Despite the voices, the danger, she almost wished they could do more than kiss. She couldn’t even explain the feelings to herself. A desire for the ultimate human contact. A contact that signified life and survival. A feeling similar to desperation and not wanting to die alone. For just a second, she wanted to think of anything but what might happen in the next few minutes. Forget the whole world for a moment. Forget everything else outside of their little hiding spot.

Sophia wasn’t surprised when it was he who remembered past their embrace, Declan who couldn’t forget about the two approaching men. He stiffened. She felt him inhale, then hold his breath. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but now Declan’s body told her everything. She could feel his muscles and his limbs, tensing up around her. It was a different kind of excitement, one that wasn’t as much fun as that momentary kiss.

Despite the fact that she might not be alive long enough to understand it, Sophia felt something. Something strong for this man who knew nothing about her, yet was now risking his life to keep her concealed and safe. Risking his life to get her home to her family.

A surge of emotion swept through her. Appreciation, for him. Humbling, for herself. Was she worth his life? Could any person’s life be worth that of another? Could he save her, let alone himself? That outcome seemed a little less likely now, with the growing number of voices. They overlapped and increased in urgency. She understood Middle Eastern art, but not the languages. Certainly not the words used for finding two Americans in a ditch. Finding them and maybe killing them. After her escape, she was almost certain that would be the result.

It would be the result if they stayed there, staying still, no matter Declan’s best intentions and efforts to hide her.

She mouthed his name against his lips, frozen and still as he. He mouthed back.

“I know.”

What did he know? That she was desperate to get the fuck out of there? And why wasn’t he already moving? She knew why. Their pursuers were too close. Any slight move: the crunch of a pebble beneath their feet, a slip of dirt, the snap of a twig or the brush against a rock. Then, when she feared their hiding place would be discovered any second, the voices moved off, the men muttering softly among themselves.

She assumed he knew other, more useful things. Military stuff. He knew training, and escape. Military tactics that would keep them alive.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Declan whispered. He urged her to move forward with him, crab-crawling near the base of the embankment.

So, they both knew, then . . . She was relieved to finally be on the right side of logic, to finally be on the move away from the voices. It was a relief, hearing the sound of the search party grow quieter as she and Declan scurried away. They’d almost heard nothing at all.

But she didn’t have to listen for it.

She could see it.

She glanced over her shoulder. Her heart thumped once in a surge of absolute fear. Through the faint light of the moon, Sophia spotted two men standing around only a short distance away; standing way too casually. It was the best they could do, surprised as they were to spot two Americans almost walking right into them. Rifles not even having a chance to be drawn.

A chance for her and Declan, her American soldier already lurching up out of their crouched crawl and charging at the two men, ready to take them both on. Terrible odds, but better than surrendering. She followed his lead, thrashing her arms around, clawing and scratching into one of them. But the man she attacked was too strong. Finally, thrown down into a cloud of dust, the breath gushing from her lungs with a loud grunt, all she had left was one lucky kick into the groin of the man above her, the man holding a rifle on her. Her lower shin connected perfectly with his balls, the man doubling over. She felt damned lucky he didn’t pull the trigger of his rifle. He grunted and doubled over. Her eyes widened with recognition as her stomach tightened to a sickening knot. Sajad. The creepy son of the art dealer. She scrambled to her feet, turned to help Declan, but too late.

A pair of arms wrapped around her back, squeezing from behind, holding her in place as Sajad coughed and dry heaved the pain away. She struggled against her new attacker but the hold was too firm, his hands too strong. Her only hope would be Declan, who now had three men on him, grabbing at his limbs holding him in place screaming loudly in their strange language.

Sajad came back into view after the dry heaving.

“I’ll get you back for that,” he said. “I won’t forget your kindness.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

“I’ll get you back for everything tonight, and for the nights before.”

Declan struggled with the men fighting with him, until one of them hit him over the back of the head with the butt of a rifle. Then did it again and again until he stopped moving completely.