Page 11 of Cole
She nodded and got out of the truck, waiting at the front of it for Angus as he gathered the gear.
“Ready?” he asked. She gripped his hand, holding it tightly.
“In case I forget, thank you for this Angus. You just escaped a hostage situation yourself and I’m placing you in danger again. I’ll never forget what you’re doing.”
“For you? Anything,” he smiled.
“Anything?” she asked with an enticing smile and a hint of mischief.
“What did you have in mind, Bailey?” he smiled.
“Kiss me.”
“Kiss you? Have you never been kissed?”
“Not really. I mean, pecks, horrible wet kisses, but nothing meaningful, nothing that felt true.”
“And you think a kiss from me will feel that way?” She nodded and he stepped forward, placing a firm grip at the back of her neck. It was just one kiss. A stupid kiss for a young woman. What could it hurt?
Angus lowered his mouth to hers as her innocent blue eyes stared up at him. He was going to let her watch the whole show if she wanted to, he damn sure was. Her soft lipsimmediately melted against his own, hot and wet. She moaned and he pulled her tighter, closer to his own body, sliding the rifle to his back.
When she opened her mouth, he knew he was in trouble. Little Bailey wasn’t so little anymore and she was a damn fast learner. He pulled back, staring down at her.
“A kiss,” he whispered.
“It was a good kiss, Angus. The way I dreamed it would be.” She started walking away and Angus cursed himself.
“Yeah.Me too.”
CHAPTER SIX
Cole tried to roll to his side but couldn’t. Nothing was working any longer, nothing was helping him. Above him, sand fell into the well and he gripped his pistol, waiting to see if someone was looking down at him.
Instead, he heard the soft voice of a female urging a donkey along. Apparently the donkey wasn’t cooperating and she was calling him every name in the book. He wanted to laugh out loud but didn’t have the breath. Then he saw it. Her face starting down at him.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Are you alright?” She spoke Syrian and he shook his head.
“Help me,” he said in Syrian.
“You’re American,” she whispered.
“So are you?” he said. She shook her head.
“No. I’m Syrian but went to an American university. My grandfather forced me to return when I finished. What can I do? I’m alone.”
“Your donkey, the one that doesn’t listen, could he pull me up?”
“I think so. Let me get a rope down to you.”
She searched in the packs provided to her by her grandfather and found the rope she was looking for. Tying it tightly around the donkey’s neck, she lowered it to the strange man in the well. It was a huge risk but she couldn’t leave him there to be found by her grandfather’s men, or anyone else. She had to save him, although she had no clue why.
“I think my ribs are broken. I’m going to try and wrap it around my legs and hold on.”
“Alright,” she nodded.
She waited for what seemed like a very long time and then he gave her the okay. Pleading with donkey to move forward, it was as if he knew that she needed him to do this. She could hear the man grunting and breathing heavy, then half his body was out of the well and he was crawling on the sand.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “But now you’re in danger. I have to get to Aleppo.”
