Blood of the Nile (6 page)

If anything happens to Maliyah, I swear, the person responsible will
pay with his life. I’ll rip the coward’s jugular out with my teeth.

Ramses kept his
eyes trained on the French doors at the entrance to Maliyah’s suite. Soon, he
noticed that a dim light had been turned on. Through the window coverings, he
saw her silhouette move across the floor. Then a few minutes later, he heard the
trickle of water. Maliyah must have gotten up to use the bathroom. An
overindulgence of wine at dinner was the most likely culprit.

Glancing at the
time on his cell phone every now and then, Ramses realized that almost half an hour
had passed, and Maliyah hadn’t returned to her bed.

In a panic, Ramses
rushed to the double doors and turned the knob to try and gain access to the
room. To his dismay, the lock wouldn’t budge. With his broad shoulder, he
rammed into the wood frame, sending wood splinters into the air as the door
came off of its hinges. He’d rather pay for a new door than sacrifice Maliyah’s
safety.

He flew into the
suite and saw light stream into the surrounding area from the bathroom. The
door was slightly ajar. Ramses pushed it open, and found Maliyah on her knees,
her head resting against the toilet bowl. She was wavering in and out of
consciousness. Dark circles marred her bloodshot eyes. Her skin appeared
yellow, almost jaundiced. The stench of vomit wafted past Ramses’ sensitive nose,
causing bile to rise up in his throat. Holding his breath, he hefted Maliyah’s
frail body into his arms and laid her on top of the bed. Then, he sprinted down
the hall and pounded on both Salma and
Husani’s
doors.

“Wake up. Something’s
wrong with Maliyah. We need to get her to a hospital,” Ramses shouted, pacing
the halls impatiently as they hurried to dress. When they finally stepped into
the hall, he barked orders at them like a drill sergeant. “Husani, make sure
the limo is ready to go. And Salma, help Maliyah put on some clothes. I found
her in her undergarments throwing up in the bathroom.”

Within a few
minutes time, Maliyah was dressed in a soft velour warm-up suit the color of
moss. Her head rested in the crook of Ramses’ arm. He touched her forehead
gently. She was drenched in sweat and her temperature had skyrocketed, making
her shiver and her teeth chatter.

Dear God, let her be okay.

Chapter Seven

The Murder Plot

When the doctor
entered the room, Maliyah’s cousins sat perched on the edge of the hospital bed,
one on each side of her. Her hands were riddled with wires to monitor her
oxygen levels and to keep intravenous fluids flowing through her veins. She
turned toward the door, surprised to see Ramses sitting in a chair in the
corner. With his head in his hands, he rubbed his fingers over his five o’clock
shadow. He looked tired.
Frazzled.

It was close to
four in the morning by the time Maliyah had settled into her private hospital room.
She’d spent the last several hours in the emergency room, a tube shoved down
her throat to pump the vile, gut-wrenching contents out of her stomach. The
tube had been removed, but she still felt a bit queasy.

"Hello, Miss
Aziz. I’m Dr. Zaki. How are you feeling?” the physician asked, his expression
blank.

“A little better,
thanks. What’s the verdict?”

The doctor flipped
through the stack of paperwork on his clipboard, then looked back at Maliyah
and frowned. “It looks as if you’ve been poisoned. We found traces of
abrin
, a toxin derived from the seed of a rosary pea plant.
The initial symptoms include vomiting and diarrhea. However, it can lead to
death if left untreated. Luckily, we caught it early and your chances of a full
recovery are very good.”

“Poisoned?” Husani
asked, scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion. “How is that possible? How
could it have been administered without Maliyah knowing?”

 
 
“More
than likely, it was mixed in with something your cousin ate or drank. It had to
have been ingested within a couple of hours from the time she arrived at the
hospital. Otherwise, more severe symptoms would have presented themselves by
now.” The doctor turned his attention to Maliyah. “May I examine you?” Once
Maliyah agreed, he performed a thorough inspection. He checked her vital signs
and used a stethoscope to listen to her heart. Then, he cocked his head
sideways as if sizing her up.

“Am I cleared to
go home?” she asked hesitantly.

“Not yet,” Dr.
Zaki said with a shake of his head. “I’d like to keep you here overnight. Just
for observational purposes. If all goes well, you’ll be released tomorrow afternoon.”

As soon as the
doctor left the room, Ramses was up out of his seat. He moved to the side of
the bed and glared at Maliyah, then at Husani. “Are you sure it’s a good idea
for her to go home? She was poisoned and we don’t even know who’s responsible. Whoever
it was has access to your house. We need to find somewhere secluded where she
can hide out.”

Husani let out a
beleaguered sigh. He stood and paced the room, his fingers massaging the
muscles at the back of his neck. “I agree. We need a game plan. Without one,
Maliyah’s a sitting duck.
Any suggestions?”

“Stop it! You two
are talking about me like I don’t exist. I’m
right
here.”

 
“Sorry,
habibti
,”
Ramses smiled, using the term of endearment as he playfully mussed his hand
through her hair. “But you’ve already proven that you have no clue how to cover
your ass. And I mean that in every sense of the word.”

***

Shortly before
dawn, Ramses and Salma hopped into the limousine and rode back to Anwar’s
house. Husani had agreed to stay with Maliyah at the hospital. The sun had just
begun to rise from the East when they pulled up in front of the iron gates. Ramses
was exhausted. Sleep beckoned, but there were too many details to work out to
let
himself
nod off. Once in his suite, he turned on a
laptop, and scoured his business contacts in order to come up with a list of
possible suspects. Who had the most to gain if Anwar and his daughter were out
of the picture?

 
Maliyah’s father harbored few enemies. He did,
however, have a couple of well-known business competitors, men who made
millions by globetrotting around the world hawking their wares.
Crude minerals.
Textiles.
Ceramics and other household goods.
Surely, Anwar’s death
and the liquidation of his financial assets would make it easier for them to
peddle their products and increase profits.

In fact, one of
his biggest rivals also happened to be one of his closest friends. Ramses had
introduced his business associate to Aristotle
Kristopolous
,
a powerful vampire in his own right, shortly after they’d forged a partnership.
Aristotle ran AK Oil International, a conglomerate of businesses with hubs in
both Athens and New York City. While his main source of income came from oil
production, he also dabbled in the import/export industry. With Anwar out of
the picture,
Kristopolous
could most certainly find
financial gain. Fortunately, the two men were tight and had always found a way
to separate business from friendship. Although in recent years, the vampire’s
health had
began
to fail and his son, Andreas, had taken
the helm. Was it possible that Anwar’s business relationship with the
Kristopolous
family had turned sour?
Maybe,
but highly unlikely.

In addition to his
business rivals, the only people who could profit from the demise of Anwar’s
heir were those with a direct tie to the family bloodline. Common sense told
him that Maliyah’s cousins were his main suspects. Yet, after seeing how Salma
and Husani doted on Maliyah and her father over the years like a couple of
lions caring for a newborn cub, he couldn’t quite swallow that logic. No way in
hell would they turn on their own
kind.

Ramses’ gaze went
cross-eyed as he stared at the same words on the computer screen for the
umpteenth time. His eyelids started to flutter. His limbs went limp. Without
warning, he slumped over in the chair. He lowered his head, resting his
forehead on the edge of the keyboard. His body had shut down, at the mercy of
his nocturnal proclivities. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, it was a losing
battle and sleep soon prevailed.

Ramses didn’t know
how long he’d been knocked out, but he awoke with a start. He heard someone
pound on the door, shouting his name. Taking note of the digital clock on the
nightstand, he realized that it was approaching two o’clock in the afternoon.
Holy shit! He’d been out for hours. He sprang from his seat, bolted to the door
and flung it open.

“Ramses, wake up.
It’s Anat. She’s gone,” Salma cried as he opened the door. He scrubbed his hand
over his face as he tried to shake free of the foggy haze that lingered due to
lack of sleep.

“What do you mean?
Where is she?”

“I have no idea. I
went to her room to check on her and she wasn’t there. Most of her belongings
are gone too,” Salma said
,
her features etched with
worry lines.

At hearing her
words, Ramses’ heart sank in his chest. A nagging feeling slithered down his
spine. Perspiration formed on his furrowed brow. Why would the housemaid flee
without warning? Something must have perpetuated her sudden departure. Could
she have had a hand in Maliyah’s poisoning?

“Have you tried calling
her cell?”

“Yes,” Salma
nodded in the affirmative. “She won’t pick up.”

“Give me
Anat’s
cell phone number. I’ll have someone pull up her
phone records and put out a trace.”

Ramses took a
quick shower and got dressed. He slid into a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved
cotton dress shirt. A dark grey turban shielded his face to protect him from
the heat of the scorching sun. Time ticked away and no matter how much he hated
venturing outside during daylight, Maliyah’s safety took precedence over the
slight discomfort he’d experience. Besides, as long as he kept most of his body
covered, any surface burns he suffered would heal in a matter of minutes.

On their way to
the hospital, the private investigator Ramses employed called back with
information on Anat. The maid had received several dispatches from a phone
number based out of Aswan, a bustling city located on the Eastern tip of the
Nile River, approximately six hundred and eighty kilometers from Cairo.

Ramses wanted to
keep Maliyah out of harm’s way, but deep down he knew she was the only person
who could draw out their enemy. His gut told him that
Anat
was nothing more than a pawn at the mercy of the true killer. Once he had him
in his sights, Ramses would stash Maliyah away somewhere safe and put the
bastard out of his misery. He planned to take him apart piece by bloody piece,
sucking him dry until there was nothing left but bare bone and rotting flesh. Hopefully,
Anat
would lead them to Anwar’s murderer. If not,
Maliyah would end up looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. That
was no way to live.

Chapter Eight

The Love Train

“Not a chance in
hell. I won’t allow Maliyah to traipse halfway across the country on a
passenger train with a virtual stranger. I simply don’t trust you to be alone
with her,” Husani shouted, his face only inches from Ramses. Her cousin rammed
his index finger into the other man’s chest in an attempt at intimidation.

Husani was
obligated to react the way he did. Egyptian culture demanded it. Nonetheless,
Ramses countered the threat with a ferocious growl. The bloodcurdling sound
immediately drew Maliyah’s attention. She watched him squint, his dark,
menacing eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights in the hospital room. Their
intense hue ignited, and transformed into a fiery red conflagration. He looked
feral.
Primed to strike.
Maliyah had never seen
anything like it in her life. She had to stop the standoff before someone got
hurt.

“Calm down,
gentleman. I’m tired of you two barbarians ordering me around like a harem girl,”
Maliyah said, stepping between the men to force them apart. Salma stood behind
her, ready to serve as backup in case her cousin needed it. “I’m a grown woman.
I can make my own decisions and I choose to search out the truth. Finding my
father’s killer is something I have to do.”

Ramses crossed his
arms over his muscular chest. He winked,
then
shot
Maliyah a devilish grin, clearly amused by her show of defiance. Damn if the
man didn’t look sexy as sin. Sure, she hated the idea of having to put up with
his high-handed tyranny for the next twelve hours on the way to Aswan. Although
being cooped up in the cramped quarters of a train compartment with Ramses
might be exactly what the doctor ordered.