Hell yeah.
“I would say so,” he said, carefully. “But I’ll have to discuss it with my commanding officer.” He also wanted to take a look at the document first, before he rang HQ.
She looked pleased. “Best you do that, then.”
He’d call his CO and, fingers crossed, he’d get new orders to escort Hannah Evans out of Syman with her secret document. He was about to get up when a loud smash made them both jump. It was the sound of glass shattering. A few seconds later, the acrid smell of smoke seeped into the lounge.
He was already on his feet, heading out the door. “Stay here,” he yelled over his shoulder. Without waiting for her reply, he went to investigate.
Chapter Three
Cold fear tightened its grip around Hannah’s chest. Not again. For the first time all day she finally felt secure. There was something so…reassuring about Tom. It wasn’t just that he was tough and capable—and he could fight. That definitely helped. But it was more his quiet self-confidence that was so appealing. That knowledge that he was from one of the best fighting forces in the world, and he could handle any situation. She felt safe with him.
Now this…
What was happening?
There were shouts and other loud noises coming from outside the embassy. Were they under attack? Was it an angry, rebellious mob, or was it because of her? Surely Prince Hakeem wouldn’t attack the British embassy just because one of his employees was inside with a sensitive document? No, she needed to calm down and think. Hakeem’s forces couldn’t know she was inside the embassy. Except for the blood on the path behind the embassy, where Tom had killed the palace security policeman. That might be the giveaway. Would they realize it had come from their guy?
Tom returned, weapon over his shoulder, looking way too grim. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
“Is it them?”
“Maybe. Whoever just shot out that window has got a lot of firepower. That’s all I know. They’ve barricaded themselves behind a row of vehicles about five hundred yards away, in the park. It’s only a matter of time before they break into the compound. Come on. Follow me.”
He shepherded her out of the lounge, down a corridor, and then through a set of double doors into another shorter corridor.
“This is the ambassador’s office suite,” he told her as they entered a large room with an expensive rug covering most of the carpet. An oxblood leather sofa flanked a large, mahogany coffee table. Tom opened a matching wall cabinet where a set of keys hung on a hook.
There was a loud whistling sound. “What’s tha—?” she was about to ask.
“Get down!” he yelled, pulling her down onto the carpet, keys forgotten. She fell on her knees, pitched forward, and lay flat, expecting the worst. Seconds later there was a loud bang, and the ground shook. She screamed. The whole building creaked as the coffee table imploded, its glass top showering the rug. The patio door cracked but didn’t break.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Would the building collapse on top of them? They could be buried alive, their bodies found months later in the rubble.
It didn’t.
She tried to move, but found she couldn’t. Tom’s hard body lay on top of hers. He’d moved so fast, she hadn’t even realized it. His thigh rested between her legs, and his solid chest covered her back like a makeshift shield. He’d wrapped his arms around her as much as he could and tucked his head down next to her shoulder. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, steady, despite the chaos of the explosion—unlike her rapidly beating heart.
“Are you okay?” he asked a few seconds later, shifting his weight off her. His eyes roamed over her, looking for injuries.
She sat up. “I think so.” She was trembling, partly from the shock of the explosion, and partly because Tom’s body had felt so good on top of hers. She laughed, embarrassed. How odd that she’d thought of that after a near-death experience. “I thought we were going to be buried alive, for a minute.”
Everything smelled of smoke. “No, it was only a grenade,” he explained, getting to his feet. He dusted himself off as if he’d just been for a stroll in the park.
“Only a grenade?” Was that supposed to make her feel better?
“Rocket propelled,” he elaborated with a grim smile. “I think it hit the west side of the building. We were lucky. The damage will be limited to a few rooms. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
How was this even happening? she wondered as he pulled her to her feet. She fought a sudden urge to cling to his hand like a frightened child. The situation had gotten way out of control.
This morning she’d arrived at work, oblivious to the situation outside the palace walls, and a few hours later, she was a fugitive, running from rocket-propelled grenades.
He kicked the fractured glass out of the patio doors. It broke easily, falling into glinting shards on the tiles outside. “It’s a war,” he said simply. “And Hakeem may suspect you’re here, in which case destroying the document would provide an excellent excuse to take out a Western powerbase.”
“They’ll have to destroy me, too,” she whispered.
“Not if I can help it. Do you mind?” Without waiting for a reply, he picked her up and carried her over the smashed glass, over the jagged frame of the sliding door, and out into the garden.
“Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed. His arms bulged impressively as he held her. She glimpsed the bottom of a curved, Celtic-style tattoo on his left bicep and was tempted to run her hand over it. Then she giggled. How could she be thinking that at a time such as this?
He gave her a sharp look.
“Sorry, it must be the shock.” She wiped the smile off her face. It wouldn’t do to get hysterical.
He set her down a few meters shy of the sidewall, and then rested his hand on her arm. It was warm and steady. She glanced at him in surprise. “It’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of here, to somewhere safe. Then we can make a few calls and decide on a plan of action.”
She focused on his words, willing herself to believe them. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, and a thought struck her…“Damn. I forgot my headscarf inside.”
“Leave it. There’s nothing we can do about that now. We’ve got to get out of here. I know another way.” He led her along the sidewall, past a large fishpond growing green from lack of attention. Hannah envied the ignorant fish, happily swimming about, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the world above them.
“It’s over here.” He walked with purpose, his whole body tense and alert. She knew he had the dead man’s gun still tucked into the back of his army pants, and she was sure he had another gun strapped to his calf. She’d felt it there, when he’d thrown himself on top of her during the blast.
They went down some concrete stairs into a dark subway tunnel on the east side of the property. She trod gingerly so as not to hurt her battered feet. The entrance was covered with heavy creeping plants and other foliage, overgrown and disused. Halfway through, an imposing floor-to-ceiling gate halted their progress. It reminded Hannah of Traitor’s Gate at the Tower of London—and it appeared just as secure. The lock was heavy, attached to the end of a thick link chain wound several times around the bars. “This gate is never used.” Tom tugged on the chain.
“That doesn’t look like it’s going to open,” Hannah said, dubiously. “Do you have a key?”
“Of sorts,” he replied, reaching for the semiautomatic slung over his shoulder. “Stand back.”
She backtracked well out of the tunnel. She didn’t want to get hit by ricocheting bullets. He aimed at the padlock and let rip a short blast of rapid fire. The lock broke, and the chain disintegrated in a spray of metallic half-rings.
“That’ll do,” she murmured, following him through the gate and up the stairs on the other side. They emerged into an incredibly narrow alleyway, with a stone floor and high buildings on either side. Cigarette butts littered the ground, and someone had scrawled FREE SYMAN across the concrete in Arabic. “W
here are we?”
“It’s a way out.” He hunched up so his wide shoulders would fit, toward the north end of the alley.
A second explosion resonated from behind them. They both ducked instinctively, although the blast was too far away to affect them.
Tom looked grim. “The embassy will soon be breached, and Hakeem’s men will sift through the rubble until they realize you’re not there. Then they’ll find that dead guy’s body and put two and two together. They’ll know you escaped—and that you had help.”
“I’m going to have to get out of here ASAP, aren’t I? They’re not going to stop until they find me.”
A moment’s hesitation. Then he said, “People disappear all the time. You can, too.”
“Not without your help,” she whispered.
He didn’t reply. They marched on, stopping briefly at a clothing store to buy a pair of running shoes and a new scarf. Next up was a pharmacy, where Tom got some supplies while Hannah waited inside the front door, trying to look inconspicuous.
They finally came to a stop at a narrow, four-story apartment block. The stained concrete looked harsh and unforgiving in the afternoon sun. It was surrounded by other apartment blocks in a similar state of disrepair.
“Where are we?”
“My place.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. This was perfect. No one would ever know she was here.
They climbed a set of chipped tile stairs with a steel handrail to the third floor. The coolness of the stairwell was a welcome relief after the scorching temperature outside. He glanced out over the low wall as they slunk along the corridor to the apartment. There was no one around. “It looks clear,” he said, unlocking the front door and beckoning her inside.
…
The first thing Tom did was draw the curtains and secure the front door. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“How long have you lived here?” Hannah glanced around the combined lounge/kitchen area. He knew she was wondering how he could live in this type of place. The apartment had come furnished, but sparsely so. There was an old sofa and matching armchair, a disintegrating rug, and a small wooden table in the kitchen for eating on. He wasn’t here for the décor.
“Three months,” he said, his mind shifting to the call he had to make to his commanding officer. He pulled open a Velcro pocket in his combat pants and withdrew his cell phone, quickly checking the battery. Good, there was enough juice.
She sat gingerly on the sofa. “Where were you before?”
He studied the screen. “In a military hospital in England, and before that, in Afghanistan.”
“In the hospital? Why, what happened to you?”
He paused, unsure why he’d told her that. It hadn’t been necessary. He looked into her eyes and said softly, “I took a bullet in the back during my last mission in Afghanistan.”
Two bullets—one in the shoulder and one in the back, narrowly missing his vital organs. He’d been pretty banged up. The doctors had done a fantastic job. He was lucky to be alive. Unlike the others.
Her gaze fell to his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Is that why they posted you to the embassy? So you could recover?”
That was one reason.
“It’s complicated,” he said, rotating his shoulder. The scar was still there, but there was no pain. He was as fit as he used to be, maybe fitter, with all the extra workouts he’d been putting in at the embassy gym to fill the hours. He was ready for active duty—had been for weeks.
“Let’s make that call. Where is the document?” He looked pointedly at her robes under which he knew she had a smallish bag. It was slung over her shoulder. He’d felt it when he’d carried her outside at the embassy.
She shifted uncomfortably. “There’s something I have to tell you about the document.”
He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What?”
Tell me you have that piece of paper…
Her words rushed out. “I’m sorry, but I sort of left the document back in the souk. I was trying to get away from the security police, when they spotted me. So I dashed into the market, thinking it would be a good place to hide. But they followed me in. So I bought this dress from an old lady and put the document down on the counter, to get to my purse. Then I put the dress on to disguise myself and ran off, leaving the document behind.”
She rubbed her forehead, agitated.
“You’re kidding?” He couldn’t believe his ears. No document, no leverage. She’d been lying to him this whole time. All the information she said she had was useless. “You lied to me.”
He should have known. He seemed to attract this type of woman. Look at Amrain… She’d lied, and he’d fallen for it. Fooled to the point that he’d led his entire team into an ambush…
He stood in front of her, fuming. “Was all of this just an elaborate plan to get me to help you?” He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. “Does the document actually exist, or did you make that up, too?”
Instead of remaining seated as he expected, she jumped to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed angrily. “Yes, the document exists. And for your information, I didn’t plan on losing it. It was my ticket out of here. I panicked, okay. I’m not used to being a fugitive. You may be able to think clearly under pressure, but I can’t. Especially not with the royal security force breathing down my neck.”
He felt himself drawn in by her fiery gaze. Unconsciously he took a step closer. “So now what am I supposed to do? The embassy is in smithereens and without the intel, I doubt you’re going to be able to bargain your way out. Not with me. There’s no way my CO will allow it. If you’re very lucky, he’ll tell you to take a taxi to the UN Air Force base.”
“You can call them anyway…”
He could feel the heat emanating off her body. “And say what? That you conned me?”
They gazed at each other, breathing hard, unable to break eye contact. He hesitated. The argument went from tense to something else entirely…and all he wanted to do was kiss those amazing lips of hers.
She didn’t move, either. As if reading his mind, her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her lips parted enticingly. He swallowed. He must be mad. He was considering taking her into his arms and ravishing her mouth, right here. Right now.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow flicker past the window. He moved to peer through the curtain while Hannah turned away. It was only a neighbor entering his apartment two doors down.
Tom rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t at all sure what had happened there. An awkward silence filled the room. What to do next? He couldn’t just leave her here. Someone would have to come and get her out—if it wasn’t to be him. The English authorities would have to be informed.
He felt bereft, as if his one chance to redeem himself had been flushed down the toilet. Delivering Hannah and the information would have thrust him back into active duty. It would have given him a chance to prove he was ready, that Afghanistan hadn’t destroyed him. Perhaps afterward he could even have rejoined his regiment again. He clenched his fists in frustration.
“I didn’t lie, exactly.”
“Excuse me?” He looked up. She had spoken so softly, he’d hardly heard her.
“I still have all that information.”
Okay, that was confusing. “Where? If you no longer have the document, I don’t see how…”
She tapped her head. “In here.”
Was she lying again? “You’re telling me you remember what it said?”
“Yes, all of it.”
He took a moment to consider this. “How? Did you memorize the details or something?”
She smiled thinly. “Something like that.” He shot her an incredulous look, and she hurried on, “I have an ability to remember things, lists of things, books, documents. It’s as if my brain takes a mental photograph, and I can recall it in perfect detail. I’ve always been able to do it. My grandfather called
it a gift.”
He shook his head. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. He perched on the edge of the table and studied her body language. Her expression was open, her shoulders squared toward him. She didn’t appear to be lying. Yet, he couldn’t be sure. She’d fooled him before. “You don’t have to lie anymore. I’m still going to call someone to come and get you.”
“I’m not lying. It’s true, honestly. I’d prove it by reciting the first page of the document to you, but it’s all in Arabic so you wouldn’t understand.”
Conveniently.
She clocked the doubt in his gaze. “You still don’t believe me. Okay, go and fetch me something to read. Anything.”
Reluctantly, Tom pushed himself off the table and disappeared down a short passage, into the bedroom. He came back with a typical military-style adventure book in his hand. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.
“Give me a minute to read the chapter.”
She opened the book in the middle and, with a frown of concentration on her face, read four or five pages. He watched her face as she read. There was no movement other than her eyes flickering across the page. When she was done, she closed the book with a snap and held it out to him.
Suspiciously, he took it, waiting to see the outcome of this little experiment. He was still skeptical, but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.
She sat calmly on the sofa, staring at some unseen spot on the wall, and in a mechanical voice, began reciting…
He let her read the entire chapter, mostly because he was so dumbfounded, he didn’t know what to say. He’d heard of people like her, but he hadn’t ever met one until now.
After she was done, her gaze returned to his face as she waited patiently for him to speak.
“You have a photographic memory,” he said at last, realizing he was stating the obvious.
A hint of a smile played around her lips. “I do,” she replied.
“This changes things.”
…
He punched a number into his cell phone that he knew by heart. The staff secretary answered on the second ring. He gave his name, rank, and ID number and waited to be put through to his commanding officer.
Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite) Page 4