Chapter 4 #2
It was the only thing that made sense. It explained the Makarov, the close-quarters technique, the way they moved. These weren’t beat cops patrolling a market. They were professionals—well-trained, ruthless, and loyal. He had seen their kind before. And he knew exactly what they were capable of.
She nodded, but her gaze flickered over him again, deeper this time. More quizzical. “If the embassy’s abandoned, what are you still doing here?”
“Someone had to stay behind.” He hated the bitterness that crept into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “I was the lucky one.”
Now she was blatantly sizing him up. He could tell she was about to ask a question, and he wasn’t comfortable answering that one. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Before she could speak, he interjected, “Mind if I ask you something, Miss Evans?”
Distracted, she smiled. “Please, call me Hannah. And yeah, go ahead.”
“At the gate, you mentioned treason?”
“Ah, that.”
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, skin glistening. “Did I sound like a raving lunatic?”
Now it was his turn to grin. “A little, yeah.”
“Sorry, I was panicking. You were my only hope, and you didn’t help me.”
Those words.
Fuck.
He flinched as the memory hit—sharp, sudden, and too painful to ignore. It was like shrapnel lodged beneath the surface, healed over but still capable of causing pain without warning.
Amrain .
Another country. Another woman. But the words were exactly the same.
My only hope.
You weren’t there.
She’d been searching for a way out too, desperate for someone to save her. And he’d let her down.
Worse.
She was dead because of him.
The weight nearly crushed him with its heavy familiarity. He took a shuddering breath and looked away.
This was who he was now. A broken soldier.
A walking fucking disaster.
Hannah was still talking, her voice drawing him back to the present. “So after all that, when I got to the gates, I was exhausted.”
He had to ask. “What’d you do to piss them off?”
She hesitated, twisting her fingers in her lap. “That’s what I was trying to tell you outside. I stole a top-secret document. It was a sensitive official memo, for the Prince’s eyes only. Obviously, they want it back.”
He was taken aback. She was a surprise a minute, and the questions kept piling up.
What was in it?
Why risk everything?
How had a civilian gotten this close to the prince?
There was one thing that explained all that… “Are you working for the U.S. Government?”
She recoiled, the question landing like a slap. “You mean like CIA? God, no. I’m not a spy.”
He studied her face, looking for cracks. “You sure? How did you get the job at the palace?”
“I applied, like everyone else.”
At his disbelieving look, she leaned forward. “My grandfather’s from Syman, okay. He taught me the language when I was a kid and that gave me the edge over the other applicants.”
“But you’re still American,” he said, watching her closely.
“Exactly,” she replied, nodding. “That’s why the prince hired me. He’s been working on strengthening ties with the West. I was recruited through an international agency in D.C. It’s administrative work, nothing more.
Tom wasn’t convinced. He let her talk, watching every shift in her posture. “Then how did you get your hands on a classified document?”
She hesitated, and he caught the flicker of guilt in her eyes. “It was an accident.”
“Come on.” He smirked. “Really?”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to. You see, normally I deliver all official documents straight to the prince. I mean they’re in a folder, so I can’t see them.”
“Then what happened?”
“I dropped it, and it slipped out of the folder. I noticed the headline when I bent to pick it up.” She bit her lip. The action drew his eye. It was a lovely, soft, luscious lip. “So, I read it.”
Goddamn.
Not relevant, soldier!
“What was it about?”
“Evacuation measures,” she said, quietly.
Why’d he get the feeling she was holding back?
He frowned. “For whom? Hakeem?”
“Yes, and his family. And key personnel. It was written by Anwar Abdul, the Head of State Security.”
That made him sit up.
“Can I see it?”
Hannah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her robe. “I don’t think I should show it to you. Not yet.”
“Why not? It might be above my paygrade, but I don’t know if you noticed…” He spread his arms and looked around. “There’s nobody else here.”
He was a goddamned U.S. Marine. He was allowed to view classified documents if they required passing on to the powers that be, and he was the only one around to do it. Not that he said that. She didn’t need to know how far he’d fallen.
She sighed. “It’s not that.”
“What then?”
She sighed. “I was hoping to hand it to the U.S. Ambassador or someone senior here at the embassy. I figured they’d know how to get it to the State Department.”
Tom worked his jaw. “Like I said, nobody here.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to help you, Hannah.”
“I know, problem is, I don’t think you can.”
He fixed his gaze on her. “Try me. I’ve pulled people and intel out of war zones worse than this one. You can trust me.”
Her brows rose. “I thought you were a security guard?”
That did make him chuckle, although it was humorless. “Sergeant Tom Wilde, U.S. Marine Corps, at your service.”
Her brows rose. “You’re a Marine?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Then what are you doing here, guarding the embassy.”
He sighed. “It’s a long story, okay. About the document?—"
“If you really are a Marine,” she said, lowering her voice, “then you can get me out of Syman.”
“My orders are to stay put,” he said firmly.
She held his gaze. “Well, I’ve got information the U.S. Government needs.”
She was incredible. He had to give her points for trying, even though she was wasting her time. “You bargaining with me?”
“What choice do I have?” she shot back. Her arms crossed over her chest, defensive but not afraid. Her voice was taut with urgency, but her posture was unflinching. She believed what she was saying—and that was what made him nervous.
“There are no more outbound flights,” he said. “I can’t get you out on a commercial airliner.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “So telling me to call D.C.—that was just bullshit?”
“No,” he said calmly. “They would’ve sent someone.”
Amber eyes locked with his. “Someone like you?”
He didn’t flinch. “Maybe.”
Yep, probably.
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The military just rolled into Hamabad. People are dying. And it’s heading this way. I need to get out now, before it’s too late.”
He didn’t argue with that.
Student protests had erupted into violent clashes, and the military had responded with force—real force. The kind that left blood on the streets and buildings burned to the ground. Hamabad was only the beginning.
“If they find me—” Her voice cracked at the edges now. “They’ll kill me. I have information they can’t afford to let reach the U.S.”
Tom watched her for a moment longer. Okay, so she wasn’t bluffing. Her fear was real. So was her resolve.
“Let me see the document,” he said again—quieter now, but with just as much weight. That way he could ascertain how much trouble she was really in.
Her eyes met his. “First, you agree to help me.”
He paused.
Truth was, he could’ve wrestled it from her in under a minute. No fuss. A simple takedown, quick search, done. But something in her eyes stopped him—something sharp, proud, unafraid.
God help him, he liked it.
He let the idea of wrestling her flash through his brain. Heat coiled low in his gut.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
He could get her out. If they moved now, before the city went into lockdown. He was itching to do something. His current post was a glorified exile—a holding pattern since the fuck-up in Kabul. They’d benched him after the last op went south. Let him disappear.
But now…?
She looked at him, eyes burning.
“I’d have to get permission.”
Her breath caught. “Then do it.”
“They might still send someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else,” she said. “I want you. I trust you.”
He stilled.
I trust you.
She shouldn’t. He didn’t have a very good track record of late.
“I’ll do it. I’ll make the call, if you tell me what’s in the document.”
A slow smile spread across her face.
“Deal.”