“By your actions, thirtysomething, but that peach fuzz?—”
“Peach fuzz?” he balked, sitting straight and ramming those blues into her. “That’s rude.”
“But true.”
He glowered, then again watched the elephants. “I graduated early, got my dad to sign off on me entering the Army at seventeen. Qualified Ranger. Graduated Special Forces school.”
She drew in a breath. “Wait, so you’re Special Forces?”
Lips pursed, he drew back and folded his arms. “Spent five years chasing that dream but never got selected, so I got out.”
“I guess I don’t understand how that works, but it seems harsh that you graduated yet weren’t picked.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Nouri.”
At the commanding, intruding voice of Prince Rayan from a dozen paces away, she stiffened and looked down at their plates. “Yes?”
He came to their table. “We are going to the national park in the morning. Be in the courtyard at six.”
She inclined her head.
Once Rayan moved away, Apollo leaned in. “I hate that.”
She frowned. “What?”
“How you look down when they’re around.”
“It’s better than getting backhanded,” she quipped, cringing as her own words rang against her ears. “But really, Prince Rayan has been kind to me.” She winced. “Well, the kindest of those here.” How this had become her life, being a girl bowing at the feet of men who lorded over women and treated them worse than most people treated their dogs, she did not know.
But for Ummi… I do this for Ummi.
Apollo grunted. “I can’t wait to get you out of here.”
Skewering him with a warning look that said she did not want to fight, she wished he’d give up the idea of escape. “It’s too dangerous.”
His gaze locked on to hers, and somehow, despite her very obvious words, his blue eyes brightened. What on earth? Did he not understand English?
Oh, he definitely understood. Problem was, this guy took them as a personal challenge. He was going to be the death of her.
9
Nairobi, Kenya
While she showered, he prepped his own sleeping space on the small two-person couch. He’d have a few kinks in his neck and spine, but a day out on safari tomorrow should right him.
He touched the small scratch where they’d implanted the comms. It’d scabbed over, but he wished he could do like they did in sci-fi movies and tap it to activate the thing. He had a bad feeling the implant had been damaged when Hassan nailed him with that knifehand.
His mind drifted back to Dillon showing up at the hotel. What was going on? Was he okay? There hadn’t been a chance to message the Scions. Send notice back to the ’rents that the hotheaded guy had been sighted again. But why there? What was he doing in Paris? Yeah, tracking someone…but that was light on intel and long on crazy. Maybe if Owen had been more like Dillon, he’d have earned his black beret.
But then…he wouldn’t be here, drawing the ire of a beauty.
He smirked, remembering the fire light through her caramel irises when she got mad. The way her mouth tightened, yet those lips were still full and?—
“What are you doing? No!” Leighton appeared behind the couch and yanked the pillow out from under his head. “Nope, you are not going to put me in a position to feel guilty when Nasir or Maaz beat you again.” She pitched his pillow at the bed. “Get on the bed.”
Standing, he couldn’t stop the scoff from escaping. Nobody would believe a beautiful princess had just ordered him into her bed. He lifted his palms. “I’m not doing that.”
