Ryshia Kennie - Sheikh Defence

She had nothing. She looked down. She was virtually naked. The skimpy sleeping outfit had been a bad choice. Fortunately, her father had thrown his jacket over her. Who would have known that a trip that had begun as a lark would end like this?

It wouldn’t end.

Determination shot through her chilled body. She had too much to do with her life. She had a new career that had yet to begin. Again she repeated that promise to herself and to her father. They would live. He would live. They had to.

Something cold pressed against her hip. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties and pulled out her father’s phone. She’d forgotten it was there.

Her heart stopped. She remembered that he’d handed it to her. It was a miracle that it had not dropped to the bottom of the dinghy, into the water that was gathering there.

She held it, the memory of her father handing it to her clear in her mind.

“Call Faisal.”

She knew, as did her father, that if anyone could help them, it was Faisal. He headed the powerhouse investigative company run by his family, Nassar Security. At least he was in charge of their Wyoming branch.

The phone slipped in her damp hands.

* * *

“SHEIK FAISAL,” SHE MURMURED. It was an odd thing to say, to even think. But in the chaos and panic of what had happened, she vaguely remembered what now seemed like so long ago. It had been her senior year of college when she’d first met Faisal. He’d transferred in for that last year. He’d been two years older but she’d been two years ahead of her grade. She’d skipped through grade school in six years instead of eight and skipped kindergarten altogether. Although, the latter didn’t count, she’d been the standard age when she’d entered first grade. Odd memories drifted through her mind. Just the mention of his name brought everything back. She couldn’t move, could only fight to remain conscious and all the while she remembered. She’d teased him about his title of Sheik, and he’d hated having it mentioned. It was strange the places her mind wanted to go when there was so little time. Consciousness could slip away as easily as it had returned.

She gripped the phone with the desperation of the survivor she now was. The phone and a man who had once been a friend, who she had once hoped would be more than just friend, were now her only hope.

The sun beamed down through a break in the clouds and instead of offering hope it only reminded her of the passage of time. It was a reminder that her and her father’s chances of survival decreased with every moment that passed.

She swallowed heavily—the world was graying and beginning to spin. She shut her eyes, focusing on one thing, on remaining conscious at least long enough to get help, to contact someone, to...

Everything blanked out.

She didn’t know for how long or what had happened in the time between awareness and when she opened her eyes again. Like before, all she could see was the ocean. She was in the middle of nowhere and drifting to who knew where. If she thought about it too much she might fall into the abyss and succumb to panic. Her hand slid on the slick bottom of the dingy where water was pooling and was now a quarter inch deep. She could sink if this continued. She took a deep breath. She had to remain calm.

She looked at the phone. It was still in her hand. Had it been there all along? How long had she been out this time? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that no more time passed before she called. She pushed a button and the phone’s screen lit up.

“Thank goodness,” she said in a whisper with what seemed the last bit of strength she had. The wind pushed the struggling life raft in a half circle. As the raft shifted direction, she shivered. She didn’t know how long she could stay afloat or where she was. She was dizzy, fighting to stay awake. She had to do this. She clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline, and in a way it was.

She looked at the screen, squinting as her vision blurred. Everything seemed to spin and then stop.

“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t afford to pass out, not before she made this call. Her stomach clenched and her hands shook harder at what was in front of her. But there was no changing the fact that the battery icon was red. Her hand shook harder. She needed to phone now, while there was still some power left. Instead she fainted.

When she came to, the phone was in her lap. She remembered the battery life as if that frightening fact had been etched in her mind. Hopefully there was some juice left and it wasn’t too late. She knew this was her only chance. Without the phone, without this call and a connection there was nothing. Nothing but a hunk of rubber slowly taking on water stood between her and... She couldn’t think of it. She had to remain positive. She had to get hold of Faisal. Her father’s voice telling her to do that wouldn’t leave her head. He’d suggested no one else, just Faisal.

She couldn’t focus, yet she desperately wanted this horror to end. Despite that or because of it, she remembered another time, another place. Faisal. She’d been on the cusp of adulthood and he’d been her everything for such a short time. Now, again he was her everything but in such a different way. He was all that stood between her and death, between her father and death. This time she was counting on him like she never had before.

She took in a shaky breath, pushed herself gingerly up and opened the contacts. She hit Faisal’s number and the screen went black. The battery had run out along with every chance she’d ever had.

Her world started to spin. She tried to force herself to keep conscious and she couldn’t. She slumped sideways as she blacked out. Her last thought was that she was on her own and she didn’t stand a chance. But then the phone hiccupped back to life.

Chapter Three

Saturday, June 11—9:00 a.m.

It had been more than eight hours since the US Coast Guard had received the call from the missing yacht. And despite the time that had passed, they couldn’t pinpoint where the yacht was. They assumed that the vessel’s AIS, Automatic Identification System, a standardized system that would provide the identity, type, position, course, speed, navigational status and other safety-related facts about the vessel, was compromised. Whether that was due to criminal intent or was accidental was yet to be determined.

Faisal had checked the coordinates between Paradise Island and the continental United States. So much could affect the outcome. If it was foul play, that would change everything. If they were suffering engine failure, it could again change everything. And if they were moving under their own steam—doubtful—again, it changed everything. But with nothing to go on, they had to start somewhere.

He glanced over at Craig Vale, the only one of the Nassar team to make this trip with him. Craig was heading north after this to New York to meet up with other members of the tech team. But in the meantime, it was nice to have a researcher on the case. That so rarely happened. They were usually a distant voice via a phone or computer connection.

Faisal shifted his thoughts, focusing on what was ahead. He didn’t like any of it. He was flying into a no-win situation. Yet, despite that, this was what he did and what he thrived on. He might not like it but his adrenaline was kicking in. The personal connection would no longer be at the forefront. In order for this mission to be successful he had to lead with his head, not his heart. It was no different than when his sister, Tara, had been kidnapped. He’d let his oldest brother lead the charge and he’d done the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He’d stayed here, managing their business thousands of miles away from that heartache. In the end, that decision had been the right one. Tara was home and safe.