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“You haven’t told him about me, have you?” Her gaze was almost pleading. He could see how frightened she was but trying bravely to hide it. His heart nearly broke. He longed to take her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right, but he’d be lying.
“Of course not.”
As good a friend as he was, Tom didn’t think Jamal would be as accommodating if he knew what secrets Hannah held. Just being here was insanely dangerous, but the alternative was worse.
“Why not? You’re obviously close.”
He straightened. “Because I wouldn’t do that to you. And because if that kind of information gets out now, it could sparksomething we can’t control.” He paused, weighing the cost. “Taking down Hakeem and Anwar will be a win, yes—but only if it’s done right. If we act recklessly, we create a power vacuum. And that’s when extremists step in.”
He’d seen it happen.
“We get the intel out, let the international forces act, then help local leaders stabilize the country. Jamal and his people have to be part of the solution. That’s the only way this holds together without more bloodshed.”
One more night, and he’d get her out. They could risk that. She needed to rest and recover. While he could have kept going, she desperately needed sleep. Even now, he could see deep purple shadows forming beneath her eyes, and lines of exhaustion marking her forehead.
“So they don’t know about the impending attack?”
He shook his head, guilt slamming into him. “He knows they’re mobilizing, just not when it’s going to kick off. If there’s time, I’ll tell him once we’re safely on a dhow away from here.”
“Do you think we’ll make it?” she whispered, hugging herself. Her vulnerability tore at him. It took all his willpower not to stride over to the mattress and take her in his arms and kiss away the tremor on those beautiful lips.
“It’ll be close, but yeah.” An attack might be just the diversion they needed to get out undetected, but he didn’t say that. She was scared enough.
She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced.
He sat down on the only wooden chair in the room and removed his shoes. He needed a shower, food, and some sleep, in that order. “Jamal says we’re safe here for the night.”
“Jamal is a rebel leader, isn’t he?” she asked, quietly.
He glanced up, wondering how much to say. She’d worked out most of it anyway. Hard not to, under the circumstances. “More of a faction leader. He’s a member of the oppositionparty, led by a man called Abu-al-Rashid. There are a few rebel factions, but these are the guys the allies would like to see in power once this war comes to an end.”
“This Abu-al-Rashid, is he one of the good guys?”
Tom tilted his head. “He’s better than most—and Jamal is a good contact to have. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.”
“How did you two meet?” she asked.
He’d known this question would come. “We served together,” he said, opting for the simple answer.
Her eyes widened. “He’s American?”
“Half. We trained him, and now he’s here fighting for freedom for his country.”
She stared at him, then nodded. “I can understand why he’d want to. I thought Prince Hakeem was a good leader. That he was making positive changes in Syman, but I was naïve. He’s a monster, just like Abdul Anwar.”
Tom didn’t comment.
“All those innocent people—” She stopped and shook her head.
“Don’t think about that now. The best way you can help them is to get some sleep, so we’re good to go tomorrow. The sooner we get off this island, the sooner we can put a stop to Hakeem’s rule.”
She gave a weary nod, but didn’t move.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, but when she tensed, he added, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
A little sigh, and she gnawed nervously on her lower lip. He suddenly found he wanted to do the same.
Shit. What was wrong with him?