Bodyguard Lockdown(14)

The acid scent of fuel and burned insects caught in her nose. “Handy,” she muttered and palmed a nearby rock. “Why didn’t we have one of those?”

Two of the men hopped from their vehicles, leaving the drivers of the jeeps to follow.

No use hiding. She wasn’t armed and couldn’t outrun a bullet. And she wouldn’t leave Booker, until she was sure he’d be safe.

The first one, the shorter of the two, smiled at her. The sweaty features and huge lips filled with conceit.

“Where is the man, Doctor Haddad? McKnight?”

“He’s dead.”

The man hesitated, his eyes scanned the area briefly, touching on the boulder before moving back to her. “How?”

“Snakebite. Viper.” Sand vipers were a well-known danger in the desert. Their venom lethal.

The second jeep stopped a few yards away.

A tall man approached, and the arrogance of his stride told Sandra he was the leader.

“Good work, Itamar.”

Dressed in white with a red scarf wrapped around his head, he’d left one end loose against his shoulder, exposing his features. His right eye was covered by a black patch, but the other black iris burned with anticipation.

“She said McKnight is dead, Waseem. Viper bite.”

“You’ve survived the desert on your own?” Waseem asked, disbelief in the glance he sent the other three men, the twitch of arrogance at the edge of his lips.

Her chin went up. “Yes.”

“You don’t mind then, if I make sure,” he said, then turned to the two drivers. Both faces red from the sun. “Search the area and see if you can find his body. If he died, it hasn’t been that long. Even dead he is worth money to us.”

“We wait?” Itamar asked, frowning.

“No,” Waseem replied, his eyes scanning the terrain. “We’ll take her back to our camp and meet them there.” The arrogance twisted into a tight, foreboding smile. “I have a few unanswered questions I wish to ask before we take her to Minos.”

“Minos?” Sandra questioned, surprised.

“Go to the rocks,” Waseem ordered the two men, ignoring Sandra. “Start there, then work your way out and around. If you don’t find him, get in the jeep and make the circle wider until you do.”

“You’re wasting your time. He’s buried miles from here.”

“We’ll see,” the leader replied, his eyes on the drivers.

“Someone was here with her. If it was McKnight, he’s gone,” the first shouted from beside the boulder. “Whoever it is has left footprints. A male from the size of them.”

“Search the area,” Waseem yelled, then he turned to Sandra. “You lied.”

She shrugged, relieved Booker got away. “Think what you want.”

“What I think is that McKnight hides behind a woman. That he left you here to die when he saw us coming,” Waseem answered. “I was told he was your protector.”

“I need no one’s help,” she snapped, but she couldn’t shake the thread of truth in the Al Asheera’s words. “Especially from a dead man.”

Waseem laughed, showing a row of white teeth. “How long did you think you’d survive without any supplies?”

She nodded pointedly at the guns. “Your concern for my welfare touches me. But you needn’t bother.”

“Not you,” he mused, his grin now vicious. “What you represent. Profit. General Trygg will pay handsomely for your safe return—do you not think so?”

“King Jarek will pay you more than General Trygg ever could.”

“Is that so?” Waseem rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully. “Trygg put out a bounty of a million for you. And for your friend.”

Sandra laughed with derision. “How well do you know Trygg?”

“Well enough.”

“I know him better. Which is why he wants me so bad,” Sandra scoffed. “You’re an idiot. Trygg will kill you before he’d actually pay you.”

The punch came from nowhere. Stars exploded in her temple, the pain jagged and mean. Sandra fell to her knees.

“You assume much, Doctor,” Waseem mused, his smile wicked. He shook out the sting in his hand.

A scream echoed off the dunes. An agonizing, almost inhuman scream that sent a chill up Sandra’s spine, nerves dancing in her stomach.

“What is it?” Sandra asked, suddenly more afraid of the scream than of Waseem.

Itamar swore. “Our driver.” He raised his rifle and surveyed the terrain through the scope.

Waseem grabbed Sandra, pulled her in front of him. The leader searched for cover, spotting the jeep several yards away.

Itamar shook his head. “We’ll never make it. We’re caught in the open.”

Gunfire rang out, strafing the jeep radiators. Blowing them out. Making the vehicles useless.

“You have what is mine, Waseem. Let her go and I might let you live.” Booker’s voice boomed off the sands, the tone harsh, the words clipped.

“How did he know your name?” Itamar asked.

“The drivers, idiot.” Waseem scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun. “And if I don’t?” he yelled.

A gunshot ricocheted, punctuating the leader’s question.

Itamar grunted. He looked down at his chest where blood blossomed across the white of his shirt. He sank to his knees and hit the ground face-first.

Another scream hit the air. Followed by whimpering. “Your drivers have been very cooperative. Surprising what losing a finger one at a time will convince a man to do,” Booker announced.

Waseem grabbed Sandra by her hair. She cried out in pain. He forced her down on her knees and crouched beside her, placing his knife at her neck.

“That’s a mistake, Waseem,” Booker yelled from behind the dune.

The whimpering grew louder from the darkness. “Now your friends here, the ones crying like a baby? They’re already dead. But you can live if you let go of the doc. Immediately.”

“If you don’t come out now, McKnight, unarmed, Doctor Haddad will die before I do.”

Steel bit into her neck, forcing Sandra to take shallow breaths. While his hand was steady, she felt his heart racing against his chest, his rapid breathing.

Fear?

Sandra decided to play into the possibility. Use it as a weapon. “He’ll kill you if you hurt me. The last man who touched me died with a knife in the back of his head.”

“I think he will do nothing while I have you.” He tightened his grip until she cried out.

Sandra caught the whisper of movement. Heard Waseem grunt. Suddenly, the leader dropped her and his pistol. Blood poured from his arm, the wrist nearly severed.

Sandra stumbled away. She looked up, saw Booker holding a machete over the injured Al Asheera, who lay on his back, hugging his arm, moaning in agony.

Booker kicked the pistol toward Sandra. His features were pale, drawn. She saw him sway a bit on his feet, understood how unsteady he really was. It added to the dangerous set of his features, the edge of his temper.

“Get out of here, Sandra,” he said, low and mean. “Take the pistol and walk up the path about a hundred yards. The horse returned. I tied him to the brush behind a cluster of boulders.”



“Booker—” she answered, not knowing what was going to happen.

“You actually thought I’d leave you to them?” He glared at her. “Don’t ever make yourself a target again.”

“He’s going to kill me, Doctor Haddad, then turn you in to Trygg himself,” Waseem bit out.

“Your men mentioned Minos. The new Al Asheera leader. Then they died.” Booker’s features hardened. “I’m hoping for better information from you.”

“And if I disappoint you?” the man sneered.

“The ants are feeding on your friends as we speak,” Booker stated.

Waseem physically blanched.

“Booker—”

“Leave,” he advised, his eyes flickering over Sandra. “Now.”

From her estimate, he had very little time left on his feet, but sheer stubbornness was going to get him his answers.

She picked up the gun, not sparing Waseem a glance. There was no doubt in her mind that Waseem had planned much worse for her. She could not stir any pity for him. “You have a half hour. Then I’m coming back.”

“It won’t take that long.”

* * *

TIME PASSED AND BOOKER didn’t show, so she grabbed the horse’s reins.

When the gunshot sounded, all she could do was feel relief. Straight to the heart, as if he was putting a rabid dog out of its misery. Something she’d seen her Bari and the others do a million...

Then she heard it, the heavy shuffle of feet against the dirt.