“I
“If Bradford fails to persuade Ben Raschid that we are serious, we will remind you. Be sure of it.” Hassan’s hand relaxed and fell away from her thigh. He stood up. “You might shed a few frightened tears for this Daniel Seifert to report back to Bradford. It wouldn’t hurt.” He turned away and made a sign to his cohort, who was lounging in a seat at the front of the plane, a machine-gun lying carelessly in the crook of his arm. “Seifert should be here in five minutes. We will meet him outside and conduct a routine search. I doubt if Ben Raschid would be foolish enough to send one man against us, but Hakim and I will make sure.”
He threw open the heavy metal door and went down the steps of the Learjet. Zilah saw that he said something over his shoulder to Hakim, who was following close behind him, and then laughed. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Animals. They were animals, and she mustn’t let Hassan’s words touch her.
It was so hot in the cabin that she could scarcely breathe. Perspiration was running down her back, causing her short-sleeved white shirt to cling to her like a second skin. She opened her eyes and stared numbly out the window at the desolate wasteland of sand. Nothing but dunes and sky as far as the eye could see, and the heat was rising from those dunes in shimmering waves.
She wouldn’t be afraid. There must be some way she could escape Hassan and his men if she could rid herself of this debilitating fear. The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of terror. Yet she couldn’t let them use her like this. David had done so much for her; she couldn’t allow herself to be turned into a weapon against him.
The throbbing chug of a motor caused her to straighten swiftly and lean closer to the window. A jeep had halted a good fifty yards from the plane and the driver lithely swung to the ground. His hands rose quickly above his head. “Daniel Seifert,” he called.
He should have looked cowed and intimidated in that position, but there was nothing in the least tame about the man who was standing with his legs astride beside the open jeep. He was a giant of a man, at least six foot five or perhaps taller, and dressed in khaki trousers that outlined the powerful muscles of his thighs and calves. His khaki shirt seemed barely able to contain the sleek biceps of those massive arms. Auburn hair blazed in the sunlight and a closely trimmed mustache and beard were of the same fiery hue as his hair. He was a wild, barbaric figure and reminded her vaguely of a painting she’d once seen of a fierce Viking warrior.
Hassan and Hakim must have been equally impressed by the air of restrained menace that Seifert exuded because their attitude was distinctly wary as they approached him. They ordered him to lean against the hood of the jeep. The search wasn’t the routine one Hassan had planned. It was very thorough but yielded nothing more lethal than a fingernail clipper. Then they were striding toward the plane, the red-haired giant a few paces ahead, apparently ignoring the machine-gun Hakim was pointing at the small of his back.
“Relax,” Hassan snapped at Hakim as they entered the passenger compartment of the plane. “You saw that there was no sign of a weapon. It appears Ben Raschid is being sensible for a change.” He gestured to Zilah in her seat at the back of the plane. “There she is, Seifert. You can see that she’s alive and unharmed.”
“I want to talk to her,” Daniel said. “Alone.”
“That’s not necessary,” Hassan said sharply. “She will tell you we have not misused her.”
“Then let her tell me,” Daniel said. “Alone. I have instructions to make sure you’ve done her no harm before we deal. I hardly think she’d be willing to spill any beans while you stand there with a gun pointed at her head.”
Hassan hesitated a moment before he shrugged. “Go ahead. We will stay by the door. You will be out of earshot back there if you lower your voice. You have five minutes.”
Daniel Seifert looked even bigger in the confines of the cabin than he had by the jeep as he strode down the aisle toward her. He sat down in the seat facing her, his gaze searching her face. “My name is Daniel Seifert. Have they hurt you?”
“Not really. It doesn’t matter.” She moistened her lips nervously. “You have to tell Sheikh Ben Raschid not to give in to them. I’ll get out of this by myself.”
“Oh, will you?” Daniel asked sardonically. “That might be a little difficult considering the circumstances.”
“I told you. I’ll handle it. I owe too many debts already. I can’t add a burden like this to them.”
He was silent for a long moment, studying her intently. “You mean it.”
“Of course I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she said, impatient. “Now, will you tell David and the sheikh I’m fine and that I’ll find a way out of this mess myself?”
He shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. Zilah Dabala looked more tired and more finely drawn than she had in the photograph, but the clear green eyes meeting his were steady and unafraid. There was no summer smile, however. Her lips were taut with the effort she was making to keep them from trembling. Strange that he could miss a smile he’d never really seen outside of a photograph. Suddenly his gaze sharpened as he realized that a cut marred the softness of her lower lip. His expression hardened into a fierceness that startled her. “Who struck you? I thought you said you hadn’t been hurt.”
Her fingers flew automatically to the cut on her lip. “Hassan. Stupidly, I tried to grab a gun from Hakim. I won’t do anything so impulsive again.” She deliberately dropped her hand away. “See, it’s only a little cut. It doesn’t hurt. And, anyway, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.” His tone was granite-harsh. His finger rose to brush her lower lip with a gossamer touch.
Zilah felt a sudden sensation that was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It must be pain, she thought in bewilderment. But somehow it didn’t feel like pain. It was more like a hot tingle of pleasure. Daniel Seifert’s navy blue eyes were holding her own with mesmerizing power.
“It matters very much.” His voice had softened to dark richness. Then he shifted so that his bulk was between her and the men in the front of the plane. “I’ll take care of Hassan soon. It will be a pleasure I’ll look forward to.” His voice was a mere whisper. “We haven’t much time. Be ready.”
Zilah’s brow knotted in puzzlement. “Ready for what?”
“There will be intense pain.” Daniel was speaking rapidly, his eyes on her face. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I knew I’d be searched, so I couldn’t bring anything along to protect you. Will you trust me?”
“You’re going to-”
“Trust me,” he said again. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Just hold on to me until hell freezes over. You won’t be sorry.”
She met his worried gaze. Gentleness, regret, and some other emotion she couldn’t define were conflicting in that brutally powerful face. She smiled. “I’ll hold on to you until hell freezes over. I promise.” He returned her smile. How odd that warm gentle smile looked in the rough-hewn boldness of his warrior face.
“Good. I’ll damn well remind you of that promise if you forget. We’re in this together, Zilah.”
She nodded. “Toge-” The word was shattered as an explosion rocked the plane. “What!”
Within seconds of each other there was a chain of explosions that appeared to encircle the plane. After that the action was so lightning-fast that she perceived it only as a blur.
Daniel reached into his back pocket and brought out a pristine white handkerchief. “Cover your nose and mouth and keep your eyes closed. Try to hold your breath.”
A false ear, she realized almost immediately as he balled it up in his palm.
The explosions were still going on outside the plane. Hassan was shouting something to the other man, who was peering through the window to try to sight their attackers.
Confusion became sheer madness as Daniel threw the object in his hand into their midst. Cerise smoke suddenly filled the plane.
Zilah’s mouth was agape with astonishment. The spell was broken as Daniel gave her an exasperated glance. “Dammit, cover your face!”
She heard a scream of agony from Hakim somewhere in that thick red mist ahead. She quickly covered her mouth and nose with the handkerchief.
“Come on.” Daniel was on his feet. “Grab on to my belt. I may have to have my hands free.”
She heard another scream. Hassan?
She closed her eyes as they entered the thick mist by the door but not before she caught a shadowy glimpse of Hassan. He was doubled over, his hands over his eyes, and clutching desperately at his face. His rifle was on the floor beside him.
Pain struck her!
Her face was a fiery agony. The cloth of the handkerchief was offering almost no protection against the heavy
