thing. It was time they celebrated that truth instead of fighting it.
After forty-eight hours of forced inactivity, Rachel was ready to go AWOL. And with the help of Kadin’s boss, Roman Chernichenko, she just might get away with it.
Kadin had refused to give her a situation report except to say that Abasi Chuma and his muscle were still on the mountain looking for her, convinced a woman could not truly have gotten away from them. Especially a woman who had spent the day before her disappearance hooked up to a car battery.
Rachel wanted more information than that. She wanted to know if Jamila Massri was safe. She wanted to know what the man’s plans for his innocent fiancée were.
Rachel needed to get Jamila out of Egypt before Chuma went home and started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She couldn’t rely on his remaining ignorant of Jamila’s newly developed friendship with a woman from the West.
The man was a sadistic monster, but he wasn’t a stupid one, and Jamila herself might well give the game away with her own innocent comments. And if Chuma questioned her, that would be even worse. The young Egyptian wouldn’t know any better than to answer him with complete honesty.
She still thought the man her father had chosen for her to marry was charming and sophisticated. She had no idea where the man’s tastes ran and what life married to him might be like.
Just like Linny.
And just as Arthur Prescott had done with Linny, if Chuma had his way, he’d chew Jamila up in his twisted pleasures and then spit her out a broken woman.
Rachel swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was time to find out exactly what was going on. With both her case and Jamila.
Kadin’s commander had called in for a sit-rep, and if she was quick about it, she might get a chance to listen in.
Moving a lot faster than she had been able to two days ago, Rachel crept from the room on silent, bare feet.
The hall was unsurprisingly empty, but she could hear faint voices from one of the rooms on that landing as well as Kadin’s rumbling tones from somewhere below.
She snuck down the narrow stairway, Kadin’s voice growing more discernible as she did so. He was in a room right off the bottom of the stairs, talking on his satphone.
“No, she hasn’t talked to Whitney yet. She’s still recovering.”
Silence while the other man spoke.
“Well, he’ll just have to wait. She’s not talking on the phone until Eva gives the go-ahead. Rachel’s voice box was strained from screaming while she was tortured, damn it.”
Another silence, this one longer.
“No. I take full responsibility for not returning Stateside yet. It’s my call, and I made it.”
Rachel could just imagine how well that was going to go over with the Old Man, much less Kadin’s boss.
“That’s not going to happen, Chief.”
This time the other man’s response wasn’t so quiet, because Rachel could hear the raised, angry tones if not the actual words coming across the satphone.
“That’s not going to happen,” Kadin repeated in a tone Rachel knew too well.
It was the one that said he wouldn’t be moved. Full stop. Period.
So, he wasn’t going to force her to return to the States without Jamila. Today, anyway. She’d take that and let tomorrow worry about itself.
Realizing that Kadin and his chief’s focus was going to be on his orders—to get her safe and out of Africa—she stepped back from the door. She’d heard what she needed to on that count. Now she wanted answers about Chuma and Jamila.
And she didn’t want to get caught disobeying Kadin’s order to rest. He wasn’t her boss, but he hadn’t figured that one out yet, and right now she was reliant on his good will. So, she wasn’t going to spend a lot of time disabusing him of his faulty notions of authority.
When the appropriate time came, he’d learn the truth.
She snuck down the hallway toward another doorway.
“We need to let Kadin know,” a thin blond man
After forty-eight hours of forced inactivity, Rachel was ready to go AWOL. And with the help of Kadin’s boss, Roman Chernichenko, she just might get away with it.
Kadin had refused to give her a situation report except to say that Abasi Chuma and his muscle were still on the mountain looking for her, convinced a woman could not truly have gotten away from them. Especially a woman who had spent the day before her disappearance hooked up to a car battery.
Rachel wanted more information than that. She wanted to know if Jamila Massri was safe. She wanted to know what the man’s plans for his innocent fiancée were.
Rachel needed to get Jamila out of Egypt before Chuma went home and started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She couldn’t rely on his remaining ignorant of Jamila’s newly developed friendship with a woman from the West.
The man was a sadistic monster, but he wasn’t a stupid one, and Jamila herself might well give the game away with her own innocent comments. And if Chuma questioned her, that would be even worse. The young Egyptian wouldn’t know any better than to answer him with complete honesty.
She still thought the man her father had chosen for her to marry was charming and sophisticated. She had no idea where the man’s tastes ran and what life married to him might be like.
Just like Linny.
And just as Arthur Prescott had done with Linny, if Chuma had his way, he’d chew Jamila up in his twisted pleasures and then spit her out a broken woman.
Rachel swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was time to find out exactly what was going on. With both her case and Jamila.
Kadin’s commander had called in for a sit-rep, and if she was quick about it, she might get a chance to listen in.
Moving a lot faster than she had been able to two days ago, Rachel crept from the room on silent, bare feet.
The hall was unsurprisingly empty, but she could hear faint voices from one of the rooms on that landing as well as Kadin’s rumbling tones from somewhere below.
She snuck down the narrow stairway, Kadin’s voice growing more discernible as she did so. He was in a room right off the bottom of the stairs, talking on his satphone.
“No, she hasn’t talked to Whitney yet. She’s still recovering.”
Silence while the other man spoke.
“Well, he’ll just have to wait. She’s not talking on the phone until Eva gives the go-ahead. Rachel’s voice box was strained from screaming while she was tortured, damn it.”
Another silence, this one longer.
“No. I take full responsibility for not returning Stateside yet. It’s my call, and I made it.”
Rachel could just imagine how well that was going to go over with the Old Man, much less Kadin’s boss.
“That’s not going to happen, Chief.”
This time the other man’s response wasn’t so quiet, because Rachel could hear the raised, angry tones if not the actual words coming across the satphone.
“That’s not going to happen,” Kadin repeated in a tone Rachel knew too well.
It was the one that said he wouldn’t be moved. Full stop. Period.
So, he wasn’t going to force her to return to the States without Jamila. Today, anyway. She’d take that and let tomorrow worry about itself.
Realizing that Kadin and his chief’s focus was going to be on his orders—to get her safe and out of Africa—she stepped back from the door. She’d heard what she needed to on that count. Now she wanted answers about Chuma and Jamila.
And she didn’t want to get caught disobeying Kadin’s order to rest. He wasn’t her boss, but he hadn’t figured that one out yet, and right now she was reliant on his good will. So, she wasn’t going to spend a lot of time disabusing him of his faulty notions of authority.
When the appropriate time came, he’d learn the truth.
She snuck down the hallway toward another doorway.
“We need to let Kadin know,” a thin blond man
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