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At the gym, Adilan stripped down and changed into close-fitting fighting trunks. He put on his gloves, even as Nassir shook his head and told him he was a fool. He also leaned close and said, “You have one hope—strike first and strike hard. Malid has more reach than you, but you have more muscle. Use it.”
Adilan nodded.
Nassir would act as referee, but he would have little to do. There would be no timer. No points awarded. Malid—now also stripped down from his suit to fight—said they would keep things simple. “Last man standing wins,” Malid said.
Nassir opened his mouth to protest, but Adilan waved a hand. “Let us end this now.”
In the ring, Adilan closed fast and struck out with roundhouse kick to the side of the back and kidney area. Malid blocked the attack, and threw a punch at Adilan’s head that Adilan ducked. He closed again, striking hard.
Malid caught him in the chest with a vicious combination of hands, and Adilan moved to the side. They traded blows, and Adilan tried to kick out his brother’s legs. Malid was a horrible wrestler and if he could only get him to the mat, Adilan knew he could make short work of the match. Adilan swept out with his legs, but Malid kicked back and high, catching Adilan in the ribs.
Adilan backed up and bent over, as if hurt. Malid closed in. Adilan waited until the last minute and then he popped up and delivered a hard punch to Malid’s jaw. He rushed Malid, pulling Malid to the mats. Wrapping his legs around Malid’s neck, Adilan squeezed, hearing his brother wheeze.
Finally, Malid conceded the fight by tapping the mats.
Nassir jumped into the ring and pulled Adilan off Malid, who lay there, gasping for air. Looking from Malid to Adilan, Nassir said, “Adilan won. Are we all clear on that?”
Reluctantly, Malid nodded.
Adilan climbed out of the ring, his body aching, his ribs sore. Nassir helped Malid to his feet, and they both stepped from the ring.
Holding out his hand, Adilan waited. Malid pulled off a glove, went to his locker and pulled out a flash drive and the photos from his coat pocket. He came back to Adilan, and stared at his brother, his eyes narrowed. “That woman…she means this much to you?” Malid asked.
Adilan looked from Malid to Nassir. At last he nodded. “She does.”
Whether that was good or bad, only time would tell. He refused to worry about it, especially right now.
All he could think about was that he had promised Michelle lunch and another trip to the Zia oasis. After a quick shower, he dressed, stuffed the photos and the flash drive into a trouser pocket, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had a cut above his eye and bruises over his cheek and jaw. He hoped very much Michele could forgive him looking like he had lost this fight. But what would she think of him and his family if she ever saw these photos?
Chapter 14
Michelle glanced at her watch again. The town car that Adilan had said he was sending had shown up, and had brought her to the palace. Hassan had shown her to the same morning room she’d been in on her last visit. She’d spend ten minutes sitting on one of the lovely chairs, then she’d spend ten minutes pacing. She’d give him another ten minutes and then she was leaving.
What was going on? Had he changed his mind about meeting her? Or had his father found out about them and forbidden the meeting? But if that was the case, why wasn’t she being thrown out? Had something happened to Adilan?
She walked to the French doors that overlooked the inner courtyard. Today, the fountain and greenery didn’t sooth. She pulled out her cell phone and texted him again.
“Michelle?”
She spun around and gasped. Adilan stood in the doorway, his face cut and with purple bruises.
“What happened to you?” She rushed to his side and lifted a hand that hovered over him. She didn’t know where to touch that wouldn’t cause pain.
Limping into the room, he sank down on a chair with a sigh. And he grinned. “Malid and I…we spar sometimes.”
“Yeah, and UFC guys just trade a few friendly punches. I hope he looks worse.”
“He does.” He put up a hand, touched his cheek and winced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
She came over and sat down next to him. “Are you still up for lunch? Do you want to…lie down?”
He took her hand. “The waters at the Zia oasis will help heal me.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that, but when he stood, she helped him to the door. Hassan held the front door for them, and discreetly handed Michelle a small bag. Once they were in the town car, she glanced inside and saw salve, arnica and some aspirin. It seemed Hassan was used to someone in the palace coming home looking like they’d gone one round too many.
The car started out for the Zia oasis where they’d been yesterday, but Adilan gave order to change direction and head to Al-Hilah. “It’s more private,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“And what about lunch?” Michelle asked.
