Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Jack
The crack of gunfire jolted Jack from a hazy dream and he startled, only to find himself unable to move. At his side, Ruby stiffened. “What was that?” she hissed.
She was answered by the hideous screech of the lorry’s brakes, followed by a sickening bounce, then a swerve.
Then the lorry stopped. Shouts sounded outside.
Desert bandits—or worse.
“Stay quiet,” Jack whispered, the shouts growing closer. “Not a word until I say so.”
For the first time since they’d crawled into this infernal crate, the claustrophobia clenched Jack like a vise around his ribs.
He could barely reach the pistol at his waist, let alone prepare for whatever was out there.
And even if he got out of the crate, he doubted he’d be able to stand—his legs were numb from being bent in one position for so long.
Just how long had it been?
He checked his wristwatch—six hours. The smugglers had stopped in Amman for about a half hour to refuel, and Ruby and Jack had taken a short break to eat some stale bread, sip water, and relieve themselves. But they’d had to hide directly thereafter, where they were to remain until Azraq Castle.
They had to be getting closer to the ancient Roman fortress … and dusk.
The splintering crackle of more gunfire drew his focus, closer now, followed by the distinct shattering of glass.
Dammit. We’re sitting ducks here.
Then … silence.
Ruby’s breath came quickly, her heart pounding so hard that Jack felt it against his shirtfront. He hadn’t noticed when she’d curled her body into his, but now her breath was warm against his neck, her hands shaking.
Footsteps crunched against the gravel, drawing closer to the back of the lorry. The engine went dead. A few voices—two, maybe three men? Jack couldn’t tell. He’d be deluding himself if he tried to make estimates based on such limited information.
A hinge squeaked—the gate of the lorry being lowered. Then a hard thud of steps as someone jumped into the back.
A nearby male voice—not on the lorry, but not far either—called something indiscernible.
Jack knew Arabic, of course, but dialects sometimes stumped him.
He was more familiar with the Egyptian Arabic, but here in the Jordanian desert, who knew what they might speak?
Once again, he regretted having gone his separate way from his friend.
Noah could navigate his way through Arabic, Kurdish, Assyrian Aramaic, and even Turkish with ease, even if he wasn’t fluent—but that’s what made him so invaluable to British Intelligence.
Jack’s heartbeat thudded in his ears as steps drew closer.
What had happened to their smugglers? If the bandits were on the lorry, Jack couldn’t imagine it had gone well for them.
A nauseating acid rose up his throat. They might be criminals—hell, they might have even been on this route smuggling something other than Ruby and him—but if they’d died, their deaths still fell upon his shoulders.
How many people was Jack willing to sacrifice to get Alice and Kit?
And that was if this one lead he had to Kit was a good one.
Ruby’s words from earlier in this journey rang in his head. “Nothing is beneath me if I can save them.”
Did he feel the same? Was he willing to do anything to get to Kit and Alice?
Beside them, the bandits had started sifting through the cargo. A crate was smashed open, contents spilled out. Jack breathed slowly, considering his options.
If they opened this crate, he’d only have seconds to act.
His fingers curled around the handle of his pistol. From the spaces between the crate, he caught sight of the bandit standing only inches away, his back to the crate.
Did Jack dare risk moving now? If he shot through the crate slats, he could wound the man.
But it also would call the attention of the bandit’s accomplices.
Ruby trembled harder, and Jack slid a hand to the nape of her neck, cradling her head gently. He wished he could reassure her. Give her some sense of hope.
I never should have dragged her out here for this.
The bandit turned toward the crate and the top cracked open, as though pried with a crowbar. The blanket above them shifted, just slightly, and Jack held his breath, his fingers steady around the pistol.
A voice came from the side of the lorry again, in a harsh, rapid tone.
The bandit retreated, boots thumping against the bed of the lorry, then dropping as he jumped down.
A moment later, the engine roared to life again. A door slammed, and the lorry lurched forward. Dammit. Who’s driving? The thieves?
Jack didn’t hesitate—he shoved the covering above them away, straw scratching his face and hands as he sat up in the crate. The outside air rushed in, sweet and fresh, a relief to his senses.
Ruby pushed herself up too. “What happened?” She gasped in fresh air, physically relieved despite the circumstances.
Despite the cramp in his thighs, Jack climbed from the crate and scrambled toward the still-open gate. Even from here he could see the prone bodies of the two smugglers who’d driven them from the Allenby Bridge.
Dead. Left as food for jackals.
“Luck. Or something. We need to get off this lorry,” Jack snapped over the sound of the moving vehicle. He moved back to Ruby and held out a hand. “Hurry up.”
“Get off?” Ruby shook her head, dragging a piece of straw from her hair. “They’ll see us, Jack—they might come back for us and kill us. Besides, how are we supposed to survive in the desert without a truck?”
“We can’t be far from Azraq Castle … maybe there we can find help.”
“Help isn’t losing our transportation,” Ruby said, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
At least she’d gained some of her spirit back now that she wasn’t stuck in the close quarters of the crate. He could work with that. Her determination and grit would make all the difference in the world here.
Jack faced the front of the lorry and clenched his jaw. His days of crazy acrobatics seemed so long in the past—yet he’d managed to jump from a train in France.
Maybe it was time to try to regain some of the person he’d been before. Test his own mettle.
He pulled a loaded pistol from his bag and handed it to Ruby.
“Stay here until the lorry stops,” he said. “If anyone other than me comes through that back gate, shoot them. Don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill, Ruby.”
She nodded, taking the gun from him.
He paused a moment longer, searching her bright blue eyes, wishing he could think of something worth saying to this brave woman.
Instead, he winked. “Try not to miss me too much. See you soon, kid.”
He didn’t wait for a good-bye from her before he moved toward the open gate. The desert was a blur of orange and beige dust in front of him and he inched toward the passenger side of the lorry, gripping the canvas-covered frame that shielded the back from the sun.
Just as he was about to pull himself onto the frame, a hand gripped his.
Jack turned to see Ruby there. She stood on the tips of her toes, then pressed her lips to his, her mouth colliding against his with a surge of warmth and electricity. His breath caught, his eyes locking with hers as the moment held.
He hadn’t expected her or this but he returned the kiss, his lips molding against hers gently as heat flooded his skin.
Then she pulled away and smiled. “For luck.”
Jack grinned, then pulled himself up, his feet bracing against the side of the bed. He slid one foot over the other until he had climbed around the canvas and was outside, gripping the frame while standing on the side.
Each bump of the tires against the uneven terrain was exaggerated now, the thumps sending his fingers tighter against the frame. He was tall enough that he could hold on to the topmost bar of the frame, but his arms were above his head, and he still had to balance on the metal side of the bed.
And remain unseen.
Fortunately, there wasn’t a mirror on this side, which gave him the leeway to creep his way closer to the cabin of the lorry, one foot at a time. From there, he’d need to—
The lorry gave a hard lurch, tires dipping into a deep pothole in the ground and Jack’s grip slipped, his feet going flying over the side.
He clung to the frame, trying to find purchase for his feet once more. The toe of his boot smacked into steel, scraping, sliding until—he exhaled—he had a toehold. His hands ached, his arms feeling as though they’d nearly been pulled out of the sockets at his shoulders.
“Dammit,” he growled, then threw himself toward the back of the cabin, his fury at the slip turning into adrenaline. He couldn’t afford to be careless now, but he hated how easily he’d almost fallen from this damned thing.
He braced his weight against the back of the cabin, careful not to be overly noisy as he set his feet against it and pulled himself up onto the roof. One foot, then the other, and he was on top of the cabin.
From here, he saw the desert stretch out around him. The bandits must have been lying in wait to attack the lorry—the lorry appeared to be alone rather than followed by any other vehicles or even someone on a horse or camelback.
Jack let his breath return to normal, the wind rushing past his face, carrying dust and grit with it.
Any unexpected movement from the lorry now could mean he’d go tumbling right off the side—and slam face-first into the dirt.
His palms ached with the thought of falling, and he steadied himself on his hands and knees, crouched over as he gathered the nerve to move forward.
As a kid, he’d had no compunction that prevented him from leaping onto the back of a train or hitching a ride on a precarious surface like this.
When had he lost his courage?
That kiss from Ruby—for a moment it had reminded him of the way he’d loved to show off. His overconfidence and arrogance, with too little concern for the consequences.
Or had it always just been bravado?