Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite) (7 page)

Chapter Six

This was a disaster. Hannah blinked back tears of frustration as the plane accelerated down the runway, gathering speed as it went. Its mighty engines roared as the nose lifted and the jet took off, soaring higher and higher into the pale blue sky.

“I should be on that plane,” she whispered, then turned to Tom. “Why did the UN leave?”

“They must have suspended activities due to the intensification of armed violence in the country,” he said.

“I thought that’s what they were supposed to be here for.” None of this made any sense.

“No, they’re only here to monitor the situation. They’re not an army unit. They only fight if it’s self-defense.”

“So when it gets too bad, they leave? How is that keeping the peace?” She was bitterly disappointed. Now she was stuck in this godforsaken place with nowhere to run.

“They must have left last night,” he surmised, looking around the base with his trained eye. “There’s no evidence of a hostile takeover, and that plane that just took off was a Symanian transport army aircraft.”

She gave him a blank look. Like she cared what type of plane it was. “So we’re too late. One day earlier, and we would have made it.”

“It looks that way.”

She hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe it. It seems so unfair. And after we’ve come all this way.”

He was silent, but then what did she expect him to say? The SAS soldier had tried his best. Unfortunately, his best hadn’t been good enough. The Air Force base belonged to the Symanian Army now. And they were stuck. She sighed, feeling the weight of her predicament pressing down on her. “So what do we do now?”

“First we have to find shelter,” he told her, matter-of-factly. “There’s a sandstorm coming, and we don’t want to be caught out in the open. After that, we can think about Plan B.”

The sandstorm. How could she forget? The wind had increased, causing the
abaya
she wore to buffet around her legs. Worried, she scanned the horizon but saw nothing that resembled an approaching sandstorm. The newspaper article had said three o’clock. “How much time have we got?”

He glanced at his watch. “Under an hour.”

He led her back into the entrance of the outbuilding, where he took off his backpack and pulled a weathered map out of the front pouch. He knelt down and spread it open on the concrete floor.

“This is where we are,” he said, pointing to a small dot a thumb’s width southeast of Syman City. “There appear to be some ancient ruins a mile and a half east of us. If we can get there before the sandstorm hits, we should be able to wait it out.”

She looked at the outbuildings. It was a pity they couldn’t stay here. As if reading her mind, he said, “They’ll come looking for these men when they don’t report back from their patrol. A sandstorm won’t stop them. We have to move now.”

“Okay.” She had never felt so terrified in her life. Even when her father had disowned her for refusing to join the family firm, it hadn’t seemed this bad. At least then she’d still had options.

Her voice must have betrayed her despair, because he took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Hannah, look at me.” She raised her head to stare into his blue eyes, usually sparkling with vigor, now filled with concern. “You must stay strong. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got a plan, but first we must get to those ruins.”

“What plan? Our only way out of here has gone.” She waved her hand weakly at the base. “Taken over by militants. There isn’t any other way off the island.”

“You’re going to have to trust me. This is what I do. I’m trained to get people out of hostile territories. I’ve done the same in Iraq and Afghanistan. Syman is no different.”

She supposed that was true. If anyone could get her out, it was an SAS soldier. Wearily, she got to her feet.

“Atta girl,” he said, with a thin smile. He shrugged into his backpack and together they set off in an easterly direction, leaving the Air Force base shimmering in the sun behind them.

There was no time to talk on the way to the ruins. Tom, obviously worried about the sandstorm, set a fast pace, which meant she had to put all her energy into keeping up. She was too exhausted to make conversation.

They made it to the ruins in a little over forty-five minutes. “Just enough time to make a shelter,” he said as he took off his backpack and scouted the area for an appropriate spot. “Next to that wall is best,” he said, inspecting a low, crumbling wall that must have once surrounded the ancient village. Although old, it still offered more protection than any of the other dilapidated pillars or stone blocks scattered around.

She removed her headscarf, which she’d been using to protect her head from the sun, and shook out her hair. The wind lifted it off her neck and flicked it around her face. The sky looked threatening, like there was going to be a thunderstorm. In the distance, she could see a low orange cloud approaching.

“Is that it?” she asked, staring at it.

He didn’t even turn around. “Yes, that’s it. It might look like a cloud, but it’s actually a wall of sand, right on schedule. We’ve got about fifteen minutes.”

He set about lifting and carrying rocks to position against the wall. She watched the approaching dust cloud for a few seconds, as it gained ground at an alarming rate, but then shook herself back to the present, knowing that two hands were better than one. Together they piled the rocks on top of each other until they had a three-sided, waist-high structure that would offer basic protection.

Once they’d stored their belongings behind it, she stared with morbid fascination as the sandstorm came closer and closer. It was a scene from a horror movie. Within minutes the monstrous, billowing cloud of dust had travelled across the desert and was nearly upon them. The all-consuming haze roared with a sound all of its own as millions of sand particles smashed into each other and swirled around in the gale-force wind.

“Tom, I’m scared,” she whispered, edging closer to him.

He gestured for her to sit down against the wall. “It’ll be okay. This isn’t a biggie. It’ll be over in an hour or two.”

She remained standing, unable to tear her gaze away from the approaching dust cloud. It looked enormous. “Are you sure? What about you?”

“I’ll be right here next to you.” He took off his shirt and untied his bandana. “I’ll use these, and the backpack, to cover our heads, in case of flying debris. Give me your scarf, we need all the covering we can get.”

She sat down. “Oh God.” She didn’t want to die here in the middle of the Symanian desert.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, lying down and pulling her beside him. The roar of the storm was more frightening than deafening. She could feel the sand stinging her ankles as it started to engulf them. It was here. She glanced at Tom, looking for reassurance. He gave her a small smile. “I’ve got you.”

Tom pulled the scarves and his shirt over their heads, making sure they were tucked in firmly. With one hand, he pulled the backpack on top of them, too. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

She lay still, taking deep breaths of air into her lungs in anticipation of what was to come.

“Breathe normally,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

It grew dark and ominous as the dust cloud enveloped them. The wind howled, careening around their rocky hideout as if trying to push its way in. She wriggled closer to Tom.

He squeezed her more tightly to him. “It’ll be okay. We just have to wait it out, that’s all.” She buried her neck in his shoulder, craving warmth and comfort. The wind buffeted the scarf over their faces, threatening to pull it off at any moment. She could feel his chest against her breasts and his hips digging into hers. He was protecting her body with his.

Panic rose within her, threatening to take over. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, but with the dust ricocheting all around them, it was near to impossible. “I can’t breathe,” she whispered, beginning to shake with fear.

“Calm down,” he urged. “There’s not much dust in here. It’s important not to panic.”

She heard him and knew he was right, but she could barely control her fear. It felt like she was in the middle of a tornado. She was just about to lose it completely when she felt his lips touch hers.

She froze. Was that an accident? Their faces were so close together, it might have been. Then he kissed her again, softly, but insistently, first on her lower lip and then on her top one. It felt good, really good. She tentatively began to kiss him back, still unsure as to his intention. It was so unlike him to make personal contact of any kind, let alone kiss her, that she was momentarily confused.

Then she got it. He was trying to distract her. He wanted to prevent her from panicking. It was a sweet gesture, and she ought to put an end to it, but to be honest, it was helping to divert her attention away from the cacophony above them. In the back of her mind, however, she was aware that this man wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, if it came down to it. He was a man she couldn’t afford to trust, not with her head, and certainly not with her heart. Yet sandwiched together, with the scarf pulled tightly around their heads, it was remarkably easy to ignore that point. With his breath on her lips and his long eyelashes flickering against her cheek, it was virtually impossible not to be distracted by him.

Spurred on by her response, he applied more pressure, nudging her lips apart. A shiver of anticipation shot through her body, and it had nothing to do with the dust storm surrounding them.

Her lips opened willingly, and his tongue delved into her mouth. She drew him in, sucking gently, and then explored his mouth with her tongue. It was hot, and incredibly erotic. For the first time since the storm had begun, she forgot about where she was and what was happening around them. All her senses were preoccupied with the man beside her.

He shifted his position so that he was half leaning on top of her. The backpack fell off their heads. She didn’t care, she welcomed his weight. His chest pressed into her breasts, while a hard thigh nestled between her legs. A need she didn’t know she possessed surged through her. It was a need born out of desire, and fear, and gratitude. She’d been through so much in the last two days, and Tom had been there for her. He’d saved her life and protected her. He’d held her hand when she needed it, and here he was, protecting her again, this time against the elements. If that wasn’t enough, she’d been attracted to him from the start and now that he was kissing her, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop.

…

Up until this point, Tom had been in complete control. He had needed to distract her from panicking and ripping the scarf off, exposing them both to the whirling dust cloud. Given their close confinement, kissing her had seemed the only option.

Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d never expected her to taste so sweet, or her lips to be so soft. The more he kissed her, the harder it was to pull away. With a shock, he realized he didn’t want to.

She was so responsive, so sensual. He couldn’t get enough of her. Instead of calming things down and backing off, he kissed her harder, more intensely, until her breath was coming in short gasps. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but it was what he wanted to do. Heat flooded his body, causing him to lose sight of the logic of what he was doing. His body refused to listen to his inner critic yelling at him to stop. All he could do was feel.

A sharp pebble, whipped up by the whirling wind, hit his cheek. It pulled him back to reality. Slowly, as if in a trance, he pulled away from Hannah. He couldn’t move far given their current situation. The wind was still buffeting around them so there was no chance of putting any distance between them.

He could feel her chest rising and falling as she tried to regain her breath. He slid off her to the side, so he wouldn’t lose control again, and focused on getting his breathing under control. It was still dark and the sand whipped against his bare arm, but he relished the stinging sensation. It took his mind off her.

That means drastic measures, Sergeant. If we can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else having her, either.

The words of his commanding officer haunted him as he lay with Hannah in his arms. She had information that could end the conflict in Syman quickly and save thousands of lives—and if Tom couldn’t get her and that intel to Western forces, his orders were to eliminate the woman he’d just
kissed
so she didn’t fall into the wrong hands. He couldn’t afford to get so close. He couldn’t afford to have her cloud his judgment—like Amrain had. If push came to shove, he had to make the right decision. The one that would save a country.

Damn the CO and his orders to hell.

They lay in silence for a short while, his arm still over her shoulders while hers was resting on his waist. He needed space to think and to process what had happened, but moving away would put them both at risk, so he stayed put.

Finally, as the wind howled over their heads, she said, “Tom, why did you kiss me?”

Because I’ve wanted to ever since we first met.

Instead he said, “I didn’t know what else to do. You were about to panic and expose us both.”

A slight hesitation, then she said, “I understand. I thought as much, but then…” Her voice faded out.

He’d felt it, too—the passion, the desire, yet admitting it would be unthinkable. That would lead to consequences and explanations. Both of which he didn’t need right now. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t let his attraction to her interfere with that. He’d already overstepped the boundary.

“Are you okay?” he asked, diverting the discussion.

“Yes, you certainly managed to distract me.” She gave a small, embarrassed laugh.

He cringed. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. That was unprofessional.”

“It was nice,” she whispered, ducking her head and snuggling a bit closer.

It was. There was no doubt about that. In fact, so nice that part of him wanted to do it again, but now that he was fully in control of his senses, that was never going to happen.

“I know, but it was dangerous. I can’t afford to let my guard down.”