Chapter Three
Someone smart had turned off Adil's phone. By the time he was discharged, it was four AM. His driver looked as serious and alert as he always did, and he didn't bat an eye as Adil listened to his messages and started to swear.
They were from the usual cast: his personal assistant, his head of security and his minister of affairs. One and all, they had been alerted to what had happened to him thanks in no small part to someone at the hospital leaking his identity to the press, and they were frantic. They had contained the story, because it was their jobs, but now they wanted him back in Sakhi as soon as possible.
In a way, Adil knew that they were right. Having a royal at large who got himself injured was a nightmare for a number of reasons. He was in some ways very lucky they had not sent a helicopter for him.
One by one, he called in, told them in no uncertain terms he would be returning to Sakhi on his own terms, and ended the call. He tilted his head back in the car, closing his eyes briefly.
"You are very lucky," the doctor had said. "It is barely a graze, though the bruising around the wound likely makes it hurt more. Keep the wound clean, see your regular doctor about this, and you'll be fine."
Lucky...
By all estimations of the word, he was, even excepting what had happened last night. He was a rich man with the world at his fingertips. He had been the ruler of a prosperous country since he was a very young man, he had loved beautiful women all over the world and made his mark as a sheikh. He had just seen, however, how very quickly all of that could be taken away.
Adil pushed the thought away. The driver took him to his hotel, where he occupied the penthouse suite at the very top. If the doorman thought he looked peaked, he didn't say anything.
Adil collapsed into the feather-soft bed, his hand still held over the wound as if he could protect it. He was exhausted, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he started to doze off.
However, his last thoughts were not about his attackers or how close he had come to death. His last thoughts were of a protective Valkyrie coming to his rescue, swinging a shovel in the face of his enemies, and then of her small soft hand hanging on to his...
***
Annabel was both surprised and grateful about how normal everything felt the next morning. It was a beautiful day, with just a scatter of snow on the ground, the sun coming out to shine in a bright blue sky. Her office had grudgingly allowed her to work from home, causing Marissa to cheer at getting to keep her mother around.
"Doreen is nice, but she's no fun," she confided in a whisper, as if convinced their neighbor could hear her and take offense.
"Well, I'm really not going to be much fun either," Annabel confessed. "I have to work today, so it needs to be pretty quiet."
"That's still more fun," Marissa said stubbornly, and Annabel felt a surge of love for her brave and loyal daughter.
As a matter of fact, it was not Marissa who ended up making the noise. Just as Annabel had set herself to lunch, the doorbell buzzed, and she looked up with surprise.
"I guess the housewares I ordered on that sale came early?" she mused, buzzing the door below. She peeked out the peephole to see who it was, and then she blinked with surprise. She left the chain on but opened the door.
"You?"
It was the man from the night before. He looked perhaps a little pale and a little hollow in the eyes, but he did not look like a man who had been stabbed the night before.
"Mama, mama, who is it?" asked Marissa coming into the kitchen.
"Um, a man I met last night," Annabel said. "Why don't you go to your room and play with your blocks for a bit? I'll come in in a little bit and help."
She was relieved when Marissa went, and then she turned back to the man.
"What do you want?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be trying to get healthy in a hospital bed somewhere?"
He shook his head.
"It was not serious as these things go. I want to talk to you."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I have to assume that you have no idea how creepy it is when someone you met on the street comes and finds out where you live..."
He looked slightly abashed at that, but he didn't do what she might have preferred and leave.
Really? Is that what you prefer? Are you sure? mocked a quiet voice inside her, and she quashed it as quickly as she could.
"You rescued me," he said. "I am a man who pays my debts."
She made a face.
"No worries, just maybe do the same for the next person you see who's in trouble, I guess. Anyway, I'm on lunch so..."
"So you'll have some time to talk with me," he said with a charming look on his face. She was not really a woman who was prone to being charmed, but somehow here she was. "I really must insist."
"Fine..."
She undid the chain and came to stand outside, the door cracked behind her and an ear cocked towards her daughter.
"Make it quick."
He looked at her with an expression that was akin to marvel.
"You really have no idea who I am, do you?"
Annabel looked at him impatiently. She supposed he had told her his name, but it had slipped her mind.
"No. This is New York. It's full of famous people. Unless you're an actor on a handful of children's television programs, I really will not have any idea who you are."
"Ah, well then. My name is Adil ibn Ahmed al Mahsi, sheikh and lord high ruler of Sakhi."
She looked at him blankly.
"Sorry, I'm American. Do I clap?"
As he had the night before, he chuckled, shaking his head.
"I had thought you might respond like that, but I had to try. May I have your name?"
She looked at him suspiciously.
"Didn't you have it before? Otherwise, how did you find the right buzzer?"
He shrugged.
"I just pressed them all until I recognized your voice."
"Oh that's awful..." she shook her head. "Listen, Mr. Mahsi..."
"Sheikh Adil, is the proper address..."
"All right, Sheikh Adil..."
"Though we are, at this point, quite well acquainted, so you shall call me Adil."
Annabel shot him a frustrated look, which he seemed to be find hilarious.
"You are enjoying this a lot more than is proper," she growled. "All right. Adil. If you want to make friends in New York, do not buzz all the doors looking for one person. It makes stabbings a lot more common than they should be."
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wondered if she had spoken too soon. However, he only shook his head and rubbed his chest.
"Point taken. All right. Then now may I ask your name."
"It's Annabel. Annabel Lister."
"Ah, is that your maiden name or did you take your husband's?"
"It's my name, I don't have a husband..." she said, and then she pressed her hand over her mouth as he gave her another look.
"So... there was no one you had waiting for you at home?"
She sighed, dropping her hand to her side.
"No, that wasn't a lie. As a matter of fact, my daughter was waiting for me. Her father... isn't in the picture."
Annabel was tensed for whatever Adil's reaction was going to be, but he only nodded.
"I see. It is no matter, I suppose. I am only here to offer you a reward."
"A... reward?"
"Yes. For your service last night."
Annabel watched in disbelief as he pulled open his wallet, which she noticed was made of buttery black leather. It was fat with cash, and when he pulled out a wad of bills, he didn't even look to see how much was in his hand.
"A small token for your trouble," he said with a slight smile. "Something that I hope will show you how grateful I am."
When she simply looked at him, he tilted his head slightly. Finally she took the cash, because she was no fool, and a mother besides, but she glared up at him.
"In the United States," she said. "We typically say thank you when someone has helped us. We don't pay them off as if they were the help."
He frowned at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. His English was impeccable, however, and there was no way he could play it off like some kind of mistake.
"I didn't do what I did for money," she said with anger. "I am a mother, do you know what that means? It means that the most important thing in my life has to be my daughter. It means that she comes first, long before any stranger who knocked my papers out of my hands should. I was being a bad mother when I ran down there. I know that. And though I'm going to take the money because as you can tell, we're really not in the sheikh class here, I want you to know that this is not something you can buy."
Everything she had gone through because of this man was suddenly worth it with the look of surprise and dismay on his face, and that was before she stepped back into the house and closed the door. She locked it firmly, and waited for a moment to see if he would knock on it again. When it was silent, she nodded, even if there was a slightly hollow feeling in her chest.
Annabel glanced down at the money in her hand. To her surprise, each bill that he handed her had been a hundred dollar bill, in crisp green United States currency. He had given her six hundred dollars all told, and she knew that that money might make a difference when it came to Marissa's health bills. She stashed them in her purse, and then in a fit of paranoia, she stashed the purse at the back of her closet.
She firmly believed in everything she had said, so why did she suddenly feel so badly? Why did something deep inside her want her to go down and follow him, to bring him back?
Annabel shook her head. She knew that she should do nothing of the sort. After all, it was her lunch hour, and she had a date with some blocks and the world's most adorable four year old.