Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite)

by Louise Rose-Innes

  He set about lifting and carrying rocks to position against the wall. She watched the approaching dust cloud for a few seconds, as it gained ground at an alarming rate, but then shook herself back to the present, knowing that two hands were better than one. Together they piled the rocks on top of each other until they had a three-sided, waist-high structure that would offer basic protection.

  Once they’d stored their belongings behind it, she stared with morbid fascination as the sandstorm came closer and closer. It was a scene from a horror movie. Within minutes the monstrous, billowing cloud of dust had travelled across the desert and was nearly upon them. The all-consuming haze roared with a sound all of its own as millions of sand particles smashed into each other and swirled around in the gale-force wind.

  “Tom, I’m scared,” she whispered, edging closer to him.

  He gestured for her to sit down against the wall. “It’ll be okay. This isn’t a biggie. It’ll be over in an hour or two.”

  She remained standing, unable to tear her gaze away from the approaching dust cloud. It looked enormous. “Are you sure? What about you?”

  “I’ll be right here next to you.” He took off his shirt and untied his bandana. “I’ll use these, and the backpack, to cover our heads, in case of flying debris. Give me your scarf, we need all the covering we can get.”

  She sat down. “Oh God.” She didn’t want to die here in the middle of the Symanian desert.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, lying down and pulling her beside him. The roar of the storm was more frightening than deafening. She could feel the sand stinging her ankles as it started to engulf them. It was here. She glanced at Tom, looking for reassurance. He gave her a small smile. “I’ve got you.”

  Tom pulled the scarves and his shirt over their heads, making sure they were tucked in firmly. With one hand, he pulled the backpack on top of them, too. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

  She lay still, taking deep breaths of air into her lungs in anticipation of what was to come.

  “Breathe normally,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

  It grew dark and ominous as the dust cloud enveloped them. The wind howled, careening around their rocky hideout as if trying to push its way in. She wriggled closer to Tom.

  He squeezed her more tightly to him. “It’ll be okay. We just have to wait it out, that’s all.” She buried her neck in his shoulder, craving warmth and comfort. The wind buffeted the scarf over their faces, threatening to pull it off at any moment. She could feel his chest against her breasts and his hips digging into hers. He was protecting her body with his.

  Panic rose within her, threatening to take over. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, but with the dust ricocheting all around them, it was near to impossible. “I can’t breathe,” she whispered, beginning to shake with fear.

  “Calm down,” he urged. “There’s not much dust in here. It’s important not to panic.”

  She heard him and knew he was right, but she could barely control her fear. It felt like she was in the middle of a tornado. She was just about to lose it completely when she felt his lips touch hers.

  She froze. Was that an accident? Their faces were so close together, it might have been. Then he kissed her again, softly, but insistently, first on her lower lip and then on her top one. It felt good, really good. She tentatively began to kiss him back, still unsure as to his intention. It was so unlike him to make personal contact of any kind, let alone kiss her, that she was momentarily confused.

  Then she got it. He was trying to distract her. He wanted to prevent her from panicking. It was a sweet gesture, and she ought to put an end to it, but to be honest, it was helping to divert her attention away from the cacophony above them. In the back of her mind, however, she was aware that this man wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, if it came down to it. He was a man she couldn’t afford to trust, not with her head, and certainly not with her heart. Yet sandwiched together, with the scarf pulled tightly around their heads, it was remarkably easy to ignore that point. With his breath on her lips and his long eyelashes flickering against her cheek, it was virtually impossible not to be distracted by him.

  Spurred on by her response, he applied more pressure, nudging her lips apart. A shiver of anticipation shot through her body, and it had nothing to do with the dust storm surrounding them.

  Her lips opened willingly, and his tongue delved into her mouth. She drew him in, sucking gently, and then explored his mouth with her tongue. It was hot, and incredibly erotic. For the first time since the storm had begun, she forgot about where she was and what was happening around them. All her senses were preoccupied with the man beside her.

  He shifted his position so that he was half leaning on top of her. The backpack fell off their heads. She didn’t care, she welcomed his weight. His chest pressed into her breasts, while a hard thigh nestled between her legs. A need she didn’t know she possessed surged through her. It was a need born out of desire, and fear, and gratitude. She’d been through so much in the last two days, and Tom had been there for her. He’d saved her life and protected her. He’d held her hand when she needed it, and here he was, protecting her again, this time against the elements. If that wasn’t enough, she’d been attracted to him from the start and now that he was kissing her, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop.

  …

  Up until this point, Tom had been in complete control. He had needed to distract her from panicking and ripping the scarf off, exposing them both to the whirling dust cloud. Given their close confinement, kissing her had seemed the only option.

  Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d never expected her to taste so sweet, or her lips to be so soft. The more he kissed her, the harder it was to pull away. With a shock, he realized he didn’t want to.

  She was so responsive, so sensual. He couldn’t get enough of her. Instead of calming things down and backing off, he kissed her harder, more intensely, until her breath was coming in short gasps. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but it was what he wanted to do. Heat flooded his body, causing him to lose sight of the logic of what he was doing. His body refused to listen to his inner critic yelling at him to stop. All he could do was feel.

  A sharp pebble, whipped up by the whirling wind, hit his cheek. It pulled him back to reality. Slowly, as if in a trance, he pulled away from Hannah. He couldn’t move far given their current situation. The wind was still buffeting around them so there was no chance of putting any distance between them.

  He could feel her chest rising and falling as she tried to regain her breath. He slid off her to the side, so he wouldn’t lose control again, and focused on getting his breathing under control. It was still dark and the sand whipped against his bare arm, but he relished the stinging sensation. It took his mind off her.

  That means drastic measures, Sergeant. If we can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else having her, either.

  The words of his commanding officer haunted him as he lay with Hannah in his arms. She had information that could end the conflict in Syman quickly and save thousands of lives—and if Tom couldn’t get her and that intel to Western forces, his orders were to eliminate the woman he’d just kissed so she didn’t fall into the wrong hands. He couldn’t afford to get so close. He couldn’t afford to have her cloud his judgment—like Amrain had. If push came to shove, he had to make the right decision. The one that would save a country.

  Damn the CO and his orders to hell.

  They lay in silence for a short while, his arm still over her shoulders while hers was resting on his waist. He needed space to think and to process what had happened, but moving away would put them both at risk, so he stayed put.

  Finally, as the wind howled over their heads, she said, “Tom, why did you kiss me?”

  Because I’ve wanted to ever since we first met.

  Instead he said, “I didn’t know what else to do. You were about to panic and expose us both.”

  A slight hesitation, then she
said, “I understand. I thought as much, but then…” Her voice faded out.

  He’d felt it, too—the passion, the desire, yet admitting it would be unthinkable. That would lead to consequences and explanations. Both of which he didn’t need right now. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t let his attraction to her interfere with that. He’d already overstepped the boundary.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, diverting the discussion.

  “Yes, you certainly managed to distract me.” She gave a small, embarrassed laugh.

  He cringed. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. That was unprofessional.”

  “It was nice,” she whispered, ducking her head and snuggling a bit closer.

  It was. There was no doubt about that. In fact, so nice that part of him wanted to do it again, but now that he was fully in control of his senses, that was never going to happen.

  “I know, but it was dangerous. I can’t afford to let my guard down.”

  She stopped snuggling. “What do you mean?”

  “When I let my guard down, people die.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, after a beat. “Is that what happened in Afghanistan? Is that how you got injured?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. She waited for an explanation that didn’t come. Eventually she asked, “Was it because of a woman?”

  He moved his arm off her body. She was no longer in any danger of panicking. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “The point is, I made a mistake, and people died. The mission failed. I can’t afford to make the same mistake again. Not here.” Not with you.

  “You mean because there is so much at stake?”

  “The outcome of this war depends on whether we can get you out of here within forty-eight hours. Thousands of lives are at risk.”

  “I know. Duty calls.” She sighed audibly. “So you do your thing, and I’ll do my best to stay alive long enough to deliver the information safely.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You said you had a plan,” Hannah said, as they dusted themselves off. The sandstorm had passed as quickly as it had come, and the sky was once again its usual pale blue, as if nothing had happened. She didn’t bring up their kiss again. Tom had just been doing his duty to stop her from panicking, and it meant nothing more than that. He was focused on his mission, not her.

  Well, she was used to that. Growing up, her father had showed her quite clearly how important duty was, to the extent that he had shipped her off to boarding school so he could focus on growing the family business. Without a mother, Hannah had gravitated toward her grandparents, spending holidays and long weekends with them. Her father had never minded. He was always too busy for her. Duty certainly had its downfalls.

  “I do.” He unfolded the map on top of a stone block, which was once part of an ornately carved ceiling. It still had engravings in the one side, although they had cracked and faded with time. “I know a man who might be able to help us. He lives in Mandhab. That’s not far from here.” He pointed to a position on the map.

  “How is he going to help us?” she asked, as she poured sand out of her shoe. There was enough in there to build a small sandcastle.

  “He’s well-connected. He should be able to help us get across the country to the coast.”

  “The coast?” Hannah stared at him. “That is your plan?”

  “The only other way off this island is by boat. All the airports are shut down or commandeered by the army.”

  “Don’t your guys have helicopters that can extract people?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “If we could contact them, perhaps, but since that’s out of the question, boat is our next best option.”

  It wasn’t ideal, but it was a solution, of sorts.

  He continued, “We can’t go to the main harbor on the east coast. It’s the obvious choice and will be too heavily guarded. They’ll be looking for you there.” He traced a route south with his finger. “There’s a smaller fishing port on the south coast, called Hamesh. If we can make it there, we can hitch a ride on a dhow to the mainland.”

  “And your friend is going to help us get there?”

  He looked up. “Hopefully, yes. He’s lived in Syman his whole life. He’s sure to know people who can help us.”

  “Okay, but please don’t tell me we have to get to—where was it? Mandhab?—tonight. I don’t think I can walk another step.”

  His body still bristling with energy, Tom looked like he wanted to keep going. Instead he said, “No. We’ll camp here tonight and leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

  …

  He wasn’t joking, either. Too early the next morning, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. “Let’s head out.”

  She blinked and stared up at the starry sky. “But it’s still nighttime.” The almost-full moon hung low in the sky, ready to move on to the other half of the world.

  “It’s 0500 hours. If we get going we should make it to Mandhab just after sunrise.”

  That meant another long walk. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The ruins appeared incandescent in the moonlight. The pale stone formations seemed to glow with an inner light that was both beautiful and disconcerting.

  “Okay, okay.” There was nothing to pack up. She’d slept in her clothes, using Tom’s backpack as a pillow. The night was warm enough to not need a blanket, and she’d been so tired, she’d fallen asleep instantly.

  The dark circles under his eyes made him look tired, but his expression was as alert as always. “Did you sleep?” she asked, getting to her feet.

  “A little.” He lifted his pack off the ground and fastened it on his back. “I wanted to keep an eye out for any visitors from the Air Force base. I wasn’t sure if they’d follow us this far, or not.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” She stood up and ran a hand through her hair. It was gritty with sand. Ignoring that fact, she said, “I’m glad I’ve got you to watch out for me, Tom.”

  He gazed at her for a moment, then looked away and said, “It’s what I do.”

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she brushed herself off and fastened the scarf around her neck to ward off the early morning chill.

  “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  …

  Just before sunrise, they saw the lights of the town glittering up ahead. It was nestled against a series of jagged hills, slightly smaller than a mountain range but still sporting dramatic rock faces that glowed purple in the early morning light. They didn’t make a direct approach but rather circled around it and entered from a small road at the foot of the hill.

  “This place is a rebel stronghold,” Tom pointed out, as they kept to the shadows.

  She came to a sudden halt. “What? Didn’t you say we were to avoid the rebels at all costs? What if they find out who I am?” She swallowed nervously.

  “Calm down. These rebels aren’t going to be interested in you. They have their own problems to worry about. They’ve had days of mortar attacks and gunfights with government militia. That’s why it’s so run down. The army withdrew a few days ago. Most people here are still getting used to the ceasefire.”

  She looked around. That would explain the crumbling buildings with gaping holes where the windows ought to be. Electrical wires hung, exposed, onto the sidewalk, and street poles were bent over at strange angles. The roads were gravel, and in sections, obscured by concrete from houses that had collapsed due to the bombing. Burned-out vehicles lined the street. But despite all this, people were beginning to venture out for the day, some dressed for work, others just to survey the damage.

  “I know a place where we can rest and get something to eat. It’s two blocks away.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “We’re almost there.”

  Now she was on the lookout for both soldiers and rebels and she didn’t know which was worse. There were lots of men dressed in the colors of the freedom movement, but there seemed to be no military presence.

  They turned down a side street, after the post office, which led to a s
mall line of shops—or what was left of them. All the windows were covered with wooden or iron sheeting, even though they would soon open for business. The owners were taking no chances.

  “Is this where we’re going?” she asked, as he stopped in front of a small convenience store. It too was boarded up. The shop sign hung haphazardly above the door, and the ground outside was strewn with broken tiles and other debris.

  He tried the door and found it was unlocked. He pushed it open, and a small bell tinkled. A man with thick black hair and a beard poked his head out from under the counter.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, in Arabic.

  “Jamal. We’re looking for Jamal.” Tom had replied in English, obviously hoping the man understood. He appeared to, because he stood up and surveyed their dusty clothing and travel-weary faces. His gaze lingered on the rifle strapped to Tom’s chest.

  “Why you want Jamal?” He was fairly tall, with smart, black, pointed shoes, navy blue trousers, and a pale blue shirt with the top two buttons undone. Hannah guessed him to be in his mid-forties. He might be Jamal’s family member, a cousin perhaps.

  “We need his help,” replied Tom simply. She stood by his side, willing the man to help them.

  “Jamal not here,” the man said, turning away.

  Was that it? She glanced at Tom, worried.

  He took a step forward, but Hannah was faster. She walked straight up to the man and said in his language, “Please. We mean no harm. We are trying to get out of Syman, back to England, and we need Jamal’s help. He said to come here if we needed him.”

  She wasn’t sure about that last bit, but hopefully the shopkeeper would believe her. With the town held by Western-backed rebels, revealing themselves wouldn’t put them in danger and would prove they weren’t a threat to Jamal or his family.

  He paused, looked her over again, frowned at her lack of an accent, and then said, “These are dangerous times. It’s hard to know who to trust.”