its wings in flight, graced the animal’s forehead.
“Do you have any more knives?” the man asked with a British accent, drawing her attention from the horse, which came to a stop next to him and was now nuzzling his wide shoulders.
The muscle cramps in her legs were strong enough to make her knees buckle, but she bit her lips and thrust out her chin, refusing to fall down. She lifted her hands a little, palms forward. “Fresh out.”
He looked her over then nodded, slid his dagger into its sheath. “Who are you?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” She widened her smile, trying to look innocent.
His eyes narrowed. “You want a million for the answer?”
She laughed. Never let them see you scared. “I meant I’d give a million if anyone could tell me.”
He took a few seconds to digest that. “You don’t remember?” he asked with a hint of incredulity, one ebony eyebrow cocked.
“Nothing before I woke up under this palm to the sound of shooting.”
“Nothing?” The second eyebrow joined the first.
Her lips pressed together in mock consternation, she shook her head. Shouldn’t have done that, she realized as the landscape swam around her. Three days of forced march through the desert without food and water had left her severely dehydrated. She swayed a little, but caught herself. He must not know what an easy prey she was.
He made an unintelligible sound as he looked her over again. “You sound American.”
No sense in denying that, since her unmistakable accent had already given her away. “Yes, I think so.”
“Why were you armed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you get the second knife from?”
She glanced down and pointed at her boot.
“And you’re sure you don’t have any more?”
“I don’t think I do.”
“I’d like to check.”
She thoroughly resented the suggestion. Could be worse though—he could have demanded a strip search. In her current condition, she was pretty much obliged to do whatever he asked. Well…within reason. She plopped onto the sand, grateful to be off her feet. A few more minutes and she would have fallen. Maybe if she played nice, he would let her have some food and water, not to mention the SUV. He didn’t need the vehicle anyhow. He had his horse.
She took off her boots and tossed them to him, then while he looked them over, she took off her socks, too, enjoying the air on her feet, reluctant to put her footgear back on when he returned it.
“Any water in that well?” She nodded toward the stone circle with her head. Her tongue felt swollen, her lips painfully chapped.
“Too much sand in it,” he said as he pulled a flask from the saddlebag and handed it to her, his eyes narrowing once again, as if he were trying to decide what to do with her.
She gulped the gritty liquid, holding onto the flask with both hands, prepared to fight for it if he tried to take it away.
“We’re a few hours ride from camp, plenty of clean water there,” he said.
Tempting, but no. She met his dagger-sharp gaze. She was definitely not going to some desert bandit camp with him.
Chapter Two
“I need to get to the nearest town.” She drank the grainy water to the last drop, smiled at him as she laced up her boots. “I’d like to get in touch with the American embassy. Do you think I could take the car?”
“You’re not well enough to go anywhere alone.”
“You could…escort me?”
He waited a while before responding. “Tihrin is too far. I’ll take you to the camp, then when you’re better, I’ll take you to Tihrin.”
“I’m really pretty good.” She stood, and prayed he didn’t notice the slight wobble. She had to get to a phone. She had to tell the Colonel what had happened to the team.
“In a few days.” He whistled for the horse again, lower this time as the animal was nearby. “Right now, we’ll be safer at the camp.”
Right. Because he looked safe. Not. “Why don’t you ride the horse and I’ll drive the car and follow you?”
“We leave the car.”
She needed some time to come up with a plan. “Mind if we rest a little before we go? I’m not sure I’m up for horseback riding yet.”
He glanced at the bodies behind him then back at her. “A few minutes,” he said. “There might be more of them coming.”
He was just full of good news. She wondered if the four dead men were in any way connected to whomever had shot down the plane. Where was an M4 when she needed one? “Can I have my knives back?”
“No.”
Not very accommodating, was he? “In case there’s another attack?”
He shook his head. “I will protect you.”
For a moment she considered reminding him who had saved whose life, but decided against it. No sense in appearing too contrary, no point in raising any suspicions.
He took a few steps toward the bodies on the sand, stopped and turned back. “What is your name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’m Saeed,” he said, and left her.
She watched him as he went from one body to the next, checking them over, coming up empty-handed as far as she could tell. It took all her strength to make her way to the horse a few short feet away.
“Come on, boy.” She let the animal smell her, patted his head. “What a fine horse you are.”
Purebred Arabian. She remembered her grandfather’s horses on the reservation, a couple of pintos and a half dozen wild mustangs he’d bought through the government program. They were all beautiful in their right. But this one—this one was a prince.
“Here we go.” She moved to his side and checked to make sure the cinch was good and tight. When she tried to put her foot in the stirrups the animal danced away.
“You’re not scared of me, are you?” She kept on talking, utter nonsense in a calming voice, as she tried again. Same result. Horses were supposed to be in her blood. Apparently, someone forgot to tell this one. The stallion had been trained, and trained well. Figured.
“Tayib, hoah.”
The deep voice coming from behind startled her, but
