Page 44 of Forty Days and One Knight
Before Tahira could respond, Darius beat her to it. “Actually, we’re eloping, Dad. In a few weeks.”
“Good. No sense in wasting money on a party for everyone else to get drunk at. You sure she ain’t pregnant?”
“We’re sure.” Darius stood and held out his hand to Tahira. “I wish we could stay longer, Dad, but we have a plane to catch.”
“That’s fine. Get back to base before you’re AWOL. I don’t want those MPs showing up.”
Tahira got to her feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knight.” She smiled at him. “Would it be all right if I gave you a hug goodbye?”
A broad grin spread across the man’s face, and he winked at Darius. “I like her. Of course, you can, darlin’. Just don’t go running off on my son like my good-for-nothing wife did.”
It was sad Mr. Knight wasn’t able to remember his wife had died and hadn’t abandoned him. Darius had told Tahira their marriage hadn’t been a match made in heaven, but she believed it would still be better for one to feel grief instead of misplaced anger and resentment.
“I won’t, I promise.” Especially since Darius was her soulmate.
Tahira gave his father a brief embrace, then sweetly kissed his cheek. Surprisingly, the man blushed, and then he politely shooed them out the door.
Minutes later, they were back in the SUV, with their protective tail behind them, heading through the heart of Brookford on their way to a small airport where their jet was waiting for them. Darius’s arm was resting on the padded compartment between the two seats, and it felt natural for Tahira to set her hand on top of his. He glanced at her, then turned his hand until their palms met. When their fingers intertwined like they had earlier, she smiled. For the first time since they’d agreed to be married to save her from public humiliation from those who would unfairly judge her, Tahira felt like they were a real couple. Was Darius feeling it too?
34
Ian blocked the door to the interrogation room in the security office of Timasur’s embassy in Washington D.C. With his arms crossed, he glared at Darius. “You either chill out before you go in there, twatopotomus, or you don’t go in there at all. Trust me when I say I would love to torture the bastard and bury him where he’d never be found, but he knows too many people to just make him disappear and Farid, the little shit that he is, knows we have him. Amar also promised the king we wouldn’t kill him. If he is behind this, he’ll go to prison in Timasur. Apparently, the inmates there adore Tahira and would love to get their hands on anyone who hurts her. You might want to remember that for future reference by the way.”
Darius ignored that last part. “Oh, I won’t kill him, Boss-man. That would put him out of the pain and misery I’m going to inflict on his ass.”
A door opened down the hallway, and Amar strode out, carrying a manila folder, and headed toward them with Cain and Romeo behind him. Darius’s two teammates and Ian were the ones who’d accompanied Diallo and Farid from Miami after snatching them from their hotel suite in the middle of the night. Ian was eager to catch the next flight back to Tampa, not wanting to be away from Angie too long as her due date approached.
Amar stopped between Ian and Darius. “Farid swears he has no clue Diallo was in contact with Secada or anyone else in Diaz’s organization. He’s a weasel and would turn on a friend in a heartbeat if he thought it would get himself out of trouble. I led him to believe we had hard evidence and were looking to pin this all on both of them. He cried like a baby but couldn’t give us anything. I’m inclined to believe he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t know anything.” He turned his attention to Ian but nodded his head to the side toward Darius. “Is he going to be any trouble?”
Grinding his molars, Darius growled, but he understood their concerns. Ian eyed him for a few moments, then shook his head. “Nope, he’s not. Batman, don’t make me fire your ass again. Shades, Romeo, let’s go.” Pivoting, Ian strode toward the door that would lead them to the embassy’s rear exit where a car was waiting to take the three men to the airport. “Keep me posted.”
“How do you want to do this?” Darius asked Amar. While hereally would loveto torture Diallo into confessing, he knew it was in everyone’s best interest for him to refrain from doing so. He’d also promised Tahira on the flight from Tennessee that he wouldn’t kill or crucify the man. She was currently in the embassy’s residence wing, talking to her charity staff on Skype. He was glad she was keeping busy, instead of stressing out and waiting to hear if Diallo was the one who’d betrayed her and her cousins.
The head of security gave him an evil grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played the ‘good cop.’ I’ll start while you stand in the corner, looking like you want to rip his head off.” He nodded for the guard to unlock the door to the interrogation room, then grabbed the back of a nearby rolling, desk chair. “We’ll play it by ear from there.”
That was fine with Darius. Taking a deep breath and putting on his resting-prick face, he followed Amar, with his chair, inside and slammed the door shut, causing Diallo to nearly jump out of his skin. The twenty-nine-year-old man glanced between them, annoyance written all over his face, as he sat on a chair that was purposely uncomfortable. While Darius took a position to the right of the door, glaring at Diallo, Amar pasted on a friendly smile and sat across the table from their suspect. There were several unwritten rules about conducting an interrogation—tricks of the trade—and Darius knew them well.
1) Isolate the suspect and leave him alone to sweat it out for an hour or more.
2) Make sure the room is either too hot or too cold—the thermostat for this one was set at seventy-eight degrees.
3) Give him or her an uncomfortable chair to sit on—the wobbly, wooden one Diallo was sitting on was perfect.
4) Give the suspect plenty of water or soda but limit his bathroom breaks.
5) Play “good cop” and “bad cop.”
6) Lie through your teeth whenever necessary.
There were others, of course, but Darius knew with Amar’s background and training, the man wasn’t concerned with what would be admissible in court—certain liberties would be taken today, if need be. With the evidence backed up by a confession, if Diallo was guilty of arranging to have the women kidnapped, for whatever reason, it was a sure bet that any and all Timasurian judges would throw the book at him.
Clearly seeing the silent fury on Darius’s face, Diallo went with whom he thought was the friendlier and more cooperative of the two men. “What the hell is going on, Amar? Where’s Farid? Those goons woke us up and dragged us to D.C. without any explanation. I’ve been sitting here for hours, and no one will tell me why. They even took away my phone. I want it back, and I demand you let me go!”
Amar set the folder on the table. It was a typical interrogation room that could be found at any police station in the states. Aside from the heavy metal table, the only other decor in the room was a large two-way mirror that allowed others to observe from the next room.
“I’m sorry I was delayed, Diallo,” Amar said with faked sincerity. “And please forgive me for needing to interrupt your trip to Miami, but we’ve had some developments in the investigation of Princess Tahira’s, Nala’s, and Lahana’s abductions and needed Farid’s and your input.”
Diallo’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Well, why didn’t those fucking idiots just tell us that?”
