Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite) (3 page)

She took the cup from him and tossing her hair over her shoulder, sunk into one of the uncomfortable chairs. He watched as she tilted her head back and downed the water thirstily. Somehow she turned it into a sensual gesture, rather than a basic need.

“What’s your name?” she asked when she was finished.

It was time to talk. He pulled a wooden chair out from one of the tables, turned it around with a flick of his wrist, then straddled it. “I’m Sergeant Tom Wilde, 22
nd
SAS Regiment. Pleased to meet you.”

“Wow. You’re SAS?” She looked at him appreciatively. “That explains your…performance out there.”

“Any soldier would have done the same.” As a member of Britain’s elite special forces, he’d undergone extensive training in counterterrorism and special operations; however, all members of the regular army were trained in hand-to-hand combat. He’d just had more experience than most.

“And modest, too,” she commented, a smile playing on her kissable lips. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Tom. I’m Hannah Evans.” They shook hands, which was irrelevant, since they’d kind of moved beyond that part.

He sat down, trying his best to remain professional. “Well, Miss Evans, I need to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind?”

“Please, call me Hannah.” He liked her voice. It was husky and a little bit breathy all at the same time.

Her gaze flickered to his legs straddling the chair. Feeling self-conscious, he rushed into the question. “So what are you doing in Syman, Hannah?”

She smiled at the use of her first name. “I work here, in Syman City. I’m the personal assistant to the Prince of Syman, Prince Hakeem.”

He hadn’t been expecting
that
. “You mean you work with Prince Hakeem at the Royal Palace?”

“It’s more of a compound, but yes, that is where I’m based.”

Now the few burning questions he’d had multiplied into a million. “Were those guys chasing you from the palace? Military police?” The man he’d taken out had been well trained. A superior fighter, with superior weapons. Military-grade weapons. These were not your average street cops.

“They’re from the palace compound,” she explained, confirming what he’d already begun to suspect. “They’re part of Prince Hakeem’s security force.”

That would explain the bulging jackets, the survival knives, and the fighting skills. They were trained killers. The question was, what had she done to piss them off?

“Why are they after you?” He leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of the chair.

“I stole a document,” she began. Her eyes darted from his face, to her hands, and back to his face again.

Nervousness.

“An important document, containing sensitive information. They want it back.”

His head buzzed. None of this made sense. A British citizen working as Hakeem’s personal assistant? The fact that she’d gotten that job in the first place was a mystery. Then she’d stolen a document and risked getting arrested in a volatile Middle Eastern country. Was she mad? Unless…

“Are you working for the British government?” It seemed the obvious conclusion. She could be a spy. He knew MI5 had people on the ground in Syman collecting intel. Maybe she was one of them.

“Heavens no.” She looked horrified. “I’m merely an employee of the prince. I’m not a spy. I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”

“But why would Hakeem’s administration hire a British woman? No offense, but you’re not Arabic.”

“I know it doesn’t look it,” she said with a wry smile, fingering her hair. “But my grandfather is Symanian. I spent a lot of time with him growing up, and he taught me the language. I have Arabic roots.”

“But you’re still British. Surely that’s a security risk?”

She spread her arms. “That was precisely the point. The prince wanted someone British. He’s working on his relations with the West. He recruited me through an agency in London. I act as an interpreter, among other things. Besides, I was cleared. The prince trusts me, and I don’t have anything to do with national security. I manage his diary, shop for him, that sort of thing. It’s all pretty harmless stuff.”

“Yet you stole a sensitive document, so you obviously have access to them. Did someone get to you? Were you recruited by MI5? You’re the perfect candidate. A Brit, living in an Arab nation, close to the prince.” It couldn’t be more perfect, in fact.

She said slowly, “I told you I’m not a spy. I’m no good at espionage, as you can see by my disaster of an escape. I read the document by accident. Usually I take them directly to the prince, unopened. Reading any unauthorized correspondence is grounds for termination, particularly when it’s written by the prince’s Chief of Security, Anwar Abdul.”

That name he’d recognize anywhere. He said carefully, “Anwar Abdul is a very powerful man. Did
he
issue the document?”

She gazed steadily back at him. “He wrote it, yes.”

Whoa! This was getting very interesting. A flicker of anticipation began to grow in the pit of his stomach. “So it’s a military document? Can I see it?”

Hannah didn’t reply straight away. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. A distancing gesture. Reluctance.

Tom noticed the soles of her feet were covered in tiny nicks and bruises, and the big toe on her right foot was coated in dried blood. Still, she seemed oblivious to the discomfort. He waited for her to talk.

“I’m sorry if I’m being difficult,” she began. “But I’m in a lot of trouble here. Treason is a crime punishable by death in this country.”

She wasn’t wrong there.

“I’m happy to hand over the document, but I need to know someone’s going to help me get out of here.” Her gaze roamed blatantly over his chest and settled on his rifle. “And I’d like that someone to be you.”

He frowned as her words sank in. “You’re bargaining with me?”

Didn’t she know he could extract that document from her in under a minute, if he wanted, without even breaking a sweat?

I’d like that someone to be you.

“Not bargaining, as such. I’m merely suggesting an exchange—your help for the document.” She made it sound so reasonable.

He itched to say yes. He wanted to help her—he was dying to get back to the action. After his long stint in recovery after the Kabul debacle, and now this posting at the embassy, classified as “non-active duty,” he would relish the opportunity to be on a live mission again. He didn’t have his team with him, but he could still get her out. It wouldn’t be easy, but there were a few options. The country hadn’t gone into complete lockdown just yet.

His blood pumped just at the thought of it. Being a soldier was what he lived for, and he was good at it. As a member of the British Special Forces, he felt he was doing something worthwhile, making a difference in this crazy world. Inactivity didn’t suit him at all.

But he contained his excitement. Orders were orders.

“I’d like to help you, but I’m duty-bound to stay at the embassy. I can make a phone call for you, and they’ll send someone to get you out. The British government won’t leave a citizen in a war zone. You don’t need me.”

Who was he kidding? He’d never be allowed to leave his post. The whole reason for sending him to Syman was to get him out of the way. No one wanted to be reminded of the men who’d died in Kabul. An entire SAS team—except him. He was the lone survivor.

So they’d made him disappear. He was injured. He’d taken a knock to his confidence and was suffering badly from survivor’s guilt. What better place for him to recover than a small island kingdom in the Persian Gulf that nobody cared about?

Nobody until now.

The sudden unrest had put Syman firmly back on the Western radar. The Western Allies had learned some harsh lessons from Syria and weren’t keen for a repeat situation.

As catastrophic as the situation was, Tom was in the right place at the right time. The question was: Would the army give him a chance to redeem himself?

To his surprise, Hannah snorted. “Duty is overrated. Besides, once your superiors hear what’s in the document, they’ll be begging you to get me out. Sending someone to fetch me is time consuming and a logistical nightmare during a civil war. You’re already here, and I saw you with that guy out there. You’re good. I trust you.”

I trust you.

Meaningless words. No one could trust anyone in a war. He’d heard those words whispered by another woman not so long ago. He’d promised to help her, too. Now she was dead.

He kept his voice even. “If you’re not going to hand it over, you’d better tell me what’s in the document. Nobody’s going to authorize me to assist you unless they know what you’ve got.”

By contrast, her voice became wobbly and hesitant. Her lips trembled ever so slightly. The confident negotiator of moments before had disappeared, replaced by someone who was disturbed by what she’d seen. It made him even more curious.

“It outlines military action to be taken by Prince Hakeem’s regime against the opposition forces…should the country fall into civil war. It describes attack plans on rebel strongholds… It lists weapons and deployment of troops.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes as if trying to will the reality of her words away.

He sat bolt upright. If she was right, this might warrant his help. Military intelligence would be incredibly valuable to the Western forces, should they decide to take action. But first, he needed to find out more. “Does it give dates and times for the attacks?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s more of a guideline than an actual schedule. It was written yesterday, I told you, by that brute, Anwar Abdul. So it’s recent. I don’t think the unrest in Hamabad had kicked off yet.”

Brute?
Interesting. Tom made a mental note to quiz her about Hakeem’s fanatical head of security later. First he needed to fill her in on what was happening in the country.

“Hamabad’s been stirring for weeks. It wasn’t a surprise. Jemah, a rebel-run town to the south, has been the target of government bombing raids for the last two days. That’s where it all started.”

She stared at him openmouthed. “I had no idea.”

“An anti-government protest got out of hand, and the security forces shot a number of people dead. It led to unrest and clashes, which escalated, and the government deployed the army.”

Her face paled as the reality of the situation apparently dawned on her. “So we’re trapped in a full-scale civil war?”

“Absolutely. Part of the ongoing Arab Spring. Our evacuation orders for the embassy came through two weeks ago.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this. I mean, I’d heard there was trouble, but I didn’t know it was this bad. No one at the compound seemed aware of it. Ahmed was as horrified as I was by the news.”

“Who?” He frowned, puzzled.

She clarified. “He works—worked—with me at the compound.”

“Ah, well I’m not surprised. Selective intel. The regime controls the media, so you’d only hear what they wanted you to hear. They can’t hide it any longer, though.”

She shuddered visibly. “I can’t believe Prince Hakeem would attack his own people. He was always so fair to me. He treated me with respect. I never in a million years thought he’d be capable of anything like this.”

“War makes animals of us all,” Tom mused. “And he’s got a lot to lose.”

She thought about this for a moment. “True. Although, just so you know, I’d never have taken the job if I’d known it would turn out this way. I don’t like violence, and I certainly don’t condone the killing of innocent people.”

He said nothing. Given his profession, it was best not to.

She slapped her hands down on her thighs. “Wait. There’s more. I forgot to mention the evacuation plan. That was in the document, too.”

“For the compound?” That would be expected.

“No, it was for the royal family and key members of the regime. It contained detailed instructions on when and how to evacuate the city. It listed Prince Hakeem’s various safe houses…”

“Safe houses?” Adrenaline surged through his veins.

“Yes. Places where they were to go and hide until the crisis was over. It would allow the government to continue to function in relative safety.”

Holy smoke!
This could be the most important discovery yet. The Western Allies would bend over backward for this type of intelligence—and he could be the man to deliver it. It would be a chance to prove his worth and get back onto active duty.

He took a deep breath, trying not to show how affected he was by what she’d just said. “So just to clarify, do you have the actual locations of these safe houses?” He knew he was repeating himself, but he had to be sure.

“I do,” she nodded emphatically. “There are five of them. Two in Syman and three in neighboring states.”

“So we’ll know where they’re hiding,” he said, thinking out loud. He couldn’t believe his luck. There were agents in the country who had been trying for months to gather this type of intel—and he had it within his reach.

“Do you think
that
warrants a personal escort out of the country?” she asked, her cheeks flushed from her big reveal.

Hell yeah.

“I would say so,” he said, carefully. “But I’ll have to discuss it with my commanding officer.” He also wanted to take a look at the document first, before he rang HQ.

She looked pleased. “Best you do that, then.”

He’d call his CO and, fingers crossed, he’d get new orders to escort Hannah Evans out of Syman with her secret document. He was about to get up when a loud smash made them both jump. It was the sound of glass shattering. A few seconds later, the acrid smell of smoke seeped into the lounge.

He was already on his feet, heading out the door. “Stay here,” he yelled over his shoulder. Without waiting for her reply, he went to investigate.

Chapter Three

Cold fear tightened its grip around Hannah’s chest.
Not again.
For the first time all day she finally felt secure. There was something so…reassuring about Tom. It wasn’t just that he was tough and capable—and he could fight. That definitely helped. But it was more his quiet self-confidence that was so appealing. That knowledge that he was from one of the best fighting forces in the world, and he could handle any situation. She felt safe with him.

Now this…

What was happening?

There were shouts and other loud noises coming from outside the embassy. Were they under attack? Was it an angry, rebellious mob, or was it because of her? Surely Prince Hakeem wouldn’t attack the British embassy just because one of his employees was inside with a sensitive document? No, she needed to calm down and think. Hakeem’s forces couldn’t know she was inside the embassy. Except for the blood on the path behind the embassy, where Tom had killed the palace security policeman. That might be the giveaway. Would they realize it had come from their guy?

Tom returned, weapon over his shoulder, looking way too grim. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“Is it them?”

“Maybe. Whoever just shot out that window has got a lot of firepower. That’s all I know. They’ve barricaded themselves behind a row of vehicles about five hundred yards away, in the park. It’s only a matter of time before they break into the compound. Come on. Follow me.”

He shepherded her out of the lounge, down a corridor, and then through a set of double doors into another shorter corridor.

“This is the ambassador’s office suite,” he told her as they entered a large room with an expensive rug covering most of the carpet. An oxblood leather sofa flanked a large, mahogany coffee table. Tom opened a matching wall cabinet where a set of keys hung on a hook.

There was a loud whistling sound. “What’s tha—?” she was about to ask.

“Get down!” he yelled, pulling her down onto the carpet, keys forgotten. She fell on her knees, pitched forward, and lay flat, expecting the worst. Seconds later there was a loud bang, and the ground shook. She screamed. The whole building creaked as the coffee table imploded, its glass top showering the rug. The patio door cracked but didn’t break.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Would the building collapse on top of them? They could be buried alive, their bodies found months later in the rubble.

It didn’t.

She tried to move, but found she couldn’t. Tom’s hard body lay on top of hers. He’d moved so fast, she hadn’t even realized it. His thigh rested between her legs, and his solid chest covered her back like a makeshift shield. He’d wrapped his arms around her as much as he could and tucked his head down next to her shoulder. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, steady, despite the chaos of the explosion—unlike her rapidly beating heart.

“Are you okay?” he asked a few seconds later, shifting his weight off her. His eyes roamed over her, looking for injuries.

She sat up. “I think so.” She was trembling, partly from the shock of the explosion, and partly because Tom’s body had felt so good on top of hers. She laughed, embarrassed. How odd that she’d thought of
that
after a near-death experience. “I thought we were going to be buried alive, for a minute.”

Everything smelled of smoke. “No, it was only a grenade,” he explained, getting to his feet. He dusted himself off as if he’d just been for a stroll in the park.

“
Only
a grenade
?” Was that supposed to make her feel better?

“Rocket propelled,” he elaborated with a grim smile. “I think it hit the west side of the building. We were lucky. The damage will be limited to a few rooms. Come on, we don’t have much time.”

How was this even happening?
she wondered as he pulled her to her feet. She fought a sudden urge to cling to his hand like a frightened child. The situation had gotten way out of control.

This morning she’d arrived at work, oblivious to the situation outside the palace walls, and a few hours later, she was a fugitive, running from rocket-propelled grenades.

He kicked the fractured glass out of the patio doors. It broke easily, falling into glinting shards on the tiles outside. “It’s a war,” he said simply. “And Hakeem may suspect you’re here, in which case destroying the document would provide an excellent excuse to take out a Western powerbase.”

“They’ll have to destroy me, too,” she whispered.

“Not if I can help it. Do you mind?” Without waiting for a reply, he picked her up and carried her over the smashed glass, over the jagged frame of the sliding door, and out into the garden.

“Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed. His arms bulged impressively as he held her. She glimpsed the bottom of a curved, Celtic-style tattoo on his left bicep and was tempted to run her hand over it. Then she giggled. How could she be thinking
that
at a time such as this?

He gave her a sharp look.

“Sorry, it must be the shock.” She wiped the smile off her face. It wouldn’t do to get hysterical.

He set her down a few meters shy of the sidewall, and then rested his hand on her arm. It was warm and steady. She glanced at him in surprise. “It’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of here, to somewhere safe. Then we can make a few calls and decide on a plan of action.”

She focused on his words, willing herself to believe them. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, and a thought struck her…“Damn. I forgot my headscarf inside.”

“Leave it. There’s nothing we can do about that now. We’ve got to get out of here. I know another way.” He led her along the sidewall, past a large fishpond growing green from lack of attention. Hannah envied the ignorant fish, happily swimming about, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the world above them.

“It’s over here.” He walked with purpose, his whole body tense and alert. She knew he had the dead man’s gun still tucked into the back of his army pants, and she was sure he had another gun strapped to his calf. She’d felt it there, when he’d thrown himself on top of her during the blast.

They went down some concrete stairs into a dark subway tunnel on the east side of the property. She trod gingerly so as not to hurt her battered feet. The entrance was covered with heavy creeping plants and other foliage, overgrown and disused. Halfway through, an imposing floor-to-ceiling gate halted their progress. It reminded Hannah of Traitor’s Gate at the Tower of London—and it appeared just as secure. The lock was heavy, attached to the end of a thick link chain wound several times around the bars. “This gate is never used.” Tom tugged on the chain.

“That doesn’t look like it’s going to open,” Hannah said, dubiously. “Do you have a key?”

“Of sorts,” he replied, reaching for the semiautomatic slung over his shoulder. “Stand back.”

She backtracked well out of the tunnel. She didn’t want to get hit by ricocheting bullets. He aimed at the padlock and let rip a short blast of rapid fire. The lock broke, and the chain disintegrated in a spray of metallic half-rings.

“That’ll do,” she murmured, following him through the gate and up the stairs on the other side. They emerged into an incredibly narrow alleyway, with a stone floor and high buildings on either side. Cigarette butts littered the ground, and someone had scrawled FREE SYMAN across the concrete in Arabic. “Where are we?”

“It’s a way out.” He hunched up so his wide shoulders would fit, toward the north end of the alley.

A second explosion resonated from behind them. They both ducked instinctively, although the blast was too far away to affect them.

Tom looked grim. “The embassy will soon be breached, and Hakeem’s men will sift through the rubble until they realize you’re not there. Then they’ll find that dead guy’s body and put two and two together. They’ll know you escaped—and that you had help.”

“I’m going to have to get out of here ASAP, aren’t I? They’re not going to stop until they find me.”

A moment’s hesitation. Then he said, “People disappear all the time. You can, too.”

“Not without your help,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply. They marched on, stopping briefly at a clothing store to buy a pair of running shoes and a new scarf. Next up was a pharmacy, where Tom got some supplies while Hannah waited inside the front door, trying to look inconspicuous.

They finally came to a stop at a narrow, four-story apartment block. The stained concrete looked harsh and unforgiving in the afternoon sun. It was surrounded by other apartment blocks in a similar state of disrepair.

“Where are we?”

“My place.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. This was perfect. No one would ever know she was here.

They climbed a set of chipped tile stairs with a steel handrail to the third floor. The coolness of the stairwell was a welcome relief after the scorching temperature outside. He glanced out over the low wall as they slunk along the corridor to the apartment. There was no one around. “It looks clear,” he said, unlocking the front door and beckoning her inside.

…

The first thing Tom did was draw the curtains and secure the front door. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“How long have you lived here?” Hannah glanced around the combined lounge/kitchen area. He knew she was wondering how he could live in this type of place. The apartment had come furnished, but sparsely so. There was an old sofa and matching armchair, a disintegrating rug, and a small wooden table in the kitchen for eating on. He wasn’t here for the décor.

“Three months,” he said, his mind shifting to the call he had to make to his commanding officer. He pulled open a Velcro pocket in his combat pants and withdrew his cell phone, quickly checking the battery. Good, there was enough juice.

She sat gingerly on the sofa. “Where were you before?”

He studied the screen. “In a military hospital in England, and before that, in Afghanistan.”

“In the hospital? Why, what happened to you?”

He paused, unsure why he’d told her that. It hadn’t been necessary. He looked into her eyes and said softly, “I took a bullet in the back during my last mission in Afghanistan.”

Two bullets—one in the shoulder and one in the back, narrowly missing his vital organs. He’d been pretty banged up. The doctors had done a fantastic job. He was lucky to be alive. Unlike the others.

Her gaze fell to his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Is that why they posted you to the embassy? So you could recover?”

That was one reason.

“It’s complicated,” he said, rotating his shoulder. The scar was still there, but there was no pain. He was as fit as he used to be, maybe fitter, with all the extra workouts he’d been putting in at the embassy gym to fill the hours. He was ready for active duty—had been for weeks.

“Let’s make that call. Where is the document?” He looked pointedly at her robes under which he knew she had a smallish bag. It was slung over her shoulder. He’d felt it when he’d carried her outside at the embassy.

She shifted uncomfortably. “There’s something I have to tell you about the document.”

He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What?”

Tell me you have that piece of paper…

Her words rushed out. “I’m sorry, but I sort of left the document back in the
souk
. I was trying to get away from the security police, when they spotted me. So I dashed into the market, thinking it would be a good place to hide. But they followed me in. So I bought this dress from an old lady and put the document down on the counter, to get to my purse. Then I put the dress on to disguise myself and ran off, leaving the document behind.”

She rubbed her forehead, agitated.

“You’re kidding?” He couldn’t believe his ears. No document, no leverage. She’d been lying to him this whole time. All the information she said she had was useless. “You lied to me.”

He should have known. He seemed to attract this type of woman. Look at Amrain… She’d lied, and he’d fallen for it. Fooled to the point that he’d led his entire team into an ambush…

He stood in front of her, fuming. “Was all of this just an elaborate plan to get me to help you?” He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. “Does the document actually exist, or did you make that up, too?”

Instead of remaining seated as he expected, she jumped to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed angrily. “Yes, the document exists. And for your information, I didn’t plan on losing it. It was my ticket out of here. I panicked, okay. I’m not used to being a fugitive. You may be able to think clearly under pressure, but I can’t. Especially not with the royal security force breathing down my neck.”

He felt himself drawn in by her fiery gaze. Unconsciously he took a step closer. “So now what am I supposed to do? The embassy is in smithereens and without the intel, I doubt you’re going to be able to bargain your way out. Not with me. There’s no way my CO will allow it. If you’re very lucky, he’ll tell you to take a taxi to the UN Air Force base.”

“You can call them anyway…”

He could feel the heat emanating off her body. “And say what? That you conned me?”

They gazed at each other, breathing hard, unable to break eye contact. He hesitated. The argument went from tense to something else entirely…and all he wanted to do was kiss those amazing lips of hers.

She didn’t move, either. As if reading his mind, her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her lips parted enticingly. He swallowed. He must be mad. He was considering taking her into his arms and ravishing her mouth, right here. Right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow flicker past the window. He moved to peer through the curtain while Hannah turned away. It was only a neighbor entering his apartment two doors down.

Tom rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t at all sure what had happened there. An awkward silence filled the room.
What to do next?
He couldn’t just leave her here. Someone would have to come and get her out—if it wasn’t to be him. The English authorities would have to be informed.