“Meimei!” The emotion in her father’s voice put a lump in her throat. “We heard you had been rescued. We have been waiting and hoping to hear from you. Let me tell your mother so she can get on the other phone.”
“I’m here. Are you okay, Kristi?”
“I’m fine, Mom.” She did her best to maintain her composure. “I meant to call you last night, but I hadn’t really slept for days. I’ve got a concussion, and I was so exhausted I just fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“What matters is that you are safe. But tell me about the concussion.” Her father was a neurologist, so, of course, he would have questions.
She answered them, then told her parents what had happened from the beginning, once again breaking up when she got to the part where Peter shot Jidda, struggling for words. “He would have…”
A big hand came to rest on her shoulder.
She glanced up to find Malik standing beside her, a towel around his waist, his face shaven. “Peter would have hurt me, but that’s when Malik and his friend started shooting. Peter pointed a gun at my head, and I thought it was over. Then he dropped to the dirt, dead. Malik shot and killed him before he could shoot me.”
“Who is Malik?”
Oh. Right.
“I met him in Antarctica. We became … close.” She was pretty sure they would understand what that meant without her spelling it out. “Remember the crashed satellite and the murder on station? Malik was part of the security crew that came down, retrieved the satellite parts, and caught the murderer.”
“I’m confused,” her mother said. “The person from the State Department told us that the Nigerian military and police had rescued you.”
Now it was Kristi’s turn to be confused. “No, that’s not true. It was just Malik and his friend. The Nigerian police and army were still a few hours away. If Malik hadn’t moved in when he did… It would have been a lot worse.”
“Malik,” her mother said. “That’s an unusual name.”
Yeah, her mother was curious. Kristi knew she would be.
Kristi shared a little. “He’s a former Army Ranger. He works as a security operative with Cobra—or he did. He gave up his job to come after me.”
“You must thank him for us,” her father said. “That is a great sacrifice for a man to make. We are in his debt. I hope to thank him one day in person.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t know what happens next.” Kristi realized she’d been talking for almost twenty minutes. “I should probably go. I’m using Malik’s phone. I need to take a shower and have some breakfast.”
Her mother urged her to come home as quickly as possible, and her father gave her some tips about recovering from a concussion. Kristi reminded her father that she was an RN and asked her parents to pass on her love to Michael, her older brother. Then she ended the call.
Malik sat on the armchair, now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “How’d that go?”
She walked over to him, gave him his phone. “My father said to thank you and to tell you that they are in your debt. My dad wants to meet you.”
Men’s voices came from the other side of the door.
Malik kissed her. “I think the Nigerian police are back.”
“Oh, right.” She grabbed some clothes from the bag of things Malik had bought for her—panties, jeans, a purple leopard-print blouse. “Can you hold them off while I take a quick shower?”
“You’ve got it.”
9
Malik sat on the sofa, cup of coffee in hand, listening while a female officer with the Nigeria Police Force asked Kristi to recount what had happened and then followed with an endless stream of questions. Kristi answered as best she could. At least they’d waited until she’d showered and had breakfast before they’d started on her.
David, who sat beside him reading a newspaper, leaned closer. “Relax, my friend. They are not going to hurt her. You and I are here, as are Bruno and Idris. I can see why you thought she was worth leaving your job and risking your life. She is fine—and smart and very brave.”
David had already explained to Malik in private that the Nigerian National Police and the army were taking credit for rescuing Kristi. “It would not look good to say that a foreigner came into the country without authorization and did what the NPF and army hadn’t done. Also, if they take the credit, no one has to arrest us for your forged documents.”
“That works for me.” It didn’t matter to Malik anyway. He hadn’t come here for glory or to get his face on the TV news. He’d come here for Kristi.