Taking a measured breath as I work, I catch the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and blood. Somehow, it settles my nerves.
“I’m not usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” I say. “But I hope this wasn’t your idea of a rescue attempt.”
He grunts, choosing silence.
“Because, honestly,” I continue, untwisting an unruly section of cloth, “I’d rate it about a four out of ten, and that’s being generous.”
He works his jaw. “I’ll admit, I’m not at my best. But I don’t see how you could’ve done any better.”
“Iwasdoing better. In fact, I was about to steal the Nazi’s car and drive it back to Cairo before you two stepped in.”
Bes laughs humorlessly, and I wonder what could possibly be funny about any of this.
“First of all, he was one of the God Men, not a Nazi,” he corrects me. “And second, on what petrol?”
He winces when I tie the final knot a little too rough.
I glance at Claude’s car, less confident than before. “What do you mean, on what petrol?”
He nods at the soldier. “Williams cut the fuel lines when we arrived so there’d only be one way out of here: with us.”
I raise a brow at him.That’s actually quite ingenious. Whether it was the soldier’s idea or Bes’s, though, I can’t be sure.
“We should load Williams into the onlyworkingcar then, and get the hell out of here before more Nazis show up.”
He shakes his head, deciding not to correct me on the title this time. I smile to myself in triumph.
Trudging through the sand to where the soldier lays prone on his back, I bend down to pick up his arm. It’s as heavy as a brick.I recall learning in anatomy class how muscle weighs more than fat, which must be why he’s so difficult to move.Good for him. Unfortunately, that means there’s no possible way we’re going to be able to carry him all the way to the car with only three working arms.
I turn back to Bes. “Do you have smelling salts or—what?”
Gripping his injured arm, his eyes spark with curiosity and suspicion. “You’re not at all what I was expecting, Miss Hawkins.”
Heat rises to my cheeks once more.That’s the second time today someone has told me that.
“There’s a compliment in there somewhere.” I thoughtlessly brush a few lingering grains of sand from my thigh. “And call me Mel.”
His expression remains even.
“Come on, then.” I wave him over. “We’re not going to be able to move Williams without divine intervention, and we can’t leave him here. I’m fairly certain you hit him hard enough he won’t remember his name, much less what I said about the am—”
I jump back as water splashes onto one of my boots unceremoniously. Although most of it hits Williams’s face. I shake my foot, glaring at Bes.
He tightens the cap back on the canteen he procured, unconcerned. “You’re right, we wouldn’t have been able to move him without assistance. Better if he does it himself with his own two legs.”
“You could’ve at least warned a gal,” I mutter, then say louder, “Glad we agree on something.”
It takes the soldier a moment to come to. When he does, he groans then blinks up at me, eyes widening as he recalls what happened. He reaches for his gun. But it lays lifeless on the ground beside Bes where I left it—he grasps at an empty holster.
“Good, you’re awake,” I tell him.
“What—what happened?” he mutters.
I quickly formulate a lie, coming up with one he wouldn’t believe if he were of sound mind. “One of the men who abducted me—a Nazi—snuck up on us and hit you over the head. We took care of him, though.”
He winces. “A Nazi? In Egypt?”
I throw up my hands. “I’m as surprised as you.”
