Page 36 of Zain

Zain’s finger tingled on the trigger. They’d miss their flight if they didn’t have a ride. Which meant Jaysh would find them.

They’d get to Dana.

He pulled the trigger. The bullet landed in the guard’s head with a sharpthwack.

Dana shrieked.

Brick covered his head. “Fuck!” He wheeled on Zain. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yeah. I’m getting us the fuck out of here.”

***

Dana covered hermouth with her hand. Deargod, he’d just shot Ali’s guard. The implications of his actions hit her like another IED. Before she could even wrap her head around the situation, Zain caught her arm and towed her alongside him.

Brick cursed a blue streak. Dana’s eyes landed on the guard’s large, unmoving body. Crimson blood tainted the light-colored dirt.

Ali ran toward his fallen man, his primness abandoned. “No!” He jabbed a finger at Zain. “You bastard!” Spit flew from his mouth. He bent to grab the guard’s weapon, but Zain was on him in a fraction of a second.

“Back up,” he warned Ali, his tone without the hysteria of their rival’s. Instead, Zain’s voice carried a calm authority that seemed entirely foreign in the situation. He should be rattled. After being thrown around a vehicle that was now blown up, he should be on the brink of breakdown—like her and everyone else still standing.

Ali froze as Zain approached. Then he raised his hands by his ears. With the gun, Zain motioned for him to back away from the guard’s weapon. Ali complied.

“Throw down your phone.”

Ali’s lip curled.

“Do it now.” Zain’s voice boomed with authority.

Ali dipped his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket, removed his device, and tossed it into the dirt.

Zain jerked his head to Brick. “Grab his phone. Take the guard’s as well, and the car keys.”

Brick muttered something but did what Zain asked. Dana could see the pent-up anger in his expression.

Dana’s temple thudded. She lifted her fingers to the delicate area, and moisture touched her skin. Blood coated her fingertips, and she winced as pain seared her skull. She’d probably been in shock; she hadn’t really felt any injuries until now.

“This guy’s a loose fucking cannon,” Brick huffed.

She compressed her lips. “Is he?” Dana said, while Zain spoke to Ali. “Because he might have just saved our lives and made it possible for us to catch that plane.”

Brick said nothing, but a vein at the side of his head jumped. “I get that. But we’re in dangerous territory.”

“And you just severed your friendship with Ali. Either way, we were screwed.”

He pinched his brow. “Maybe, Dana. But I didn’t fucking shoot one of his men.”

“He would’ve killed us all,” she snapped. “Tried to. It’ll serve you well to remember that.”

“Hands behind your head and walk one hundred paces east,” Zain shouted to Ali. The man practically glowered with disgust, but he turned his back to Zain and obeyed. When he was a good thirty paces away, Zain circled his hand aroundher elbow. “Let’s go.”

Brick followed them to the SUV. Zain opened the front passenger door for her, and Brick got in the rear. A second later, Zain climbed in the driver’s seat, tossing their bags in the back with Brick. Ali continued making his trek down the long gravel road in the opposite direction.

Zain fired up the engine, and the GPS screen came up. After asking Brick the name of the airport, Zain plugged it in. The address hadn’t been entered by the driver previously—either he’d had no intention of reaching their destination or he hadn’t needed directions.

Air conditioning blasted through the vents. Dana rested her head on the seat and the pain in her skull and body intensified. Everything hurt, from her hair to her toes. Her left hip, neck, and right shoulder had it the worst, but if it weren’t for Zain’s body anchoring her in the blast, she probably wouldn’t be able to walk right now.

The IED had hit right in front of the vehicle, sending them flying. Had the shooter successfully hit square on the vehicle, they’d be dead right now—or worse. She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. Of what had almost happened.

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