Page 37 of Sweet Betrayal

Hannah began to hyperventilate.

What did that mean for her? A traitor?

The old woman rocked silently. The teenager stuffed her fingers into her mouth to muffle sobs.

“I thought there was something off about them,” Tom muttered, the tension in his neck visible.

“How did you know?” Hannah watched, horrified, as two soldiers dragged the body back to the checkpoint and dumped it in a waiting van.

“I saw that guy jump into the truck back at the lights. He was trying to do what we’re doing. Stay anonymous.”

She felt sick with nerves. Would it work for them? The rest of the crew was loaded into the van along with the body. Only one soldier remained at the checkpoint.

Their car was next.

The driver pulled over. Hannah thought about the rifle under the car. Then about the dead man.

Please let us get through.

The soldier stared through the windshield. His gaze moved from the driver to Tom. His eyes narrowed.

“Family?” he asked in Arabic.

The soldier circled to the back and tapped the window. Hannah rolled it down. It squeaked.

He leaned in.

The girl beside her whimpered, shaking uncontrollably. Alarmed, Hannah met Tom’s eyes in the side mirror. If the girl lost it now, they were done. Tom gave the slightest nod. Hannah wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders and gave her a firm squeeze.

The soldier’s eyes flicked over them. Hopefully he took the gesture as sisterly.

After what felt like forever, he snorted and stepped back. He waved them on, already focused on the next car.

They were through.

CHAPTER 13

They were dropped off on a straight stretch of highway twenty miles past the checkpoint. Hannah thanked the driver and his family, as Tom retrieved his weapon from beneath the car.

“What about your other gun?” she asked.

“It’s here.” He patted the small of his back. “I wasn’t going through a checkpoint unarmed.”

She didn’t ask what he would’ve done if things had gone wrong. They’d have been completely outnumbered. Not even a U.S. Marine could shoot his way out of that.

Hannah looked around. The landscape was barren and gravelly, with hardly any vegetation to speak of. Worse still, it stretched endlessly in every direction, no buildings or cover in sight. Whenever she left the compound with Prince Hakeem or his entourage, they’d traveled in armored vehicles, usually along the scenic coastline. The island’s interior remained a mystery to her.

“How far from the base are we?” she asked.

“I’d estimate four or five miles.”

Tom glanced at his watch, then up at the sky. “We’ve got less than three hours before the sandstorm hits.”

Hannah peered up at the cloudless blue. Not a single gust stirred the air. Hard to believe a sandstorm was on the way.

“That should be enough time,” she said.

She’d been in Syman for six months, but she’d never experienced a sandstorm. They were a summer thing, and she’d arrived in January.

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