Page 37 of Edge of Danger

Ian made a sound of commiseration. “My old man was a Green Beret. Ex-military men can make for high intensity parents, eh?”

“That’s one way of describing it.”

“Did he teach you how to shoot?”

“Yup.”

“Hell of a teacher.”

“Thanks.” She was surprised by the compliment from him.

“What happened to your mother?” Ian followed up.

“She took off when I was a baby.”

“Were you that rotten a baby?” he asked humorously.

She snorted. “I don’t remember. But I suspect it had more to do with my father being crazy than with me.”

Oh, how she’d raged at her mother over the years for abandoning her with him. If her mother couldn’t stand being with the man, what made her think her daughter would be able to tolerate him, either?

Of course, if her mother had taken Piper with her, no telling how different her life would be. One thing she knew for sure. She wouldn’t be sitting in a Jeep with Ian now, bumping across the African bush, wearing combat boots and toting a pistol.

Would she be a girly girl? Wearing pretty clothes and make-up and doing something traditionally feminine? Although, what that feminine thing might be, she had no idea.

“Are we headed back to Khartoum?” she asked cautiously.

“I’m burned in K-town. Can’t go back there.”

As was she. Maybe more than she’d realized until today’s events. “Where to, then?”

“Djibouti. U.S. Navy operates out of there to fight pirates along the Somali coast. We can catch a hop stateside from there.”

And get a hot shower. And a decent meal. And some sleep. She couldn’t decide which one sounded more orgasmic.

They stopped for gas in a medium-sized village, punctuated by Ian muttering strict orders for her to stay in the car at all costs. What she could see of the village looked a lot like the worst slums in Khartoum.

Ian handed her a greasy paper bag and a couple more bottles of water when he got back in the Jeep, and he pulled out quickly. A half-dozen young men were just converging on the gas station when he peeled out. Good thing she hadn’t asked for a potty break.

She did ask for one once the village’s lights had retreated well behind them, though. He pulled over and stopped the engine. “Don’t go more than ten feet from the rear tire, Piper. And make sure your pistol’s in your hand while you pee.”

“Jeepers, how dangerous is this place?”

“Thugs aren’t the only problem at night. That’s African bush out there. Critters who think humans are tasty snacks abound. Make it fast.”

She had never peed half that fast in her life. Visions of lions chowing on her tender tush sent her racing for the safety of the jeep in a matter of seconds.

The paper bag turned out hold some sort of fried, falafel-like cakes made of ground grain and a bean-based paste. They were tasteless and greasy, but they eased the gnawing sensation in her stomach.

The border crossing into Eritrea, a narrow strip of a country running along the north side of the horn of Africa, was uneventful. Better to transit this relatively peaceful country than Ethiopia’s more restless regions to the south, she supposed.

Whatever documents Ian showed the border guard satisfied the guy completely. The soldier didn’t even ask to see her passport. As Ian accelerated away from the checkpoint, she asked, “How’d I get through there so easily?”

“American dollars grease palms effectively in this part of the world. I slipped a hundred-dollar bill inside my passport when I handed it to him.”

She wouldn’t have had any clue that a bribe was expected. Why didn’t somebody brief her on that back in Washington?

Ian’s comment from the night they’d met danced through her brain, not for the first time. Did her bosseswanther to fail out here? To die? To prove that girls were not as good as boys at hostile surveillance ops? It sounded like the sort of thing her father would do. Her jaw hardened as she stared out the window at the blackness.

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