Final Vow (6 page)

“And since Rana has been arrested, Sergei is looking for an employer at the
same time Sarif is trying to overthrow your father.”

“Exactly. H
ow much do you want to bet they have teamed up again? They made a strong run at the throne before. I’m afraid they will try again. So is my father.” Mo let out a frustrated sigh.

“I take it the jet is waiting.” Ahmed made his way to his car and glanced around to make sure the guards were in place.

“Yes. I will make sure Bridget is protected while you are gone. And Ahmed, be warned. Sarif is dangerous. He’s fueled with a level of hatred and resentment we cannot even begin to know.”

Ahmed shook his friend’s hand and got into the car. As he started the engine
, he looked up and saw Bridget in the window. He wished he could tell her his true feelings. Someday this would be over; he just hoped he would emerge from this upcoming battle alive.

* * *

The knock at the door interrupted Ahmed’s packing. It was a gentle knock—not one he was familiar with—and it certainly wasn’t Bridget’s. If she found out he was leaving, she would be beating down the door to find out where he was going. He zipped his suitcase and went to answer the door.

Ahmed hid his surprise at finding Marcy Davies standing at his front door. She held out a plastic container
filled with cupcakes and smiled.

“Mrs. Davies? What can I do for you?” Ahmed asked.

“Oh, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Marcy said as she walked by Ahmed, through the living room and into his kitchen, all while taking in his house in one quick glance.

“You could never disturb me. Now, what can I do for you?”

Marcy grabbed a cupcake and shoved it into his hand as she made her way to the couch. She looked up, smiled at him, and patted the cushion next to her. “I have been thinking about you a lot recently, but after that incident in the café, I just felt compelled to see you. It occurred to me that while you have been here for everyone in Keeneston, and certainly my family, I have never heard about your family. I assume that is because you don’t want to talk about them. But then again, you aren’t what I’d call chatty.”

Ahmed felt his lips quirk
. “True.”

“I don’t even know if you have a mother or father,” Marcy said, but by the way she stared him down it was clear it was actually a question.

“No. My father died in a rebellion when I was eighteen, and my mother just a short time before that.”

“Well, you’ve taken care of my sons and now it’s time for me to take care of you.
Let me tell you a story.” Marcy settled back into the couch and eyed the uneaten cupcake until Ahmed took a bite of it.

“It’s good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Now, when I was sixteen years old, I met the most amazing man. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the way he could sit on a horse. Do you know what the trouble was? He was with a Keeneston Belle,” Marcy sneered. “Not just any Belle, but the queen bee. So when another boy asked me to the prom, I agreed. I thought it was the universe telling me Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome wasn’t for me.

“T
he day before prom was our final exam for home economics. We had to prepare a dinner and then the teacher and the senior men from the prom court would judge it. I set my fried chicken down in front of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, and he took a bite then looked up at me. The way my toes curled and I couldn’t look away told me the universe was wrong—this was the man for me, period. Do you know what I decided to do?”

Ahmed shook his head. He had no idea what this story was about and why she was holding him hostage with cupcakes and kindness. “What did you do?”

Marcy smiled and patted his knee. “I fought for him. I sent him brownies—and my brownies are magic—with a note from a secret admirer. The note had just enough hints that he could guess, but not know for sure, it was from me. Then I dressed for the prom and ignored him.”

“What?” Ahmed wasn’t expecting that.

“That’s right. I was nice and looked drop-dead gorgeous. I strutted around prom with all the confidence in the world while he couldn’t help wondering if I was the one who sent the note. Now, the Belle actually played into it by being caught making out with the star of the basketball team, who happened to be my date, “ Marcy explained and Ahmed just stared. “After a very public breakup, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was about to leave. I couldn’t let that happen now, could I?”

“No?” Ahmed guessed.

“That’s right. So I grabbed a cheese ball and threw it at him. Hit him right in the back of the head.” Ahmed felt his eyes widen in surprise. “See, I couldn’t run after him in the heels I was wearing. He turned slowly and I smiled. When he came over, he asked me to dance. I said I would only if he stopped being so stupid and saw the woman standing before him. The one who was not a Belle, was a good cook, and who had a slightly wild side. If he could take a chance on getting to know the real me, then I would take the chance of dancing with him.”

“I ta
ke it you danced?” Ahmed asked.

“We did. And then when we were sitting in jail that night we talked about
life, feelings, and love,” Marcy sighed happily.

Ahmed did a double
-take. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Did you say jail?”

“Oh, yes. We
left the prom after that one dance and he took me to the lake right outside of town. We might have had a beer or two as we sat looking at the water while we got to know each other.” Marcy smiled as she remembered that night. “Then he got the idea for us to strip down to our underwear and go swimming. And well, other stuff. Anyway . . . when we got out, I didn’t want to put my dress on over my wet undergarments. And as he walked me home on the empty highway, Sheriff Mulford drove by. He was a stickler for the rules so I argued my bra and panties were actually a bathing suit, trying to get out of public indecency charges. Little did I know back then it was illegal for a woman to walk down the street in her bathing suit without a police escort—or a club. Sheriff Mulford booked me into jail and told Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome to go home. He didn’t want to leave me so he punched Sheriff Mulford right in the face and was booked with me. That’s when I knew I was in love.”

“Mrs. Davies, I’d love to say I understood the purpose of this very interesting story, but I don’t,” Ahmed admitted.

“I’m getting there. We spent the night in jail, which I ask you not to mention to anyone,” Marcy smiled innocently and Ahmed wondered what else she wasn’t mentioning. “We talked and I took a chance and told him how I felt about him. Forty years later, we’re still going strong.”

“M
r. Davies punched the sheriff?”

“Sure did.
Just to stay with me in jail. He’s very romantic like that. Now, as to why I’m here. If I hadn’t taken a chance and thrown that cheese ball at him, we might not be married today. The way you and Bridget look at each other is the way Jake and I look at each other. And since you don’t have a mother to take you aside and tell you to never let go of love once you find it, here I am. And if anyone is capable of fighting for love, you are.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m in no position to even contemplate love,” Ahmed said stiffly as he stood up.

“You don’t contemplate love, Ahmed. You grab it with both hands and hang on.” Marcy stood up and patted his shoulder. “And eat those cupcakes, dear. You need them.”

Ahmed walked Mrs. Davies to her car and shook his head. He didn’t know which to be more surprised about. The fact
that she and Jake fell in love in jail or that she actually came and gave him a lecture on love. Too bad he had to disappoint her. He wasn’t good enough to love after all the things he’d done. Besides, he had a plane to catch and a man to kill.

CHAPTER SIX

Standing at the window, Bridget looked out into the night as Ahmed drove away. She had been breathless with passion just moments before and then he just walked away. She was completely embarrassed. Had
she been that bad? She knew she didn’t have that much experience, but it had seemed pretty wonderful to her. However, right now there was something she needed to attend to, and it was even more important than trying to figure out men.

Bridget picked up her cell phone and dialed her father. When it went to voicemail
, she tried the office. It was the middle of the night, but she knew her father could be at the office for days at a time when there were emergencies.

“Pentagon. Office of the Chief,” a tired woman answered.

“Bridget Springer for General Ward,” Bridget tried to say politely as she tapped her fingers on the kitchen island.

“I’m sorry, but the
general is unavailable at this time. Can I take a message?”

“
I don’t mean to be difficult, but this is his daughter and I need to speak with my father.”

“I’m sorry, but
. . .”

“No. It doesn’t work like that. At least go tell him I’m on the phone before you decide if he’ll talk to me.”

Bridget heard the woman grit her teeth. “Hold.” Bridget tapped her foot and waited. Her father’s secretaries usually knew to put her through no matter what. It was a policy that he had since she was a little girl. “I’ll put you through, Miss Springer.” The secretary didn’t sound particularly happy about it, but before Bridget could apologize for the urgency, she was being patched through.

“What is it, pumpkin?”

“I need your help. Sergei has targeted me,” Bridget told him before explaining the picture Ahmed had brought to her.

“I told you I didn’t want you involved. I’m sending someone for you.”

“No, Daddy. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’ll do whatever it takes to help Ahmed, whether he likes it or not.”

“Pumpkin…”

“Daddy, I’ll do this with or without your help.”

She heard her father step out of the room he was in and into a quiet space. “
There have been some developments here. I’m working with the president’s men. We know Sergei has entered the US. We just didn’t know why. With what you’re telling me, we know he was in Kentucky this evening, but our intel is saying he’ll be at the UN meeting this week. Delegations arrive in the morning and will be here for the week,” her father explained.

“Is that why you’re in lockdown?”

“Yes. We’re coordinating security with the Secret Service for the best way to capture him. We’ve heard rumors of Sarif Ali Rahman contemplating an overthrow of Rahmi. Considering what happened last time he did that, we think the two have teamed up again.”

“I need to help. I have to find Sergei. My life isn’t the only one dependent on it.”

Bridget heard her father sigh and then the noise started again. “Agent Woodberry, I’m assigning Bridget Springer to your team.”

“The dog lady?”

“The dog lady,” her father confirmed.

“Bridget, meet with Agent Woodberry tomorrow at the UN. Bring Marko. I might as well put you to work
.”

“And conveniently have me guarded by the Secret Service.” Bridget almost felt like stomping her foot. Some fathers grounded their ch
ildren, but her father stuck government agencies on her. It was like she was fourteen all over again when she snuck out of the house to go to a party one night. The next day there was an off-duty military police officer trailing her.

“That’s my best offer.”

“Fine,” Bridget said as she rolled her eyes.

“Pumpkin?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“He
’d better be worth it, ’cause right now I’m going to kill him for putting you in this position. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“
He’s worth it. And he didn’t put me anywhere I didn’t put myself. Thank you, Daddy.” Bridget hung up the phone and went to pack a bag. Ahmed may think he was protecting her, but she wasn’t going to sit back and wait for Prince Charming to save her. No, this princess was going to kick a little ass.

Ahmed blended into the shadows surrounding the embassy. He had spent the last two days observing the comings and goings of the Surman embassy and hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of either Sarif or Sergei. The first day he arrived he’d tried to talk to Sarif, but they wouldn’t allow him past the gate.

Sarif was scheduled to talk tomorrow at the UN and time was running out. He was going to have to break into the embassy to find Sarif tonight. Ahmed looked up at the six-foot cement fence topped with a decorative iron railing. Cameras sat on every corner
, and he was pretty sure there were motion detectors attached as well.

He had found a weakness at the back gate. Every night a dry cleaner’s truck came in. The guards didn’t bother to check inside the van. He figured he could leap in a couple blocks from the embassy
. Stepping from the shadows, he started down the street opposite the embassy. A car’s engine slowing caught his attention and he ducked back into the shadows.

A black SUV with dark
-tinted windows came to a stop at the back gate. The window rolled down and Ahmed froze. Sergei. The gate opened and Sergei drove through. Ahmed looked down the street and saw two more SUVs approaching. Keeping to the shadows, he sprinted toward them. The first SUV pulled to the gate and was waved through. Ahmed reached the second SUV as it slowed to turn into the drive. Ahmed ran up from behind it and before it could slow to a stop, he yanked the back door open and grabbed whoever was sitting there.

The man was so surprised he fell from the SUV as the others started screaming. The guards at the gate aimed their weapons and fired as Ahmed dragged the man into the street. He struggled, but Ahmed just pressed the knife into his side
hard enough to draw blood. “Cooperate and I won’t kill you.” Ahmed knew he had him when the man screamed as he dug the knife deeper. It was hard to find good mercenaries these days.

Ahmed tightened his hold and hauled the man into the
dark before the others could even get out of the car. He dragged his captive between the buildings until he reached his car three blocks away.

“What are you going to do with me?”
the man asked as Ahmed raised the trunk and stuffed him in.

“We’re going to have a little talk.” Ahmed slammed the trunk closed and got into the car. Darkness knotted in his stomach. Before Sergei
, he never would have imagined doing what he was about to do. Now it was second nature. And that exact reason is why Bridget deserved someone better than him.

* * *

Hours later, Ahmed dragged the unconscious man from the abandoned building and tossed him into the passenger’s seat. His mouth was covered with duct tape and his hands and feet were bound. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Now Ahmed just needed to figure out what to do with him. It wasn’t like he could walk a bloody and unconscious man into the police station. He had fought the darkness in him that called for death. Images of Bridget stopped him. She would have been disappointed in him. Somehow that thought had stopped him from killing the man; instead, he’d just knocked him out and shoved him in the car.

It really hadn’t taken that much persuasion to get the man to talk. Ahmed knew the schedule and how many guards
were there. He also told him they were most worried about obtaining Saudi Arabia’s permission to attack Rahmi. Sarif was meeting with the representative from Saudi Arabia the next morning and if he got their blessing, Sarif would go forward with his speech in the afternoon. Since Sarif was refusing to talk to him, Ahmed would just go to the Saudis. Without their support, Sarif’s rebellion would be dead in the water.

The Saudi embassy was close to the
city's main State Department building, which was close to the UN. Ahmed made up his mind and turned down First Avenue. He could drive by and dump the man there. Surely he was on some terrorist list and the State Department would happily take care of him.

Ahmed approached the UN and spotted Bridget immediately. What was she doing here? She smiled at one of the agents and he felt her eyes move to the street. It was as if they were drawn to each other.
He was hidden from view by dark tinting, but he still felt her see him.

Slamming on the
brakes, Ahmed knew what to do. He fought the urge to leap from the car and kiss Bridget, showing her how much he’d missed her. He hadn’t realized just how much he had fallen into the void of revenge until he thought of her . . . his light, his hope, and his dream for the future.

Bridget arrived at the UN with the Secret Service for the third morning in a row to help sweep the UN building for bombs. She hadn’t heard from or seen Sarif, Sergei, or Ahmed. She was beginning to think her dad had sent her here to keep her safe. She just hoped Ahmed was safe. He was battling demons and she couldn’t help worrying that he would do anything to achieve his revenge.

“Springer
,” Agent Woodberry called to her from across the stage of the UN, “are we clear?”

“Yes, sir. All clear.”

“Good. The vice president is arriving soon. We need to meet the teams out front.” Bridget tossed Marko a tennis ball and played with him as she made her way out front.

She
stepped out into the cold fall morning and approached the street with Agent Woodberry. As she stood talking with him, she saw a car driving down First Avenue. She didn’t know why she was drawn to it, but as Agent Woodberry talked, she kept her eye on it. When the tires squealed, she darted out into the street with her gun drawn. Something wasn’t right. The door opened and a man was shoved to the ground. In the split second before the door shut, she saw him. It was Ahmed.

“Springer
, get back!” Agent Woodberry called as he shoved her behind him and yelled the details of the car into his radio.

Agents stopped traffic and surrounded the man
in the street. Bridget pushed her way forward and looked down at him. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his eyes start to flutter. “Isn’t he one of Sergei’s men?” Bridget asked innocently. She knew the answer. That’s the only reason Ahmed would have this man.

“Sergei?” Agent Woodberry said with wonder. He was only one of the most wanted men in the world and to nab an associate of his would be major in terms of his career.
“Quick, call the director and tell them of our capture,” Woodberry said as he hauled the man up and waved for a car to be brought around.

“McDowell
, you’re in charge of the vice president’s arrival. I’m taking this bastard in.”

Bridget tried not to smile. While they would look into the car that drop
ped him so nicely wrapped at their feet, they would never find Ahmed. And further, the man they arrested would rather face Sergei than Ahmed so he'd keep his mouth shut. She had wondered if she would find Ahmed and now she knew she didn’t need to worry. He’d find her.