Page 39 of Sweet Betrayal

Surely he was overreacting. What trouble could there possibly be here? It was a UN Air Force base.

She trudged off toward the dunes. A soft breeze stirred and she lifted her face to it, savoring the touch of cool air on her overheated skin. What did a few more minutes matter?

She sat and pulled out her water bottle. Tom had made sure they each had one, though hers barely fit inside her bag. She took a drink and mentally counted the minutes.

Twenty minutes later, she was still waiting.

What the hell was he doing?

Peering out from behind the dune, she saw no movement near the outbuildings—only wind sweeping sand across the ground. The breeze had picked up, turning the dunes from refuge to obstacle. Grit stung her cheeks and got into her eyes.

To hell with this.

She stood and cautiously made her way toward the buildings. If Tom wasn’t there, she’d head to the main gate. No way was she getting caught in a sandstorm out here when she could be safe inside.

The outbuildings looked deserted.

She poked her head into the first one—a concrete shell, probably for storage. It was empty, so she moved on to the second.

That’s when she saw it. A man lying motionless on the floor.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Tom?

She rushed forward—then froze. It wasn’t him. The body was too small. The shape all wrong.

Thank God. She exhaled shakily. Then Tom must’ve been here. This had to be his doing.

But who was this guy? And why had Tom killed him?

Heart pounding, she bent down and grabbed a fist-sized rock—the only weapon she had.

No sign of Tom in the second building, and she didn’t dare call out. Who knew if others were nearby? She edged toward the side of the building facing the base—just as something cold pressed hard against her temple.

The barrel of a gun.

CHAPTER 14

“Get down,” a voice commanded in Arabic.

Hannah didn’t move. She was frozen in place.

“I said, get down!” The muzzle dug into the back of her skull.

“Okay, don’t shoot.” She dropped to her knees.

He shoved her hard. She landed on her stomach, sand flying into her face. Her hands shot out to break her fall. The rock she’d been holding rolled away, useless.

Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of her captor. He was dressed like a soldier, and for a fleeting second, her heart lifted. Maybe he worked at the base? If she identified herself, maybe he’d help.

“I’m American,” she said, as he patted her down. “I’ve come for your help.”

He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back to see her face. “What’s your name?” he growled in Arabic.

With her throat stretched painfully, she could barely speak. It was no good. He wasn’t one of the good guys.

She was so confused. What the hell was he doing here?

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