Turkish Delights Series (37 page)

“Give the phone to Emre.” His rough voice put her on edge.

“He’s asleep, why? You can tell me, can’t you?” She walked out and shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Give the fucking phone to him, Elle. I’m serious. I have to talk to him.”

“Caleb, he is exhausted. Can’t it wait?”

“Does it sound like it can wait? Please just do it.”

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

“No. I am absolutely not fucking okay. And I’m gonna get worse unless you have the phone to your husband. Now.”

***

They sat at the table, Emre dressed only in a pair of running shorts, phone pressed to his ear, his eyes blood shot and unbelieving. Elle poured him another splash of bourbon. His hand shook as he brought it to his lips. He swallowed, blinked then set the glass down. She caught the phone as it slid from his hand when he covered his eyes with both hands.

“Caleb.” She stood and yelled into the phone. “Talk to me, now.”

Caleb’s voice was tinny, nearly overwhelmed by traffic background noises. “This is what I know so far. Levent is in the hospital. He fell at a job site and broke his leg in two places. They set it but had to do surgery as it was a compound fracture. He coded on the table, twice. This was, um, about three days ago now.”

“God damn it. Why didn’t she—”

“Shut up a minute, Elle, I gotta get this out; then I’m going to the airport. I have a flight at midnight.”

“Sorry.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to get out there myself. Picking Lale up. Oh Christ.” Tears poured down her cheeks. Lale. “Okay, tell me the rest. So I get it straight.” She looked up as Emre stood and stared at the huge hole he’d made in the floor-to-ceiling window. His haunted eyes terrified her.

“After he came to, the doctors had determined he had congenital heart failure. They decided to put in a few stents for the blocked arteries, but the heart muscle is so weak and compromised now, the only thing that will save him is a transplant. A fucking heart transplant. Jesus. When he came to, today, he was hysterical, yelling about Tarkan. Telling Vivian to call the police, to get his computer, he needed the police.” Caleb’s gulp made her heart clench. But she needed to know it all.

“Yes. And?”

“So she called me. I talked her through it. Told her to get Levent’s laptop and fire it up, look for anything from the Turkish military or police or whatever that he might need to know. He’d been trying to push for an investigation into the bombing the past months. To get some kind of closure. I don’t know. When she got home, there was a policeman at the door, looking for Levent. She told him what had happened, and he made a call and within five minutes the local military head honcho was there, telling her to sit, that he needed her to be calm and listen to him. Oh dear
Christ
in heaven, Elle. Tarkan, he was…is…alive.”

Elle looked up to see Ayla, the mirror image of herself with her father’s dark, thick hair hanging in her face, still sleepy-looking from her nap. She held a small wooden box. One she had relegated to the back of her treasure shelf for the last year or so. She opened the lid and dumped the contents out onto the glass table. The noise of hundreds of blue glass beads of all shapes and sizes, with the black and white “eye” of God on them hitting the surface was like a gunshot in the room. Elle put her hand over her mouth, fighting for control, so she didn’t scare the little girl.

“
Anne
!
Anne
!” Her use of the Turkish for “mama” made Emre turn around to stare at them. “Look! I found them! Uncle Tarkan’s beads! Do you think he needs them back? I woke up and grabbed them for you!” She ran a small hand over the pile of God’s Eye tokens Tarkan sent her regularly while he was stationed in Ankara. She clutched a handful and thrust them at her father. “
Baba
, let’s go give them to him! I think he misses us.” Emre sank to his knees and pulled his daughter to him. His tears dropped onto the girl’s hair as she laughed and babbled.

“Yes, my darling. Yes. I do think he does.” His eyes met Elle’s over their daughter’s head. “He does.”

Chapter Five

Andreas hauled their luggage off the belt and turned to find Lale staring out the window, her foot tapping, her entire body tense and unhappy. He sighed. This might be harder than he thought. But then again, he knew how much it meant. He put an arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her temple. God, he loved the smell, feel, and taste of her. He didn’t regret for a millisecond buying that ring that cost him a fuck load more than the suggested three month’s salary. He’d been savvy with his pro football money. There was enough for it and four more like it if he put his mind to it. “Relax, would you? You’re making me nervous.”

She frowned up at him; then her face relaxed into a grin at the pretend fear on his face. He cringed in mock horror as she made as if to punch him. “Yeah, you’ll put my eye out with that thing.” He pointed to her left hand.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag. “I can carry my own, thanks, Greek.”

He bowed and indicated she should lead the way, running a hand over her luscious ass as she passed him. “Mine.” He whispered in her ear.

She glanced back, a wicked smile on her lovely face. “Yep.”

He flinched as she pressed her hand to his crotch but grinned at her words. “Mine back.”

The distance between luggage retrieval and where her sister-in-law was to meet them was long enough that he was able to talk her down off the nervous ledge where she’d been perched since landing. As he spoke, he calmed his own pounding heart. Never in his life had he given two shits about what people thought about him. Until that moment. But he settled his face into neutral lines, pulled her to him for a kiss before heading out the door into the main terminal.

The whoosh of fresher air stirred the hair around Lale’s face as she craned her neck for signs of the American woman who’d married her brother. He waited, content to let her lead. He wouldn’t know Elle if she stepped on him anyway. By the time nearly five minutes had passed, Lale slumped against his arm. She reached into her purse for her phone, shoved a stick of gum into her mouth, and pushed her hair off her forehead. He put a hand on the small of her back. She radiated heat and stress. He spoke to her using a tone he knew she’d recognize. “It’s okay. She’s here somewhere.”

When Lale glared at her phone’s screen, his tension level ramped up at the sight of her now pale face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “What?” He gripped her arm and pried the phone out of her hand. She stumbled backwards and nearly fell over her suitcase. People started giving them a wide berth. He was used to it. He still got requests for his autograph if Miami fans were around. He ignored everything and glared at the screen. The words made no sense. Then he realized they were in Turkish. “What is it?” He demanded. Color flooded her face—not a good one either. She looked as if she was about to—Andreas grabbed both suitcases and her arm and tugged her to the side, shoving her into the ladies room. He leaned on the wall, wondering what the fuck had happened.

“Um, excuse me?” He turned to find a petite, pretty woman standing in front of him. Blue jeans and a T-shirt did nothing to hide the fact she was used to being in charge. Her dark blond hair was scraped back in a ponytail, her green eyes bloodshot. “Was that, Lale?” She indicated the restroom door. Andreas stood up straight and nodded, at a loss for words. She ducked into the restroom before he could form a coherent sentence.
Shit. Not an auspicious start. Not at all
. He ran a hand through his hair and resumed his waiting game.

Lale sat on the floor of the stall, staring at the feet coming and going. Her head pounded. The light caught the diamond she’d worn for a grand total of two hours. It mesmerized her. Made her forget the need to continue retching into the toilet. Her eyes stayed dry. She honestly didn’t believe she had a single tear left in her. Not after, “oh… shit.” She went up on her knees and dry heaved a few more minutes.

“Lale? Honey?” The sound of Elle’s voice loosened the tightness in her chest enough for her to find the missing tears.

“Here.” Her voice sounded breathy, weak to her ears. Lale pulled the door open and stood, looking at Emre’s wife. The woman chewed on her lower lip, held out her arms. But Lale stumbled past her to the sink and splashed water on her face trying to process the latest news.

“Um, did you see?” She pointed to the door.

“That huge, hunk of man out there? Yeah. He’s ah, large, isn’t he?”

Lale smiled in spite of the fact her slowly healing heart was getting shredded all over again. She and her father had their fair share of difficulty but she loved him and the thought of him actually dying made her weak in the knees all over again. She needed Andreas’s presence so badly at that moment she ached. “C’mon. Let’s go make some introductions. Then we have to find a flight home, no?”

Elle put an arm around her shoulder. “Yes, we will. Emre is already working on it. Caleb already has his.” Lale stared at her as they walked out into the crowded terminal, unsure why Caleb would need to rush back, too.

“Elle, I’d like you to meet Andreas. Andreas Michos. He is my fiancé.”

Elle shook his hand and stared at Lale. “Really? Wow. Okay. Well, welcome to the…ah…family!” She smiled and gave him a hug. She held out an arm to include Lale in the embrace, which brought on a fresh bout of tears for them both. Andreas held on, let them cry it out, and then handed them both fresh handkerchiefs. Elle sniffled, gave him a weak smile. “You certainly are going to be a surprise.”

Lale groaned. “I don’t care anymore.” She let Andreas fold her back into his arms. “He’s here. He’s mine. Let’s deal with this fresh hell now shall we, instead of worrying about who was born where?”

“Agreed, sister. Agreed.”

“So, my father, he’s….” Elle gaped at her, a puzzled look in her eyes interrupting her train of thought.

Elle gulped and answered. “Um, yeah, he fell, broke his leg and while they did surgery found irreparable damage to his heart.” Lale slumped against Andreas. It figured. Her life was one fucked up drama after another. “But, did you, I mean…ah….”

Lale pulled away from Andreas, feeling a sudden chill up and down her spine.

Elle stammered, very unlike her. “I m-m-mean, who told you?”

“Emre texted me.” Lale stopped dead in the middle of the crowd.

“Oh.”

Lale put a hand on Elle’s arm. “What’s really wrong? I mean, my father is dying. But something tells me that’s not all.”

“Oh, um, well, let’s get home and we can talk about it there.” Elle tried to grab Lale’s bag and power through all the travelers. But Lale stayed put, forcing the flow of people around her and Andreas. She kept a death grip on his arm. Something else was wrong. Massively, horribly wrong. As if sensing her inability to put words to her terror, Andreas called out to Elle, held her close. When her sister-in-law turned back to them, tears streamed down her face.

“I think we should know the whole story now,” he said, not moving from his spot in spite of the dirty looks they were getting from the travelers having to maneuver around them. “What is it, Elle?” His deep voice vibrated against her as she stood there. Lale watched her sister-in-law’s lips move, form words—words her brain refused to process. She froze. The loud, busy LAX terminal became suddenly, strangely silent. Andreas’s grip on her arm released, leaving her alone, again, to face a horror beyond anything she could imagine.

“No.” With one word the entire world of noise whooshed into her ears, making her dizzy all over again. She turned and stomped away from them, from the evil lies that had spilled from Elle’s mouth. What utter bullshit. Tarkan was
not
alive, had
not
been held hostage for the last two years. She would have known. Sensed it. The empty space in her soul would not have existed. Not if he had been alive. “No. No. No. No. No. No.” She kept shaking her head, repeating the mantra as she blindly fought her way back through the crowd. Andreas yelled out for her, but this was one thing he couldn’t muscle or dominate his way out of. This was her life. He’d best get the fuck out of it now. Before it got any worse.

By the time she’d made her way back to the main, glass-enclosed space of the state of the art airport and its stern warnings not to re-enter, her heart was exploding. And she knew it was true. Tarkan. He’d been alive. Tortured. “No!” She shrieked, startling everyone around her and bringing the security guards running as she collapsed to her knees when Andreas and Elle reached her. “Don’t touch me!” Her voice sounded high, screechy, scary. Andreas spoke with the guards in a low voice. But they still hovered. Elle tried to touch her shoulders. “No! Go away! Leave me alone! You…you’re a liar! He’s not! Oh God….” Andreas knelt in front of her. She tried to resist but was compelled to lift her face up, to meet his gaze. “Oh God….” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please, make it stop.”

He took a breath, kept his hands to himself. “I can’t make it stop, my love. But I will be here. With you. Now, let’s get up from the floor. We need to go. We must talk with your brother.” He held out a hand, and they rose together. Lale’s knees threatened not to support her, but her man kept a tight grip and guided her. Elle took her hand, and together they walked out into the night to face their new reality.

Chapter Six

The pain was his one constant. That and the heat coursing through his body, making him shiver so hard his teeth rattled in his head.

And the guilt

He’d left her. She with the soft eyes and lovely heart and the lifeless body after…. Dear Christ, the pain…and the blessed blackness
.

Soft muttering in Arabic made his eyes fly open. Tarkan scrambled to sitting, kicking his legs, trying to get away from it, from them. Gentle looking female eyes observed him from above their face coverings. He opened his mouth to beg, to plead for no more pain. But they held no tubes, metal probes, or headphones, but a glass of water, a bowl with a washcloth, food. His stomach clenched which made the pain in this thigh flare in response. “Ow. Shit.” He muttered and pulled blood-stained fabric from his leg. He’d been shot. Yes. The gun. He’d used it. Used it on them.