Dahlia had never dressed so quickly before in her life. She dressed in all black and secured her hair in a ponytail. As she exited the dressing room, Kofi hung up the phone.
“Oriyeh confirmed she’s at the helicopter now.” He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. “We’ll be at the Cape in a couple of hours. Assuming Kemal left as soon as he kidnapped Noel, we should arrive ahead of him, with enough time to pick up the SUV Oriyeh arranged and drive to his house to lie in wait for him.”
“Perfect.” More hope came alive in her chest.
“Let’s go.”
Dahlia placed her hand in his, and the two rushed through the apartment on speedy feet.
“Do you have any idea why Kemal did this?” Dahlia asked. Aofa stated revenge was the motive, but revenge for what?
“I have an idea,” Kofi said in a grim tone.
He obviously didn’t want to say his thoughts out loud, so she said them for him. “I don’t think he wanted you to marry me. He hates me, and I’ve known for a long time.”
“You’re right, he didn’t want us to marry. Three years ago when you called to tell me you were pregnant, he kept the call from me on purpose because he knew how I felt about you. He doesn’t hate you. It’s me he hates.” He opened the front door and they hurried through.
“Why would he hate you?” The door closed behind them as they exited the apartment.
“It’s a long, complicated story.” He tugged her along behind him, his long strides forcing her into a jog to keep up.
“If he hates you so much, then why take Noel? Why not come directly for you?”
“For the same reason you probably thought he’d taken Noel because of you. He knew taking Noel would hurt me most.” His jaw settled into a hard line.
“It was foolish of him to go back to Cape Ndugu. He should have known you’d go looking for him there once we found out he was gone.”
Abdalla and Yasir waited at the head of the stairs, and the three of them rushed to the first floor. This time of night, the halls were empty, their footsteps making only a slight sound as they hurried across the marble.
They were making their way to the exit when Kofi, leading the group, suddenly swung around and frowned at Dahlia.
“You’re right. He counted on Aofa cracking and sending us in that direction. Or, at the very least, he knew we’d question everyone about Noel’s disappearance, including him. If we couldn’t find him, he knew the first place we’d look was the village. Which means he didn’t go back to Cape Ndugu.” His eyes lifted toward the ceiling. “He’s in the palace.”
“But Your Highness, if he’s here, how will we find him? He could be anywhere,” Yasir said.
“Not anywhere.” Kofi’s eyes widened. “You must pay for your sins. He’s with the king!”
The three men took off running, and Dahlia raced behind them. The king’s quarters were on the third floor. The men had longer legs and were in better shape, sprinting up the stairs two at a time, with Kofi leading the way.
On the way up, Abdalla spoke Mbutu into a device attached to his wrist. Dahlia didn’t know what he said or to whom, but his voice adequately conveyed a message of urgency to the other party.
Outside his father’s apartment, Kofi jammed his thumb to the panel and the door swung open. By the time Dahlia caught up, she was out of breath, but she pushed through and met them outside Babatunde’s bedroom suite.
Kofi pounded on the door and wiggled the doorknob.
“Father, it’s Kofi. Are you all right?”
He wiggled the knob again.
Not a single sound came from inside.
“I need to get in there.” He stepped back and looked at Abdalla. “Open it.”
The big man smashed his huge foot into the door. The frame splintered on the inside, and the door slammed against the interior wall. Abdalla stepped back immediately and let Kofi take the lead.
“I have a gun. Don’t come in here!” Kemal’s voice.
“I’m unarmed.” With his arms raised high, Kofi eased forward into the room.
“Kofi, no,” Dahlia whispered.
He continued to move, hands up, until he advanced several feet inside the room. Dahlia stood on the outside, both hands covering her mouth, watching the tense scene unfold.
“Baba!”
At the sound of her son’s voice, Dahlia charged in after Kofi and skidded to a stop. To her horror, Kemal stood at the foot of the king’s bed, a gun pointed at him and Noel. The toddler, huddled at his grandfather’s side, lifted his head up and reached out a hand. “Mommy.”
“Hold onto him, or I will blow his brains out,” Kemal said to the king.
Babatunde tightened his grip on his grandson.
“Mommy.” Noel began to cry. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Kemal, please. Let me comfort him,” Dahlia said.
Kemal swung the gun at her. “Shut up.” He swung the weapon back to the king. “Move, and I’ll kill him.”
Dahlia kept her eyes on her son, only feet away but she couldn’t touch him. “It’s okay, Noel.” She put a finger to her lips.
“Shut him up,” Kemal said.
Babatunde didn’t appear to be the least bit ruffled by the current situation. “He’s a child and he’s scared. Let his mother comfort him.”
Kemal laughed without humor and, using the gun to point, said, “You can’t help yourself, can you? You have to be the man in charge. You have to speak out of turn, as if you’re in control of this situation. Get this through your head, old man. I am in control right now!”
While Kemal was distracted with the king, Kofi took advantage and eased a few more inches into the room. “Yes, you’re in charge. You have our father. You have me. Let Noel and Dahlia go.”
Kemal snorted. “Why should I let anyone go? I have the last of the Karunzika male heirs right here. I could end your lineage and alter the line of succession to the throne.”
Every muscle in Dahlia’s body froze. Surely he wouldn’t slaughter them all.
“You would throw the entire kingdom into chaos,” Kofi said.
“But when the dust settles, the people will have no choice but to accept their new king.”
“That would be Kehinde or the king’s other brother.”
Kemal laughed so hard the gun shook in his hand. “Come now, you know that’s not true. Prince Kehinde is unfit and uninterested in being king. The same goes for Babatunde’s other brother, who is too busy chasing women and strong drink around the world. We both know who should rightfully ascend the throne after the old man is dead. The only one qualified and with the right temperament to lead.”
What was he talking about? And why did Kofi say our father a few seconds ago, instead of my father? She gasped when it dawned on her why he chose that specific pronoun and what it meant.
Kemal smirked. “She doesn’t know, does she? But something tells me she’s starting to understand. Should I tell her, Kofi, or will you? Who will tell the fair princess that her husband’s title rightfully belongs to someone else?”
“You have no right to the crown. It doesn’t belong to you,” Babatunde said.
“I should have been the crown prince after Jafari died,” Kemal snarled, face twisting into an ugly mask. “I should be next in line, not Kofi. Tell her. Tell her why I should be next in line and not you.”
When Kofi didn’t start talking, Kemal pointed the gun and aimed right at his chest. Dahlia took a step back, fear clamping tight around her throat.
Kofi lifted his head to a haughty angle and said, “Kemal believes he should be the crown prince, because my father had an affair with his mother, and as the second oldest son, he believes he should be next in line. But the line of succession goes through the Great Wife, my mother, Queen Nahla.”
“I don’t believe I should be the crown prince. If there were any justice, I would have been. I would have been raised in The Grand Palace, not stuck in a coastal village with my mother, who lived in shame until her death. Why? Because she had the misfortune to fall in love with a man who has no heart and doesn’t understand what love is. A man who couldn’t stay faithful to his wife—his queen—and refused to take care of the woman he said he cared about. Never bringing her into the palace and making her a legitimate wife.”
“I did care about your mother. I built the largest house in the village for her, and I gave her money—” Babatunde said.
“You did not care about my mother!” Kemal wiped spittle from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You did not care about me, or that I had no father growing up and didn’t receive any special treatment, though I have royal blood running through my veins. I was considered a shame and an embarrassment, and hidden like a dirty secret. Well, I’m not a secret anymore. Get up.”
Dahlia’s hand covered her mouth. What was he going to do? She glanced behind her but saw no sign of Abdalla or Yasir. Where were they?
“I’m an old man. I don’t care about myself. Let them go and deal with me the way you want to.”
“I said get up,” Kemal said slowly.
Noel wasn’t making a sound, his face buried in his grandfather’s armpit. But when Babatunde grabbed the staff beside his bed and gingerly got to his feet, Noel pressed his face into a pillow, put his hands over the back of his head, and started crying.
“Please let me go to him,” Dahlia begged.
Kemal rolled his eyes. “Fine. Go to him and shut him up. Or I will.”
Dahlia crossed the floor and climbed onto the bed. She pulled Noel against her breasts, mashing his face into her neck. She gently rocked him and spoke in a hushed voice, encouraging him to be quiet.
“Now, oh great king, you will give me the respect that I deserve.”
“Kemal, this isn’t the way,” Kofi said.
“Shut up. You brought me here after Jafari and your mother died, as if I should be happy to serve you.”
“I gave you a job because we’re brothers.”
Kemal sneered. “How could we possibly be brothers when we aren’t on equal footing? You wanted me here because Jafari was gone.”
“That’s not true. I asked you to come because I wanted a relationship with you.”
“Then why didn’t you bring me here and try to have a relationship before he died?”
“I couldn’t hurt my mother in that way.”
“Is that the real reason, or is it because you’re as selfish as our wonderful father? As indifferent and uncaring as he is?”
“What do you want?” Babatunde asked.
“What do I want? I know I won’t get your love, so I’ll settle for your respect. I want you to bow down to me and show me the respect I deserve.”
“Bow?” The king repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before.
Rage filled Kemal’s eyes, and air blew from his nose in a loud whoosh. “Bow!”
Babatunde lifted his head high and stared his son in the eye. “A king bows to no one but his queen.”
Kemal leveled the gun at his father’s chest and the room erupted into chaos. A door at the other end of the bedroom crashed open with a bang and fell flat on the floor. Oriyeh rolled in and took cover behind a piece of furniture. Kemal fired off two shots at her before getting slammed to the floor by Kofi, the tackle audibly forcing air from his lungs and sending the gun skidding across the floor out of reach.
Abdalla and Yasir came bounding through the same entrance. As Yasir rushed the king out the door, Abdalla lifted Dahlia with Noel in her arms, from the bed. He swept toward the exit, while a slew of guards descended on the room and swarmed Kemal like an army of ants attacking a hapless insect.