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“What does she want?” Erin asked, confused at the guard’s use of the worddemand.
He shook his head. “I really have no idea. She said she would only speak to you.”
Erin glanced to where the rest of the relief staff were still handing out food and water. She had promised Kamal that she would take extra precautions, and that included having several guards with her at all times. Naturally, she’d put them to work.
“Where is her tent?” she inquired, straining to see where the young man had pointed. It was less than a football field away, and Erin decided she could be there and back before anyone missed her. Kamal was anxious for her to return to the palace and had already called her six times in the last thirty minutes. While she appreciated his concern, sometimes if felt like she was being smothered by it. She wasn’t used to this level of protection, particularly when there didn’t appear to be any need for it. The refugees were all unarmed and far more concerned about returning home than they were about causing trouble. Hopefully, her future husband would back off a little after the baby was born. He’d better, or they would be having words.
“Take me to her. We will go there and come straight back.”
The young man gestured for her to follow him through the refugee camp.
Erin nodded at the people she passed, noticing that the farther they went, the fewer people were around. No one was outside the tent Amir led her to when they reached it, and Erin looked at the guard.
“Where is she?”
“I do not know.” He turned and called out something in Arabic, which Erin still couldn’t understand. She had managed to pick up a few words and phrases, but everyone spoke so quickly, she despaired of ever mastering their language.
When a faint reply was heard back, she waited for the guard to interpret for her. “She asks you to come inside. She is feeling poorly and is unable to walk.”
Erin had a fleeting moment of trepidation, but shoved it aside. They were surrounded by refugee tents. Her protection detail and the humanitarian workers were within shouting distance, and she had an armed escort with her. What could possibly happen to her here?
Smiling at the guard, she stepped to the tent. Pushing aside the canvas and ducking her head, she entered, followed by the young guard.
* * *
PJ looked at the workers handing out food and water to the refugees, searching for some sign of Erin Malone. She knew the young woman was dressed in a yellow pantsuit, which among the dark robes worn by the female refugees and workers should have made her easy to spot. She wasn’t, and PJ grew alarmed when she could not immediately locate her.
Stepping up to one of the palace guards assigned to the protection detail, she asked, “Where is Miss Malone?”
The man looked around him for several seconds, scanning the area and then shrugged. “I don’t know. The last time I saw her she was over by those tents, speaking with a group of children.”
“Did she have an escort?” PJ asked, scanning the area around the tents and seeing no one.
“Yes. A member of the palace guard.”
“Which one?”
“His name is Amir Hamrin. He’s one of our new guards, so he was very excited when he was able to join Miss Malone’s private detail.”
PJ felt a sense of unease prick at the base of her spine. “That’s great. So, where is he?” She really hoped she was wrong about this.
The man once again searched the area, calling to several of the other workers in Arabic who only shrugged in reply. “No one has seen him for several minutes.”
PJ’s bad feeling escalated, and she pushed her com button. “Listen up! We have a situation on the south side of the refugee camp. Miss Malone is missing along with her guard, Amir Hamrin. I want the entire area searched until she is found.”
“PJ, what’s going on?” Trent Larson was the first to reply, a former Navy SEAL who specialized in extractions.
“I’m not really sure, but as of now, Miss Malone is missing.”
“I’m on it. Should we alert the palace?”
PJ cringed but knew it was the right thing to do. “Yeah. I’ll make the call. Slade’s gonna have our heads if we don’t find her.”
“Make the call. We’ll find her.” Trent sounded so sure of himself; PJ grabbed onto that ray of hope as she called the palace, dialing Sheikh Kamal’s personal line.
When he answered, she quickly outlined what she knew, cringing as he cursed in Arabic for several minutes. She hadn’t picked up much of the language, but even she could tell the words coming from the sheikh were not very nice ones. She was just thankful that they weren’t directed at her, although she’d deserve it for allowing the woman to disappear on her watch.
The sheikh regained his composure, though his tone was still angry. “Find her. Now.” And he disconnected the call.
