Final Vow (3 page)

His brother had come looking for him when Ahmed didn’t appear in the safe room as instructed
and had saved him. He had found Ahmed unconscious and minutes away from death. He barricaded the door and grabbed his emergency medical kit. Knowing he and his brother were the same blood type, Jamal didn’t hesitate as he slid a needle into Ahmed’s arm and then one into his for an immediate transfusion. When he became shaky from loss of blood, he stopped the transfusion. The bandages were still soaked with blood, but it was enough to give him time to get Ahmed to the field hospital set up inside the palace walls. The fighting continued, and soon the country’s citizens picked up weapons and, with a final surge of support for the king, they defeated the rebels.

Ahmed awoke the day after the skirmish ended. The knife had missed his heart by a centimeter. His father had been killed in battle and his brother was being installed as the new head of the private guard. Mo had arrived to see how his country
fared and, when he heard about Ahmed, had demanded the king send him to London with him to recover.

It was then Ahmed Mueez died and just Ahmed was born. He had not been worthy of his last name and refused to use it. But someday
—someday he would be worthy again.

Ahmed brought Zoti in from his walk and scooped out a bowl of food for him before walking into his office in the back of the house. He set down the Pakistani paper with the article about the train wreck that killed over a hundred people in it and began his research. To the outside reader, it was a tragedy, but there was only one high-powered person on that train and that was the giveaway. Sergei liked big statements to cover the real target. No one would think this was an assassination. Now Ahmed needed to look into who would want the minister of energy killed. If he could find that out, that person could lead him to Sergei.

CHAPTER TWO

Bridget was deep in a dream when her phone
rang and jarred her awake. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked at her clock. It was just six in the morning. She had gotten home from the wedding and crawled into bed just four hours earlier.

She reached
over to her nightstand and answered the phone with a tired sigh, “Good morning, Daddy.”

“Good morning, pumpkin. You sound as if you’re still in bed. You’re burning daylight,” her father’s gruff voice chided over the phone.

“Daylight? Daddy, it’s still dark out. I think you forget I’m not in the military anymore. I’m allowed to sleep in now.”

“Bah, waste of time. How was the wedding? Did you have a date?”

“Daddy, you know I didn’t have a date.” Bridget nudged Marko off her pillow and sat up as she turned on the light. It was no use now. She’d never be able to get back to sleep. She didn’t really mind, though. She was a daddy’s girl and she enjoyed talking to him.

“You’re a beautiful woman
. You should have a date,” her father stated as if he were giving an order to one of his soldiers.

“An
d if I did, you would scare him away.” Her father, General Richard Ward, scared everyone except her. Her dad had been the commander of the United States Special Operations Command until this past year when he’d been appointed by the president to be the chief of staff of the United States Army. Congress had approved him just three months ago. That was when he and her mother, Patty, had moved from Tampa to Virginia.

Dating had never been easy because her father was
intimidating with his tough attitude, rigid posture, and all-knowing glare. However, as a result of growing up on military bases with soldiers under her father’s commands, she fit easily into the foul language, dirty jokes, and beer drinking often found in the military.

She
had known she wanted to go into the military, but she’d been given preferential treatment because of her father when she was in ROTC at college. Soon after, she went to the courthouse without telling her parents and changed her last name to Springer, her mother’s maiden name. As a result, she entered the Army as just another recruit.

“If
he would be scared away by little ol’ me, then he isn’t man enough for my pumpkin,” her father told her. And he was right, as much as she hated to admit it. “So, tell me all the gossip. Did Katelyn have her baby yet?”

As much as Bridget loved Keeneston, she was a
bit of a loner. She was not really used to being herself. She had always worked with the guys and hadn’t really made friends before. She and Annie had become good friends, but she didn’t put herself out there much to make better friends with the Davies women and other women around her age. Bridget knew her father would worry, so she supplied him with all the town’s gossip to reassure him she was happy. And she was trying to be more outgoing.

“Not yet, but any day now. The wedding was beautiful. Cy and Gemma tried to hook me up with one of the groomsmen who’s a stuntman, but it didn’t go anywhere.”

“That’s too bad,” her father said, but Bridget could hear his happy smile over the line.

“Oh, Dani and Mo are back with their twins
, Zain and Gabriel. Mo’s older brother is going to have a baby boy so the whole group was able to come back home. Paige told me Dani and Mo couldn’t be happier about it. They wanted to raise the boys away from royal life. In fact, while Dani was convincing Ameera to go to New York for treatment, Mo was trying to convince the king to allow his eldest niece to be named queen. The king, a real stick-in-the-mud, as Dani calls him, didn’t approve of that. Luckily everything worked out with Ameera.”

“Hm
m . . . that’s good to know,” her father mumbled and she heard him take out a piece of paper and make a note.

“Daddy
, I’m not giving you foreign intelligence anymore. Aren’t you supposed to be more of an advisor now as opposed to a commander?”

“It never hurts to be aware. You remember that.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. Since she was a little girl, her dad had been telling her to be aware, observe your surroundings, and memorize small details that seem out of place. Needless to say, she was hardly ever taken unaware. “Yes, Daddy. Ahmed is back, too. But he said he was leaving soon, so we won’t be able to continue my lessons. I really miss them. I learned so much from him.”

It sounded as if her dad growled a little, but Bridget wasn’t sure. “I don’t like that one bit. I told you I didn’t approve of those lessons. Bridge
t, that man is dangerous and you should stay away from him. That’s an order.”

“Daddy
!” Bridget felt both crushed and angry. “Ahmed isn’t bad at all. He’s a great teacher and I’ve learned so much. He is very nice when you get to know him.”

“It sounds as if you’re going to ignore my order.
Should I be expecting you to bring him home soon?”

“Dad,” Bridget rolled her eyes at his sarcastic remark
, “you don’t have to worry about that. Ahmed isn’t interested in me.” Bridget closed her eyes and cursed. She’d just inadvertently told her dad she was interested, but Ahmed wasn’t.

“Well, then he’s
dangerous
and
stupid. Even worse.”

Bridget smiled at her dad’s a
ttempt to make her feel better. “Thanks, Daddy. How’s Mom?” Bridget asked, taking the conversation away from her lack of a love life. She absently scratched Marko’s ears as she listened to her father delight her with tales about her mother, their new house, and what it was like working in the Pentagon. But no matter how hard she tried to pay attention, she couldn’t shake the sadness of knowing Ahmed would never reciprocate her feelings.

Ahmed pushed open the door to the small eating area where he found Dani and Mo with the boys. The cheery little room was where the family had all their meals, and they usually kept a seat open for Ahmed.

“You look
terrible,” Mo said in a high-pitched, happy voice as he tried to convince the baby he was holding to take his bottle.

“I was up all night,” Ahmed told them as he grabbed a muff
in from the table and sat down.

“What a coincidence, we were
, too.” Dani laughed as she took a sip of orange juice while holding a baby in her other arm.

“What i
s going on, Ahmed? You have been acting differently since we arrived.” After being best friends for thirty-six years, it was hard for him to hide anything from Mo.

“I think I have a lead on Sergei. I need to follow it. I’ve been working with Nabi and I
feel comfortable leaving him in charge,” Ahmed told them before briefing them on the information he’d uncovered. Mo looked contemplative while Dani seemed concerned.

“Of course. You have all
my resources at your disposal,” Mo told him, clearly understanding the gravity of the situation. He knew that this was not just some standard operation. This was personal.

“I don’t understand why you have to go after him. I know he’s a
bad guy, but it’s not your fight, Ahmed,” Dani said. Ahmed gave a quick glance to Mo and with a slight nod sent a silent thank-you to him for not telling Dani about his darkest time. “You know, Bridget was so lovely last night. You two are really quite similar. Instead of chasing Sergei, you could always chase her.”

Ahmed star
ed at the innocent look on Dani’s face. “I already know her,” Ahmed said sternly, wanting to warn her away from this topic.

Dani just rolled her eyes
. “I mean, more than one of your in-depth background checks you do on everyone for fun.”

“I didn’t do one on her,” Ahmed said before silently cursing himself as Dani’s eyes widened and a huge smile lit up her face.

“Really?” Mo asked while he looked interested. Ahmed narrowed his eyes at his friend. But as always, Mo just ignored his glare.

“Really. Nabi handled it. It’s my job to train him
, after all. Because I trained him, I know he did a thorough job.” That and he hadn’t wanted to do it. He already cared more than he should and if she were as wonderful as he thought, it would make leaving her alone harder.

“If you say so,” Mo said with a smile on his face. “I take it you
will be needing the plane? Where will you be heading?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m heading into Pakistan.” Ahmed saw Mo grimace. Rahmi and
Pakistan weren't the best of friends.

“Try not to kill
anyone . . . well, anyone who would upset their government.” Mo stood up and gave Ahmed a meaningful look. “I will walk you out.”

“Be safe, Ahmed,” Dani told him with such kindness that Ahmed actually felt a pang of guilt for going. But he had been preparing for this for eighteen years. It was time to show Sergei the man he had become
. He was no longer a scared boy, and he was prepared to fight to the death to protect the ones he loved.

* * *

Bridget wiped the sweat from her brow as she and Marko sprinted through the woods on the property Pierce Davies had given her to build a K-9 training facility. The morning sun shone through the orange, yellow, and red leaves onto the path and relaxed her as the pair exercised. The sounds and smell of fall helped to heal her pained heart.

Dani had called
that morning to invite Bridget to lunch. Dani had been so nice to her since Bridget moved to Keeneston that she instantly agreed. It was then that Dani let it slip that it would be nice to have the company since Mo had a meeting with Will about breeding some horses and Ahmed had left the country. That was when Bridget felt the pain in her heart. She was acting like a love-struck teenager. It was clear Ahmed didn’t have feelings for her, yet she was pining away. Well, no more. She’d grabbed her running shoes, determined to erase him from her mind and heart.

She broke from the woods and into the clearing where
the new kennel was staked out and the foundation was being poured. Bridget slowed to a walk and focused on the happiness she felt seeing her dream coming true. By spring, she’d have a full kennel complete with dogs and trainers. By the time she reached her car, her cell phone rang and interrupted her vision of the future.

“Springer.”

“Miss Springer, my name is Usman. I am the assistant of Mr. Rana, the owner of PK Petroleum in Pakistan. May I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“There is an energy conference in New Delhi starting on Wednesday. Mr. Rana has received threats and was looking for someone who could blend into his . . . how do you say it? Group?”

“Entourage.
Would you like me to pose as a secretary of some sort and provide Mr. Rana with personal protection?” Bridget asked as she grabbed her tablet and looked up Mr. Rana and his business.

“Exactly.” Usman sounded relieved that she understood. “You will be needed for
only a couple days. Mr. Rana will send his jet in addition to your service fee. Are you amenable to this arrangement?”

“Yes, I’ll be happy to help Mr. Rana
,” Bridget stated. If Ahmed could just up and leave, then why couldn’t she? The only relationship they had was in her head. It was time for her to put her wild fantasies to rest and move on.

CHAPTER THREE

Ahmed looked down at the package
the slim woman handed him. Tears ran from her sunken eyes down her hollow cheeks. He had tracked down the widow of the minister of energy at her sister’s house in a small village three hours from Islamabad.

One look at her fear-
ridden face and he knew she held the key to the puzzle. He’d been all over Islamabad talking to aides, secretaries, and journalists. They all thought it was just a derailment, which wasn’t particularly uncommon for the area. However, the minister’s wife had plastered herself behind her sister and started pleading for her life when Ahmed entered the small house.

Ahmed had told her,
“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to find the person responsible for your husband’s death.” She had stopped her pleading and started whispering urgently with her sister. With a nod of her head, the widow had walked into her bedroom and reappeared a minute later with an overstuffed brown business envelope.

Ahmed took the package and dumped the contents onto the small kitchen table. Pictures of her husband with another
woman fell out. On the back of each picture was a threat. A threat that if he didn’t agree to the proposed pipeline from PK Petroleum, then the pictures of him with his mistress would be plastered all over the media.

Next
came photos of his wife and infant son. Then the messages turned darker. The blackmailer threatened the life of his family if he didn’t vote for the pipeline. Ahmed looked up from the table at the women. The minister’s widow stared quietly at the ground while her sister held her. It had to be embarrassing to show a stranger the pictures of her husband with his mistress.

“
Thank you for telling me. You are a strong woman. I promise you, I will find the person responsible.” The widow gave a slow bob of her head in appreciation, but by the way her sister clutched her, Ahmed knew there was more. “Tell me the whole story, please. I am a friend.” Ahmed sat down at the table, letting the women feel more at ease with his presence in their small house.

“T
ell him,” the sister whispered.

The widow’s eyes teared up again as she kept
looking at the ground. “Right before he died, I overheard a call. He was getting ready to go back into the capital when the call came in. I heard my husband turn down another bribe. He said the name Mr. Rana and then told him he was going to the papers with his threats to our family. Two hours later the train derailed.”

“Who is Mr. Rana?” Ahmed asked quietly.

“The owner of PK Petroleum.”

Ahmed wasn’t particularly surprised. The energy business was one of the most cut
-throat. He could see what happened. When Rana discovered the minister was going to expose the threats, which would most likely lead to the pipeline contract going to someone else, he had called Sergei.

“Thank you for your time
.” Ahmed stood up and gathered the pictures. “I can put these in the right hands to destroy Mr. Rana. But only if you want me to.” The widow looked at the pictures and slowly stepped forward. She pulled out the pictures of her husband with his mistress and tore them up.

“Thank you, sir. When the police came, I tried to tell them, but they threatened us. I have nothing to lose anymore
, though. My husband’s brother took our house and our money. I was sent back to my family.”

“Your husband should have provided for you for a year in his will.” Ahmed knew the customs, but it was a male
-dominated society and women sometimes were not told of their rights.

“
He did. But my husband’s family was not happy with our marriage. We were of different levels. They took what my husband left me. I know I could go to court, but it would do no good. Two of their sons and my husband’s father are judges.”

Ahmed
reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking all the cash he had and putting it on the table. “You have helped me greatly. I thank you for your trust.” Ahmed took what was left of the package and left the women staring with open mouths at the thousands of dollars on their table.

“Nabi, find out everything about PK Petroleum and its owner,” Ahmed ordered into his phone as he got into his car.
By the time he got back to the hotel, Nabi would have all the information Ahmed would need to decide on his next move.

Ahmed tossed the car’s keys to the valet and walked across the street to the bank. He pulled out more cash and was about to grab a bite to eat when Nabi called him back.

“What did you find?” Ahmed asked the second he answered the phone.

“Rana inherited the company from his father. There is a long history of corruption, assaults, blackmail, and even murders connected with this family. The pipeline is worth billions, and PK Petroleum was just awarded it this week. The government voted on it one day after the minister of energy was killed. Not surprisingly, his replacement was in favor of PK Petroleum. But, Ahmed, there’s more.”

Ahmed paused on the sidewalk. Nabi’s voice had changed. Something was wrong. “What is it?”

“There’s a huge convention in New Delhi and Rana just announced the pipeline. When he did, Bridget was standing behind him.”

“Bridget? Bridget Springer? What the hell is
she doing there?” Ahmed roared.

“Her h
ighness said that Bridget was hired by Rana the day you left. She’s his security. Hello? Sir?” Nabi asked into the dead line. Ahmed had already hung up. He ran to his hotel and, within minutes, was on the way to the airport. This move had Sergei written all over it.

* * *

Bridget adjusted her grip on the notebook and looked out at the packed convention hall from where she stood on the stage behind Mr. Rana. She felt the sweat trickle down her back as she wrote down her observations on a notepad. Her gun was strapped to her back under her blazer, ready if she needed it.

It was the end of October, but in New Delhi the heat was still
smothering. Bridget didn’t listen to Mr. Rana’s speech as she scanned the crowd once again. So far the conference had been uneventful. Well, for her anyway. Mr. Rana got upset with the protesters, but they were only armed with signs.

Mr. Rana finished his speech and gave her the sign that he was ready to move. She picked up his notebook and followed him from the stage where other executives surrounded him. Bridget smiled and pushed her way through to Mr. Rana’s side where she blended in with his assistants. She relaxed her body and got ready for a long wait. People always loved spending hours with the
speakers, rehashing every point in the speech and going over crazy hypotheticals. It was going to be a long day.

Hours later, Bridget felt a dynamic change in the small group. They were in the massive lobby of the conference center, and Mr. Rana had just finished shaking hands with the last of his colleagues. She didn’t know what changed exactly. It was just a look he got in his eyes and the way his posture suddenly puffed.

“Where to now, sir?” Bridget asked
putting on her best don’t-mess-with-me attitude.

“
I thought it might be nice to celebrate. Just you and me.” With a flick of his hand, the other assistants disappeared and she was left in the empty lobby with her client.

“I’ll be happy to make a reservation for you somewhere, Mr. Rana.” Bridget pulled out her phone and used it as a barrier between them.

“The kind of celebration I’m talking about does not require reservations.” Mr. Rana stepped forward as though he didn’t care that her contract specifically prohibited sexual advances by either party.

“Mr. Rana, I know you are a man of wealth and
prominence. However, I’m not someone you buy. I don’t have sex with my clients.”

“We’re both adults. You must have a boyfriend then. But if he can let y
ou out of his sight, then he’s not deserving.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. Henry
Rooney, a local attorney and walking pick-up line encyclopedia, had better lines than this. Unfortunately, she was used to this. Men saw a woman in a position of power and assumed she slept her way to the top, making her fair game for them to hit on.

“Mr. Rana,” Bridget began in her best motherly voice. It tended to cool the
ardor of her clients when images of their mother popped into their heads. But Mr. Rana only smiled and reached out for her. He ran his hand gently down her arm and Bridget fought the urge to deck him.

Ahmed slid to a stop outside the convention center in New Delhi. He could only hope he was in time. Was Sergei here? How in the hell did Sergei find out about his feelings for her? Pure rage settled in the pit of his stomach. He was no longer a boy who couldn’t protect his woman, and Sergei was about to find that out.

He left
the car parked in the street and flashed his diplomatic identification to the guard at the entrance of the conference center’s property. Ahmed scanned the area as he ran across the large garden in front of the building. As he approached, he saw Bridget in the lobby through the glass doors. Something was wrong. Her posture was so rigid—it was then he saw the hand on her.

He shoved the door open so hard the glass cracked. Ahmed strode into the lobby and ignored Bridget’s shocked face. His attention was on the man gripping her arm. A quick glance told him Sergei wasn’t here, but the man
was, without a doubt, Mr. Rana.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend,” Rana sneered as he dropped B
ridget’s arm.

“I
-I-I don’t,” Bridget stammered.

“Does he know that?” Rana
laughed menacingly at his perceived cleverness. Ahmed ignored their conversation and strode straight for Rana. The man was trouble. The way he didn’t seem concerned that Ahmed was here, but instead looked happy about it, worried him.

“The famous Ahmed. I’ve heard so much about you,” Rana said
with a slick smile on his face.

“Where’s Sergei?”

“Sergei?” Bridget echoed. So she didn’t know the connection.

Rana
puffed up his chest and smiled again as he looked between Bridget and Ahmed. Rana, knowing who Ahmed was, only confirmed his suspicions—Sergei was involved. Ahmed grabbed Rana’s suit coat and slammed him against the wall so fast Rana let out a startled yelp.

“I’ll ask you only this once. Where’s Sergei?”

“I don’t think you have to worry. He’ll be coming after you and your little bitch soon enough.” Ahmed ignored Bridget’s gasp. With a quick jerk, he slammed Rana against the wall hard enough for his head to make a satisfying
thunk
.

“Ahmed,” Bridget’s gentle voice broke through his dark haze of anger
, “security is coming.” He looked to the other side of the lobby to see security racing toward them.

“Tell Sergei I’m coming for him.” Ahmed gave him one last slam against the wall before dropping him. “Come on, it’s not safe for you here anymore.” He was relieved when Bridget just nodded an
d started walking out with him.

“I wonder if you’ll be able to protect your
woman this time?” Rana laughed.

Ahmed froze at the cruel reminder of his past.
He turned to end Rana’s life, but Bridget was already moving. She grabbed Rana by his shoulders, and, in one quick motion, brought him down as she brought her knee up. Rana grabbed his crotch and cried out in agony as he fell to the floor.

“This woman protects herself.” Bridget looked up from the crumpled man at her feet to the guards closing in on them. “Let’s go.”

Ahmed felt a smile tug on his lips and hurried out the door after her. He led her to his car and silently pulled into traffic. Ahmed couldn’t help looking over at Bridget with wonder. She was utterly composed. She had acted as if it were completely normal for people to threaten her, guards to chase her, and to take down a man with one well-placed knee. She was one hell of a woman and he’d do whatever it took to protect her—even if that meant leaving her.

Bridget looked out the window of the car and fumed. There was one thing she couldn’t stand about her job—overprotective men. Men who thought the little woman couldn’t handle all the facts. She had clearly been dragged into something and yet as Ahmed drove them through the city and toward the airport, he didn’t bother filling her in.

He had only
stopped long enough at the hotel for her to grab her things. She had hoped he would tell her what was going on, but he hadn’t said anything but, “Get your stuff.” As the airport came into view, her temper started to flare. She looked over at the way he confidently drove the car out onto the private runway and stopped before the jet. It pissed her off that he seemed to think there was no need to explain what was going on.

Bridget got out of the car and grabbed her luggage as Ahmed talked to some men who had approached the car. The door to the plane opened and Bridget climbed the steep stairs and smiled at the pilot.
She said hello, took a seat, and stewed.

It didn’t take long for Ahmed to come through the door. He took the seat opposite hers and glanced out the window
as the plane prepared to take off. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Bridget asked.