AMIRA by Matthew Betley (feel good books to read .TXT) 📕

There was a muffled voice from outside the room, and Nafisa replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t need service today.  The sign is up.”

A second reply came back through the door, words Amira couldn’t understand.  Housekeeping. Keep talking.  I need more time, she thought desperately.  She struggled to turn the chair, lifting up and down but unable to get the leverage she needed from the floor.  This isn’t working. 

“It must have fallen off.  I don’t really know, but either way, we’re good for today.  Thank you.”

Those were the last words Nafisa spoke as the door exploded inwards and the glass from the balcony door in the living room shattered.  Nafisa was flung backwards several feet as the edge of the door caught her in the right shoulder.  She stumbled sideways deeper into the suite but kept herself upright, the suppressed Glock still in her right hand.  She regained her footing as she came face-to-face with a fearsome looking man in a dark sweater, khakis, and bright green eyes that danced with a righteous fury aimed directly at her.  He’s some kind of devil, she thought.  And he’s come for me. 

“Drop it!” the man ordered, a pistol aimed directly at Nafisa.

Nafisa heard movement behind her, and she realized her moment had arrived – her life was over.  But I’m not going alone.  I have to avenge Asim, she thought, and swung her arm towards the object of her hatred and rage – Amira.

Amira watched in horror, as if in slow motion, through the doorway as Nafisa’s arm came up.  I’m sorry, John.  I tried.  I love you, she thought, cleared her mind, and fixed her eyes on her executioner’s.  She would face her death like a warrior, without apology.

A single suppressed gunshot rang out from the living room and struck Nafisa in the chest just left of center a split-second before she pulled the trigger on the suppressed Glock.  The impact from the unseen shooter’s bullet knocked her aim off-center as she was spun to her left by the pain, and the round went wide, shattering the lamp on the nightstand behind Amira.

Amira flinched at the destruction behind her, but she kept her eyes fixed on Nafisa’s as her would-be killer collapsed on her side to the carpeted floor as if curling up for an afternoon nap.  Blood spread quickly from the wound, soaking and darkening her shirt.

Shouts emanated from both sides of the doorway, but neither woman heard them, as each was fixed on the other.

She’s dying.  She’s got seconds left, Amira thought, and was somehow filled with a sadness for the woman who’d tried to kill her in the last moments of her life.  “I’m sorry.  It didn’t have to be this way.”

Nafisa eye’s bored into Amira’s.  “Yes…it did,” she said faintly as blood poured from her mouth.  Her eyes dropped to the floor, her head suspended several inches above the carpet.

So much loss, Amira thought and closed her eyes.  So much. 

“Clear!” she heard two men say in unison in the living room, and she recognized each voice, relief pouring over her as her eyes shot open.

“In here!”

Two men appeared in the doorway, but her eyes locked on the shorter of the two, a fit, rugged, handsome man with a short haircut and a look of concern that struck Amira like a punch.  John Quick.  My love.   

Amira tried to speak but was overwhelmed with relief, and she reflexively stopped herself from breaking down, her body shaking with the effort.

John rushed forward and yanked a small black knife out of a Velcro sheath on his belt.  He pressed the button, and the blade shot out, ready to work.  “It’s okay.  We’ve got you.  You’re safe, now.  I’ve got you.”  His voice was thick with emotion as he wrapped his arms around her, comforting her.

Amira welcomed the embrace and buried her head into his shoulder.  She struggled to speak, and she forced herself to regain her composure.  “I love you,” she whispered.  “I love you so much.”

She felt the zip-tie break behind her, and her arms were suddenly free.  She wrapped them around John and squeezed, cherishing the moment, as she knew it wouldn’t last.

“I love you, too,” John replied, moving back and gripping the sides of her face.  “Always.”

“I know,” Amira said, her eyes glistening but not relinquishing the tears that lingered there.  She smiled, and for one brief moment, all felt right in the world, even as Nafisa’s blood stained the carpet behind them.  “But we have to move.  They’re trying to assassinate Director Tooney, and we’re almost out of time.”

“Who is?” the human force of nature known as Logan West asked as he stood watching the two people that he loved dearly as friends and fellow members of Task Force Ares.

  Amira stood up, unsteady for a moment, but pushed John’s arms away.  “I’ve got this.”

“Don’t I know it,” John said, a hint of his natural sarcasm back in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the Chinese, and it’s all because of what happened in Sudan, what I did before we met.  We need to get downstairs to the convention center.  I’ll fill you in on the way down, but Logan, you need to call Tooney and tell him he’s in imminent danger out there in the Riverview Ballroom, as in right now, and then, you two can tell me how you tracked me.  There’s a conference, and he’s a keynote speaker about to talk, and once he starts, they’re going to kill him.”

“On it,” Logan said, and slid out his encrypted iPhone from his back pocket.

A third man, a tall, good-looking white male with a shock of gray hair in his fifties appeared from around the corner, staring in