything to get Aziza back. If we don’t find my woman, I don’t know what I’ll do. But one thing is sure, somebody will have to pay if she doesn’t return safe and sound.”
Chapter Eleven
Aziza wound her head in a circle and drew her shoulders back. The girls taken earlier weighed on her mind, and her thoughts had been running in different directions as she mapped out a way to freedom. She rubbed her forehead and released another prayer.
Father, we need your help. These girls, these women, we need you. Give us the strength to defeat our enemies and give me the courage to lead the way. And Father, watch over Ryan, wherever he may be.
By now, surely her mother had raised an alarm. The first thing she probably did was contact Shaz Bostwick, because he’d know how to reach Ryan, plus he and his wife headed a foundation that helped women with custody and immigration challenges. She clung to the hope that Shaz would have contacted Ryan and urged him to do something to help. If, between them, they did nothing she wouldn’t forgive them. Ahaba’s words still chilled her. Of all the things she’d imagined in life, none of it included being used as a means of shipping contraband for greedy criminals.
If they don’t come in time, I might wake up on the other side, freshly gutted and—
“Say a prayer for me.”
Naima’s whispered words shook Aziza from her thoughts. She searched the other woman’s eyes. “Of course. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Her swollen eye chided Aziza as she said, “Do I have a choice? If we want our freedom … ”
The container opened, and an oppressive cloud descended to suck away the life-giving air.
“Remember to keep him busy long enough to—”
“I get it,” Naima said.
“Here.” Aziza handed her the hook she’d removed from the shower curtain.
Naima twisted it into her braids and secured them. Then, she squared her shoulders as Hamid walked toward them.
The plan they came up with was to get Abdul to believe Naima had reconsidered her position and would have sex with him in exchange for whatever favor he gave. The way his beady eyes roamed Naima’s body gave them hope he would say yes, and they were right. Aziza hoped he wouldn’t take revenge when he was alone with Naima, for that disarming kick to his genitals.
Aziza steadied her breath and nodded at Naima. “Be careful,” she whispered.
Eyes closed, Naima squared her shoulders.
Hamid released her from the handcuff and led her to where Abdul stood waiting. When he grabbed Naima by the upper arm and shunted her out of the container, Aziza called Hamid’s name.
He looked over his shoulder at the open container door, shifted the rifle he carried on his shoulder, then faced her.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Hamid slammed the door shut, latched it, and walked toward her bed.
“It’s urgent,” she said, sitting up and pulling her thighs together.
He cast another glance at the door, then beckoned to her.
She had to move fast, and his sluggish pace wasn’t helping.
As soon as he unlocked the shackle, she shot to her feet and waited at the door that led to the bathroom. He opened it with a key from the bunch, and she rushed past him on her bare feet. She urinated, despite the limited liquid in her system, knowing the sound would carry to Hamid through the half-open door. As her thoughts raced, Aziza flushed the toilet.
Earlier, she pictured frame-by-frame how she had spent her summers of the past with her brother and Ryan. They had taught her some kickboxing and karate moves they learned at the rec center. Both boys insisted that she learn how to take care of herself. Shame she hadn’t thought to use those skills to help herself before this minute. Her mother’s face flashed before her, but Aziza blinked to clear her eyes and focused on the present moment. She washed her hands and opened the flimsy wooden panel with her elbow.
Hamid watched her, but not with the care of the first couple of days. When she was directly in front of him, she rammed her elbow into his solar plexus. He gasped, and the rifle slid off his shoulder. She swung her body into the next blow and hit him in the same spot. This time his eyes bulged.
“Sorry,” she whispered as he crumpled against the wall.
But that didn’t stop her from walloping him with a fist to his jaw.
She grabbed the keys from his hand, along with the rifle. As she stood, he wrapped a hand around her ankle. Without blinking, she shook him off and delivered a swift kick to his ribs. Then she cracked him on the side of the head with the butt of the rifle. He grunted and slumped on his side.
She shut down her thoughts.
