Chapter 30
H annah stared at the gun in the soldier’s hand.
“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes dark and suspicious. He wore the dark green and brown fatigues of the Symanian Army.
“I’m trapped,” she said, thinking fast. “I need to get back to my family.”
If he thought she was a local woman, perhaps he wouldn’t report her to his commanding officer.
There was also the chance he’d seen her photo or been briefed about her.
She wasn’t sure how far Prince Hakeem had gone in his pursuit of her.
With all the fighting on the front line, she couldn’t imagine a lowly foot soldier would know who she was.
He eyed her scarf that had fallen around her neck. She hurriedly pulled it up over her head and cast her face downwards. As she did so, she slid the gun under one of the crates, along with her shoulder bag.
“Get up.” He gestured with his weapon for her to stand.
She got to her feet. “Please… help me. I’m too scared to go outside with all the fighting.”
The soldier grunted. “Which part of the neighborhood are you from?”
“Al-Mahilyah” she replied, recalling one of the northern districts on the map. Thank goodness for her memory.
The soldier studied her face, then gave a curt nod. “Come with me.”
Thank God.
He holstered his weapon and gripped her arm to escort her out of the building. Unfortunately, her foot kicked the gun and it clunked as it hit the crate. He paused.
Crap.
She tried to move forward, but he held her still as he peered around her.
“What–?” He’d seen the weapon. His hand flew to his holster.
Hannah bent down and grabbed her gun. She leveled it at him. “Don’t.”
He studied her warily. “Where did you get the gun?”
“I found it. This is a warzone.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I’m from al-Mahilyah, I told you. All I want is it to go back to my family.”
“You are lying,” he spat. His hand hovered over his own weapon.
It had been worth a shot.
“Touch it and you’re dead,” she warned, surprising herself by her resolve. Perhaps she could pull the trigger if she had to. If it was him or her.
His gaze flickered over her and ended up on the gun. “I don’t think you will shoot me,” he said.
She stiffened her back. “Don’t tempt me.”
He reached for his gun.
She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She tried again.
There was nothing but a dull click.
“Wha–?”
Before she had time to register what was happening, he’d grabbed her wrist and twisted the gun out of her hand. She yelped as he held her hand behind her back.
“You forgot the safety.”
She nearly wept. Idiot, she berated herself. Tom had warned her about the safety.
He grabbed her headscarf and pulled her head back. “You’re not from here. Your skin is too pale.”
Hannah remained silent. Now she was busted, it was better not to say a word. Thankfully, he hadn’t spotted her bag with her passport in, under the crate.
Where were Tom and Jamal? Now would be a very good time for them to come back.
She glanced at the door, willing him to walk through, but he didn’t.
The soldier pulled her out of the building and into the baking sunshine. He glanced at her face again, then nodded, as if the bright light only served to confirm what he already knew. She wasn’t local.
“Help!” she screamed, trying to draw attention to herself.
Perhaps Tom and Jamal would hear and come running. The soldier twisted her arm behind her, making her eyes water.
“Shut up or I’ll break it,” he warned.
She nodded, in too much pain to speak. No one was coming to her rescue. This time Tom wouldn’t be able to save her.
She was half marched, half dragged down the busy road. Army vehicles rattled past, men walked with purpose, commanders shouted. The rebels were fighting a losing battle against this lot.
She was taken to the rear of the encampment where some large tents had been erected. It was quieter here, less frenetic, but still tense. The army was fighting for control over the rebel-held town, and every soldier wore an expression of determination as they went about their business.
He pushed her into one of the tents. It was surprisingly spacious with a wooden table in the center, covered with maps and rulers. Someone’s makeshift study.
“Sit down.” He pushed her into a chair, securing her hands behind her back with plastic handcuffs. She had seen them on TV in cop shows but had never in a million years envisioned that one day they’d be used on her. They were tight and cut into her wrists.
“Wait here,” he barked, and left her alone.
She wiggled her wrists, but the ties were too tight. They wouldn’t budge. She tried to get up, but the bastard had tied her ankles to the legs of the chair.
She was screwed. The worst part was, Tom wouldn’t know where to look for her.
He’d get back to the building, find her bag and realize she’d been taken.
Would he try to find her? What if he couldn’t?
Would he arrange for their contact to transport him out of the enemy base to the coast, taking the safe house locations with him? That was all he needed anyway.
Another soldier came in. Taller than the other, with a full beard and even harder eyes. His superior, perhaps? He held a large semi-automatic rifle, not unlike Tom’s. Was he going to use it on her?
She shuddered and tried to keep calm. Panicking wouldn’t help her.
“Don’t get any ideas.” He nodded to his weapon as he stood guard.
Great, now she had an armed guard as well as being tied to the chair. Hot tears burned her eyes. This was it. It was well and truly game over.