Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jack
The engine sputtered.
Jack leaned forward in the driver’s seat, clutching the steering wheel as a rumble shook the lorry from front to back.
Not good.
Another jerk of the engine, tossing them forward. Ruby grasped the dash, her eyes wide as a metallic groan sounded, a choking, dying sound.
Then everything went quiet, the lorry still.
Jack’s stomach dropped and he sat there, blinking at the expanse of dark desert beyond the windshield, listening to the creaking clicks of a cooling engine.
“Well,” Ruby said, straightening as she pushed her headscarf back, “that’s not good.”
Jack exhaled through his nose and reached for the door handle. “Yeah.”
Outside, the desert night pressed in—a black bowl of sky pricked with stars.
A dry wind moved across the sand, heavy with the smell of oil and something burnt.
In the distance, there was nothing—no castle, no road, just an endless stretch of rock and bone-dry emptiness that he hoped would take him to Baghdad.
He dropped into the sand, boots kicking up dust as he rounded the front of the lorry and crouched low, pulling a small flashlight from his satchel. The beam caught on something slick beneath the chassis. He reached out, rubbed two fingers along the undercarriage, then held them up to the light.
Black. Oily. Still warm.
No.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Ruby’s door creaked open, her boots crunching over gravel. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just stood, wiping his hand on a rag, and glanced behind them. In the beam of the flashlight, the trail stretched out behind the lorry like a ribbon of shadow in the sand—thin, dark, and nearly unbroken. Probably miles of it.
“Tell me this is fixable.” Ruby came closer.
He didn’t look up. “Depends how you define ‘fixable.’”
“Well, don’t hold out on me, Darby. What the hell is it?”
“They hit the oil line,” he said finally. He turned the flashlight off and stuffed it back in his bag. “Back when they fired on us. We’ve been leaking since dusk. We were lucky to make it this far.”
“Lucky,” Ruby muttered, glancing up at the star-studded sky. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” She stood with her arms crossed tight over her chest, her jaw clenched. Then she stalked back toward the lorry, to the driver’s side this time.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked as she slid into the seat.
“Not giving up, for starters. Even if we can go back a few miles and get closer to Azraq, we’ll be better off than stuck out here.” She turned the ignition.
Jack held a hand out. “I don’t think that’s such a good—”
Too late.
The engine gave a pitiful cry, then sparks erupted from the ignition. Another spark leapt—
Jack’s stomach twisted. “Ruby, get out of the—”
The spark hit the hot engine, the leaking oil, and burst into flame.
“Goddamn it,” Jack growled, dashing toward the driver’s side. He helped Ruby out, then grabbed their bags from the floor of the cabin.
Landing back on the ground, he grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Hurry—we have to grab that barrel of water we got in Azraq.”
The flames were already higher now, quickly spreading up the engine block and licking their way up the windshield.
“Water? B-but—”
“Dammit, Ruby, don’t you remember? The smugglers had extra barrels of fuel to take into the desert. As soon as that fire hits the cargo—”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.” She bolted for the back.
Together they lowered the gate, then climbed on. The water barrel was close to the back and Jack moved behind it, shoving with all his might. Ruby joined him and they pushed, barely budging it.
The barrel moved by an inch.
“It’s too heavy,” Jack said, stepping back.
“We can’t leave it,” Ruby cried, shaking her head. A fiercely determined look settled in her brow. “We won’t survive in the desert without water.”
The fire had already engulfed the cabin, the heat and sting of it uncomfortably hot.
“Ruby, leave it! We have to go.” The fuel barrels wouldn’t just ignite—they would explode.
“But, Jack!”
“Leave it!” Jack wrapped his arms around her, then hauled her off the back. They grabbed their bags, then dashed into the desert, running at top speed as the burning lorry was engulfed in flames behind them, casting a scorching red glow into the darkness.
Boom.
Jack dove, tackling Ruby in his arms to cover her as a shower of dirt, sand, and debris rained down on them. The scent of burning fuel and oil filled the air, the crackle of fire a haunting contrast to the barren, chilly desert around them.
He waited a few heartbeats, then rolled away from her. “You okay?” he asked, climbing onto his hands and knees. He’d scraped his hands and face, but the pain was insignificant.
“I think so,” Ruby managed, scrambling up as she looked back. She groaned, her brows furrowing in consternation and dismay. “There goes our shelter for the night. And our water.”
“I have my canteen.” But she wasn’t wrong. That little water wouldn’t be nearly enough.
“How far back to Azraq?” she asked after a moment.
“About fifteen miles. Too far to walk before morning.” He sighed, letting the full weight of the situation settle in before he stood and helped her up. “But we’ll have to cover part of it at least. It’s cold, but we’ll be warmer moving, and it’s better than doing it once the sun comes out.”
She let out a slow breath. “Fantastic. Just what I was hoping to hear.”
Icy night wind stirred again, carrying ash and smoke and tugging at his sleeves, evoking a shiver.
Jack turned toward the horizon. No lights. No structures. Just miles of scrub and basalt and sand stretching out into nothing. Somewhere in the dark, a jackal screeched—a distant reminder that the desert was never truly silent, never truly empty.
He could feel Ruby’s eyes on him. Waiting for a plan. Maybe hoping for a miracle.
He didn’t have either.
What in the hell are we going to do?
“We need to keep moving before the temperature drops too far,” he said. “We’re gonna freeze if we sit here.”
Ruby gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Great. Bandits by day, hypothermia by night. Really loving this trip so far.”
His anger flared.
As though he was to blame. Like he wasn’t furious that they’d lost the help of the smugglers, been shot at, and now lost their vehicle. Baghdad felt further out of reach than ever.
“Technically, you’re the one who blew up our transportation.” The tone he used was dry—less biting and irritated than he felt—but he was too tired to care. “And now I’ve lost even more precious time. Time that could mean the difference between life and death for my sister.”
She scowled. “I was trying to help. You know, I’m not a professional smuggler—you’re the one who came to me. Blackmailed me. I barely know what the hell I’m even doing out here.”
Those stolen kisses after the bandit attack had clearly made him forget all those troublesome details to their dynamic. In Azraq, they’d managed companionable banter and silence, prepared for the night drive with a warm meal from the Bedouins.
He’d even caught himself watching her … thinking about how damned pretty she was.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You forgot I paid you.”
“Yes, I forgot. If I survive the arrests, breaking you out of jail, shooting bandits, and the desert—none of which you mentioned when you gave me the choice between helping you or turning me in to the Cairo police.”
“Don’t blame me. I’m not the one who decided to rob me.” He collected his bags and turned toward the nearest ridge—low, jagged rock maybe a quarter-mile off, where the rocks would shelter them from the wind as they walked—then started walking without waiting for her.
“Not to worry,” she said, hurrying to keep up with him.
“I regret the moment Theo laid eyes on you and suggested it. How’s it make you feel that he thought you looked like an easy target, Jack?
A miserable, friendless loner. Everyone else walking into Mena House that night seemed to know other people there. ”
Jack didn’t rise to the bait, though her words cut him through. Miserable. Friendless.
Why does it matter what she thinks?
And why should I care if it’s practically true?
He’d been living the life of a hermit for years now on purpose.
Once he’d been well connected in Anglo Cairo society.
Invited to everything. Sure, many of those folks had left the city after the war.
Even more had moved out of Cairo after Egypt had gained its independence in 1922 and nationalists made it clear that the continued British presence was less than welcome.
But now? “You know nothing about me, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, stamping her foot. “You hired me. That’s all.”
He stopped and spun toward her. “You go around kissing everyone you work for? Because I’m not the one that muddied the waters.”
“I—” She stared up at him, blue eyes shining in the moonlight.
A few beats of breathless silence passed, and he searched her gaze, looking for the woman he’d encountered while traveling in that damned crate.
Maybe she didn’t wear bravado and sass—which he couldn’t deny he liked—but that woman had been real.
Ruby opened her mouth, as though considering her words, then closed it again. Swallowing a breath, she sighed and shook her head, continuing walking. “I’m an actress, remember? I’ll kiss anyone depending on the part they’re expecting me to play.”
So that’s how it’s going to be.
Fine.
He said nothing more, letting the sound of their footsteps fill the silence. A glance over his shoulder revealed the lorry still burning, a plume of thick smoke rising into the sky like a signal. If anyone had wanted to follow them, they practically had a sign pointing right to them.