Page 4 of Savage Protector
She turns to leave.
“Wait.”
She pauses.
The man in charge fixes his gaze on Bilal. “Young man, what’s your name?”
“Bilal Malik, sir.”
“How old are you, Bilal?”
“Nine.”
“You’re a brave kid. Loyal. I admire that. Do you have a phone?”
He shakes his head.
“You should have one. Jack, do you have a spare burner on you?”
A basic phone is produced and handed over. The leader taps a few keys, then offers the device to Bilal. “My name is Ethan. My number is on there. If you need help, ever, give me a ring.”
“Thank you, sir.” A wide-eyed Bilal drops the phone into his small backpack before the man who is to drive them shepherds the trio from the room.
Their footsteps can be heard on the stairs, then the front door—or what I assume might be left of it—closes. An engine starts up, crunches over the gravel forecourt, then purrs into silence.
I’m alone with our attackers, though I suspect our acquaintance won’t be a long one. I close my eyes and prepare to die.
“Help him up.”
Hands grasp my elbows and haul me to my feet. The wall is behind me, and I’m glad of it. I doubt if I could stand unaided and I really do prefer to die on my feet.
“Look at me, lad.”
I open my eyes. Well, one of them.
“What’s your name?”
“Zayn Abbassi.” I see no point in not telling him.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“How long have you worked for Malik?”
“Two years.”
“You started young. What’s your job?”
I’m puzzled by all the questions, but I answer anyway. “I’m a guard, just a soldier. I do as I’m told.”
“Does that include helping your boss’s wife to leave him?” Do I detect a hint of amusement in his tone?
“He knocks her about. A lot. The boy, too. Someone had to do something.”
He considers my answer, then, “Yes, I can understand that. I’m assuming you’ll be out of a job now.”
“What does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway. If you don’t, he will.”
