Reaper’s feverish eyes practically glowed in the darkness. How could she have taken advantage of him like that? Let her stupid body take complete control of her common sense? He hadn’t wanted her—he’d been out of his mind with a fever, and she’d leaned into his kiss like he was Casanova sweeping her off her feet. Even now, her body tingled and ached from where he’d touched her. And despite where they were, despite his condition, she still wanted him to kiss her. Wanted him to touch her.

How could she be so stupid?

From the look of horror crossing Reaper’s features, he was just as disgusted with the whole situation.

And then he stumbled, and shuddered, and all of her self-loathing dissipated. “We have to find a doctor now.”

“No, just the supplies. You can cleanse the wound.” His voice was full of gravel.

Panic started working its way around her. “I’m not a doctor or nurse or anything like it. And you are going to die if you don’t get serious medical attention. Surely we can find someone willing to help.”

His grip tightened and he yanked her roughly to him, his face hovering inches from hers. “Too risky. It has to be you. There’s a clinic on the south end of the street. Get me there, I’ll steal the supplies and then find us a place to hole up.”

He swayed drunkenly and Caroline’s fear ratcheted up another notch. “You’re in no condition to break into anything. Doctors are under an oath to take care of all their patients. They can’t deny you care. It’s against the law.”

“Wake up, little girl, you’re not in the United States. No one here has any obligation to save our lives, and they certainly won’t want to as soon as they figure out who we are. The doctors are controlled by the militia, and if they turn us over to the Americans, they’ll be handsomely rewarded. You can’t let anyone know we’re here.” Reaper let go of her arm so abruptly she nearly stumbled. His black eyes narrowed on her face and she waited, wondering what he’d say next. He reached for her hijab and quickly unwound it from her head.

“Over half this country’s Muslim. Use this as a headscarf to cover your face and hair. Keep your head down. Don’t look at or speak to anyone and we might make it.”

Her hands trembling, she took the material from him and did as he instructed, wrapping the scarf over her head in and around her face. “What about you?”

The long black robe covered his shoulders but stopped above his ankles, his height well above that of an average man.

He needed something more to camouflage his face and head, because there was no way he could be misconstrued as a local from any distance.

“I’ll get something from there.” Reaper took a step in the direction of the bodies, but Caroline jumped in front of him with a wild cry.

“No, there was another scarf hanging on the clothes line. If we start now, I can easily grab it.”

“It’s too risky. Just grab one from the pile.”

“That’s not a pile. It’s a graveyard, and we’ve already desecrated it enough.” She pressed her hands against his abdomen, keeping her stance just as firm as her voice.

“Stop thinking with your emotions,” Reaper said.

“I’m thinking like a human being. You need my help just as much as I need yours. I’m going back out to the clothes line.” And before he could stop her, she darted around him and through the window in the back.

Even though every instinct inside her screamed for her to run down the alley toward the clothes, she kept her head lowered and walked slowly toward her destination. Once there, she carefully pulled another scarf free before circling back and returning to the window. Reaper stood right where she’d left him, face pale and gaze stark.

He looked ready to pass out again. Was he still standing? “Here, let me help you.”

She held the black worn linen out in front of her, silently waiting on Reaper to lean down so she could drape the material over his head. She didn’t want him using that shoulder any more than was absolutely necessary.

With his gaze locked on hers, he crouched and she lifted her arms, gently draping and unwinding the material over his head. “It’s not perfect, but I think you can pass in the dark as long as no one gets a good look at you.”

Reaper gestured her over to the front door, the same one the soldier had burst through hours before. As soon as he grabbed the handle, she grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? We need to go out the back.”

Sweat had gathered and soaked the line of linen covering his nose and cheeks. She could practically feel his strength draining. “Come on, let me help.”

She couldn’t carry him, but she could bear some of his weight and act as a sort of crutch.

“If we’re spotted walking alone out back, we’ll be arrested. We have to try to blend in. Just do what I said and keep your head down.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all. We go out back and no one will see us. Go out there,” she hooked her thumb in the direction of the front door, “everyone sees us. It’s suicide.”

Reaper blew out a sigh, causing the material covering the bottom half of his face to billow out in front of him. “Who got you out of the compound?”

“You did.”

“Who got you out of the jungle?” he continued.

“You did,” she said quietly.

“At what point have I ever done anything that wasn’t with the intention of getting you out of here alive?”

“Never, but you’re not thinking clearly. As soon as we leave this place, we’ll be surrounded by the soldiers.”

Reaper placed his good hand on her shoulder, and try as she might, she couldn’t deny the comfort it offered.

“I’ve done this hundreds of times. Keep your head down, stay calm and don’t speak to anyone. Do that, and we’ll make it. What will stand out is if we slink around the back and a guard finds us. Trust me.”

Trust wasn’t even a question. She’d willingly put her life in his hands back in the lab and he’d done nothing but save it. But what he was asking now seemed like absolute insanity. How could walking into the middle of the crowd possibly be safer?

And how could Reaper be so sure that his plan would work? She could see the stark pain tugging at the corners of his eyes just like she could see the sweat soaking his clothing.

But she could also see the unwavering determination in his gaze. It was apparent that he fully believed what he was saying to her. That he had, in fact, experienced something like this before.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

With a nod, Reaper reached for the door again but just as quickly Caroline stopped him. “Wait, your gun is poking out.” Without waiting for his permission, she reached for the rifle he had slung over his good shoulder. The tip was poking out through the front part of his robe. She stepped in close and adjusted the strap so that the rifle hung straight up and down rather than at a haphazard angle. She took a deep breath, his masculine scent filled her senses, causing her to linger a moment longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “You’re to be at my side the whole time. Like I said, don’t make eye contact, don’t even lift your head if possible. I know the way. You have to blend in.”

Caroline couldn’t help but mutter, “By acting like a doormat.”

“Exactly. The women around here are valued right below the goats.” Reaper pulled open the door and they stepped into a whirlwind of activity.

People laughed, danced, and shifted around them so quickly one face blurred into another. It was a festival of some sort. Drums pounded and there was a lady on the side of the road. The noise closed in on her, filling her mind until she thought it would burst. The cacophony of sounds jumbled together into a loud, jangling roar, interspersed with shrieks of laughter and the occasional gunshot as a militant showed off his prowess by firing his automatic rifle into the air over the crowd of civilians.

No one else seemed to think this was odd, not even the barely dressed starving children winding their way through the adults. This was everyday life. Gunshots were as common as oatmeal had been in Caroline’s old life.

And apparently so were buildings full of bodies.

Someone stumbled into her, causing her to bump against Reaper. He took the force of the blow, grunting, and wound his arm around her shoulders to hold her up. It took all of Caroline’s energy to stay focused with her eyes trained on the ground. The level of noise around her was like a thousand acid-dipped ice picks to her brain and the intermittent bursts of gunfire made her jump every time. Reaper’s pace was confident and steady as he led the way through the crowd.

“Doing good, Princess, just a couple more blocks.”

This time she couldn’t help but glance up at him, just a quick peek. Reaper’s chin tilted down and his black eyes focused straight ahead. Whether he realized it or not, he moved like a predator, and the people nearest them automatically stepped out of his way.

This man couldn’t be an average citizen of any country. It was like he’d been snatched out of another world altogether, one filled with warriors. And somehow she’d gotten lucky enough to have him as her own personal savior. Gratitude welled up inside her. She shifted her gaze back to the ground and snaked her arm tighter around his waist as they continued to move down the crowded street together as one.

His rock-hard abdomen rippled beneath her fingers, not a single ounce of fat anywhere that she could feel or see. His lethal grace was unquestionable.

And Lord help her, she wanted to wrap both her arms around him and bury herself against his body. Even in this danger-filled war zone, with men actively hunting them, her breasts ached and her stomach felt heavy and warm. She was aware of every single inch of their skin that touched. She couldn’t shake this attraction, even though she knew it was probably the least appropriate thing to be thinking or feeling at this moment. It was impossible to lie to herself. She wanted him whether he wanted her or not.

His arm tightened around her fractionally and it took all her strength not to turn and press her cheek to his chest. She should be feeling fear, but instead her body was swamped with desire.

Reaper’s harsh breathing pierced her senses and her desire swerved into concern. “How much farther?” she whispered.

“Up ahead on the left. We’ll go past the front entrance and down the alley. Find the side entrance.”

“Okay.” She followed his lead and somehow they wound their way through the crowd without raising an alarm. Then they were in the trash-littered alleyway with barely enough room for them to walk side by side out of the crushing weight of the crowd. Caroline drew in what felt like the first deep breath she’d taken since leaving the building.

“I can’t believe we did that,” she said, speaking in an undertone.

“People tend not to overthink what their eyes see. We looked like a Muslim husband and wife walking down the street, so that’s what people thought we were.”

There was a narrow resting door toward the back corner of the hospital. “Caroline, I want you to do exactly as you did out in the street. Nothing has changed.”

Reaper released her long enough to reach the door and open it. Sounds from the street were replaced by the sharp scents of antiseptic and body odor. They were in a small empty dimly lit room lined with somewhat clean cabinets that were piled with stainless steel trays and medical instruments. Directly in front of them was another door, this one white. “You ready?”

“Yes,” she said.