Malika whimpered and folded her arms across her belly, shooting a glance at the door, still under assault from someone on the other side.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going that way. Why do you think they put you in here in the first place?”
Raven crept across the room and pressed a panel with her palm. She felt the spring give beneath her hand and she slid the panel to the side, where an opening yawned in the wall. She turned and gestured at Malika.
The girl tiptoed toward the wall and jumped at a particularly loud thump on the door. Raven grabbed her arm and pulled her through the opening. She slid the panel back into place and tucked Malika behind her. Pressing her ear against the wall, she put a finger to her lips.
Malika wrapped one arm around Raven’s waist and trembled against her back. Raven straightened her spine to give them both a little confidence.
The door on the other side burst open with the sound of splintering wood. Raven held her breath as the blood pounded in her ears. Friend or foe?
“Where are they? I thought you said they were in here.”
Raven flinched at the sound of a sickening thud of flesh against hard wood. Garrett’s head?
“Obviously they were in here. That’s why he’s here.”
Accents. One German, one French.
“Maybe they’re still here.”
Malika’s grip tightened, squeezing the breath from Raven.
“We don’t have time to search. Once the pandemonium subsides and they try to raise their comrade here on his radio, they’ll be crawling all over the place.”
“We can’t afford not to search. We need the girl.”
With shaky hands, Raven slipped her high heels from her feet. She tapped Malika on the head with the toe of one shoe and pointed toward the set of stairs that disappeared into the darkness.
If the two men started banging around out there, Raven had no intention of waiting until they discovered the hollow cavity in the wall. She didn’t have a clue as to the meaning of this assault, but she knew danger when it stared her in the face. Two years working as a translator with Prospero in the Middle East had taught her that.
She laced her fingers with Malika’s and guided her down the steps. She had to hand it to the little girl. The minute Raven had given the command to go, Malika had performed like a champ—no tears, no tantrums, just flight.
They crept down the stairs and reached a door. “Hold it.” Raven held up her hand. Turning the tarnished metal handle, she eased open the door and peeked into the deserted hallway. She crooked her finger at Malika to follow and then tiptoed into the open space, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Raven hated feeling vulnerable.
Her grip on Garrett’s gun tightened as she pulled Malika close to her side. They sidled along the wall. Raven had spent plenty of time in this building and knew exactly where they were. She also knew the location of a janitor’s closet nearby.
She had the overwhelming sense that she needed to keep Malika under wraps. Anyone could be out there now. She didn’t even know if President Okeke was dead or alive.
Reaching the closet door, Raven pulled it open and shoved Malika inside the small space crowded with brooms, mops and buckets.
Raven whispered. “We’re going to stay here for a while until I can figure out what’s going on.”
In the darkness, Malika scooched in closer to Raven, who could feel the trembling of the small girl’s body. She slipped an arm around Malika and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Do you understand?”
Malika nodded, tickling Raven’s chin with her hair. Then she slipped her sticky hand in Raven’s. Why did kids always have dirty hands? Raven curled her fingers around Malika’s.
Despite the recent turn of events, maybe President Okeke had the right idea bringing his daughter along. It beat stashing her with some nanny or shoving her into some boarding school. Raven knew all about that.
She’d vowed never to do anything like that to her children. And the best guarantee against that was to skip motherhood altogether. Of course, that decision had cost her Buzz, her ex-fiancé. Second time she’d thought of Buzz today, not that she didn’t think of him every week, or dream about him, or…
Must be all the high-octane excitement.
“Now that we’re in a safe place, I’m going to get us some help.” Raven slipped her cell phone out of her pocket where she’d dropped it after discovering the comatose bodyguards. Walter should know the status of events. She called him, only to have her cell phone inform her that a closet in the middle of the U.N. was no place to get reception.
Malika tapped the phone. “Help?”
“Not yet. We’ll stay here for a little while longer. Police and security should have this building secured shortly, and then we can just walk out.” Raven patted her oversized handbag, where she’d stashed Garrett’s weapon. “Besides, I have protection.”
Malika emitted a puff of air from her lips. “My mother had a gun, too.”
A knot tightened in Raven’s chest. This little girl had been through too much already. When would it end? Raven’s own childhood had been no picnic, but privilege, wealth and distant parents couldn’t compare to revolution, gunfire and death.
“D-did you see it happen?” Raven bit her lip as Malika stiffened beside her. Any idiot knew you didn’t ask a child questions like that. You should change the subject, pretend it never happened, stuff down those feelings.
Raven should know better. That’s how every adult had treated her as a child, even after her little brother had drowned in the family pool.
Malika drew in a noisy, wet breath. “Yes. The rebels broke into our home. They got past our security forces. My mother had her gun—” Malika lifted her shoulder “—but they got her first.”
“I’m sorry, Malika. That must have been…horrible.” What an inadequate word. The kid must think she’s some kind of monster for asking her to dredge up that moment.
Malika increased the pressure of her fingers around Raven’s hand. “My father never asked me about it.”
Raven glanced down, trying to discern the expression on Malika’s face in the dark. Maybe Raven hadn’t been crazy for wanting to talk about her brother, Jace, after he’d died. But nobody would allow her to talk about him. Instead they’d politely avoided the topic and studied Raven’s every word and expression for signs of trauma. Her parents were big on opening up…to a bevy of therapists, anyway.
A footstep fell in the hallway, and Raven’s body jerked.
Malika pressed her head against her knees, her entire frame tensing. Raven slipped her hand into her handbag and withdrew the gun. She released the safety and pointed it toward the closet door. She didn’t plan to go down without a fight. And she didn’t plan on allowing anyone to snatch this brave girl beside her.
A door opened and closed, and Malika rolled her head to the side, resting her cheek on Raven’s knee. “They are coming. They always come.”
A twist of fear spiraled up Raven’s spine and she shook it off. No time to panic. It could be the police or U.N. security or even Burumandan security forces.
Yeah, like the ones who killed Malika’s mother?
A bead of sweat rolled along her hairline. With her finger poised on the trigger of the gun, Raven braced her stockinged feet against the door. She knew the door swung outward, giving her an advantage over their stealthy attacker. She could hit him with the door first…and then the bullet if it became necessary.