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Siri was in business with the corrupt diplomat, and to keep him onside, he had offered him Jadwa as compensation, which everyone knew meant that she was his sex slave. Jadwa, like her sister Juana, was a beautiful young woman so, naturally, the diplomat accepted. She was then taken back to Somalia, despite her protests, and Juana hadn’t heard from her since, though rumour said that she was still being held somewhere by the corrupt politician.
Juana was beaten for attempting to stop this from happening, then watched closely for a while, unable to go anywhere without one of the Malia Boys escorting her. It took some time for Juana to be trusted again. As soon as she was sure that she was no longer being looked at with suspicion, she approached Sean with information about the Malia Boys operations and had acted as an informant ever since.
Juana provided us with whatever information she thought was helpful. It was her way of exacting a little revenge in the only way she could. In return for the information she supplied, we agreed to help her locate where Jadwa was being kept and, if possible, free her. Juana said she could get herself and Jadwa new identities and disappear if we did, but so far, it had proved more difficult than anyone anticipated. The politician had a lot of friends in Somalia, and they’d helped him keep what happened to her hidden. But Miki and I made Juana a promise to help, and we intended to keep it. We still had some mercenaries we knew in Somalia looking for her.
I told Sean to meet me in the back courtyard, as it is the most discreet place here, and we didn’t want Juana to be seen. Also, whenever we met, we kept things as brief as possible, so she wasn’t missed. If the Malia Boys were to ever find out about her talking to us, she would be dead in minutes, or worse…sent to one of their brothels to be used and abused before they killed her. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anybody.
My phone buzzed. “We’re here.”
CHAPTER 9
GRACIE
LATER THAT NIGHT - THE MESSY KISS
After he left me standing and staring at his retreating back, I stomped into the kitchen, a mixture of embarrassment and anger warring inside at being dismissed by the gorgeous Russian jerk.
“Well, hon, it looks like you made an impression on the sexy Russian, though I am not sure it was a good one,” Derrick said, giving me a sympathetic hug.
‘Blew it!Again!’my inner devil taunted. Aargh! I screamed silently at her in frustration.
My cheeks burned with shame and humiliation. Why did I always make a mess of things whenever a gorgeous guy was about?
“Of course, I know what kind of impression he made on you by the way you are blushing,” he laughed, winking at me in an attempt to cheer me up.
“I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself like that, though,” he said, giving me another hug.
“Humph. Well, you didn’t,” I stated huffily.
I was still pissed at him for not standing up for me earlier.
“You know I needed to placate the woman; it’s part of my job,” he stated reasonably.
“I know,” I admitted grudgingly. “But I was sexually assaulted while doing my job, and nobody cares about that; the only thing anyone took notice of was that woman and her dress!” I said, pursing my lips and frowning dramatically.
“Aw hon, someone pinched your bum? That’s nothing. I have had so much worse, believe me,” he teased before stating more seriously, “But, just because it happens, doesn’t mean it should.”
“So, if it ever happens again and you see who it was, you tell me. I will deal with the person. And it won’t be by placating him.” I saw a glint in his eye that I had never seen before.
Derrick was gay, but before he came out, he was in the army and spent several years in war zones as an army medic. While I knew being a soldier meant he was trained to kill, I’d never really seen that side of him before, but I think I’d just caught a glimpse, and suddenly, I was glad he was my friend.
“Best do what Mr Rominov says and stay here for the rest of the evening, hon,” he said.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he stuffed it with a cupcake, laughing as I choked in surprise.
“Stay here and eat,” he said before he left.
“Fine,” I huffed around a mouthful of cake.
I still wasn’t happy about the situation. It still felt like I was being punished, but at least I had cake. Besides, my feet were killing me, so I grabbed a couple more cupcakes and stuffed another in my mouth. By the time I had finished my third, I was feeling happier. There was nothing like a bit of comfort eating to make a person feel better.
Besides, I quickly discovered that being relegated to clean-up duty for the rest of the night wasn’t so bad after all. As much as I had enjoyed unboxing the food, I enjoyed boxing the gorgeous leftovers even more.
Of course, I helped myself to another one or two, well actually five or six, as I did it. Everything was just so yummy.
I knew the treats would go down well the next day at the local homeless shelter.
Marcie had close ties with the shelter, having been homeless herself at age eighteen after running away from an abusive father. She had spent several terrifying weeks on the streets in Manchester, where she was from, before coming to London.
