Page 11 of Zain

Shit, shit, shit. It was Isaad.

Zain turned and forced his face to relax as Isaad exited the cave. “Isaad. I was just about to circle the perimeter,” he said in Pashto. “What can I do for you?”

Isaad’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Who’s with you?” The man kept moving forward.

Goddammit. Zain glanced to his left and to his right. The area was deserted. As Isaad reached him, he clapped the leader on the shoulder. “Come. We need to talk.”

If he could distract Isaad, he might not have to kill him.

The man jerked from Zain’s hold. “Who do you have?”

“A friend.” Yanking out his machete, he drove the blade through Isaad’s stomach.

Isaad’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped. He gasped, and blood sputtered from his lips. Zain yanked out the blade and caught Isaad with one arm across his chest. With his back to Zain’s front, Zain dragged him to the large rock the female prisoner had hidden behind a minute ago.

Isaad’s glassy eyes stared at the wall as Zain dumped him on the ground. Sweat coated his brow, but not from exertion.

He’d just made things a helluva lot worse.

After wiping the machete on Isaad’s pant leg, he sheathed the weapon and crossed the lot. He climbed in the driver’s seat and shut the door softly. His pulse beat in a sporadic rhythm against his eardrums. He turned the key that had been left in the ignition. He glanced at the woman in the back. “Stay down.”

“Did you kill him?” she asked breathlessly.

He clenched the steering wheel as he shifted into drive. “Yeah, I killed him. Didn’t have a choice.”

The vehicle hummed, loud like a fucking siren. He rounded the mountain and the guards and group members came into view. Tents were set up outside the cave for the people on duty, and the leaders’ quarters were inside.

Turning onto the main road that all traffic entering and leaving the compound used, Zain slowed. “I need to get clearance before I can drive out,” he called back, over the drone of the motor. “Don’t move or speak until I say.”

“Okay,” she called.

Jesus. He was insane. He’d lost his damn mind the minute he interfered with Rakesh’s assault. It’s not like he could have walked away, though. Nevertheless, he’d just made himself a wanted murderer, and one of the biggest terrorist groups in the Middle East would be after him by morning.

If he had that much time.

Tension coiled around his chest like barbed wire. He rolled down the window as he reached the checkpoint. One of the new guards, Zain couldn’t remember his name, approached the window with his rifle pointed at the ground.

“Your shift is done?” he asked in Pashto.

“I’m not feeling well,” Zain replied. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

The guard looked at the back seat and Zain’s blood pressure spiked, making his head throb. But then the man stepped back, signaled for the arm bar to be lifted, and waved Zain through.

He nodded in greeting and rolled out of the compound. The constriction on his chest eased and he let out a long exhale. Once the entry gate was far back in his rearview mirror, he pressed his foot harder on the gas.

“You can remove the blanket,” he shouted. “Stay down though, just in case.”

He cut his gaze over his shoulder just in time to see her face poke through the material. It was too dark to see her expression, but the rapid rising of her chest told him she’d been terrified.

“I need to make a call. Do you have a phone?”

He grunted. “I do, but it’s undoubtedly monitored. We’ll have to wait for calls to be safe.”

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Part of him wanted her to get up front so he could ask her who the hell she was, but the risk was too great.All it’d take was for a guard with a sniper scope to spot her and they’d be doomed. He also wanted to see her face and read her expressions when they spoke. She might be in danger, but that didn’t mean he could trust her.

Not by a long shot.

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