switched to French, then English, and heard an answering hiss of breath.
English, then.
The silence grew, ratcheting his tension higher.
‘You don’t know?’ It was a whisper, as if the speaker feared being overheard.
Ashraf frowned. Had the blow to his head damaged his hearing? It couldn’t be, yet it sounded like—
‘You’re a woman?’
‘You’re not one of them, then.’ Her voice was flat, yet taut, as if produced by vocal cords under stress.
Stress he could understand.
‘By “one of them” you mean...?’
‘The men who brought me here. The men who...’ Ashraf heard a shudder in her voice ‘...kidnapped me.’
‘Definitely not one of them. They kidnapped me too.’
For which they’d pay. Ashraf had no intention of dying in what he guessed was a shepherd’s hut, from the smell of livestock. Though the sturdy chain and handcuff indicated that the place was used for other, sinister purposes. He’d heard whispers that Qadri was involved in people-smuggling. That women in particular sometimes vanished without a trace, sold to unscrupulous buyers across the border.
The pale glow came closer. Ashraf saw her now. Silvery hair, pale skin and eyes that looked hollow in the shadows. She swallowed and he made out the convulsive movement of her throat. Calm overlying panic. At least she wasn’t hysterical.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.
A tiny huff of amusement greeted his question. ‘That’s my line. You’re the one who’s bleeding.’
Ashraf looked down. Parting his torn shirt, he discovered a long cut, no longer bleeding. A knife wound, he guessed, but not deep.
‘I’ll live.’
Despite the playboy reputation Ashraf had once acquired, he’d done his time in the army. A stint which his father had ensured was tougher and more dangerous than usual. Ashraf knew enough about wounds to be sure he’d be alive when his executioner arrived tomorrow.
‘How about you?’
* * *
Tori stared at him, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.
Except tears wouldn’t help. And she feared if she laughed it would turn into hysteria.
‘Just scrapes and bruises.’ She was lucky and she knew it. Her jaw ached where she’d been backhanded across the face but that was the worst. Despite the hungry gleam she’d seen in her captors’ eyes as they’d inspected her, they hadn’t touched her except to subdue her and throw her in here.
Looking at this injured man, she trembled, thinking she’d got off lightly. So far.
He’d been unconscious when they’d dumped him on the dirt floor. Either he’d put up a mighty fight or they had a grudge against him to beat him up like that.
She hadn’t had time to investigate how badly he was injured. His shirt was torn and stained and his head was bloody on one side. Even so, he stood tall. His ragged shirt hung from wide, straight shoulders and his dusty trousers clung to a horseman’s thighs. He looked fit and powerful despite his injuries. Under the grime he had strong-boned features that she guessed might be handsome, or at least arresting.
Would she see him in daylight or would they come for her before that? Terror shuddered down her spine and turned her knees to jelly. Panic bit her insides as she imagined what was in store for her.
‘Where are we?’ Like her, the stranger kept his voice low, yet something about the smooth, deep note eased a fraction of the tension pinching her.
‘Somewhere in the foothills. I couldn’t see from the back of the van.’ She wrapped her arms around her middle, remembering that trip, facing a grim stranger with a knife in his hand.
‘There’s a road?’ The man before her pounced on that.
‘Part of the way. I walked the last part blindfolded.’ Which was why her knees were rubbed raw after she’d stumbled and fallen time and again over uneven ground.
‘Is there a guard at the door?’
‘I don’t think so.’
She’d heard the men talking as they walked away. Even so she crept to the door, peeking through the gap between it and the wall. No one. She moved along the wall but it was surprisingly solid, with no chinks to peer through.
As if it had been used as a prison before.
Tori thought of the heavy chain that secured her companion and her stomach curdled.
‘There’s a light further away. A campfire, I think. But no one here as far as I can tell.’
Why would they bother? The door was bolted. Her companion was chained and she didn’t have as much as a pocket knife to use as a tool.
What wouldn’t she give for her geologist’s hammer right now? Designed for cracking rocks, the sharp end might prise open the chain and it would make an effective weapon.
‘What are you doing?’ He’d turned his back on her and she heard the rattle of metal links.
‘Testing this chain.’ There was a grunt, then a muffled oath.
She crossed to stand behind him. ‘You won’t pull it out,’ she whispered. ‘It’s fixed securely. Believe me.’
‘You’ve checked?’ His hunched shoulders straightened as he lifted his head and turned around.
Suddenly he was closer than she’d expected, towering above her. Her hissed breath cut the thick silence.
Only hours ago she’d been grabbed by strangers: big men who’d overpowered her despite her frantic struggle. Fear curdled her belly anew and adrenaline pumped hard in her blood, freezing her to the spot.
Yet as she stiffened the man stepped back towards the wall. Giving her space.
Logic said he wasn’t the enemy. Her abductors had kidnapped him too.
Tori sucked in oxygen and tried to steady her breathing. In the gloom she met his eyes. It was too dark to be sure but she’d swear she read sympathy in his face. And something else. Pity?
Because the fate of a woman abducted by violent men would be truly pitiful.
Tori stiffened her knees against the images she’d tried so hard not to picture. She couldn’t afford to crack up now.
‘Of course I checked.’ She made herself concentrate on the conversation, not her fear. ‘I thought if I could pry it loose I might use it as a weapon when they came back.’
‘One against three?’
Despite their desperate
