Secret Soldier (14 page)

He lay on his pillow and gathered her close. “Sleep.”

If only she could. Unfortunately, the memory of the kiss was enough to keep her up for the rest of her life. Her gaze fell on two small jars by the tent’s wall. So
that’s where they went.

She sat up. “Hang on, I’ve got something for you.” He crooked an eyebrow.

“Not that.”

“Okay.” He grinned. “Because I’m trying to be a gentleman here and not push you, but if you’re offering, don’t expect me to turn anything down.”

She swallowed. Good thing they were clear on that.

She retrieved the jars and opened the shorter one. “Abdullah’s wife made this earlier for my wrists.” She dipped in a finger and looked at him.

He took a deep breath and lay back on his pillow. “Treat away.”

She smeared the smooth substance over his bruised face and watched as it was quickly absorbed, leaving nothing behind but a faint minty scent in the air. “Thank you.” He came up on his elbow. “My turn?”

“You don’t have to. I can—”

“I want to.”

He took the jar from her and spread the ointment on her wrists in gentle caresses. It felt nice, cool and tingly.

“I could kill them for doing this to you.” She looked away.

“You did.”

“They went too easy. I couldn’t afford to make any noise. For this, I would have liked to see them suffer.” He closed the jar. “What’s in the other one?”

“Something for your ribs. Sara said it’s good for people kicked by the camel. I think.”

He opened it, sniffed the contents and made a face.

“You sure she didn’t say she made it from something
dropped
by a camel?”

She caught a whiff of it then, too. Looked as if they wouldn’t be sleeping snuggled together after all. Still, if it helped, it was worth the stench.

“Sit up.” she said, and when he did so, she unraveled his bandages and applied the sticky substance carefully. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing hurts as long as you’re touching me.”

“Stop fooling around. I’m serious.”

“Me, too,” he said, his gaze intent on her face.

She picked up the long strips she’d ripped from her
abayah
and tied them back one by one, her arms around him as she looped the material around his back, her face inches from his chest. She tightened the last strip and moved away.

His hand closed around her arm.

She could find no air in the tent; if there was any, it was too thick with passion to be breathed. She swayed toward him…
if you’re offering, don’t expect me to turn anything down.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t start anything she wasn’t sure she could stop.

She pulled away from him and settled into the pillows with her back turned. “You stink.”

“Now that hurts,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

ABDULLAH WOKE HIM before dawn.
“Sabah alkhair.”
Spike managed to untangle his arms from around Abigail without waking her, then got up and stepped outside their portion of the tent to where the man was waiting.

“Sabah alkhair”
Good morning.

He followed him outside to the coffee
fire, where a copper pot let forth the most fragrant steam, tantalizing his senses. They sat and he gratefully accepted the cup of spiced coffee Abdullah handed him, along with a small plate of cold meats.

“Forgive me, friend, but I cannot keep you safe, Abdullah said after a while. “Our camp is surrounded.”

“I wish to bring no trouble to you or yours. We will leave at once.”

The man nodded, probably relieved. His customs would not have allowed him to ask the guests to go, no matter how worried he was about his own family. “You can leave with the camel herd,” he said.

“Will they let the herd go?”

“They will.” He nodded, somber.

And then he understood. Suhaib’s men were preparing to attack the camp. If a handful of camel herders left, that meant fewer men for them to fight. “I do not want your family
to
come to harm.”

“Insha’allah.
What Allah wills will happen. Don’t worry. When they come, they’ll find this lion is not yet without his teeth.” Abdullah sipped his coffee.

“Shuknan.”
He thanked him for all he’d done and all he was about to do, putting his own family in jeopardy to save the lives of strangers.

Abdullah nodded to
one of the men milling about, and he brought a set of worn clothing, a loose robe and kaffiyeh.

Spike accepted it with more thanks. “May I have some grease, if there’s any left from the feast yesterday?” They’d roasted a ewe.

Abdullah called out
to
one of the young girls, maybe six or seven, and she ran off behind the tent to appear within a few minutes with a shallow dish.

Perfect… He scooped some with his fingertips and rubbed it into his beard. As the girl watched him with rounded eyes, he gathered some cold ashes from the edges of the fire and rubbed that on top of the grease.

Abdullah nodded with approval. “My friend is most wise,” he said. “You will go away from the city. Less suspicious. Then you can circle back. My sons will show you the direction before they leave you.”

“Shukran,”
he said again, the simple thank-you seeming far too insufficient. He stepped inside the tent, picked up two of his rifles and brought them out, laid them at the man’s feet then pulled a knife from his pocket and set it on top.

“It is not necessary, my friend.” The old man lifted his arm in protest.

“A humble gift. A symbol of our gratitude. We could never fully repay you for all you’ve done for us.” And that was the truth. The man was putting his own family at risk for them.

“You must prepare.” Abdullah pointed to a large leather bag at the opening of the tent. “For her. Women don’t go out with the camels. “

He stood, picked up the bag and took it inside to Abigail, listening to the voices of women and children on the other side of the divider. She was dressed and ready to go,
burqa
in place. Every inch of her skin was hidden and, still, just her eyes took his breath away and brought back every memory of their kiss the night before.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to travel in this.” He set the bag next to an empty plate on the carpet. The women had brought her breakfast.

She nodded instead of protesting. He admired that about her, the way she always did whatever needed to be done, without thought to her own comfort, without complaint.

“Nice beard. You look good in gray.”

“Very distinguished-looking, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She ran her gaze over him, squinting her eyes.

“What?”

“Your, um, physique. It’s not exactly grandfatherly.”

She was right. He was taller and a lot more muscular than any of the men in the camp. He picked up a pillow. He could do nothing about his height, but he could correct his proportions. He stuffed the pillow under his robe and made sure it was held in place by his belt. “What do you think?”

“Pregnant grandmother with excessive facial hair?”

He could see she was grinning from the way her eyes crinkled.

“I was going more for the well-fed wise old man look, you know—the tribe elders and all.”

“You’ll do fine.” She stepped into the bag and sat first, then lay down and curled on her side.

He closed the top, careful to leave plenty of opening for air, and then lifted the bag.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Her voice was muffled.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to my precious cargo.”

Two camels were waiting for him in front of the tent by the time he stepped outside the opening flap. One of the animals had a matching bag already hanging from his other side.

“Food, water and a small tent.” Abdullah gestured to the bag.

They hung the bag with Abigail in it to balance the first, but when he moved to get on the camel, Abdullah pointed him to the other one.

He was giving them both camels? With the food, tent and clothes, they were receiving a considerable gift. The clan was not a rich one.

“Shukran,”
he said, humbled by the man’s generosity once again. “I wish I had something to repay you.”

“It is pleasing to Allah when his children share his blessings” was Abdullah’s only response. He patted the camel’s neck and it stood.

To her credit, Abigail stayed quiet and still.

He climbed on the back of the other
animal
and once it got on its feet, he headed toward the rest of the herd, leading Abigail’s camel on a rope.

“Ma’assalama,”
Abdullah called after them. Go in peace.

“Alla Isalmak.”

The men moved the herd out at once. They had barely left the camp when the army Jeep pulled up alongside them, the man in the passenger seat yelling to Abdullah’s sons and asking them about strangers. They denied having seen any. The Jeep moved forward.

Spike pretended to be busy untangling the reins when they came in line with him. He kept his gaze on the task, not sure if they could see the color of his eyes in the semidarkness. But it seemed his person did not draw their attention; the bags did.

One of the men yelled at him to stop. He kept the camel going. The man stood in the back of the moving Jeep and lifted his rifle. Spike shifted in the saddle getting ready to grab for his own gun.

The man turned his weapon and smashed its butt into the bag. The tent inside shifted, a comer peeking through the bag’s mouth, which the strike busted open. The Jeep pulled forward, leaving them literally in the dust.

“They’re gone,” he said to his saddle, careful not to turn toward the bag that held Abigail, and watched as the Jeep circled back toward Abdullah’s camp.

They had gained some time, but not much. Abdullab’s resistance would slow EL Jafar’s men but could not stop them. And once they searched the camp, they would realize their prey had escaped and would come after him and Abigail. He had to evade them long enough to reach the relative safety of the city.

HER STOMACH ROLLED with motion sickness from the nonstop swaying of the beast. Abigail took a deep breath then another, gagging on the combined odors of sun-baked leather and camel sweat. Her limbs ached from being crunched up for hours; her bladder was about to explode. She wasn’t going to make it much longer. Safety or not, she would have to get out.

Then, just as she was about to tell Spike, the animal stopped.
Oh, thank God.
She listened, but couldn’t hear anything beyond the men who had come with them. No sound of vehicles approaching, no strange voices. Dared she hope they were taking a break?

“Ready to come out?” Spike’s voice sounded like that of a savior angel’s from above.

“Ready, willing, but probably unable.” She croaked the words through her parched throat. She had finished her water flask some time ago, drinking more and faster than she was supposed to, out of nervousness and boredom. Her stretching bladder and crackling lips were the direct result.

Her stomach rolled again as the camel swayed and lay down. Then the flaps of the bag opened and she had to close her eyes against the bright light. She tried to scramble out, every movement a prickle of pain. “Hang on,” Spike said.

She felt his strong arms scooping her up, lifting her. He held her in his arms, showing no intention of letting her go. She blinked, squinted her eyes to look at him.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He lowered her feet slowly onto the sand.

Her knees buckled as she tried to put her weight on them, but he held her up with one arm, massaging her shoulders with his other hand as they waited for feeling to return to her legs.

“Better?” he asked when she could finally hold her own weight. But he didn’t let her go.

“Much.”

“Are you gonna be okay on your own for a minute?” She nodded.

“Sit here.” He helped her to the spot shaded by her camel, and handed her the ropes of both animals before walking off toward Abdullah’s sons.

True to his word, he was back in no time, carrying a dagger, its handle ornately carved. “A parting gift,” he said.

She glanced over at her camel, at the men who were moving out the herd, then back at Spike. He set the weapons down and unstrapped the empty bag from her animal. She rose to help.

“Take a break,” he said as he took the pillow from under his shut and tossed it onto the sand, shedding several sizes miraculously at once. “Stretch your muscles.” He took the ropes from her.

Right. Great idea. She did need to stretch her legs. All the way to the nearest Porta Potti. She headed for the closest sand dune with painful, shuffling steps.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you out of sight. You can go behind the camels.”