Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Thirty Seven

In any other circumstances, Abby would have found the game lodge beautiful; instead, the chilled air was infested with a greedy plague. A slight sound to the side of the dust path had her glancing to her left. A kudu bull sat quietly in the grass. Its twisted horns almost seemed to bow gracefully as the huge buck watched her walk by. Two zebras stood behind, their tails twitching in the dusky light.

Stairs swept up to a wooden deck that led to the luxurious main lodge. An infinity pool draped off the side, the water tinkling in the night. The lodge's massive framework held up a thatched roof. Contemporary African art and thick rugs were scattered among leather sofas and dark wood trimmings in the spacious living area.

The overall effect seemed inviting until you spotted the basket of elephant tusks and rhino horn tucked to the side of the roaring fireplace, or the soldiers with assault rifles standing in every corner. Abby had so far counted seven men, aside from Roman at her back.

She was made to stand in the center of the room like a naughty child as a grandfather clock in the corner ticked away. A Scops owl's call echoed across the valley, bringing tears to her eyes. The loneliest sound reserved for her very own pity party.

When a door finally opened, Khalid Al Juhani swept into the room. "Josephine. It's good to see you again."

Abby said nothing as she looked at the polished worm. Memories of his brutality threatened to bring her to her knees. She locked her legs in place and inclined her head haughtily, as if she were the royal member in the room. Calm snaked around her, settling her in for battle.

He narrowed his eyes. "You now use your middle name. I think Joey is a much better fit."

"Joey was exterminated by a yellow-bellied toad who gets his kicks from raping innocent girls. Abigail, however, will twist your testicles off if you dare to lay a hand on her."

"Brave talk for a whore who was eager to climb in my bed and steal my only son."

"The only thing I was eager for that night was getting away from your filthy hands."

"You have the nerve to hide my heir from me?"

Abby narrowed her eyes. "I gather your wives are still popping out daughters?"

Anger flared. "Shut up whore. Where is my child?"

"There is no child, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Movement from a darkened room to the right had Abby swiveling. Kris rose from an armchair. He'd been watching all along.

"Such an artful liar, my little Cricket." Kris threw a pile of photographs onto the coffee table. Pictures of her and Gabe at a restaurant, shopping in a baby store at a mall, all taken before she'd sent Gabe away.

Khalid picked up a photo of her son—her son, not his—running a finger over his face. "He has my mouth. My hair. You're a hard woman to find. Your antics in Sharjah caused me such headaches. I had to pay off numerous police officials and send out a general missive on your whereabouts, but would never have bothered finding you, until I received a picture of a very pregnant woman at a food market in Johannesburg who looked remarkably like Josephine Evans. I knew that was my child growing in your belly. It took me over two years to find you."

Khalid stepped behind her and ran his hand across her neck, causing her to flinch. "A month ago, when I finally got a fix on your location, Kris told me about your protective military friends. We knew the CIA was onto us. I pretended there was a coup in my organization, leaked photos and used look-alikes. Forced our American enemies to look elsewhere, while I've enjoyed a visit to South Africa's friendly shores."