Secret Soldier (10 page)

Her face grew serious. “You think so?”

“Piece of cake,” he said.

SHE WAS SLEEPING. Good. She needed rest to regain her strength. Spike turned his attention back to the rippling sand spread before them, which reflected the heat in waves. With both windows down, plenty of air moved through the truck’s cab as he drove, but unfortunately it was hot air. Still, it made things bearable, as did the shade provided by the roof. The minor comforts had allowed them to drive through the worst of the day without stopping for shelter. They should have an easier time now that the sun had passed its zenith and was on its way to the horizon.

He glanced at the dashboard, at the little needle resting on red. They were out of gas. He had hoped it would last a while, not wanting to wake Abigail. The motor coughed a couple of times. They weren’t going to make it much farther without refueling. He turned the truck at an angle to make sure she had as much shade on her as possible, then stopped.

She opened her eyes as soon as the truck ceased moving.

“Gotta fill up the tank. Might as well stretch your legs.”

She sat up straight in her seat and looked around, disappointment clear on her face. She’d probably thought they’d reached Tihrin.

“It won’t be long now.” He opened the door and jumped onto the sand, swore at the pain in his side as he walked around to help her out.

She slipped a little, ending up sliding down against him, which he would have enjoyed tremendously under different circumstances. As it was, they both winced in pain

The corner of his mouth tugged up. “We are a sorry pair.” He steadied her and walked to the back. She followed after him.

They had six cans of gasoline, more than enough to get to Tihrin even if they made an accidental detour, although he wasn’t planning on that. The desert lay to the south of the city. As long as they drove north, they should hit a populated area. The ride out to camp had taken about eight hours, so the ride back should be the same. And he could chart their position by the stars easier than by the sun, so nightfall shouldn’t slow them down. He didn’t think Tihrin was all that far off, but the going was slow over the uneven terrain and loose sand.

He lifted a five-gallon green metal can off the back of the truck, biting back a groan when pain pulsated through his side. He ignored it as he twisted off the cap and lifted the can to the tank. Some of the gasoline sloshed on his sandals-except it didn’t smell like gasoline at all. He sniffed the can, poured some of its contents into the palm of his hand. Water. It sure came in handy. He tasted it. Warm, but clean, drinkable water. That was one less thing he needed to worry about.

“Would you like a drink?” He
offered
the can to Abigail, who was coming around the amuck, then poured some into her hands and twisted the cap back on when she was done. He lifted the can into the back, climbed up and opened another one. Water. Another, another, another. They were all the same.  

“What?”

“We don’t have any gas.” He climbed down.

“Right here is the reason most people in Tukatar own camels.” She plopped on the sand but got up after a few seconds.

“Too hot?” He came over and pushed aside the top few inches of sand to get to the cooler layer below, creating a bench-sized area. He sat down next to her, needing a little time to think. “There’s probably enough oil below us to fuel all the cars in the country”

“Life is full of irony.” She poked her fingers into the sand. “Shouldn’t we start walking?”

“Not yet.” It had to be well over a hundred degrees. They wouldn’t get far. “We’ll rest until the sun goes down, then walk at night. It’s better to keep moving once the temperature drops anyway.”

“Desert survival training?” She smiled at him for the first time in a long-time.

He grinned back. “Comes in handy now and then.”

They climbed into the back where the canvas kept out the sun overhead. He flipped up the two sides to let some of the breeze in, positioned the water cans at the back as a makeshift barricade, just in case, and made sure they had all three rifles with them.

He settled in, sitting up to make sure he could see. Abigail did the same.

“You should stretch out Make yourself comfortable.” She was staring at his face. “Is your cheekbone broken?”

He touched the swollen flesh and winced. “I don’t think so.”

She got up, took off her veil and soaked it in water, then came back to put it on his face. “What else did they do to you?”

“I think I might have a couple of broken ribs.” Not that he was a complainer, but it didn’t seem all that bad to have her fuss over him.

“Let me bind them up.” She began to tear strips off her
abayah,
revealing her ankles and then her calves through the flimsy nightgown she wore underneath.

He didn’t stop her.

“Lie down.” She knelt next to him.

He shook his head. “I want to keep an eye on things.”

She went still for a moment then glanced back over her shoulder into the direction they’d come from.

Damn. He didn’t want her to worry. “I think we have some time. It’ll take a while before they catch up with us. Pray for wind.” They needed that more than anything to erase their tracks from the sand.

She looked back at him and reached for his shirt, her slender fingers working their way down the buttons efficiently. Her breasts, eye level to him, rose and fell with each breath. He felt his blood stir, looked away. When she was finished with the buttons, she moved the shirt out of the way and ran her fingers down his ribs, gently probing one after another. His body didn’t seem to know its own limits. He dropped his hands into his lap, not wanting to embarrass her.

“That one,” he said when she got to one of the spots that hurt like hell.

She nodded and moved on. They identified three broken ribs on the left and two on the right before she was finished.

“It’s terrible.” Her voice shook with upset.

“Could be worse. At least none of them punctured my lungs.”

She stared at him for a few seconds. “I don’t even want to think about that.” Her hands trembled slightly.

Exhaustion and the shock of the last couple of days were probably catching up with her. He couldn’t let her fall apart now. “I’m sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to take care of me for a couple of days. You think you can handle it?”

She drew a deep breath then nodded. “Sit up.”

He’d given her a challenge and she took it up. Good. Now she had something to focus on, to take her mind off other things she could be worried about. He leaned away from the back of the truck toward her, his face inches from her breasts. She’d been right. Life
was
full of irony. He’d wanted to distract her, and here he was, himself severely distracted.

She leaned closer still, to wrap strips of cloth around his torso. She tugged the makeshift bandage tight. Strangely, he didn’t seem to feel any pain.

“Good as new” She moved away too soon. “Wish we had some painkillers.”

He leaned back and looked her in the eye. “You could kiss me.”

He’d caught her off guard. Her eyes widened before she quickly glanced away. “Listen, back at the house—I don’t want you to think I—”

“It’s good to give thinking a break every once in a while.” He reached for her. “If I thought about it, I probably wouldn’t do this.” He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Her lips were soft beneath his and they parted as she relaxed in his arms. She felt like heaven. He deepened the kiss, taking it all, wanting more: She was like a sandstorm—she came up on him fast, spun his mind around, blinded him.

She felt it, too. He could tell from the small sound that escaped her throat, the way her breath caught when he pushed his hardness against her. But just as he was getting good and lost in her, she stiffened and pulled away. Damn. That was the trouble with women. They couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t let the tide wash them away wherever it may, to hell with the consequences. He knew what was coming before she opened her mouth.

“Do you always take whatever you want, the minute you want it, without any thought tb others?”

Only when it came to women, although not without any thought to them. He’d always made sure they had as much fun as he did. Nobody had ever complained. “Not usually.”

“Good to know I’m special.” She settled down on the truck bed, as far from him as possible, and pulled her knees up. “If you think I’d forgotten all that lying, you better think again.”

The
abayah
slid up her thighs, her sheer nightgown revealing slender limbs. He forced his gaze to move up and away from that trouble spot. Not that her swollen lips were less tempting. And he was willing to bet anything the flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with righteous indignation.

He turned the other way. “The whole point of a covert operation is that it’s done without anyone knowing. I didn’t have the time to evaluate you to see if you could handle it. Would you have been able to keep your silence with Suhaib?”

“Who?”

He turned back to her. “El Jafar. Jamal’s brother.”

“Oh.”

He could see the wheels turning in her head.

“We didn’t run into Jamal by accident,” she said.

He shook his head.

“So the fire at the hut…”

“I made sure you were safe. It was the only way I could think of to get you to Tihrin in a hurry.”

“And the explosion?”

“They caught me snooping in the armory.” He went on and explained the original plan, then the adjusted one and how it had gone wrong. “Look, the world is changing. It’s not countries against countries anymore. Our enemy is not a traditional army. We can’t just draw the front line on a map and talk strategy about how to push it forward. A surgical operation like this works best against a small target. Would you rather have the whole U.S. Army come in and bomb guilty and innocent alike?”

She gave him a dark look. “I still hate it.”

“I know. I had no right to put your life at risk.”

“If you had told me, I would have volunteered.”

She probably would have. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known her well enough to make that judgment call, and he hadn’t wanted to go against a direct order. But when he looked at the rope burns on her wrists, the knowledge that he’d done the best he could didn’t keep him from feeling like a bastard.

ABIGAIL WOKE TO the touch of his hand on her shoulder, sore but feeling much better after finally having gotten enough sleep.

“Time to go,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, outlined against the sky, larger than life. Right now, at this moment, he was the only thing standing between her and certain death. And maybe he was the only thing standing between a lot of other people and death, too. She hated his methods, but at the same time understood him. The stakes were enormous. He had to do whatever it took.

The sun was low in the sky, preparing to dip below the horizon. She stood, her limbs stiff from having slept on the hard wood. “How do you feel?’

He flashed a grin. “Like hell. But I’ve been worse.”

The left side of his face had turned a sickening shade of purple. He jumped off the truck, and she took the hand he offered her.

“Water?” He lifted off one of the cans. “We can wash, too. There’s no way to take all this with us.”

She held out her palms and drank deeply, used to drinking warm water by now. When she had enough, she threw some into her face. It felt like heaven.

“How would you like a shower?”

She glanced at him. Was he serious? Wasting so much water seemed like sacrilege. And then it hit her. They were lost in the middle of the desert. On foot. It seemed impossible that they’d just be able to walk out. If they stayed with the truck-shelter and water-the terrorists would find them. In any case, the water wouldn’t last forever. If they walked, they could only take a few cans with them. And of course, she remembered suddenly, they had no food. He was just trying to give her some relief before the end came.

He climbed back on the truck and lifted the can over her head. She untied the rope, pulled off the
abayah,
threw it in the back of the truck then hesitated.

“Go ahead. I won’t look.”

She had nothing on but her panties under the flimsy, ripped nightgown. Oh, what the hell. They were going to die anyway. With her back to him, she grabbed the hem and pulled the thing off.

The gentle trickle of water felt like heaven on her skin. He circled with the can above her head to make sure he got all of her. Too soon, the water was gone.

“Thank you.” She tried to reach for her clothes without turning.

“One more.” He dumped another can of water just on her hair, rinsing it completely.

She could have kissed him.

“Your turn,” she said instead, and quickly dressed, putting the
abayah
on backward to cover her front.

He helped her up into the truck bed, her fingers and palm tingling where they touched. She let go of him at once. When their eyes met, the heat in his took her breath away. Then he turned her around and tied the
abayah
in the back so it would stay in place. When he was done, he jumped onto the sand with easy grace, despite his injuries. She squatted to twist the cap off a can, had a little trouble, but managed without his help. She lifted the can and turned, then stopped, rooted to the spot.