Page 46 of Sweet Betrayal

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought away. It hadn’t meant anything—not to him, anyway. Just a tactical move, a distraction so she wouldn’t panic. He was all about the mission.

“I do.” He spread the map on a flat stone block. Hannah thought it must once have been part of an ornately carved ceiling, judging by the faded engravings still etched into one edge.

“There’s a guy I know in Mandhab. Not far from here.” He pointed to a cluster of dots southeast of their current position.

She nodded, pulling off her shoes. Sand poured out like sugar. She didn’t need to see the map, it was already etched into her brain from the last time she’d studied it. “How’s this guy supposed to help?”

“He’s well-connected and might be able to get us across the country, to the coast.”

“The coast?” She arched an eyebrow. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s our only option. The airports are locked down or under army control.”

“Can’t the Navy airlift us out?” she asked. He was a marine, after all.

Tom smirked. “Too risky. We have no way of calling them, anyway. Boat’s the best shot we’ve got.”

She didn’t love it, but she didn’t argue. “Okay… so we’re sailing out of here. From where?”

“We’ll have to avoid the big port, it’s too obvious. I’m thinking we head south to Hamesh, a small fishing town off the radar. No one will expect us to go there. We find a dhow heading for the mainland and catch a ride.”

“And your guy in Mandhab can help us do that?”

He gave her a look. “He’s got contacts. We’ve worked together before. Trust me—if anyone can help, it’s Farid.”

“Right.” She sighed and leaned back against the rock. Grit stung her eyes and her entire body ached from being blasted by the sandstorm. “But please don’t tell me we have to get to Mandhab tonight.”

Unlike her, Tom looked like he could walk for another twelve hours, but to her relief, he gave a small shake of his head. “No. We’ll camp here tonight and leave before sunrise.”

Thank God.

She was dreading the next leg.

“You’re doing good, you know?” He crouched down beside her.

She snorted. “You don’t have to say that.”

He shrugged. “I’m not, I mean it. I’ve… escorted a lot of people out of hostile regions, and you’re handling it better than most.”

“I’ve probably got my father to thank for that,” she mumbled.

He looked at her, curious. “He military?”

She barked a dry laugh. “No, but he might as well have been.”

Tom tilted his head, inviting her to go on.

“My father was all about duty,” she said after a moment. “Businessman, not a soldier, but similar mindset. After my mother died, he sent me to boarding school and threw himself into expanding the company.”

Tom nodded, but didn’t interrupt.

“I think it was too much for him,” she said. “I was an awkward, grieving eleven-year-old girl and he had no idea what to do with me.”

Tom’s gaze softened. “That’s rough.”

She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. Even though it did. It had taken years for her to get over his neglect.

“I spent all my vacations with my grandparents. They were amazing. Warm, funny, they looked after me. My grandmother used to tell me exotic stories about her childhood in Syman.”

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