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He nodded thoughtfully. Had Bjorn been aware of Rowena following him?

As a former military man, he’d have been a fool if he wasn’t.

Bjorn had never struck him as a fool. A man who operated in war zones and dealt with explosives couldn’t afford to drop his guard.

Had Bjorn told anyone about her? Or did he know who she was and not consider her a threat?

Had Kurt ever really known the other man?

He pushed thoughts of his murdered friend aside.

“It’s possible they might not know about you.”

“They?” She stared at him, a serious expression hardening those soft green eyes. She knew something was up.

He ignored the question. “My original intention was to head straight to Mutare and cross the border into Mozambique.”

It was still a viable option, but if someone reported that he hadn’t gotten on that flight or if they’d tracked his FBI cell or if they had seen Rowena running away from Anders’ office, they could run straight into an armed police roadblock at the border.

That was a lot of potential pitfalls and good reason to be careful.

Much more careful.

“I think we should head north into Nyanga. Stay close to the border or sleep in the car and hike into Mozambique tomorrow before dawn. Once we’re there we can activate the burner and call for someone from the embassy to come pick us up.

” He’d have to figure out who to call to make that happen covertly.

Probably Patrick Killion because the spook wouldn’t be using a phone that could be tracked by anyone except the NSA and possibly not even by them.

Perhaps the FBI’s communication was also safe, but he wasn’t willing to bet his life on it.

Nor Rowena’s. “We stay hidden as much as possible to avoid local authorities.”

“What happened?”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean when you came back from your shopping expedition in Marondera you had something on your mind and then”—her voice firmed—“after you looked at that photograph I found in Anders’ office, your demeanor completely changed. Has the danger grown somehow? What’s going on?”

He hesitated but she’d find out soon enough anyway. “When I was in the store, I saw a news item about a plane crash in Zimbabwe on the television.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “My uncle?”

“No.” Kurt shook his head. “It was the flight I was supposed to be on this morning.”

The blood visibly drained from her face as she stared at him, green eyes vivid against sheet-white skin. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you? The crash?”

Kurt gave a slight shake of his head. “Bjorn and I met up last night and he’s murdered this morning and the plane I’m supposed to be on falls out of the sky? The odds of that being a coincidence have to be like winning the lottery twice in a row.”

She covered her mouth. “Whoever did this is organized and connected and ruthless.” Her eyes shimmered. “People died?”

“Everyone on board according to the news report.” He cleared his throat as the faces of his fellow passengers flashed through his mind. “If you hadn’t called me when you did, I’d be dead right now. I owe you my life.”

A single tear ran down her cheek until she swiped it away. “I’m glad you didn’t die, but I hate that so many others did.”

His throat clogged. So did he . “When someone is willing to sacrifice that many innocents to get to one man, it tells me they’re worried I know something they can’t risk me telling anyone else in the Bureau. The only lead Bjorn gave me was a name. Dougie Cavanagh.”

She gasped.

“I recognize a young Nolan Gilder in that photograph and Zimbabwe’s UN ambassador. If they are involved in this, then they have far greater reach than I originally anticipated. My guess is whoever killed Bjorn and blew up that plane will do anything to stop the truth from coming out.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You think Nolan Gilder might be involved?”

He nodded. “There’s no proof, but it’s a potential factor we can’t afford to ignore, considering he controls half the communication satellites in the sky.”

“Oh crap—what about the license plates I sent to your colleague on your phone? Will that give away the fact you’re alive?”

“I don’t know, but I’m worried,” he admitted.

“Best case scenario, they assume I spotted them at Bjorn’s before I went to the airport, and they’ll put the timing of the message down to some sort of electronic glitch.

Or they simply don’t bother to check the data and assume I’m dead along with all the others.

And maybe I’m overestimating their abilities or being paranoid.

Perhaps they can’t track an FBI cell phone. ”

“But you think they can.”

“Plan for the worst. Hope for the best.”

“I think I feel sick.” She clutched her stomach.

“You need to stop?”

She shook her head. “I just want to get out of here.”

He touched her knee, trying to give her some reassurance. He ignored the feeling that felt like closing his hand around a glowing ember. It wasn’t anything like touching his daughter.

Rowena’s expression was anxious.

Best way to combat worry, in his experience, was to give someone a job to do.

“I want you to find me a route that avoids the major town centers and hopefully any police roadblocks. Nyanga is popular with tourists. We won’t look out of place if someone stops us up there.”

She was shivering, so he turned up the heater even though he was warm.

She looked at the map and then pointed out an upcoming road on the left.

“Take this turning, otherwise we’re going to end up in Rusape.

I’ve no idea what these roads are like. They’ll be dirt for sure. With all this rain, it’ll be a mess.”

He nodded curtly. The detour was going to slow them down considerably but better than driving headlong into danger .

“Your family and friends are going to think you died once they see the news about the crash.” Her voice was soft.

“I know.” The fact Daisy and his teammates would believe him dead until he could get to a safe place to contact them sucked. “Nothing I can do about it right now that won’t put us at risk.” And possibly change their fears into reality.

He didn’t say that. Rowena was already struggling to deal with all the things he’d told her.

She shuddered, probably remembering Bjorn’s bloody corpse. “Do you have a wife waiting for you back home?”

He shook his head at the question, which heightened his awareness about the fact Rowena was a beautiful woman. Why did she care? “She gave up on me long ago. I have a daughter about your age though. Twenty-three.”

She snorted. “I’m not twenty-three.”

She made it sound like he’d said Daisy was thirteen. “When you’re my age, you may as well be.”

She frowned at him. “How old are you exactly?”

“Forty-five.”

“Oh boy, you’re so ancient.” Her laugh was forced, and he knew she was trying to put their predicament out of her mind. “Shall I call you grandpa?”

“Funny.”

“You act like you’re?—”

“Your father? I could be.” He shot her a stern look.

“Really? Do you remember having sex with any English women in Southern Africa when you were seventeen or eighteen?”

“I joined the Army a few days after my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t come to Africa until I was twenty-two. And sleeping with an English woman is definitely something I’d remember.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened into a pretty “o.”

Jesus, he could feel himself blushing, but thankfully, she was looking at the map again .

“Well, in that case you’re definitely not my father, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

What the hell did that mean?

She crossed her arms. “So, Army and FBI. Did you do anything else in between?”

He shook his head. His whole life had been dedicated to service of one kind or another.

“Well, at least you’re experienced with this sort of thing.”

“I know it’s unnerving but try not to worry.”

“I’m not a child.” Her voice was sharp. “I don’t need to be humored.

I’m a grown woman. An intelligent, grown woman who’s very grateful for your help, but please don’t patronize me or attempt to placate me with platitudes.

I know we’re in serious trouble.” Her breath hitched.

“I might not be a soldier or law enforcement, but I am smart, and I am capable. I have skills, and I can help.”

Amusement hit him then, but he hid it. Oftentimes grit was as important as skill. “I apologize if I underestimated you. I haven’t even asked. What is it that you do?”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look. “You’re not allowed to laugh.”

“Promise.” He crossed his heart over his chest.

“Fine.” She raised her chin. “If you must know, I’m a librarian.”

She looked ready to defend herself and her profession to the death. He suppressed a grin and inclined his head in acknowledgment. Fuck if he didn’t find everything about Rowena Smith, librarian , as hot as hell.