Page 17

Thank God Ian had stopped creeping around in the bush for a second. Breathing heavily, Piper tried to have a heart attack quietly, but feared she was failing.

Why had the PHP guys Ian had spotted—for surely he’d seen the same two men she’d already spotted behind them—set the house on fire? And furthermore, why had they stuck around to shoot at her and Ian? Had they gotten orders to make sure nobody put out the fire?

If so, who gave the order? And why would the Americans follow orders from anyone associated with that nightmare lab in the basement?

For all the PHP guys knew, she and Ian had been innocent passersby who’d only gone into the burning house to make sure no one was trapped inside.

Right. Because anyone innocent would happen to be strolling past a hidden lab in the middle of freaking nowhere. If one of the most dangerous countries on earth could properly be classed ‘nowhere.’

She could not wait to get her thumb drive and those dead mice back to a lab and figure out what had been going on in that secret lab.

Memory of bloodshot, dead eyes staring accusingly at her, nearly made her wretch.

Fatima said El Noor was shipping girls with hemorrhagic fevers south.

To die horribly and end up in body bags? Why?

The lab equipment in the basement gave credence to the idea that someone was researching hemorrhagic diseases. To what end? And why would the Patrick Henry Patriots give a damn?

The only possible answers she could think of frankly made her stomach want to heave.

She flashed a hand signal at Ian asking if they could talk aloud.

He shook his head in the negative. Paranoid, much? Not that she was in any position to cast stones at him for that just now. He’d saved her life for crying out loud.

She wouldn’t have had any idea the house was on fire until the ceiling fell in. And knowing her luck, she would’ve been elbow deep in those body bags when the roof caved in on them. An involuntary shudder rippled through her. Sheesh. That had been way too close a call.

Something slithered away into the weeds no more than three feet from her nose and she lurched hard against Ian. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She was never, ever, crawling around on her belly in the African bush again. She’d seen more gigantic, creepy bugs—and snakes—and lizards—nose-to-nose today than she ever cared to, again. Knowing Africa, most of them were wickedly venomous, too.

Her throat was parched and the back of her neck must look like boiled lobster. She stifled a cough against the inside of her elbow for the hundredth time—she was still hocking up phlegm after inhaling all that smoke.

The bottoms of Ian’s boots disappeared around yet another clump of the local sawgrass that had already sliced her cheeks a half-dozen times this afternoon. She followed grimly, hesitating to imagine how it was possible to be any more miserable than this, lest she jinx herself into finding out.

Ian rose to a crouch in front of her and a sharp knife of hope stabbed through her. Please God, let this be the end of their ankle-high safari. He scanned in a 360-circle around them through his infrared goggles and gestured her to stand up beside him.

Praise the Lord and pass the potatoes .

He put his mouth on her ear to whisper, “My Jeep’s just ahead. I think our shooters have left the area.”

Grateful nearly to tears, she followed him behind a big clump of scrub and climbed into the passenger seat of his Jeep.

She had no idea where her motorcycle was at this point.

She wished it and whoever found it godspeed.

Ian started the engine, but more importantly, he turned the air conditioner on full blast.

She groaned in pleasure as marginally cool air blew in her face. A little civilization went a long way after a day like today. She might run around here trying to act like one of the boys, but she liked her creature comforts as much as the next girl. He eased the vehicle forward very slowly.

“You think they may still be out there?” she asked.

“Not likely. I’m just trying not to lay down a big trail of dust and announce our presence to everyone within a mile of our position. Even if your guys have left, that doesn’t mean this area is by any means safe for us.”

“They’re not my guys,” she snapped a little peevishly.

“They’re your targets, right?” he asked evenly.

Too evenly. She might not know him all that well, but she knew him well enough to know that he was not a happy man at the moment. What wasn’t he telling her about the dangers out here?

“What’s wrong, Ian?”

“Care to explain why your guys hooked up with my target all of a sudden and burned down his lab for him when he was done with it?”

“The logical assumption is that they work together,” she replied reluctantly. Please, God, let that not be true .

Silence fell between them as Ian steered the Jeep onto a paved road and picked up speed.

And it wasn’t one of those contemplating the countryside together in companionable quiet silences.

This one simmered and stewed, twisting angrily throughout the vehicle, wrapping itself around Ian and lashing out at her every minute or two.

What was his trauma? She’d already asked him once what was wrong. She would be damned if she asked him again.

After maybe a half-hour of driving northward, he spoke, this voice vibrating with tightly controlled anger.

“The first two times your investigation put you across my path, I thought it was chance that our respective investigations brought us together. K-Town’s not that big a place at the end of the day.

But now I’m starting to think you and I may be investigating the same problem. ”

“I’m following a group of American, back-to-pre-industrial-revolution separatists. How do they have anything to do with a Palestinian scientist/terrorist?”

“Answer that, and we may figure out what both of our targets are up to.”

Reluctantly, she had to agree with him. Three times, now, tracking her targets had led her straight to Ian. Either he and she were following the same terrorist trail, or the gods of fate were playing a grand joke on the two of them. And she didn’t happen to believe in fate.

“Any brilliant ideas about how we should proceed?” she asked, leaning her head back against the headrest and closing her eyes.

“That’s a hell of a question, given that I had to let my target go so I could run into that house and save your neck. Again.” He thumped both hands on the steering wheel in frustration. “I had him, dammit. I had visual on the bastard. I’ve been tracking him for months !”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that. She was grateful—beyond grateful—that he’d come into the house to let her know it was on fire. She had lost situational awareness and likely would not have realized what was happening in time to save herself.

And then, when she’d gone back up to the kitchen and that smoke had been so thick and black, she couldn’t have seen her hand even if was touching the end of her nose. She’d had no idea she would be completely, totally blind.

It had been one of the scariest moments of her life as flames and heat and embers swirled around her and she had no idea which way was out.

Thank God Ian had been there. She didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t grabbed her hand and led her to safety.

He spoke heavily. “We need to get your samples to a lab and that thumb drive to a tech expert. Let’s sincerely hope they give us a lead on how to pick up the trail of my Palestinian again. If not, I’m screwed.”

“What do you mean?” she asked in quick alarm.

He glanced over at her sourly. “I disengaged my pursuit of an international terrorist to go into that house and save you. I’ll be thrown out of the Navy on my ass, if I’m lucky, for this.”

“If you’re not lucky?”

He shrugged. “Court-martial. Jail time. Dishonorable discharge.”

“Because you saved my life?” she squeaked.

“I was specifically tasked with finding and stopping a dangerous terrorist. I chose to ignore that imperative. I disobeyed orders.”

“I’m sure the government won’t take that extreme a view of the situation?—“

“I’m not a civilian. I’m a military officer. Duty, honor, country, and the whole nine yards. I was derelict in my duty. Period.”

She subsided against her seat. Well, rats. That sucked. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered in a small voice.

“My decision. My problem.”

His stoic attitude made her frown. “You don’t have to suffer the consequences entirely alone, you know. I’m here for you.”

“What? You’ll send me brownies in jail?” he snapped. “I didn’t take you for the sort who bakes.”

She didn’t try to talk with him anymore.

Chances were the data she’d collected would be extremely valuable in understanding what exactly had been going on in that lab.

She’d managed to copy what looked like the lab notes for the past few months.

And to have snagged actual tissue samples, in the form of those dead mice, was a major coup.

But she didn’t bother trying to explain all of that to Mr. Grumpy Pants.

Ian seemed determined to anticipate the worst. Far be it from her to correct his negativity. If he wanted to heap all the responsibility on his own shoulders, so be it. Except even as she thought that, an urge to help him, to protect him from harm, startled her.

Once they crossed the border, they would be marginally safer. Marginally being the operative word.

The road passed out of the bush and onto wide-open savannah that stretched away to the edge of forever.

The sky was a gigantic dome overhead, stained with oranges, roses, and lavenders as the sun slid beyond the far horizon.

This continent was so grand, it rather overwhelmed a person, sometimes.

This was one of those moments when it awed her.