Read Forever Betrayed: Forever Bluegrass #3 Online
Authors: Kathleen Brooks
Forever Betrayed: Forever Bluegrass #3
Forever Betrayed
Forever Bluegrass Series #3
Kathleen Brooks
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
An original
work of Kathleen Brooks.
Forever Betrayed
copyright @ 2016 by Kathleen Brooks
Cover art by Sunni Chapman at The Salty Olive
Books by Kathleen Brooks
Bluegrass Series
Bluegrass Brothers Series
Secret Santa, A Bluegrass Novella
Bluegrass Singles
Forever Bluegrass Series
Forever Driven - coming July/August of 2016
Women of Power Series
http://www.kathleen-brooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/BLUGRASSBROS.pdf
http://www.kathleen-brooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/BLUGRASSBROS_FRIENDS.pdf
The families are growing and it can be tough to remember the children or your favorite characters from the Bluegrass Series. These two family trees will help you keep everything straight.
To my shower—Thank you for the brainstorming sessions that have led to so many great scenes.
To my water heater—I apologize for the brainstorming sessions. Please don't die.
To Ferrero Rocher chocolates—You had absolutely nothing to do with the creation of this book, but you are still awesome enough to be here.
To Google—Not a single word to the authorities about my search history as an author. Ever. Please. I beg you.
In Rahmi . . .
Sometimes being a prince isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This happened to be one of those times—a time when the full weight of responsibility and duties rested on the prince's shoulders. Zain Ali Rahman stood before his Uncle Dirar, the king, and the rest of the royal family, advisors, generals, and diplomats of Rahmi, a small island nation in the Middle East. As his uncle was currently reminding him, the Ali Rahman family had ruled for close to a millennium, and Zain was a very important part in the family’s, and thus the country’s, future.
King Dirar was understandably nervous about the line of succession. With the unexpected death of Dirar’s oldest brother, who was a father to daughters only, Dirar and his only son became next in line for the crown. Just a year following his uncle’s death, Zain’s grandfather passed away and Dirar took on the enormous responsibility.
King Dirar cast a fond glance at his brother, Mohtadi. Zain looked over to where his father sat with his mother, Danielle. Back in their permanent home in Keeneston, Kentucky, they were simply known as Mo and Dani. His father gave a solemn nod and Zain swallowed hard. Something that seemed impossible was growing closer to reality.
“Your father, Mohtadi, Prince of Rahmi, has abdicated his place in the line of succession,” Dirar stated. “It has been decided by the family and approved by the council,” Dirar spoke steadily on, “that you, Zain Ali Rahman, will become second in line to the crown after my son, Jamal. If Jamal and his wife are blessed with sons, the line of succession will thus be changed. But we must have a plan in place for all possible outcomes. To that effect, Zain Ali Rahman, Prince of Rahmi, repeat after me.”
Zain took a deep breath to keep his voice strong and clear as he swore to protect Rahmi, its people, and its lands with his life. His uncle, clad in a black suit with a red sash, pinned a gold brooch with the ruby of Rahmi in the center to his shoulder. Next the king stepped down from the dais where he had been standing and stopped before Zain. He reached out and pinned a golden oryx, which displayed swords in place of the animal's horns, to his suit’s lapel. It was the symbol of the royal family and only those with an official place in the line for the crown could wear it.
“This was your father’s. I know if the time comes you will lead our people out of the darkness that must have befallen us. You’re a good man, nephew. All it takes is one good man to make a difference in the world.”
Zain shook his uncle’s hand as the national anthem played triumphantly. Everyone rose and turned to face the red flag with the white stripe in the middle and a black outline of the oryx head in the center. He’d just become the spare heir. The weight of the responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders. He looked at his father who sang the words of his homeland, a place Zain had lived every summer since he was born but had never truly considered home. Home was in Kentucky. Home was Keeneston.
* * *
Two hours later, Zain smiled at the eleventh woman to be thrust at him. She was the daughter of so-and-so, an ally to Rahmi, or maybe this one was from an old noble bloodline of the country, or perhaps a diplomat’s daughter . . . he couldn't keep track at this point. They were all blurring together. His younger-by-a-minute twin brother, Gabe, was happily enjoying the women surrounding him on the other side of the room. Of course, he didn’t have the weight of the crown pressuring him and wouldn’t unless cousin Jamal died or failed to produce male heirs.
Jamal was a good kid . . . kind of. He wasn’t really a kid, but he sometimes acted like one. He was a few years younger than Zain and had already been married for a year. The wedding had been an arrangement made by his mother, Ameera, and his father. He’d married a young woman, barely twenty years old, from the right family with all the training for a future queen. He looked bored to tears and it could quite possibly be why, after a year, there had been no announcement of a future heir. Hence Zain’s uncle’s insistence on having the line of succession updated so there would be no issues in the future. Stability was Darir’s middle name.
“What a beautiful daughter you have, sir,” Zain’s father said smoothly as he joined the onslaught of daughters Zain was tolerating. “I am so sorry to interrupt, but Prince Zain is needed.”
Zain smiled and politely said all the right things to excuse himself. “You know him?” Zain asked as his mother joined them.
“No clue. But anyone with a daughter under the age of thirty-five will be positioning himself with you. Jamal and his wife haven’t succeeded in getting pregnant, a concern after the trouble Darir and Ameera experienced conceiving,” Dani said.
Zain looked at his cousin again. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Zain’s six-foot-two frame, but he carried himself with the confidence of a future king. He just looked like a bored and spoiled future king. “Why does Jamal look like he’d rather be anyplace else?” Zain asked his father.
“You think it’s bad having women thrown at you? You should try having the fate of the family line resting on your swimmers. And you can bet every single person has commented about the fact the princess isn’t pregnant yet. Jamal can either appear bored or kill the next person that offers suggestions on how to go about getting an heir, something I’m sure Jamal knows how to do.”
Zain cringed at the thought as Jamal and Dirar headed out of the room. “But you put me next in line for this pressure,” he pointed out to his father.
Mo nodded his head, now covered with salt-and-pepper hair. “Because I know you would thrive under the pressure it takes to lead a country. Some men are made for it. Others are not. You are a natural leader, and one who needs to be set free to change the world for the better. Speaking of which, I just received word that Piper is all set up in the meeting room,” Mo said as they slipped from the reception and headed for the king’s offices at the other end of the palace.
Piper Davies was one of Zain’s closest friends from Keeneston. She also held the key to what Zain hoped was a way to diversify Rahmi’s economy. He just had to pitch the idea to Dirar, Jamal, and the rest of the royal council.
As soon as Zain reached the offices, guards opened the thick, ornate doors. He saw Piper sitting primly in the corner of the room. Her dark-blond hair, which was normally in a messy ponytail, was swept into an elegant twist. She sat rigid in her black suit with her heels flat on the floor, a stark departure from her normal jeans and lab coat. It was her hazel eyes that betrayed her nervousness.
It wasn’t only Piper who was nervous. At twenty-seven, she was about to become a very powerful woman. And at twenty-nine, Zain was about to rescue a country for the first time. Zain gave Piper a slight smile as she slipped her earpiece in. He similarly picked his up and placed it in his ear, as his parents took their seats at the crescent-shaped table. He looked at his family and the council and took his place behind the podium.
Zain’s speech, given in the language of his people, was being interpreted into English for his mother and Piper. Similarly, when Piper spoke in English, it would be interpreted into Rahmian.
“Family, councilmen, today has been a day to focus on the future of our great country,” Zain started as he looked at each person at the large table. “As members of the royal family, we have sworn to serve the greater interest of our small but prodigious country. My father has done so, knowing he can best serve Rahmi from America. He has worked to strengthen our ties with America, Great Britain, Canada, and Germany, to name a few of our newest allies.
“But there is only so much that diplomacy can do for us. There are fears for the future economy with the progress of alternate energies. Our oil is still plentiful; however, we all know a time will come when demand will be practically nonexistent.” Zain saw the looks of disapproval from some on the council who believed oil was all Rahmi would ever need.
Oil was the number one source of income for Rahmi. Long ago, it had been fishing, but oil had become the primary source of income over the previous sixty years. And power came with that money. Suddenly other countries were forced to ally themselves with Rahmi solely because of the power of the barrel.
“I am not saying we stop the oil exports,” Zain continued. “I’m simply saying we diversify. Other countries have flooded the alternate-energy field, but I have asked Dr. Piper Davies to speak to us today about how Rahmi can become the new face in global advancement. Dr. Davies earned her undergraduate degree in an astounding two and a half years where she double-majored in engineering and biology, specializing in viruses. Dr. Davies was immediately accepted to the postgraduate program where she has since earned a Ph.D. in nanotechnology. Her thesis on biomedical nanotechnology has been published worldwide. She currently works in Lexington, Kentucky, in her own lab with a grant provided by the largest pharmaceutical company in the world. I give you, Dr. Piper Davies.” Zain stepped back and shook Piper’s hand.
“You got this,” he whispered as he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I hope so,” she winked back before turning to her audience. “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for having me here. Nanotechnology is the future for all of us. The question is: do you want to be in the forefront of innovation or a late adopter dependent at an even greater expense?”
* * *
“I can’t believe it!” Piper squealed as she danced in a little circle on the private jet back to Keeneston. Her blond hair was back in her signature ponytail, and she had changed into jeans and a Keeneston High School football T-shirt. “We did it!”
Zain laughed as Piper grabbed him and made him celebrate with her. “You did it. I have you to thank for this.”
“No, you were the one to realize we could globalize nanotechnology. The United States already has a lab up and running, and there’s one in Portugal. But the rest of the world has failed to act on the growing use of nanotech. Places with depressed economies can’t fund them or aren’t interested in them. The talented scientists are left with limited lab space and most are forced to give it up. But now we will have Rahmi International Nanotechnology Laboratories—the first state-funded laboratory that will draw the best and brightest from many nations.”
Zain agreed. “Now I just have to gain the cooperation of our allies. You envisioned it and Rahmi agreed to provide the land and the initial startup funding. But we still need more. I’ll talk to the countries at the Keeneston Summit next week and see if we can’t get some more financial partners.” Zain's confidence in the program was evident, but he knew other leaders would need convincing.
Piper took a seat on the couch and grew more serious. “I meant to ask sooner, but have you heard from Nash? I looked for him while I was in Rahmi and never saw him.”
Zain thought about his best friend and former second-in-command of the Keeneston security force for Zain’s family. Dirar had ordered Nash Dagher back to Rahmi months before and no one had heard from him since. He hadn’t even shown up at Sydney’s wedding to Deacon, and Sydney was one of his closest friends.
“No. I asked my uncle and all he would say was that Nash was on an assignment. Dad found out there has been some tension building between Rahmi and Surman. It appears Surman thinks they deserve more of the international spotlight that Rahmi has. Nash’s assignment may have something to do with that.”
Piper wrinkled her brow and Zain could tell she was trying to think of something. “Is that the country ruled by some sort of cousin of yours?”
Zain nodded. “It was my grandfather’s cousin who thought he should be king of Rahmi. Back before our time, Ahmed and my father helped stop a war between the two countries. My grandfather ended up killing his cousin, Sharif, during the invasion of Rahmi. Since then, the two countries have worked together, but neither trusts the other. Especially since Sharif’s daughter took the throne ten years ago. The relationship has become rocky, to say the least.”
“I hope Nash is safe. Sophie has refused to even utter his name.” Sophie Davies was Piper’s cousin and the entire town had thought she and Nash had a thing going on. Sophie declared there never was—and never would be—anything between them.
“She’s been traveling so much for work that I’ve hardly seen her. Even if she doesn’t miss Nash, which I think she does, I sure do. Kareem, the ambassador’s son who replaced Nash, is okay, but I think he’s better suited for diplomacy than security. I guess he’ll be a help during the summit, though,” Zain said with a shrug as he pulled up his email.
Zain looked at his laptop and cursed under his breath. Veronica, his advisor on foreign affairs, had emailed him. The chancellor of Germany had just decided to come to the summit in place of the vice-chancellor. The vice-chancellor was fluent in English, but the chancellor was not. Zain wrote Veronica back asking her to work with the security team to find a German interpreter and to see if there was any room at the local bed and breakfast for one more interpreter. He was quickly running out of room for all the staff and interpreters needed for this summit.
This was Zain’s first time hosting an international event. He wanted everything to run smoothly. It was his time to make his mark on the global community. His topics of choice had been inviting allies and rivals alike to sit down together to discuss geopolitical tensions that could be eased if countries worked together to stop disease outbreaks and cyber threats that harmed their citizens. That’s why he was hosting it in Keeneston. He had wanted something out of the ordinary and more relaxed so the leaders could freely discuss ideas without worrying about open microphones recording them or being waylaid by the media.