“But he is gone,” she said, scooting out of the shelter he’d erected.
“For now. But if he’s sitting in his house and suddenly wonders why the mattress was against the window, he might come back.”
In ten, they were hiking farther west a klick, then he would veer them north. Jazani was stumbling and yawning, both grating on his nerves.
“I thought we—”
“Quiet.” He didn’t need her thoughts in his head, too. His mind was too crowded with his own. With what had made Pike stall. Delays happened. Things got hot in a location and they bought time. But this … it felt … different. “Keep moving.”
“I am not—”
He jerked around and shoved into her face. “Quiet.”
“No.”
Range saw red. “Do you want to die?”
“Why are we going west? You said north earlier—”
“Plans change. Now shut up and move.” He started away, and immediately sensed her rebellion. Defiance. Not wanting to glance back, he knew what happened. Knew she was still fifteen paces back where he’d left her. Twenty … The woman didn’t add up. How could someone be so bullheaded and yet people called her savior.
She brainwashed them.
Thirty.
After all, hadn’t one of the girls posed as Jazani, taken the isolation, food-and-water-deprivation for her? He’d heard of victims identifying with their captors. Was that what—
Something struck the back of his head.
A rock, he guessed. Though he was ready to rip her a new on, he kept walking. At least she was following now. Wouldn’t waste words on her.
Madam Jazani knew where and how to find safety. The woman had smarts, he’d give her that, which is why he hadn’t stopped. The attack and the man who’d found them convinced her of the very real danger she was in. Scared her into sticking with him. At least for now.
He tugged his phone out to use the navigation. And in the split-second before the screen changed, he saw a ghostly blur reflected on it—and simultaneously heard a soft thump of her foot.
Dropping his ruck, Range ducked and darted to the side.
Jazani—having hurtled herself at him—vaulted past him. Landed hard on the ground. She didn’t cry out. She didn’t pout. Instead, she flipped back onto her feet and fell into a fighting stance.
“We don’t have time—”
She hiked up and spun, whipping a hook-kick at his head.
Stunned and maybe a little impressed, Range leapt back. Anticipated her landing. Slid in. Rammed an elbow at her face.
Somehow, she avoided the strike. Stumbled back. Tripped over his ruck. Plopped onto her backside. With another grunt, she was upright again. A flurry of strikes and punches. Deflected, both his and hers. Her hijab had long given up on protecting her from men’s weakness.
He caught the end of it, twirled it. Yanked it and her toward him. Managed to get her into a strangle hold.
And something went crossways in him at the way she flailed. The way she clawed. Panic. Terror.
He’d never seen that from her. Except with the captain …
Range thrust her forward, releasing her.
She tripped and dropped to the ground. On all fours, her hijab floating away on a chilled wind, she looked at up, dark brown hair wafting around her furious expression.
“Enough!” A strange feeling squirreled through his chest at what just happened. How that made him feel. What thudded in his chest. “We donothave time for this.”
