Captive- Veiled Desires Page 3

Her boat passed by and he immediately tensed. He glanced behind him and discovered that Mateen and his two companions had noticed the incident.

  He strolled casually as he could up to them, hoping that his nonchalance towards it would ease them down as well and perhaps dismiss it altogether. “The guns are in the lake as promised.” He informed them, wiping the droplets of water with the back of his hand. “It’s in a bag attached to a pole in the pier, probably right below where we’re standing.”

  “I’ll get Merzad to retrieve it in the night,” said Mateen. “We have a shipment going into Paktika tomorrow. Might as well, send it then. We’ve paid good money to border officials this time. We don’t want to lose the opportunity.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll be in Kabul the next few days. Some things have popped up with Jahandar. I’ll need to sort it out with him.”

  “Why don’t you let us pop the guy and not the issue?” Mateen grumbled. “Jahandar is nothing but a hindrance.”

  “If it were only that easy. Everything can’t be solved with killing, Mateen.” He turned to walk away. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Adam.” Mateen stopped him. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting to solve one more issue?”

  He raised his brow. “What is it?”

  “What about the girl? She definitely took pictures of you. We should find out who she is.”

  He thought briefly before speaking again. “She’s just a tourist taking photographs.”

  “The fact that she took pictures of you is a problem enough. If we’re in the background, that doesn’t forebode well for us.”

  Adam nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t want to appear as if he was siding with Westerners. “Very well. Get the camera. But leave the girl alone. We don’t want any international attention. So just the camera.”

  Mateen wrung his hands slowly, watching him. “You’re sounding careless, Adam.”

  Adam lifted his eyes, anger seeping into them. “I’m being cautious. Had it not been for me, none of you bastards would be breathing the air in Kashmir right now.”

  He swung around and strode away. His name was Adam Afridi. He was the leader of Darul-Ilhaam, an underground guns supplier for the Middle-East. Mateen was just his co-pilot. A fearsome, murdering psychopath. Mateen wasn’t a terrorist for the purpose of fulfilling a nationalistic or patriotic cause. He wasn’t a criminal either because he was in need of the money like his comrades. He was in it only because of his dire need to murder. And Darul-Ilhaam gave him a reason to legitimize his killings. That made him dangerous.

  “Why don’t you let me talk to the American contact?” Adam asked, an eyebrow raised with curiosity.

  The little café bustled with men talking in loud voices, calling out to the tea boys to refill their jugs. Jahandar ignored them, stubbing out his cigarette into an ash tray.

  “The Americans don’t talk to anyone. Do you know how long it took to get them to trust me? Fuck long, that’s what,” the chubby man grumbled. “There are US marines involved and high-end military officials. That’s why they’re very careful in bringing anyone into their circle.”

  Adam picked up his cup of tea and sipped from it, watching the man carefully. “All I know is that I’m not selling our opium for a petty price anymore Jahandar. We’ve got better offers from the Russians. If your American contacts are still fussy about coming to an agreement, then they would have to take their business elsewhere.”

  “I said I’ll talk to them. I can’t promise you if they’ll negotiate with you but I will try.”

  “Do it quick, Jahandar. I’ve got better clients in queue.”

  The man snarled and rose out of his chair. “I’ll call you when it happens.”

  Adam looked on as the fat Afghan stumbled out of the café, bumping into others as he did. He sighed. Jahandar was ill-mannered, but he was great at keeping secrets. And in this business, that was a bigger asset than learning to give your salaams.

  His phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller ID. Freba?

  “Adam?” Her voice quivered when he answered it.

  “Freba, what’s wrong?”

  “Adam, Mateen kidnapped a western woman. A foreigner. And he’s beaten her real bad.”

  “A woman? Who?”

  “He keeps saying she has some photographs she needs to give to him.”

  He paled. It was the woman in Dal Lake. He swore under his breath. Fuck Mateen! He and his trigger finger were going to ruin everything!

  “Freba, make sure he doesn’t get to her. I’m coming over now.”

  “Where is he?” he snarled as soon as he arrived at the abandoned house that operated as an operational base. He had driven seven hours straight into the desert in Paktika. And now he was hungry and tired and mad.

  “He’s gone back to the woman,” she said, running after him as he headed towards the room she had indicated. “I’m afraid he is going to kill her.”

  He flung the door open, glancing at the woman cowering on the floor. His rage inflamed. He grabbed Mateen by the lapels of his shirt and pushed him back against the wall.

  “I told you to keep your hands off her!” he roared.

  “She didn’t have the photographs. I checked her camera.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She erased them.”

  Adam held him still against the wall, his mind rapidly processing through everything Mateen was telling him.

  “That could only mean she is a spy,” Mateen continued.

  “It doesn’t mean jack,” Adam minced. “She could have just erased it for the heck of it.”

  “I was trying to figure that out when you barged in here!”

  “You were going to kill her! And that’s not something I’m willing to risk when we’re hoping to secure relations with the Americans.”

  “We don’t need those cocksuckers.”

  “Tell that to your dick, when you have the need to fuck with new guns again,” said Adam, glaring into the man’s eyes. “These are marines and they have the best weapons in the market. We can’t risk being in the centre of an international media warfare. We don’t want them withdrawing from negotiations, Mateen. I worked my ass off to get this close. And I’m not going to let you fuck it all up because you got trigger happy with a fucking tourist! Now, are you gonna back-off?”

  Mateen threw up his hands against the wall as a sign of submission. Adam drew back and then waited until he left the room. He let out a breath of relief, thanking his lucky stars that Mateen didn’t choose to fight him on the matter.

  He strode up to Freba. She was sitting next to the woman with a protective arm around her, trying to calm her down. The woman was visibly shaken, not a particularly healthy sign for someone who was allegedly a spy. Spies went into the battlefield knowing that they would probably suffer a worse fate than a POW. They made peace with their deaths long before they were captured and killed. He should know.

  The woman raised her eyes and the moment they locked with his, he could almost feel his heart clamp. His instincts told him that her fate was going to be sealed with his forever.

  Mateen rolled some hash into his cigarette. He needed to calm himself down after that altercation with Adam. Fucking cunt, he swore under his breath. She had come between brothers. There was no room for cunts like her in this world.

  It wasn’t the first time Adam had disagreed with Mateen over something. But this was certainly the only time Adam had hauled Mateen by the collar over a woman. Mateen sniffed the odor rising out of the powdery hash. He wasn’t afraid of Adam. If opportunity had it, he’d give Adam as good as he got. But he knew there were skills Adam had that he had never mastered. One of them was hand-to-hand combat skills. Adam moved too fast for any one’s good.

  He sneered. They may be brothers in war, but Adam was one brother he’d gladly put a bullet through if he had the chance. The problem was he didn’t have the social skills Adam possessed. Adam carried all the burdens of negotiations and other bullshit like th
at in Darul-Ilhaam, giving him all the time he wanted to play with his guns. The best days were those when he caught a traitor lurking about in Darul-Ilhaam. He would salivate with eagerness while he would watch the fucker scream and beg for mercy as he would torture him. Executions of the bastards were only carried out once he had got bored with them. Then, it was time to find another playmate. Except in this instance, Adam had interfered in the game, disrupting it.

  He lit his cigarette and then put it daintily between his lips, drawing the fumes into his lungs. Was Adam perhaps personally interested in that foreign whore? She was beautiful. He remembered some people at Dal Lake referring to her as Aishwarya when he had enquired about her. With that fair skin and green eyes, it was possible she had captured the heart of the otherwise rogue leader of Darul-Ilhaam. The Adam he knew usually refused to keep any kind of sordid affiliations with a woman. But Nora Jennings could probably be the first whore Adam was likely to add to his harem.

  The thought of Adam pounding into her, making her scream and begging for more, aroused him. Suddenly, he wanted her too. He wanted to spread those legs and taste the sweet cum wetting her pink pussy. How must it feel to knead her soft breasts, to pinch her nipples between his fingers?

  He grew hard and he couldn’t help touching himself. He could feel his rigid cock through his pants and it throbbed in his hand, eager for Nora’s soft lips around it. Why should he jack-off right here when she was sitting only a few feet away from him, and probably as sex-starved as he was?

  He stubbed out his cigarette and ambled out of the room and towards Nora’s. He signaled at the two guards to stand down. They obediently strolled away, leaving him alone standing outside it. He rubbed his jaw, smiling. His cock was aching to see her.

  The door creaked open and Nora jerked up. It was dead in the night and she wondered who it could be. The guard? Was it the guard?

  She stiffened, trying to make him out in the poor light from the moon streaming through the window.

  “Hello, whore,” he said.

  She gasped. It was Mateen.

  “What do you want?” she croaked. “I told you I deleted those pictures. I’m not a spy. I’m just a tourist, a photographer.”

  “I believe you,” he sneered, edging closer to her.

  “Then you –will- let me go?” she asked, stepping away from him. But how far could she run? Her room was only seven feet wide.

  “Let you go?” He laughed. “When did I promise you that?”

  She didn’t like his tone. There was something different about it. Something that wasn’t there when he had beaten her. This was worse.

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head. “It’s good you’re not a spy. Very, very good. Now, you can be my bitch.”

  Her body froze. She must have not heard him right. She had been dreading it all these days… her nightmares- they were coming alive.

  He reached out for her and she cringed. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her close to his face.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her jaw-line.

  She put her arms between them and against his chest, trying to push him away. This only made him angry as he tugged harder onto her hair.

  “You know you want it, bitch,” he growled. “Why fight it? All you western women are whores. I bet you’re not even a virgin.”

  He squeezed down on her neck and she gasped for air.

  “No, no,no,” she sobbed.

  “No?” he sneered. “Why don’t I check?”

  His hand ran down between her legs, but she clasped her thighs as tight as she could, pushing his hands away at the same time.

  “Please, don’t,” she begged.

  “It’s okay.” He breathed heavily against her. “Close your eyes and pretend I’m one of your pig boyfriends. Now, open your legs.”

  She pushed hard against him and he stumbled back slightly. He raged and he slapped her hard. He grabbed her and threw her against the wall.

  “One more of those and I’ll be fucking your dead body,” he snarled. “Either way, I will fuck you!”

  His hands frantically worked at her pants, eager to feel her wet cunt. Today though, he’d have to satisfy himself with a quick fuck. She wasn’t ready to take instructions. But she will learn to obey. And when she would, he would taste her. And then she would beg him to fuck her, to take her.

  He tugged at her shirt, wanting to taste her breasts. He needed some flesh and her pants were taking too long to come off. He made a mental note to get her changed into a dress. And no panties. He smiled at the thought. Then he could have her whenever he wished.

  He ripped out her bra and grabbed her tits with his mouth.

  She screamed. “No! Please no! Help, someone. Please help!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he growled, finally loosening her jeans, pushing them down in a state of frenzy. “No one’s gonna hear you. No one.”

  “Please, don’t,” she begged again, feeling his hard cock press against herself.

  He felt for her pussy, digging with his finger into her hole.

  She crouched, trying to pull them out of her. “Help! Freba!”

  The door flung open wildly. The man was back and he was raging.

  He charged up to Mateen and pulled him away, swinging his fist against his face.

  The blow cut the corner of Mateen’s lips and Mateen riled. He tripped the man’s legs, felling him to the ground. They tussled, each trying to subdue the other.

  Freba ran up to Nora, cowering on the floor and quickly covered her with a blanket.

  Finally, the man overcame Mateen, hitting him squarely in the face repeatedly. Mateen swore at him and the man rose up with anger, pulling out his knife.

  Was he going to kill Mateen? Nora shivered. But then he turned towards her, his knife ready to slit her throat. Her eyes widened in panic.

  Freba cried, shaking her head.

  Nora shifted, trying to crawl, trying to run. But her body froze, confused with the instructions she was desperately trying to give it.

  He pulled her legs, bringing her closer to him.

  “Freba?” she begged, looking at the woman.

  But Freba had turned away, sobbing into her shawl.

  Why wouldn’t Freba do anything? Why won’t she stand up to the man like she did to Mateen?

  The man grabbed her hair and swung his knife. Nora pulled in a deep breath, waiting for its steel sharp blade to slice open her flesh.

  The man threw her back instead and she opened her eyes to find him holding a lock of her hair.

  He swore at Mateen, brandishing the lock in his face.

  Mateen paled, scrambling to his feet. He glanced threateningly at the two women and then limped out of the room.

  The man hung his head and then let out an angry scream that chilled her spine.

  “Freba?” she whispered, turning to the woman. Something happened. She couldn’t quite figure what that was though.

  “Sshh,” Freba whispered in her comforting voice again. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Two hours ago

  Adam sat on the floor, watching Freba turn another thin bread in the hearth.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Freba,” he said. “You did the right thing.”

  She pulled out the bread and flipped it into a plate. “I don’t question why you men do what you do. But that poor woman should not have been beaten like that by Mateen. She can’t be convicted a spy until you have proof. The problem with Mateen is he fails to understand this.” She shook her head. “I never believed in Darul-Ilhaam until you led it. It was only about the drugs and the guns. But you make us believe that we do all this so we can help our people. To bring them out of slavery and poverty. With you as the leader, I know you will make Darul-Ilhaam stand for justice.”

  “You put too much faith in me, Freba. I am only a man.”

  “You are an angel, Adam Afridi. Mateen, on the other hand, is the devil incarnate. He makes me very uneasy. I don’t li
ke that he’s your right-hand man. He cannot be trusted.”

  Adam tensed, his temples pulsating fervently. He pushed his plate of food aside and wiped his hands on a towel.

  “You haven’t finished,” Freba said, looking disapprovingly at the left-over in his plate.

  “I’m not hungry.” He paused. “Has the woman eaten?”

  “Nora? No.”

  “Give it to her.”

  Freba picked up his plate and placed a freshly toasted bread into it. “Nora… do you think she’s a spy?”

  “I don’t know, Freba,” he said slowly. “I’ll just have to find out.” He looked up at the woman who seemed genuinely concerned for her new-found friend. He hoped she didn’t get too attached to her. In the instance the woman was indeed a spy, he would have to arrange to dispose of her.

  Freba was older than he by about seven years. But the desert, poverty and hard labor had taken its toll on her body, aging her drastically. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes were deep, her skin was dry and her face displayed a troubled history. After having lost her husband and two sons to the war, she sought refuge with Darul-Ilhaam as its maid.

  When Adam had met her ten years ago as a young enthusiastic twenty-four year old, he had instantly bonded with her. Hamasa, the then leader of Darul-Ilhaam used her for his own personal gratification, but he had always underestimated her intelligence. So when Adam won her trust, she gave him all he needed to depose Hamasa and take over Darul-Ilhaam. In his final hours, Hamasa had been executed by a firing squad made up of the same men he had used to build up Darul-Ilhaam into one of Afghanistan’s prominent drug cartels and arms dealers.

  He paced about outside the house, unable to rest. The woman played on his mind. What was he to do with her? If he simply let her off, he would be suspected of betrayal. But he couldn’t simply just kill her. What had Mateen done, he swore. He ran his hands through his hair.

  He strolled into the adjoining building that held the woman as prisoner and the first thing he noticed was the absence of the two guards. And then he heard her scream, “Help! Freba!”