The Colonel's Daughter (20 page)

“You got someone from another governmental agency looking for Abby…sir?” Dallas’s voice broke.

“Don’t think I’m not on to you, son. I was told about that little charade of yours from last night. You find out your girlfriend’s missing and what, you spin out of control? Now I’m not going to tell you I wouldn’t do the same thing myself if something like that happened to my wife. But let this serve as a warning to you Dallas, I will not tolerate another drunken episode where you lose it and start throwing shit around. You’re damn lucky no equipment was damaged.”

“No excuse, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Now you’re a damn good soldier and an excellent platoon leader. So let’s get on to business.”

“Sir, with all due respect…I reviewed the Intel and I believe we’re chasing a ghost out here. Shahrivar is in the United States, sir.”

“We got word on his son Maurice. That son-of-a-bitch has been trying to lay low after being cleared of all charges by the high court in Iran.” The General said. Someone outside the view of the large screen interrupted the General and handed him a stack of papers. “Now listen, I have some reports coming in. If you’ll give us a moment Dallas, I need to brief the Commander on another developing situation.”

“Yes sir.”

Dallas walked outside and looked up to once again view a cloudless sky. He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. He pictured Abby and gave an agonizing moan.
I would gladly trade physical pain over this heartache,
he thought.

He tried to redirect his focus to simpler things. He touched the sand in his pockets, felt the grit in his teeth, and rubbed the top of his head feeling the sand. He sensed the sand in his ears. While putting on his sunglasses he envisioned Abby and his nostrils flared as he slowly exhaled. His mind wandered to how beautiful she looked at the gas station trying on the different sunglasses. He remembered Abby’s joy with her new sketchbook and how she engraved his email address on the inside cover and giggled saying, “Now I can email you when you go on tour.”

Dallas rushed inside and logged onto his laptop. He prayed to God that Abby would have tried to email. He uploaded his inbox. There was one unread message.

Dallas:

Maurice has me in Dubai. From the northwest corner of my bedroom, I can see the tallest building in the world. There are no addresses here. Ugh! It’s so frustrating. I’m a prisoner in a palace. Maurice wants me to marry him.

I can’t stop thinking about you, Dallas. Don’t let me be your weakness, draw strength from our love, as I do every day. You are my guardian angel. I know you will find me.

I will try to write again as soon as I get more details on my location.

I love you.

Abby

Dallas brushed his nose with his arm wiping a tear. He firmly placed both hands on the keyboard and immediately hit reply.

Abby,

With the help of God, I’m going to find you. I’m at headquarters now but will be on my way to Dubai. I think about you constantly. I ache for you. I won’t rest until you are safe in my arms.

I love you Abby.

I‘ll check again soon and see if you write back. Tell me about your surroundings. The color of the building, other neighboring landmarks, anything you can think of.

See you soon,

Dallas

* * * * *

Abby gazed out at the ocean of sand. She studied the panoramic view from the only window in her extravagant bedroom. She quickly turned an ear in the direction of the double doors where sounds of a woman wailing became more and more audible. She tiptoed towards the entrance and put her hand on the knob.

Opening the door with just enough room for her eyes to peer out, she noticed the blond concubine running past her with a torn silk shirt revealing streaks of blood. The blond stopped to fidget with the doorknob and with a nearly swollen—shuteye caught sight of Abby’s stares before rushing into her room.

Abby quietly closed her door and with a hand over her stomach, she hastened to her closet.

“Is everything alright?” The young servant entered the lavish wardrobe.

“I need to get dressed.” She looked around. “All I see are black gowns. Don’t I have a pair of jeans?”

“Yes, I washed the jeans you were wearing when you arrived. But you must wear a black gown over anything else that you wear.”

“So I can wear anything as long as it’s underneath that hideous cloak?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, please let me have my pants.”

Abby tried to zip up her pressed jeans. “Did you shrink them?” She squinted.

“No ma’am.”

“These are my favorite jeans. They were never a tight fit.”

Abby’s heightened sense of smell caught a trace of a familiar aroma. She quickly slipped on her shoes.

“My darling, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Hello Maurice.” She placed her hands on her hips.

“You’re looking more beautiful than ever.” He placed a hand under her chin then turned and snapped his fingers at his armed guards. “Leave us.”

Abby’s servants followed the armed men out of the room.

“What did you do to that poor woman, Maurice?”

“That’s not anything of your concern my darling.”

“I’m serious, what did you do to her?” Abby crossed her arms.

“She spoke to me the way you are speaking to me right now.” Maurice grabbed Abby’s upper arm and shook it.

“I don’t believe you.” Abby clenched her jaw and stared into his empty eyes.

“She disgraced me with her drunken behavior. I will not put up with drunken whores in my household.”

“Ha.” Abby shrugged her shoulders.

Maurice raised his arm in a swooping motion as if to slap Abby’s face with the back of his hand but he came to a screeching halt. Instead, he caressed her cheek with his fingertips.

Abby looked away with her jaw clenched and her lips shut tight.

“So tell me, where are you going in such a hurry? Were you not sick?”

Abby took a deep breath. “Yes, I have been sick.” Then she forced her face to feign animation. “But I also want to go shopping for our wedding ceremony.”

“Very well, I am going to take you to a shopping mall unlike one you have ever seen.”

“Really?” Abby pulled out a hanger with a black gown.

“Ah, good girl.” Maurice eyed the black garment. “My Abigail is going to show me some respect and in public? Ah, you really are coming around.”

“I have no other choice but to wear this gown and cover my head, Maurice. What is my other option? Get a beating? Now will you please wait for me outside while I put it on?”

“No.” He bellowed. “You will put it on in front of me.” His fingertips were back to stroking her cheek. “Soon enough, you will be mine and I will take you to live with me in Iran. You will live as a queen there…my queen. You are not like the other girls. Haven’t you noticed how much I let you get away with?”

“Then let me call my father, please, Maurice.” Abby clenched the gown bringing it to her chest.

“Forget about your father. Forget about that world. Look around you. This is your world now. I have the capacity to give you anything you ask for but it doesn’t mean that I will give it to you.”

“Fine, take me shopping, then.”
I will find a way to contact Dallas out there,
she thought.

Maurice clapped then rubbed his hands together. “You’re making me a very happy man.”

“So what is this mall like? You said it was unlike any mall I’ve ever seen.” Abby slipped on her black garment.

“Well, let’s just say that after we’re done shopping, I can take you skiing inside the same mall.”

“Skiing, in the desert?”

“It’s a man made ski resort…inside the mall.” He rested his elbow on a closet shelf.

“Can I take a rain check on the skiing? I’m still not feeling a hundred percent.”

“What is this checking for rain?”

“Rain check…it means I will take your offer another time.” Abby’s eyes widened.

Maurice grabbed Abby by her shoulders, facing her with his dark eyebrows downward. “I can force you to surrender and make you kiss me.”

Abby locked her jaw and clenched her fists.

He exhaled on her face, “I have plans for our wedding night. You will give yourself to me, and I will have you forever.”

* * * * *

Abby sat next to Maurice on the back seat of the Rolls Royce. Maurice wore a crease free, long white garment and headscarf.

“I thought the British woman would be coming with us?”

“You mean your interpreter?”

“Yeah, the redhead.” Abby fidgeted with the black silk covering her hair.

“I fired her. She was a very nosy woman.”

“You fired her or you killed her, Maurice?” Abby looked at him from head to toe.

Maurice laughed. “My father thinks I’m crazy for wanting to take you as my wife but he forgets how much you are like my mother.”

“Your mother…really? Does your mother know about half the things your father has done?”

“My father has done many wonderful things for his community.”

“Um…he’s an opium drug dealer. Are you not aware of the damage that drug does to people, Maurice?”

“Don’t look at me with that face…like you are disgusted. I did not choose to be born into the opium world…and…the money has been very good to my family. I would not have these luxuries without my father and my uncle. I don’t ever want to hear you speak badly of them.”

“I will never forgive your father for torturing my dad.” Abby’s eyes welled with tears.

“Enough. Stop this emotional drama. I will not put up with it Abigail.”

* * * * *

A bony woman waved her long arms in the air. “Welcome Maurice, we have been expecting you. I am Samira, the owner of this Boutique. My staff and I are here to pamper you and make this a stress free experience for the both of you.” She examined Abby’s body. “I have a professional in house tailor that will give you a perfect fitting.”

“Excuse me, Samira.” Abby gave a fake smile. “I thought the groom was not allowed to see the wedding dress?”

Samira’s sunken eyes widened. “By all means, Maurice can do anything he wants. I’m sure he will want to give his opinion.”

“But…Maurice,” Abby falsely batted her eyelashes. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”

Maurice rubbed the palms of his hands and gave the boutique women his winning smile. “I would love to be surprised. I’m sure you ladies will take good care of my Abigail.”

Abby gave an excruciating attempt at smiling.

He turned to her and waved his index finger, “You be a good girl and behave,” then winked, “I cannot wait to see my beautiful bride.”

Abby stared into the mirror wearing the first designer gown.

“You look marvelous. You have very nice curves.” Samira laced Abby’s back.

“I really don’t like this one. It’s a beautiful gown don’t get me wrong, it’s just that…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

Samira grabbed the pencil tucked behind her ear and brought it to her thin lips. “Hmm…How about we try this other one?”

Abby took one look at the rhinestones and thought,
I’m gonna puke.

“Do you have pictures or maybe a catalog that I can look at?”

“Of course we do. We have an entire website. I can create a profile for you and with your own password.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Abby’s breath shortened and her palms moistened as she placed her fingers on Samira’s keyboard. The boutique computer was logged onto the internet.

“I’m sure you will adore this designer. Look, we have an entire catalog. Why don’t you browse a little and tell me what you prefer.”

“There are so many. I don’t know where to begin.” Abby placed a hand on the mouse.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Samira began to speak in Arabic scolding one of the young workers who placed several dresses on the wrong rack.

Abby looked over her shoulder and found she had been left alone. She could faintly hear Samira shouting in Arabic. She quickly opened a new browser, logged into her email and clicked compose message. She never typed so fast in her life. She logged out of her email, clicked on delete browsing history and closed the browser.

“Ah, so you like that one.” Samira cocked her head to one side.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still looking at the same dress.”

“Oh.” Abby’s eyes widened. She swallowed. “Yes, I really do. Do you have this one?”

“Of course we do.”