Fuck this story! I say we turn the hell around and go home.”

“Chill out,” Arianna Garret said to fellow journalist, Kevin Baxter. “We worked hard to get this assignment, so take a deep breath and relax.”

They had come to Kervistan to do an exposé on the plight of Muslim women. First, all of their equipment and luggage had been lost on the flight over, forcing them to hole up in a cheap hotel in Pakistan for three days until their belongings were recovered. Now, less than four hours into their journey to Nabolis, they were stranded by the side of the road as their Kervistan guide attempted to repair the sorry excuse of a vehicle they’d rented that morning.

The noonday sun was brutal, and Arianna was finding it stifling beneath the burqa she’d been forced to wear. The scratchy cloth irritated her face, and sweat ran profusely down her back. It was such a humiliation, but their guide, Tarique, had told her she would never be allowed into the country unless she covered herself as all Kervistan women did.

“If I’d just brought some tools,” Tarique said, “I could fix this car.”

“Great,” Kevin snapped. “I don’t suppose you might have thought of that before we left Pakistan this morning. You know it’s not like we can call Triple A or anything.”

“Triple A?” Tarique asked. “What is a Triple A?”

“Nothing. Just keep working on the car,” Kevin mumbled.

Arianna threw the veil back off her face and felt instantly refreshed and alive. Being under that veil made her feel queasy and claustrophobic. The only good thing about wearing the traditional garb was she would be able to write a firsthand account of what it was like to be imprisoned in such a restrictive garment.

“Need any help?” a voice asked in Farsi.

Arianna spun around and came face to face with a Kervistani man who had walked up to the vehicle. He was amazingly handsome and had coal, black eyes that seemed to look right through her. She knew he couldn’t, but it felt like he could see her naked form right through the burqa she wore. Despite the extreme heat, a shiver rippled through her body. What a waste! There could be nothing worse than having a man from this country lay his hands on you. Even so, despite the scruffy beard and primitive dress, this guy was stunningly gorgeous.

“What’s wrong with the car?” a second Kervistan man asked in Farsi and began to look under the hood.

“Tell him we’ll pay him a lot of money if he can fix this car,” Arianna said to Tarique as she came around to the front of the vehicle.

Tarique took Arianna by the elbow and spun her around, flipping her veil back over her face as the two Kervistan men stared in disbelief.

“Please, madam,” he said in a hushed tone as he abruptly escorted her to the back of the car. “You must keep your face covered, and you must not speak English.”

Arianna began to do a slow boil that had nothing to do with the heat. She hated this subservient role. She had been stubbornly independent all of her life, and it irritated her to take orders from a man like this.

ZACH HAD heard it as plain as could be. The woman spoke English, and by the way she so boldly came forward, it was clear she was no Kervistan woman. Also, she wore her veil up. A woman could be stoned for showing her face in public in this country. But what a face she had. Beneath that veil was a beautiful girl with sparkling, azure, blue eyes that danced with devilment and a complexion nicely tanned from many days in the sun. It was a face that certainly had not been hidden behind any veil for very long.

He glanced into the back of the SUV and could see several cameras and other photographic equipment. If he had to make a guess, he would say these were American journalists here on an assignment. Only the guide seemed to be from this region. Thinking it was a Kervistan couple they’d come upon, the idea was to get a ride into town with them which would be a perfect cover. Now, Zach wasn’t sure what he and Tony had walked into.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Tony said in Farsi as he tinkered with something under the hood. “Give it a try.”

Tarique slid behind the wheel. No luck. The only sound was the clink of metal against metal. Tony looked under the hood again and made a couple more adjustments. “Okay, try it again,” he said.

This time the engine sputtered to life.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Tarique said in his native language. “Let us pay you for your help.”

“No, we don’t want any money,” Zach responded in the native language, “but we would take a ride into Nabolis with you.”

“Oh, yes. Please, get in,” Tarique said, bowing in respect.

“Are you men from Nabolis?” Tarique asked, as the Land Rover rumbled down the unpaved road.

Tony shook his head. “No, we are from Bekistan.”

“We are not from here, either. We have come to meet with Ali Hamdra Fasi. This man,” Tarique said, pointing to Kevin, “is doing a report for a Western news group, and he wishes to feature Fasi in the film.”

So, it was as Zach suspected. He’d hitched a ride with the wrong companions. Even more worrisome was that these journalists had chosen a very bad time to come to Kervistan.

ARIANNA RODE in silence, sandwiched between Kevin and the handsome looking stranger. She dared a sideward glance at the gorgeous hitchhiker, knowing he could not see her face. As if he sensed her stare, he turned in her direction and looked directly at her, his obsidian eyes searing her to the seat. She felt herself blush from head to toe. It was the first, and no doubt would be the last, time she would be thankful to be wearing this face-hiding burqa. Suddenly, the Rover hit a bump and bottomed out, jostling her into the passenger’s lap. The stranger’s strong hands caught her and helped her to right herself. His touch was electric. She felt tingly all over. God, this guy was so hot, but why, Lord, did he have to be from this male dominated country?

As they entered the center of the village, the vintage SUV chugged to a stop, and Zach and Tony exited. Before leaving, Zach paused and said to Tarique in Farsi, “Tell your friend Kevin this is not a safe place for him to be right now. The three of you should leave the country immediately.” With one last look back at Arianna, he and Tony made their way into the marketplace.

“What did he say?” Arianna asked after they left.

“He said to leave this place… that it is not safe to be here, but I do not know why.”

“So what’s new?” Arianna asked. “This entire region of the world has been a troubled spot for years, but the problem is, this is where we find the Muslim women for our exposé. It’s not like we can shoot this story on the French Riviera.”

“Well, speaking for myself,” Kevin chimed in, “I must admit this is not the journey I envisioned it to be. I’m feeling more and more uneasy all the time. I say we find Fasi and a couple of Muslim women, get their stories fast, and get the hell out of here.”

“Okay, but just think. When this documentary airs, it’s going to catapult our careers into the national spotlight. Every major news organization in the country is going to want to hire us,” Arianna said.

“Oh, and aren’t you just the little optimist?” Kevin shot back. “For all the hassle we’re going through, I hope you’re right.”

“So where do we start?” Arianna asked Tarique.

“First, we find some lodging. Then, we try to get an appointment with Fasi. Please wait in the car while I make some inquiries.”

Arianna pulled out a small mini cam she kept hidden under her burqa and began filming the marketplace. The first thing she noticed was the large number of stray dogs that wandered freely around the village. Most of them were skin and bones. Next, she spotted an ox that was currently taking a dump next to a produce stand.

“Eww! Gross,” she said to Kevin. “Look at that ox. Now, that’s a scene you won’t see in the States.”

“For sure,” Kevin said. “Thank, God!”

There were several produce stands, but from Arianna’s vantage point, all the vegetables seemed limp and over ripe. Nothing looked fresh. Nothing even looked familiar. Other vendors were selling household items such as rugs, vases, pots and pans… it looked like the American version of a rummage sale. Hanging from poles at another stand were some skinned goats with flies buzzing all around them. They were as unappetizing as oxen feces next to the produce stand.

“This will make some good B-roll for our documentary. Notice how few women are in the market place and those that are there, are completely covered, of course, and accompanied by a man. How could you live like this day after day?” Arianna asked.

“I guess you just would,” Kevin replied. “You’d have no choice, plus you wouldn’t know any better if this is all you’ve ever known. I think their contact with the outside world is non-existent, so this is normal for them.”

Arianna zeroed in on the two Kervistanis that had helped them. She couldn’t take her eyes off the one who’d made her heart race on the ride here. Even in his grubby, unkempt condition, there had been an animal magnetism, drawing her to him. For Pete’s sakes. Get a grip and try to remember this is about Muslim women, not Muslim men. Just the same, she made sure she took numerous pictures of him to show the girls back home.

“You need to be careful with that camera,” Kevin said. “We don’t exactly have permission to film here, especially you, as a Kervistan woman. I know these windows are tinted, but you’re still taking a big risk.”

“Oh, you worry too much,” Arianna said. “If you want to get the story, you have to take chances, and I intend to do what I have to do to get this amazing story.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Arianna, your impulsiveness is going to get you into trouble one of these days. Mark my words, sweetie. Mark my words.”