Crossing the Chasm: Sheiks of Ahalamin, #2

By Lynda Coker

Sheiks of Ahalamin - Book Two

 

A botched abduction by a local terrorist group at a Middle East airport leaves Jessica imprisoned in a sweltering desert camp awaiting execution. She needs a miracle--but the devil will have to do.

 

Califar Cadin, First Regent of the Middle Eastern country of Ahalamin, is a man of tradition, authority, and determination. But to Jessica Heathly, he's the arrogant tyrant who now calls her WIFE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynda Coker
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201386580

Lynda Coker

~ Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame ~ Henry David Thoreau Lynda Coker lives in the rolling hills of Northeast Texas, USA. Her favorite genre to write is Contemporary Romance with a sprinkle of adventure and fantasy. "Writers are people with overactive imaginations who daydream, fabricate, and lie convincingly as they build fabulous new worlds and the characters who inhabit them." ~ Just My Opinion :)

Book preview

Table of Contents

Crossing the Chasm

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

The Flavor of Romance

Sign up for Lynda Coker's Mailing List

Crossing the Chasm

Prologue

Jessica trailed behind a large family group as she made her way toward the boarding area for her flight home. Her thoughts swirled with delightful memories of the past three weeks spent with her dearest friend, Victoria,  and her five adorable children. Meeting the newest addition, six-week-old baby Aziz, was the catalyst for her extended vacation in Ahalamin. 

She paused as the group in front of her stopped suddenly. A little girl darted from the center of the throng to chase a purple ball that was now rolling in Jessica's direction. The child was soon swept up into a man's arms and consoled as she broke into great sobs. 

Jessica stooped to pick up the ball and hurried to return it. 

Screams shattered the domestic scene as gunfire terrorized and scattered people in all directions. Men in black robes and covered faces swooped out of nowhere to force the family group into a tight huddle. 

Jessica felt the push from behind and staggered forward with the others. The next five minutes passed in a blur of shouting, pushing, and more gunfire. Before the shock wore off enough for her to take evasive action, she was shoved into the back of a truck along with several other adults. 

It was then she realized that these abductors had mistaken her for part of the family group because of her near proximity. That was the last coherent thought she had as a hard object jabbed into the back of her head.

Chapter 1

Jessica squinted her sore eyelids and focused a bleary gaze on the black scorpion meandering toward her bare feet. She wondered at her lack of dread as the large bug drew closer and climbed over her toes. Scratchy little feet executed a tap dance routine on her instep as the dancer twirled and swayed to a rhythm unheard by others.

With a jerk of its body, the visitor ceased its antics and lifted both head and tail. The lethal tail curled tighter as her desert companion wasted no time in abandoning the new territory.

She turned her throbbing head, allowing her gaze to follow the scorpion's retreat. Scampering in a straight line toward the side of the tent, it slipped under the canvas cloth to disappear into the hellish desert beyond. In a strange way, she missed the creature's presence, regretted its desertion. 

Her chin sunk closer to her chest, her eyes closed. Though her lips moved, the plea she uttered barely echoed through the chambers of her heart. Just let it be over.

The sound of approaching male voices challenged her last remnant of endurance. They were coming for her. She would be number four...the last one to die.

Her arms, bound at the wrist and secured to a pole over her head, ached unbearably as she straightened her back. She tried fisting her fingers, but their swollen size prevented them from curling into her palms. The wire that coiled around her wrists and bound her to the overhead pole cut deeper into her skin with every movement.

Pushing up with her toes, she sought to temporarily relieve some pressure on her hands and arms. Weak leg muscles quivered and released, dropping her to her heels with a jarring pain that shot through her arms like flaming darts.

The foul taste of bile started to rise in her throat. It hurt to keep swallowing, but she couldn't vomit-not again. The crusty evidence of her last failed effort to control her nausea stained the front of her black robe. The repugnant odor added another level of stench to the tainted air in the stale confines of the sweltering tent that had been her prison for... How long had it been? The nightmare merged into one agonizing eternity until she could no longer remember.

More than anything, in these last moments of life, she wanted to retain a shred of courage, to keep a fragment of dignity that no one could take from her.

In her head, echoes of her Father's voice opened a cache of past regrets. She remembered his baritone voice, his scorn for her weakness, his unrelenting demand that she stand and fight, and her pathetic reply. Dad, he's twice my size. I'm just a girl. Her excuse, as he'd labeled it, hadn't mattered then, nor would it matter now.

The angry tenor of the approaching voices confused her. Previously, the guards checked on her without speaking, as if a word spoken in her hearing would foul them in some way. The verbal contention made their approach even more threatening. She barely stifled a scream as the tent flap flew back-exposing her to the sun's fierce light.

Three men entered through the tent's opening, their robed silhouettes rippling in waves of heat. A heat so intense, it had long since drained her body of even the cooling relief of sweat.

Fighting back an overwhelming wooziness, she focused on the trio standing just inside her prison. Two were familiar, their hate-filled eyes permanently inked on the pages of her mind. The third man stood a little apart from the other two and spoke to them in a guttural tone as he stabbed at the air with his fist.

Another memory of her father's perpetual nagging mocked her weakness. Stand up straight Jessica. Why can't you be like your brothers? A weak female is useless. If you don't shape up you're going to find yourself on the street.

The remembered threat sent the same cold shame through her heart as it had done when she was thirteen. She shifted her body weight in an effort to stabilize her trembling legs. A painful groan slipped through her lips. Fresh blood oozed from the cut on her wrists-wrists that felt like they would tear from her arms if she dared to move again.

Jessica looked up to see three pairs of dark eyes rivet their gaze on her before the gusty desert wind blew the tent flap across the opening, obscuring them in the tent's filtered light. The new man stood rigidly still. An aura of authority rang in his voice as he barked something in his native tongue.