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CHAPTER 8
The first thing Tom did was close the curtains and lock the front door, just in case. He meant it when he said she’d be safe here. Nobody knew who he was, or where he lived. There were no records left at the embassy, and the State Security had no way of finding out who’d been posted there.
“How long have you lived here?” Hanna glanced around his small apartment. It was sparse, he knew that. But he had everything he needed. This worn old sofa, a mismatched armchair, and a wooden table that he ate off.
Functional, nothing more, but it was home. For now.
"Three months," he replied. "Since I arrived in Syman."
She studied him, curious. "Where were you stationed before this?"
He hesitated, the memories surfacing unbidden. Quashing them, he scowled, but he may as well get this out the way, so she’d stop asking questions.
"A military hospital in Virginia," he said. "Before that, Afghanistan."
A look of concern flashed across her face. "Hospital? Were you injured?"
It had been a long time since anyone gave a shit.
“Took a bullet during my last mission.” Actually, it was two bullets, and one had punctured his lung. He’d been pretty banged up for a while. The doctors had done a fantastic job, but he was lucky to be alive. Unlike the others.
“Is that why they posted you here?” she asked, tilting her head. “Because you were injured.”
“They assigned me here to recover.” Not strictly true. He’d been cleared for active duty. Syman was a punishment, a reprimand. The embassy posting was a reminder of what he’d done, that they didn’t want him around.
She nodded, believing him.
“It’s not exactly front-line action, but it's something,” he muttered.
When she didn’t respond, he cleared his throat. “You have that document?”
He’d felt the bag under her robe when he’d carried her over the glass at the embassy.
She shifted uncomfortably. "About that..."
His eyes narrowed as a bad feeling crept over him. "Tell me you have the letter."
Her words spilled in a rush. "Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry. I lost it in the souk. I was trying to escape the security forces, so I bought an abaya to disguise myself, and must have left the document on the stall counter."
He stared at her. “Youlostit?”
Was she fucking kidding, right now?
She bit her lip. This time he didn’t look down at her mouth, he was too goddamn angry.
She shifted in her seat. “I was worried that if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t save me."
It wasn’t up to him. He threw his hands in the air. “Now we have no leverage. They won't authorize me to assist you without that letter."
He paced up and down the room. With that letter went his one chance of getting out of here.
“You should have told me the truth.”
A whisper. “I couldn’t.”
He tightened his jaw. Now what?
“You could just say I’ve got it.”