Chapter Sixteen
In the safety of her disguise, Jane could finally catch her breath and survey her surroundings.
The encampment was abuzz. People moved about the maze of tents.
The motorbikes raced by and random, rapid gunfire occasionally cracked through the air.
The harsh smell of burning plastic and gunpowder hurt her raw nostrils as she tried to blend in with the crowd, but she felt like everything she did called attention in her direction.
Did her walk stand out? Were her eyes too light? Should she say hello or avoid eye contact? If anyone gave her a second glance, she didn’t have the strength to keep up the ruse.
With her head down, Jane picked a path forward, lifting the hem of her skirt from under her feet. The layer of darker clothing provided a disguise, but it also added a hot layer atop her shaky frame.
A vicious round of air horns blasted, and she jerked from the path. A fleet of ancient motorbikes zipped by, spitting chalky dust in her face. She coughed as her eyes filled with tears.
Everywhere, men carrying guns argued. Just when she thought she’d moved away from them, she would see them again. Either she was traveling in circles, or the military element in the camp was everywhere.
Swallowing the grit in her throat, she headed away from the center tents, toward the back fence where she had started this mess. Where was the broken part of the fence where she’d first entered?
Jane scanned the fence line. It seemed to travel for miles. Warily, she took an unsure step closer, considering ways to escape. A wild animal cried out from the other side. She couldn’t see it in the rocky, desolate landscape, but it sounded hungry and large.
Maybe this time, she shouldn’t cross the fence line without a plan. Though if she stayed here, nothing good would happen. Would Midas and the helicopter think to search for her at the camp?
Or, maybe they wouldn’t come back at all.
They’d saved the intended targets—the Thane family.
Thane Insurance had likely paid dearly for the rescue.
Their rescue, not hers. Jane could almost hear Dax and Gigi casually deciding to leave her alone and abandoned in Syria.
They’d believe that Jane’s death—or rather, losing the nanny—was simply a cost of doing business.
The realization was morbid and terrifying.
They saw people as commodities. Poor Teddy.
Her vision blurred, a mix of tears and exhaustion, until she shook her head. When she looked up, she saw a man straddling a bike, watching her from several tent lengths away. Jane gulped and moved quickly. She gathered her flowing skirts and ran into the camp again.
This time, she had a better idea where to go, and Jane let herself be swept into the crowd. She collided with a man, then tripped on her kaftan. Her body shook from hunger and fatigue, and her stomach revolted against its emptiness.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she finally tried to open them again, her eyelids didn’t want to obey.
Her vision tilted, and her head felt as heavy as a cinderblock.
She hadn’t slept in so long, hadn’t had enough water.
Jane staggered forward and saw the man on the bike again.
He didn’t look angry, only curious. Would he help her like the woman had?
She made her way toward him. Every step took more energy than she had, but she closed the distance and stopped in front of the man. His expression shifted, his lips turning up into a hint of an encouraging smile.
Oh, thank God. She smiled at him and whispered a dry, throaty, “Help me.”
He grabbed her arm and raised it in his hands, calling out for others.
“No.” She didn’t have the strength to fight, and her free hand clutched her heart, certain it would stop beating. It didn’t.
The man jerked her like a prize. Jane lost her balance.
Her feet went out from under her. They tripped.
He took the brunt of her fall. She sprawled over him.
He yelled and pushed her away like she were flea-invested and diseased.
His angry cries shocked her back to life, and even when she knew she couldn’t run any more, she did.
The maze of unending hell turned her every which way. She stopped when she couldn’t take another step and found herself cowering between lines of clothes.
Jane crawled into a corner and caught her breath. She must not have gone far. She heard booming voices multiply. From her crouched position in the laundry area, she watched gaggles of men become an army. Were they all searching for her?
Catching a couple more breaths, she took off and nearly ran into a dead end.
Shit. She doubled back and took another path.
Another dead-end. What was this? A market?
She stood in front of a stall that sold old metal pieces.
She was thinking of hiding behind their boxes when an old, prune-faced man snapped at her.
The angry search party marched nearby. She was certain their jeers were for her. She ran down a lane that seemed suspiciously empty and wondered what would happen if they found her. Shoot her? Or, did they still want to sell her?
Maybe capture wouldn’t be so bad. She could escape again, and they’d give her food and water.
“Stop,” she wheezed, realizing that the voice of surrender had gained footing in her thoughts. She refused to be captured again. Jane didn’t care if she ran herself to death. She wouldn’t stop fighting.
Wavering on her feet, she choked on a sob. Damn it, she was just one woman. What did they think she could possibly be worth? Her feet were bleeding. Her sunburn had turned into blisters. Hell, her will to live had all but left her. She couldn’t take this anymore.
The rattling whine of another motorbike forced her to turn. It raced down the long aisle, and she needed to run but her feet wouldn’t move. Jane’s eyes closed, and she thought of dropping to her knees in surrender—no! She spun, refusing to give up.
Her skirt tangled with her feet, and she tripped, and as she looked up, the aisle filled with the angry mob, flanking the motorbike that was almost upon her. Whatever these assholes wanted, she vowed to give them hell until she took her last breath.
The motorbike screeched sideways. Dirt spit into the air as though a landmine had exploded. Sand and grit rained down. Jane wiped at her face and blinked until her vision cleared.
“Mary Poppins.” An outstretched hand reached toward the ground. “It’s time to move boots, babe. Get on.”