Page 70 of Commander

I scanned the area for other trucks but only found a high-end luxury Hummer. This could only belong to someone who had money and status and needed others to know it.

Hamir Ustaf.

Dear God, the convoy had been a decoy. How the hell had the satellites not picked this up? Then it hit me. They’d come through the underground tunnels near the base of the mountain. According to reports, an earthquake had caused the tunnels to cave in, but it looked like in the past few years Awan had rebuilt them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hamir must have found out I was meeting with Awan. The only reason he’d be here was to pick up Ameera.

“Kade,” I whispered into my wrist mic, “do you copy?”

A faint static came through my earpiece.

“Copy. You need to return to the truck. There are men circling the area. We’ve taken down twelve, but there are two at large.”

“Do you have a visual on Ameera?”

“Negative. I repeat, return to the safety of the truck.”

“Not going to happen.”

“I insist.”

“Your insistence is noted.”

A growl of frustration came over my earpiece. “From my spot I have a visual on you but there are a few blind spots. Be careful.”

I smiled—I was probably frustrating the hell out of Kade. He was such a by-the-book kind of guy—like Ashur. It was probably the military aspect of their training.

Thoughts of Ashur began to bombard me. We’d moved to such a nice place in our relationship, but I’d built it all on a lie. How was I going to explain this?

I pushed the worry aside. I had more important things to think about, like putting a bullet in Hamir Ustaf’s head and ridding his daughter and the world of his presence.

Just as I moved to the side of the truck that had collided with ours, I heard footsteps.

I whirled and quickly crouched down and slowly moved backward toward my truck.

“We know you are there, First Lady. Come out now, or your precious friend is guaranteed to die,” a man said in heavily accented English.

I saw the shadow of two sets of feet.

“Don’t listen to them, T. My bastard brother thinks he can auction you to Ashur. The first chance you get, put a fucking bullet—” The words were muffled by a cry and then a grunt as one of the shadows fell to the ground.

Anger roared in my ears. I would kill the motherfucker if it was the last thing I did. Tarik Ustaf would have a target on his head until the job was done. I’d make sure of it. Hopefully I’d get father and son at the same time. Nothing like getting two rotten birds with one stone.

“Stay right there, First Lady.” The Urdu words were accompanied by a barrel of a gun pressed into the back of my head.

Oh God. I was so angry that I hadn’t noticed someone coming from behind me. I knew better than to let my temper get the best of me. I was losing my edge.

I lifted my arms and turned slowly, making sure to move in a way not to reveal I had guns tucked into my waistband.

I stared at Hamir Ustaf, the man who’d caused this mess. He wore a scarf covering his face, but those eyes gave him away: crystal blue, the exact shade of Ameera’s. He was dressed in combat gear that was too over the top and shiny to be anything but for show.

This man had serious small dick syndrome.

“What kind of piece of shit father allows his daughter to be beaten?”

“The kind that prefers women to know their place. She could have killed Tarik in the crash. She needs discipline.”

“Too bad it was my truck and not you she hit.” I spit in his face. “You’re filth in shiny clothing.”

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