Chapter 12
The old bar was the worst thing Walid had seen since arriving in America. The support beams above were cracked, two of them having broken entirely and now sat as 45 degree ramps from the floor up to the ceiling. The smell of mold and rot filled the stale air. The traditional mirror behind the bar where the liquor is normally displayed was nothing but a foggy, cracked mockery. The wood of the bar itself was warped and covered in a thick, sticky layer of dust. It had been condemned years ago, but the price point was too expensive for anyone to come in and fix it up.
The foundation was shot, the walls were useless. Walid wasn’t even sure walking through the building was safe as the gentle steps might have been enough to bring the whole thing down. Still, to demolish a building required permits, money, paperwork, and time. Resources no casual business owner had.
For Walid and his current venture, however, the location was prime. It was directly in the center of his target demographic. The cost to demolish and build a new structure would have been prohibitive were he any other person. Fortunately, he wasn’t anyone else. He was Walid, Sheikh of New York.
“You can see where they tried to put in a wider dining area, over there,” their guide said as he stepped over a toppled chair. The lights didn’t work, and only bars of sun streaked across the inside from the broken slats and open windows.
“Yes, I see,” Walid said.
The smell of this place was surely in the fabrics of his suit already. It would never wash out. He’d have to burn his clothes after. The saturation of the building’s rot was finally breaking through Walid’s mental barrier.
“I believe I’ve seen enough. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the necessary paperwork.”
The man paused, confused. “Don’t you want to see the dry storage?”
“I have no wish to be rude, and you have my sincerest apologies if I seem in any way dismissive. Truthfully, though, I see not how it matters as I am to bring the entire building down. Bathrooms, dry storage, it will all be rubble.”
“Yeah,” the man said, his eyes flickering toward the back, then to Walid again. “I suppose.”
“You seem ill at ease.”
“What?” The man’s tongue flicked out over his lips like a snake. “No, I just haven’t—“
Walid held up a hand. “If this is an attempt on my life, I assure you that you will be the first to die. Your only escape is honesty.”
The man’s jaw worked side to side as he fought his emotions. After only a moment’s indecision, tears welled in his eyes and his hands clasped together. “Please, they have my wife.”
Walid’s men had weapons in hand in a heartbeat, and the man flinched at the speed of it. Walid held up his hand “I said honesty would be your salvation. I meant it. Leave.”
“But, my wife…”
Walid looked the man in the eye. “She is your concern. Not mine. See to it.”
The man looked stricken and lost, but started to move away from what he was sure to be the fight. Rage at the man’s betrayal warred with his pity over his plight. Not everyone was a warrior. Not every man was raised to be a killer.
“Wait,” he said softly.
In the deathly silence of that place, his voice carried as far as it needed to. The man turned, almost hopeful.
“Wait for me outside. I will take your information and attempt to find your wife.”
The purest joy filled the man’s face, but before he could say anything, Walid held a hand up to silence him and turned back toward dry storage.
Walid’s guard drew close to him. “What shall we do?” one whispered.
“There is a trap, of this we can be sure, but of what nature there is no way to know.” Walid narrowed his eyes in thought.
The boldest of his guards rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes the best way to defeat a trap is to trip it.”
“Or,” Walid said and smiled, “encase it in a trap of your own.”
Silent as death, Walid and his men snuck out of the building, barred every door shut save one. Then, with the would-be assailants inside, they lit it aflame.
The man was dutifully waiting for him on the sidewalk, staring in shock at the black plume of smoke rising from his establishment.
“Those who took your wife,” Walid said, calling the man’s attention to him. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know,” the man said. “I never spoke with him. His men only ever called him The Sheikh.”
Walid sneered and looked away. This Sheikh was becoming quite the thorn. Walid’s phone rang in his pocket. He checked the display and saw it was Lacy. A splinter in his heart stung at the sight of her name, especially on the cusp of hearing how this Sheikh took the man’s wife to use him.
He knew that just by speaking with her he put her in danger. Yet, even as he knew it, he couldn’t stop himself from answering the call. The man’s worry for his wife only fanned Walid’s own wild concerns for the woman that had won his heart.
“Hi,” she said, her voice honey to his ears. She sounded happy. “Are you busy?”
“I…” Walid looked up as the building fire grew quickly, the rotten wood flashing up on the far side. “Just got out of a meeting. I have a moment.”
“Great. I wanted to talk. Where are you right now? There’s a lot of background noise.”
The men inside panicked, trying every door, desperate to find some way to escape. The windows were boarded up. Only one option was left, and that was the front door. As they charged out, looking to save their lives, Walid’s men pounced on them like wild dogs, beating them senseless. Walid looked around as the faint cries of the men reached him. Walid went to his car and climbed inside. The doors closed, the roar of the fire was muted.
“Oh,” she said, ”that’s better. So, what’s up?”
Walid bit his upper lip for a moment. “You called me.”
“I know, but we haven’t really talked. I just wanted to say hi, ya know, before just diving into—“
“Lacy, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I only have a few minutes. I’d prefer not to waste them if there was something you wanted to discuss.”
Walid’s men climbed into their cars. As his man started the car, he looked back to Walid and gave a nod. Walid gave a small nod back and motioned for him to drive.
“I gotcha,” Lacy said on the other end, and he could tell she was disappointed that he wasn’t willing to chitchat. “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk. Well, I’ll just tell you then. So, okay, well…” He heard her sigh. “Damnit.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“It would’ve been easier if you were nice.”
“It was not my intention to be rude. I’m just short on time. Perhaps we can speak later.”
“We both know later won’t happen.”
Walid closed his eyes and was grateful she couldn’t see his expression. She wasn’t wrong.
“I’m pregnant.”
It was the most intense bittersweet feeling he’d ever experienced. A child of his own with the greatest love of his life, yet at the same time, the danger to her just increased twofold. If word got out that she was pregnant, this “Sheikh” would make a target of her for sure. “I trust that you took all necessary tests to be sure of this before telling me.”
“Yes sir.”