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Embarrassment, maybe. Or awareness.
“I don’t usually look like this,” she said, a little defensively. “I ran here from the royal compound.”
He handed her the glass.
“The royal compound?” Had he heard her right? He arched a brow. “You work for Prince Hakeem?”
“I’m—or rather, I was—his personal assistant.” She drained the water in one go. “Hannah Evans.” She held out a hand.
He shook it. It felt warm and soft, and very small in his rough palm.
“Tom Wilde.”
A quick smile, as if it had slipped past her defenses before she could stop it. Dimples appeared, and those brown oval eyes seemed to soften to amber, framed by a striking copper ring that made them hard to look away from.
It caught him off guard.
“Good to meet you, Tom.”
There was a pause, as he frowned, and gathered his thoughts. “Is that why the military police were after you? You ran?”
“Escaped,” she corrected, steel in her tone now. “They would’ve killed me if you hadn’t stepped in.”
She had that right. That guy meant business.
He grabbed another wooden chair, spun it around, and straddled it backward. Her gaze moved to his thighs, before flicking back to his face.
He probably owed her an explanation. “Sorry I couldn’t let you in through the front gate. I’m under strict orders.”
“I understand,” she said. “Although I was pretty pissed at the time.”
He grunted. That was understandable.
“The State Security force will be looking for their operative and when they figure out what’s happened and where you’ve disappeared to, they’ll come here.”
This place was the only logical safe zone.
“How do you know they were palace police?” she asked, her delicate brows rising.
“I could tell that guy had superior training.”
It was the only thing that made sense. It explained the Makarov, the close-quarters technique, the way they moved. These weren’t beat cops patrolling a market. They were professionals—well-trained, ruthless, and loyal. He had seen their kind before. And he knew exactly what they were capable of.
She nodded, but her gaze flickered over him again, deeper this time. More quizzical. “If the embassy’s abandoned, what are you still doing here?”
“Someone had to stay behind.” He hated the bitterness that crept into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “I was the lucky one.”
Now she was blatantly sizing him up. He could tell she was about to ask a question, and he wasn’t comfortable answering that one. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Before she could speak, he interjected, “Mind if I ask you something, Miss Evans?”
Distracted, she smiled. “Please, call me Hannah. And yeah, go ahead.”
“At the gate, you mentioned treason?”
“Ah, that.”
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, skin glistening. “Did I sound like a raving lunatic?”