Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 126823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Never once did she think her parents were worried while she was with Salman Ahmad and his tribe. When a video was made demanding ransom, she knew she looked healthy. She honestly hadn’t thought they would be concerned about her. It had been drilled into her that kidnappings were simply a business and not to fight it. She hadn’t.
When she was away at boarding school, they didn’t seem particularly worried about her well-being. But she’d been a young teen then, not viewing the kidnapping from her parents’ perspective. Life with the tribe had been an adventure. She’d seen the others ransomed successfully and wasn’t in the least worried her turn wouldn’t come.
Shabina wiped unsuccessfully at the tears. She never cried like this, but she couldn’t stop no matter how many times she told herself to get control. She had lived in the desert with Scorpion, his cabinet and his mercenaries for just over six months. In that time, she’d experienced torture and rape, she’d witnessed the murders of innocent men, women and children. She hadn’t cried on the outside. She hadn’t given Scorpion or his men the satisfaction. On the inside, she’d screamed until her lungs and throat were raw, but she refused to give into tears.
She thought she was frozen inside, unable to cry real tears. She was wrong. She must have stored up years of tears because they were all being shed and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it.
There was no sound. No alert from the dogs outside the house. Not a single alarm went off outside, not on the fence, the gate, in the gardens, or on her doors or windows, but she knew the house had been penetrated. Her head went up alertly. She wasn’t alone. She shoved her fist into her mouth to keep from making any noise. The intruder was in the room with her. A shadow only. She heard a pack fall to the floor across the room from her and then metal clacked together as another, very heavy pack that might have had weapons in it was dropped to the floor.
“Just me, Qadri. Don’t panic. I’m coming to you. Keep your gun on the floor.”
She put her head back on top of her knees. Rainier. She was a sorry mess. He was the one person who always saw her at her very worst. She didn’t even care. There was nothing she could do about it. He knew what to expect. She’d told him not to come, but he hadn’t listened.
Rainier crouched beside her, lifted her into his arms, and sank down onto the floor, cradling her on his lap. His arms tightened around her like a fortress, and she burrowed into him just the way she had when he’d taken her to his safe house because she’d begged him not to let anyone see her in the condition he had found her in.
He didn’t say anything at all at first, he just held her and let her sob. For some reason, his presence made her tears increase, not lessen. She always said Rainier treated her like a child, but at least he heard her when no one else did. When she first was returned to her parents, she was terrified Scorpion would find a way to get her back. She begged her father to allow her to learn to shoot a gun, to start some form of self-defense lessons. He simply told her she was surrounded by security. Only Rainier heard her desperation.
Shabina didn’t know how he got away with defying her father’s decree, but Rainier insisted on teaching her self-defense. He was the one who first started instructing her to shoot a gun. He ignored the dictates of her parents and took her to a gym and taught her escape moves until she was proficient at them.
She rubbed her face against his chest. He had removed his jacket, dropping it on the bed as he made his way across the room to her so tears soaked his soft shirt. He was armed to the teeth, holsters and sheaths over and under his clothing. That was familiar to her, a part of Rainier. She couldn’t imagine him without dozens of weapons. She knew he was a weapon without guns and knives and whatever else he had on him. His chest was dense, and when she rested her head there, it wasn’t as if she had a soft pillow, but that didn’t matter. She was always comforted by his presence.
Rainier rocked her gently, his chin resting on top of her head. He murmured softly to her but made no attempt to get her to stop crying. That was another thing, he just let her feel whatever she was feeling when everyone else told her what she should be feeling. Or how to cope with her feelings.