Page 15 of Zain

She gasped at the gruesome sound of an explosion. Oh god. Had the terrorists found them? Had they killed Zain?

Fear pierced her heart. She grabbed the door handle. Her stress response kicked in. Fight, flight, or freeze? Definitely freeze. Because she could barely breathe through the cramping around her lungs.

If Zain died before she got to explain everything, she’d never forgive herself. He might have separated himself from where he’d come from, but there was always the possibility she could reachhim. Tell him that Rami desperately wanted him to come home. That his family loved and missed him and prayed for him.

That she’d prayed for him.

Her throat cinched, and she blinked away the fresh wave of tears. Zain could be dead, and she was a sitting duck.

Bullets blasted in the night, and she let out a barely audible shriek. She couldn’t tell if the firing was from more than one source. After a handful of shots, the sounds stopped.

Her breath wheezed in and out of her nose in frantic little pants. Seconds clipped by, then minutes.

They’d find her. Zain would have been back by now. She clutched the knife in both hands. She had to run. Maybe she could grab a gun from the back of the truck. She’d seen Zain take some from the crate.

Maybe—

A dark figure stepped into the clearing. He moved without hesitation, his head and weapon down.

Zain.

Before her brain could register that he was alive, the door on the driver’s side creaked open, and he slid in. The interior light turned on, and he pinned her with his searing-hot amber gaze. His face wore the weathered look of pain and heartache. Tension held his brow high and his jaw tight.His eyes were sharp like that of a lion—or a wounded animal. Either way, they lacked trust. They’d been hurt. Beaten down.

She inhaled a shuddering breath. “You’re okay.” Disbelief rang from her statement.

He blinked a few times. Each swipe of his dark lashes seemed to wipe clear a film of distrust from his face. He looked at her cheeks, probably noticing the tear tracks. “I’m fine. They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Who the hell are you?” he growled.

A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed over it. He spoke with such disdain that she wanted to curl inside herself. Words evaded her. Fear wound around her vocal cords.What if he doesn’t remember where he’s from?

“You said my name.” His voice was a little gentler. A little less angry. “Back at the cave.”

She nodded. “Yes, I—” Hauling in a breath through her nose, she knotted her hands in her lap. “I’m Dana McAvery. I work for Backcountry Protection Services.”

His granitelike expression didn’t change. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“It’s a bodyguard agency.” Summoning up every ounce of bravery stored inside her, she rested her hand on his, which lay on the console separating them.

Zain’s gaze shifted awkwardly, but he didn’t move. The muscles in his hand twitched beneathhis thick skin.

“Rami Mitry, your brother, co-owns it.” She watched his eyes widen. Still, he didn’t move. “He’s been searching for you all this time. And I—Well... We came to rescue you.”

Zain’s head ticked back as if she’d struck him. “Rescue me?”

She squeezed his hand. “You went missing. Right when the troops were pulled—”

He yanked his hand away from her. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. He swiped his hand down his face.

“I’m sure this is a lot to take in.” She inched closer, questions scalding her tongue. “Do you—”

“Fuck!” He smacked his palm against the dash.

Dana jumped, pressing her back to the window. Unease shuddered through her as Zain’s body coiled into an angry spring.

“I can’t believe this.Goddammit.”

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