Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite) (4 page)

He felt bereft, as if his one chance to redeem himself had been flushed down the toilet. Delivering Hannah and the information would have thrust him back into active duty. It would have given him a chance to prove he was ready, that Afghanistan hadn’t destroyed him. Perhaps afterward he could even have rejoined his regiment again. He clenched his fists in frustration.

“I didn’t lie, exactly.”

“Excuse me?” He looked up. She had spoken so softly, he’d hardly heard her.

“I still have all that information.”

Okay, that was confusing.
“Where? If you no longer have the document, I don’t see how…”

She tapped her head. “In here.”

Was she lying again?
“You’re telling me you remember what it said?”

“Yes, all of it.”

He took a moment to consider this. “How? Did you memorize the details or something?”

She smiled thinly. “Something like that.” He shot her an incredulous look, and she hurried on, “I have an ability to remember things, lists of things, books, documents. It’s as if my brain takes a mental photograph, and I can recall it in perfect detail. I’ve always been able to do it. My grandfather called it a gift.”

He shook his head. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. He perched on the edge of the table and studied her body language. Her expression was open, her shoulders squared toward him. She didn’t appear to be lying. Yet, he couldn’t be sure. She’d fooled him before. “You don’t have to lie anymore. I’m still going to call someone to come and get you.”

“I’m not lying. It’s true, honestly. I’d prove it by reciting the first page of the document to you, but it’s all in Arabic so you wouldn’t understand.”

Conveniently.

She clocked the doubt in his gaze. “You still don’t believe me. Okay, go and fetch me something to read. Anything.”

Reluctantly, Tom pushed himself off the table and disappeared down a short passage, into the bedroom. He came back with a typical military-style adventure book in his hand. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.

“Give me a minute to read the chapter.”

She opened the book in the middle and, with a frown of concentration on her face, read four or five pages. He watched her face as she read. There was no movement other than her eyes flickering across the page. When she was done, she closed the book with a snap and held it out to him.

Suspiciously, he took it, waiting to see the outcome of this little experiment. He was still skeptical, but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.

She sat calmly on the sofa, staring at some unseen spot on the wall, and in a mechanical voice, began reciting…

He let her read the entire chapter, mostly because he was so dumbfounded, he didn’t know what to say. He’d heard of people like her, but he hadn’t ever met one until now.

After she was done, her gaze returned to his face as she waited patiently for him to speak.

“You have a photographic memory,” he said at last, realizing he was stating the obvious.

A hint of a smile played around her lips. “I do,” she replied.

“This changes things.”

…

He punched a number into his cell phone that he knew by heart. The staff secretary answered on the second ring. He gave his name, rank, and ID number and waited to be put through to his commanding officer.

Hannah watched him closely. She nibbled enticingly on her lower lip. It was distracting. He turned away.

“Commander Lottie.” The commander’s gravelly voice came on the line.

Tom greeted his CO and gave him a situation update. He told him about Hannah Evans, how she used to work for Prince Hakeem, and that she had valuable intel on the regime.

“What kind of intel?” barked the commander.

Tom told him about the military plans, the evacuation measures, and the safe house locations. There was a pause as the commander digested this information.

“I’m not sure you are aware, Sergeant, but at 1300 hours today, the Symanian government attacked the rebel-held city of Hamabad. It’s bad. They used chemical warheads much like what happened in Syria last year. Hundreds are dead, and the death toll is still rising.”

Tom listened, the way he’d been trained to, without comment. His face betrayed nothing of what he was feeling inside—anger toward a regime that would resort to such violence. The rebels would retaliate, with the help of outside forces, all who would use the situation as a recruiting ground for terrorism and fanaticism. They were about to head into a full-scale international situation.

“The UN Security Council is gathering as we speak. The Allies aren’t going to leave this one alone. You can expect military action within days. I want you to get that intel to me ASAP. Do you understand? I can hold them off for seventy-two hours, but after that…” His voice faded off.

“Yes, sir.”

He was back. Not under the best circumstances, but then war never was. At least now he was in a position to do something. After Afghanistan, he didn’t think he’d be given a second chance, but here it was—and all wrapped up in a sexy blond parcel. Information, vital to the allied war effort—and he would be the one to deliver it.

It wouldn’t make up for the friends he’d lost. That was a burden he would always bear. But it would go a long way to prove he was still a dedicated soldier, and he still had what it takes to get the job done. And who knew? Maybe he could save enough lives in this world to redeem his soul in the next.

He looked over at Hannah, still listening intently on the couch. Her body language said she was anxious and scared, yet she was handling it admirably. Her eyes were fixed on his face, searching for clues, any sign that would tell her he was going to help her get out of here. He gave a half nod and saw her close her eyes and exhale slowly.

The commander said, “I don’t have to tell you what your intel will mean to the outcome of this war.”

In other words, don’t screw up.

The commander continued, “If we can get to Hakeem before he reaps anymore damage, we might prevent a full-scale international incident.”

His own words. “I understand, sir.”

“And Sergeant, one more thing…”

“Sir?”

“Do not let the location of those safe houses get into the wrong hands. If the opposition forces find out where Hakeem is hiding, there will be a bloodbath. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“That means drastic measures, Sergeant. If we can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else having her, either. You understand?”

Tom went cold. He heard himself answer, but his voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

Hannah gazed at him expectantly. “So he’s okay with it?”

“Sure.” He didn’t meet her gaze as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Obviously, his first priority was his duty to his country, and he would do whatever it took to get that information back to HQ. But if it came down to it, if Hannah got taken by rebels, could he kill her?

“Really? So you’ll get me out of Syman?” Hope made her eyes shine.

“That’s what he said.”

“Thank God. I’m so grateful. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met you. Thank you so much.”

He managed a watery smile. None of this felt right. The knowledge that he may have to kill her gnawed away at him. Given the situation they were in, a safe exodus wasn’t a certainty. There were rebels everywhere; this was a revolution, for goodness sake. Avoiding them would be impossible. Damn, sometimes he hated this job.

“What’s wrong?” She was starting at him, her head to one side, and a quizzical expression on her face.

“Nothing,” he answered a bit too quickly.

She sighed. “There’s more, isn’t there? Did he say something else about me?”

Too astute for her own good, he thought bitterly. He’d never been a good liar. Didn’t really need to be in the field. Besides, it was a personal philosophy that lying didn’t do a person any good. You told the truth and took responsibility for your actions.

She was waiting for an answer. “Just that we can’t afford to let the intel fall into the wrong hands.”

“By wrong hands you mean the rebels?”

He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t connect the dots. No such luck.

“In other words, make sure they don’t get to me, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m going to do my damndest to ensure that doesn’t happen,” he bit out.

“Except, what if it does? What then? What will you do if the rebels capture me, Tom, if they find out what I know?”

He whispered, “I can’t allow that to happen. It won’t get to that stage.”

There was a pause as the meaning of what he’d said sunk in.

“You mean you’ll kill me first, before they get a chance to…torture me?” Her voice cracked. He felt like the scum of the earth, but she deserved to know the truth. The stakes were high, but they always were in a war zone.

“That’s the risk you take,” he said matter-of-factly. “Would you rather I lied to you and told you it was all going to be fine?”

She sniffed. “That might have been preferable. At least then I’d still be able to trust you.”

He frowned. “You can trust me. I told you I’d do everything in my power to get you out of here alive.”

“Except if I get caught. Then I’m just a liability.”

He sighed. There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Look, it is what it is. I can’t change the facts. You have valuable information that others want. So instead of sitting here talking about it, let’s get planning. The more prepared we are, the greater our chances.”

She straightened her back. He had to admire her. Not many people would swallow what she’d just heard and not raise holy hell about it.

“You’re right. But let me tell you one thing, Mr. SAS soldier. You’d better not let those rebels anywhere near me. I don’t plan on dying out here in the desert, especially not by your hand.”

He gave a curt nod.

Her huge oval eyes stared up at him. Then her image morphed into Amrain’s face, except now the eyes were closed, and the woman he’d cared about was lying on a concrete floor with a pool of blood oozing out beneath her. He squeezed his own eyes shut.

No. He wouldn’t think about that.
This mission was nothing like the last one. Hannah was not Amrain. She was not a traitor. She was an innocent, and he would do whatever it took to get her and her information out of Syman in the next three days. Failure, this time, was not an option.

…

Hannah stood in front of the bathroom mirror, as Tom’s fingers worked dye into the hair at the back of her head. It stank of ammonia, and the bathroom was small and damp, but that didn’t stop Hannah from feeling aroused. Tom’s fingers in her hair were intimate, erotic. She could feel his body heat behind her, so close, only inches away. He was like a radiator, making her warm and toasty inside. His male strength permeated the space around them.

For an insane moment, she wondered if she ought to turn around. Would he kiss her? She’d sensed he might during their recent argument about the document in the lounge earlier, but then he’d moved away, killing the moment. Had she imagined that? It was possible; her mind was all over the place right now. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

“There.” He put down the tube of hair dye and stood aside to admire his handiwork. “That should do the trick.”

“Thanks.” She squished against the bathtub to give him access to the sink to wash his hands. There wasn’t much space in the small cubicle. She’d removed the robe she’d been wearing and her tattered pantyhose. That left her with her tight pencil skirt and silk blouse. His elbow brushed against her breast, sending shivers through her body.

She plonked down on the edge of the bathtub. He glanced at her, surprised by the sudden motion. “I think I’ll just wait here until it’s done,” she said, by way of explanation, waving her hand in the general direction of her hair. “It said twenty minutes.” A lame excuse to cover up the effect he was having on her.

It’s just gratitude
, she told herself.
He saved my life, after all, and he’s going to get me out of here. It’s nothing more than gratitude.

Half an hour later, Hannah emerged from the bathroom to find Tom, still in his camouflage gear, sitting at the wooden table staring at his phone, a frustrated expression on his face. A map was spread out on the table in front of him.

“Cellular network’s down,” he said, by way of explanation. “We’ve lost all contact with HQ.”

“How big of a problem is this?” she asked, sitting down opposite him and taking a good look at the map. She found Syman City, to the north of the island kingdom, and Hamabad far to the south, on the coast, with access to the shipping routes. There were other towns scattered around the interior, some larger than others, and many inconspicuous hamlets, which were so small they weren’t even on the map. Surrounding them was the azure blue ocean, and on the bottom left-hand corner of the map, she saw a smidgeon of yellow. The Saudi mainland.

“It could be, if we run into trouble. We’ll have no support, and no way of contacting anyone. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

That didn’t sound too good.

She noticed Tom’s observant gaze wander over her newly dyed hair, pitch black and still damp from the shower. “What do you think?” she asked shyly, fingering a wet tendril. It was startlingly different.

“It looks good.” Then he cleared his throat. “It’ll help to disguise you. That’s the most important thing.”

She nodded. Yes, he was right. It didn’t matter what she looked like as long as no one recognized her.

He said, “We ought to discuss what we’re going to do.” He glanced down at the map. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. It was just a little bit too long, the result of living out here for months on end. She liked it—the added length made him appear softer, since his chiseled jaw covered with stubble and his hard-as-nails body were anything but soft.

Concentrate,
she told herself.
And not on him
.

“Yes, what is our plan?”

He tapped the map. “There’s a UN Air Force base about five miles out of town. If we can get there, one of their pilots can fly us back to the UK on a military plane.”