Bash was, both by nature and training, suspicious of anything a stranger told him, yet he knew Sean was telling the truth. It was a bizarre set of circumstances, but not the strangest he’d ever come across in his years of working for Fortress. And while Bash was well aware he had a weak spot for anyone in need of help, he found Sean appealing for reasons beyond the fact he needed rescuing, or even his incredible good looks.
In his line of work, Bash rarely met anyone outside his own cadre who could maintain their principles in the face of adversity. Everyone had a breaking point, but he’d seen far too many people for whom expediency was a way of life. He admired Sean for having held out during four months of captivity, refusing to play the game by his grandfather’s rules. How many men would rather take care of sick children than be a prince? Plenty of gay men had fathered children with women, and no doubt there were also many who would have rather existed in a loveless marriage with a partner they didn’t desire than faced months of imprisonment and possible death. Sean had courage, and that was something Bash couldn’t help but find attractive. It was more appealing to him than even Sean’s good looks or sexy voice.
Yet Bash knew there was danger in taking Sean with him. Sean wasn’t trained in stealth or combat, and he’d slow Bash down. While Faisal might not care too much about recapturing an escaped nobody, he would probably come after his grandson with every resource at his disposal. Given what Bash had learned about the king and the lengths he’d gone to in order to lure Sean back to Akkadia, no doubt the old man would go to even greater ones to keep Sean under his control.
Even realizing the drawbacks, however, Bash knew he couldn’t leave Sean behind. Faisal might take retribution on Sean for Bash’s escape, but there was an even greater chance he’d move Sean to an even more secure place, making escape or even rescue nearly impossible. Sean had been right about the likely reaction of the Brits, too; they might protest one of their citizens being held, but there was almost nothing they could do to get Sean back if Faisal was determined to keep him short of risking an international incident. Given Akkadia’s wealth of oil, its ancient cultural heritage, and their moderating influence in the area, Bash was sure the Brits wouldn’t be willing to jeopardize all that for the sake of one man who could be painted as a delinquent running away from the responsibilities of his birth.
So Bash’s planned escape had turned into something closer to an exfiltration, but without equipment, transportation, weapons, maps, or intel. Or, he noted with a self-deprecating snort, anything as basic as pants.
Yet as Nick often pointed out, nobody joined Fortress because the jobs were easy.
Bash tied off the end of his torn-sheet rope, then coiled it up and secreted it beneath the mattress. It had been long enough since the taste-test for him to feel the effects of any drugs in the food had they been present. Since everything seemed fine, he ate the sandwich and finished the water. The food made him feel better, and he reviewed his plan, such as it was, trying to figure out if there was anything else he could do to improve their chances.
Sean returned from his meal, and once the guard had locked him into his cell and departed, he moved to the bars.
“I have a count,” he said, picking up the pad of paper and pen. Bash approached the bars, watching as Sean drew a hasty map and marked Xs at various points. Sean offered him the drawing. “There, that’s what I saw.”
Bash frowned down at the drawing, then pointed to an area where Sean had drawn in windows, but no people. “I wonder why there aren’t any guards in this area. Are these windows barred?”
Sean shook his head. “The palace is perched on a rise, and this side is where the walls extend to the edge of a bluff. It’s not a sheer cliff, but no one could come up that way, so I suppose they don’t feel the need to guard it against intruders.”
Bash shrugged. “Not guarded is not guarded. Just because something can’t come in doesn’t mean nothing can go out.” The sloppiness offended Bash on a professional level, but he was grateful it could be used to their advantage.
Sean stared at him in dismay. “It’s not a huge cliff, but it has to be at least twenty-five meters down. Straight down. Onto hard, sharp rocks. Trust me, I looked out there when I was trying to figure out a way to escape on my own.”
“I can leave you here, if you’d prefer,” Bash replied, lifting a brow.
“No. I’m going.” Sean drew in a deep breath, and Bash awarded him a point for squaring his shoulders in acceptance. That, too, was an attractive quality. “What’s the plan?”
This time, Bash’s smile was positively evil. “As with everything fun, my dear prince, the first thing you have to do is take off your clothes.”
6
As he lay on the thin, uncomfortable mattress in Bash’s cell, Sean drew the scratchy blanket closer around himself and tried to keep his breathing slow and even. It wasn’t easy, not with adrenaline coursing through his system and his heart pounding so hard he felt certain it must be audible. Still, he did his best, counting slowly to five between each inhalation and exhalation and trying to ignore itches in inconvenient places.
When Bash had insisted Sean take off his clothes, Sean could only gape at him like a deer caught in the headlights, wondering if Bash was suggesting a tryst. Bash had chuckled at Sean’s expression and explained his plan, and Sean’s face grew hot while he turned away and stripped down to his underpants. When he faced Bash again, he saw a gleam in Bash’s eyes that suggested perhaps Bash’s mind had gone to the same place Sean’s had, and it made Sean feel a little better. The too self-possessed Bash could feel desire, just like a normal man.
He cracked his eyes open and peered into his own cell where Bash was standing, his back to the cell door, his head lowered. They looked nothing alike, but Bash had explained most people saw what they expected to see. In the lowered light of the cell block and from the back, wearing Sean’s clothes, Bash was certain the guards would be fooled, especially since he was going to double over as though he was sick. Given the other things Sean had seen Bash do in the last couple of hours, he thought if anyone could pull it off, Bash could.
Sean still had no clue who Bash worked for, but he suspected Bash might be a spy for the American government, especially after Bash had taken out a length of guitar string and picked the locks to both their cells in seconds. Sean had taken the opportunity to get back a little of his own by insisting on giving Bash a quick physical examination, which seemed far too intimate with them both in just their underwear. But Sean had seen it through, pronouncing Bash’s ribs bruised but unbroken, his knee swollen and painful but otherwise not impaired. Then Bash had gone into Sean’s cell and locked himself in before giving Sean explicit directions about what he was to do.
“The guards who have come in haven’t been armed, not unless they’re carrying holdout weapons in ankle holsters, and I doubt they’d use them if they think I’m you. But just in case things go loud, roll under the bed and stay there until the shooting stops, understand? If I buy it, tell them I forced you into this. Smack your head on the wall or the floor to give yourself a lump and tell them I knocked you out and dragged you into my cell. It’s a thin story, but better than nothing.”
Sean had never heard anyone speak so casually about the prospect of their own death, and he felt as though his own life, even the imprisonment of the last four months, had been incredibly sheltered. “Then don’t get yourself killed,” he’d replied, disliking the thought of Bash getting killed for more than one reason.
Lying in the darkness, Sean recalled how hard Bash’s muscles had felt beneath his hands as he’d conducted his brief examination. Bash had a plethora of scars, including a couple of bullet wounds, and a nasty gash on his lower back, perilously close to a kidney. Whatever Bash’s job was, it was dangerous, but apparently Bash was good enough at it, he’d survived injuries that might have killed another man.
He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of the door to the cell block opening, and he tensed beneath the blanket, his heart pounding even harder. It was after two in the morning, a time when the guards always came to check on Sean, as though he might have somehow escaped after the lights were turned out at ten. Bash had smiled with grim satisfaction when Sean had relayed that information, and Sean had felt an oddly pleasant chill down his spine at how badass it made Bash look.
At the sound of the door, Bash had immediately bent over the ancient squat-hole in the corner of Sean’s cell and retched as though he were ill. The guards normally stepped in, shone a light around, and left, but this time, they hurried down the stairs, and Sean heard jangling as one of them fumbled for the keys. He’d never gotten to know the night guards, and now he was glad, because he wouldn’t have to worry about whatever Bash did to them.
The door of Sean’s usual cell opened with a squeal of hinges, and the guards were speaking in Akkadian, asking if “Prince Mishaan” was all right as they came up behind Bash. Bash dispensed with the ruse. Sean knew Bash was fast, because Bash had startled him earlier with the speed of his movements, but in the low light, it was almost like a magic act. One moment, Bash was doubled over, and seconds later, there were two guards lying unconscious on the ground with Bash standing over them. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Hurry,” Bash said, looking at Sean through the bars. “Come get dressed.”
Sean threw back the blanket and hurried out of the cell to join Bash. He helped strip off the clothing off the guard closest to him. Bash had explained this as well; they would put the guards in the beds, don their clothing, and walk out as though nothing was any different from normal. Sean wasn’t sure how they could get away with it, but Bash had seemed so confident, Sean hadn’t wanted to argue with him.
Within minutes, he was attired in the guard’s black uniform and traditional keffiyeh headdress. It was big on him, and he had to stuff loose cloth into the toes of the boots, but Sean didn’t care. He was too worried about the next phase of Bash’s plan — the one where they went out a window and over the edge of a cliff. Even the body armor part of the uniform didn’t give him confidence about his survival if he fell.
