The police did not attempt to interrupt their search, but observed their activities from the courtyard.
They directed all the females to get dressed and stand in the walkway. After scouring the sprawling two-story building, Angela counted thirty girls, half of whom hadn’t reached puberty, and five little ones.
The combination of hope and despair in their eyes squeezed Ryan’s heart, and he had to look away to relieve the fury gnawing at his stomach. He hated to think that other children might be in this same situation elsewhere in Durabia. Standing tall, he reminded himself they were doing all they could to resolve this situation. Time and opportunity would take care of any other youngsters who needed their help, given the Sheikh’s decree.
At the end of the search, they gathered in the courtyard, while the children retrieved the few things they owned under the supervision of the woman in charge.
“Do you know if the four girls taken from the container Aziza was in are among this group?”
Angela held up the file she carried. “Yes, I asked about them specifically. For a … whatever this place is, they keep good records.”
“Well, if the owners are running a business, I’d expect so.” Nicco grimaced and let out a deep breath.
“A business built on the suffering of young women.” Ryan shook his head. “People kill me, but according to the Bible, the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”
The bus arrived, and the youngsters filed inside with Angela and Nicco assigned to ride with them to Jai’s clinic. After a telephone conversation with the Sheikh, Hassan confirmed that a member of his family, Blair, a surgical nurse at the hospital, would assist with processing the children. Her aunt, the Sheikha, had arranged housing as the Sheikh promised.
Caution kept the team onsite after they escorted the Toyota Coaster bus to the medical facility. Once the children were examined, the F 150 and the Land Cruiser sandwiched the bus to ensure all the passengers arrived safely at the shelter.
Forty-five minutes later, the group separated, with Dro, Ryan, Bashir, and Rahm heading back to the center of Hanan. They left Bashir at his apartment building and arrived at the hotel a few minutes later. While discussing the day’s events, they boarded the elevator.
Standing outside the lift on his floor, Dro held the door. “Enjoy the evening. The way things are hopping around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if we have to leave again in the middle of the night.”
Ryan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s if Aziza can wake me. I’m dead on my feet.”
“It goes with the territory.”
“And we still have outstanding matters to clear up.”
Dro released the door. “Yeah, like the scum at the warehouse and the bartender’s friend, among other things.”
“I forgot about him.”
Ryan frowned and stuck his foot in the opening as Dro released dry laughter, then said, “I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re only getting a taste of the mental anguish those women went through. They’ll be fine.”
The doors of the elevator closed, and Ryan’s mind settled on Aziza. His heart pumped harder, and he smiled in anticipation at the thought of seeing her. If this was how coming home to her felt, he was all in. The exhaustion fell away, and his steps were light on his approach to the suite. Despite his gratefulness, they still had to discuss why she broke his trust.
He was serious about people honoring their word. Life was simpler when one’s actions lined up with what was said. His parents’ marriage had dissolved because of his mother’s inability to believe in his father after he made the mistake of being unfaithful twice—with the same woman. His father eventually got his act straight, re-married, and was able to stay that way.
In a frank conversation, Emory Bostwick admitted to Ryan, “Son, losing your mother is the biggest regret I have and disrespecting her was the stupidest mistake I ever made. Don’t let that be your lot in life. It was only after I lost Joyce that I realized she was my soul mate.”
Their relationship changed Ryan’s mother. She was less open and more watchful. After the divorce, her first visit to Paradise Island had been for a vacation, and she chose the place because of the name. After the hell she had gone through in her marriage, she decided Paradise Island sounded heavenly.
During a week on the island—separated from New Providence by two bridges across the Nassau Harbor—Joyce spent her mornings strolling the white sand beaches while the boys looked for seashells. In the afternoons, she gave them plenty of time to explore the extensive water park and the wide array of rides, some of which brought their hearts into their throats while they yelled with glee.
Months after they returned to Jamaica, she discussed the possibility of moving to the Bahamas and told them she had a job waiting. Myles and Ryan talked about the idea, and chose to stay with her, while their father migrated to Evanston.
Ryan was ten at the time, and Joyce stayed in the Bahamas and eventually become a naturalized citizen. Her partner was a Bahamian man, and though their relationship was still in the present tense, she refused to marry again.
Ryan learned some hard lessons from his parents’ breakup and avoided making those mistakes. One relationship at a time was how he’d handled his life up to now, and Aziza was enough woman for him. His mother first met her when they visited for dinner during Aziza’s vacation.
While Aziza had gone to the bathroom later in the evening and her beau was at the other end of the verandah smoking a cigar, Joyce asked, “Son, is she the one?”
He thought for only a second, before
