“Actually, it was,” he countered, wishing she could see how this had affected her entire life. “A big one. But a burden isn’t always bad. It’s heavy, for sure.”
Leighton absorbed his words, then conceded with a slow nod.
A sharp whistle crackled in his ear. “Augh!” He touched the spot.
“Apollo, you there?”
“You okay?” Leighton asked, drawing closer.
At the sound of Pike’s voice via the implant, Owen turned his back to the palace. “Yeah.”
“You alone?”
Owen skated a glance in her direction. “I’m with Nouri.”
She angled toward him with a very confused look.
“What’s your sit-rep?” Pike asked.
“They’re a bit hands-on here, but we’re holding our own. Tomorrow, we leave for a two-week safari.”
“Interesting.”
“Maybe an ideal situation for an extraction.”
“No!” Leighton snapped, eyes wide. “Who are you talking to? How are you talking to them?” Panic scratched into her pretty face. “I told you?—”
He moved away, keeping his head up in case anyone was watching, so they wouldn’t figure out he was on comms with the team.
“We’ll get into their system. Work something out.”
“Sounds good.” Only then did he wonder why she wasn’t bothering him or interrupting him. When he glanced over his shoulder to her, he found her gone. What? Where…? He scanned the gardens and spotted her abaya fluttering through the inner garden. Son of a biscuit! “Gotta go.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah, all five-seven of her.” With a loud pop, the comms went inactive as he broke into a jog, which sent shards of fire through his side and lungs from the cracked rib. But if she went inside without him, they’d both get more hands-on hospitality. And by her fuming expression, she knew that and was willing to endure it. All to stop him from talking with the team. He cut across the gardens to reach her quicker. “Nouri!”
Grabbing the door handle, she shot him a seething look.
He crashed into the door, choking the breath from him, but he’d successfully stopped her. “What’s going on?”
“I told you,” she hissed, “I’m not?—”
A ghostlike figure appeared on the other side of the glass door.
Leighton flinched and yelped. Then gave a nervous laugh to Prince Rayan, who stood on the other side watching them. Had he seen their argument? Her rushing away while he was standing there talking to thin air?
Owen drew open the door. “Ah, just the prince I’d hoped to see.”
Stepping aside as they entered the narrow passage, Rayan eyed them. “It would seem being American does not automatically make you two friends.”
“Not even close,” Leighton snarled as she shifted to the other side of Rayan.
Owen stepped in—and a blur came at him, amid a flurry of Arabic. A knifehand strike nailed the side of his neck. He heard a crack even as the air gusted from the blow. Before he could make sense of what’d just happened, he heard shouts. Saw Nasir and Rayan pull off a red-faced Hassan.
Choking, neck throbbing, Owen shifted back, ready to fight if someone came at him again.
“Are you okay?” Leighton’s eyes were wide. Filled with panic and fear.
