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“I heard what you said through the window as I walked onto the porch. Something about kissing a ‘sassy Southern beauty with tantalizing lips’?”
Dang. His brother had overheard.
“I’ve never seen you be some Romeo.”
“I’m not.” He shifted his weight and blinked at his brother. “I’ll be careful with her.”
“I know you will, Curt. Be careful with yourself too. She could make up and share all kinds of stories of her time with Prince Curtis with only you two alone here and the guards mostly outside.”
“Not Aliya,” Curt said fiercely. “She’s as genuine and loyal as anyone I’ve ever met.”
Ray stared at him, as if his answer gave him even more concern. “You’re falling for her. If she’s only here for a short time, you could entangle your heart and break it.”
Curt nodded, though he wanted to disagree. His brother was right. He had to be careful. Especially as they’d be virtually alone for the next eight days.
If only the ‘sassy Southern beauty’ wasn’t so appealing.
Chapter Nine
Aliya was a mess as she washed her face, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes, prayed, and slid into the comfortable bed. She didn’t dare open her window tonight. General Ray seemed pretty confident the men who killed all those women wouldn’t dare come around now, but who knew?
She lay there, staring at the darkened ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of her face and wetting her hair, some pooling in her ears.
Gracie.
She hadn’t known her friend for long, but they’d formed a fast friendship. It broke her heart to think of a vivacious, sweet, and smart life being snuffed out. Why? What were those men after? Ray had said something about trafficking and stealing identities. The words pricked something in her memory, but like everything from yesterday, it wasn’t tangible. Just words and impressions floating around, ugly and scared feelings, and the sensation of running from someone and then a lot of water.
Aliya thought of herself as a tough and brave woman. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. It was part of her makeup. Yet she’d blocked out something that was key to helping avenge the women who’d been killed and protecting others from being taken.
Had she seen Gracie die? Had she been assaulted herself? Whatever it was had been horrible enough she’d blocked it out and somehow flung herself off a waterfall to escape. Those men could just be walking around free and probably killing or kidnapping other women. She could run into one of them and not even know it. It was horrifying, unsettling, revolting. Her body shook from withheld sobs and her pillow grew wet from her tears.
If only Curt could come and hug her again. She listened and couldn’t distinguish what the two brothers were saying, but eventually the voices drifted off and then footsteps came up the stairs. The steps passed her door without slowing and she heard Curt’s door open and close and some muffled movement in his room. He wasn’t coming to her. His brother had given him some ‘looks.’ Had he commanded him not to like Aliya? Would Curt listen?
She closed her eyes and finally drifted off.
When she woke the next morning, she felt much better physically, though her eyes were puffy and her heart hurt for Gracie. She kneeled and prayed for Gracie’s family and all the women who had been killed or taken from their families. They’d found seventeen bodies, but twenty-eight women were on the missing persons’ list. She assumed that didn’t include her and Gracie, as neither of them had been declared ‘missing’ yet. So possibly twelve women had been sold to traffickers, if Gracie was one of those bodies. If they caught those men, could they somehow find those poor women? If she could remember those men’s faces and builds, would it help at all or would they only disguise themselves and slip through the authorities’ fingers?
She took a shower and put on the closest-fitting clothes that were clean. Sometime today she’d need to do some laundry. If only she had her own clothes and not just the hospital scrubs. Her mama would be scandalized to see her wearing a too-big T-shirt and too-tight running tights with no makeup, jewelry, or heels. She smiled. It should bother her as she wanted to impress Curt, but he was so down-to-earth and seemed drawn to her without her fixing up.
Hurrying out of her room and down the stairs, she stopped at the sight of Curt in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. He looked over the massive granite counter at her and grinned.
The man looked far too good all the time, but it was singularly impressive that he cooked. Her daddy wouldn’t know the wrong end of a spatula. She loved her daddy, but a hot prince who cooked was almost as pretty as the glorious mountains she couldn’t explore.
“I woke up with the roosters,” she called out.
Curt chuckled. “Now that is something to be proud of.”
“Certainly it is. Yesterday I slept and wasted the day away. Today we’re going to … Well, we’ll find some sure-fire way to entertain ourselves. Did the General declare us on house arrest?”
“With permission, we can open a window or two.” He winked but sobered. “Are you doing all right?”
“Do I look a sight? With my eyes all red and no makeup to scream about.” She felt guilty as soon as she said it. Gracie and twenty-eight other women were dead, or in a worse situation if the horrors of human trafficking were their lot.
“You could never look awful,” he said softly.
“Bless you for sayin’ so. I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m alive and safe and here with you. I truly am countin’ my blessings and praying for Gracie’s family and all those other ladies. My heart about broke in two last night.” She didn’t share her near-hysteric terror.
“I’m sorry.” He studied her as if she were impressive to him. She appreciated that but it was hardly the focus.
