Ginger roused, dimly aware of someone’s presence beside her. A blanket lay draped over her. Her bound arms flailed in self-defense. A man’s voice hushed her, and a hand covered her mouth.
Her heart beat erratically. She met an unfamiliar soldier’s gaze. He crouched before her, concern in his deep-set eyes.
Startled by his kindness, Ginger stopped fighting. He smiled and pulled his hand from her mouth. He draped the blanket that stank of smoke and tobacco over her once again, and it warded off the chill.
The soldier gestured toward himself. “Haluk.”
His name? She let out a sob. “Shukraan,” she said, thanking him.
He unwrapped a compact package, then pulled something from it and broke it in pieces. He held it out.
Food? Would it be safe? Refusing the soldier’s kindness might anger him. She chewed. It tasted like shortbread.
He handed her another piece. Her stomach growled.
Laughter trickled in from outside. The soldier gave her the remaining shortbread. He slipped out the door. Too tired to sit, Ginger leaned her head against the floor.
Every morning and every evening, the sisters gathered to pray. The words and actions had grown rote to Ginger. Not that she didn’t believe. But faith felt distant, as did God. The bleak horror of her work had numbed her to the idea of a merciful God. Why would he listen to prayers for the mundane and ignore the cries of humanity slaughtering itself?
Still, prayers came to her lips. The blood on her hands soaked deep, unwashable. Would God listen to a murderer?
Voices filtered through the stillness while she fought off sleep. As dawn’s first light crossed the doorway, the officer returned, another soldier behind him. Ginger straightened, fists clenched at her side, her every sense alert. She inspected the officer’s companion and held back a gasp.
Noah.
His gaze held a warning. She lowered her eyes so the Turk wouldn’t see her recognition. How had he found her?
Noah appeared as much at ease in a Turkish uniform as he had in a British one. He spoke in Turkish. His ability to blend so seamlessly startled her, tempering the hope he’d come to help her.
He could truly be the traitor serving the Maslukha.
The officer spoke to Noah, and they both laughed. With a grin, the officer motioned Noah outside. They disappeared from view.
Chills rose up her spine.
If he was here to negotiate her release, why wear a Turkish uniform? Henry had seemed so confident in Noah’s loyalties—yet after Ahmed’s death he’d told her not to share anything with Noah. Why wouldn’t Henry want her to trust Noah?
Time dragged on, the shadows from the doorway traveling across the floor as the sun climbed higher.
Noah didn’t return.
Ahmed had claimed Henry attacked him, and Henry hadn’t corrected him. Something Ahmed said must have deeply rattled Henry. He’d run away, rather than confer with Noah. “I must learn the truth.”
What truth?
Had Ahmed named Noah as a traitor? It was possible. If Henry valued Noah’s friendship as much as he’d appeared to, perhaps the revelation of Noah’s treachery could have upset Henry.
But upset him enough to attack Ahmed?
She tucked her legs to the side, covering the cold, bare skin of her legs with her torn skirt. Whatever the Turks intentions for her, they’d dragged it out enough. Could Noah be trying to have her released?
Her thirst had grown to a point of distraction. If Noah wanted them to return her alive, she’d think he’d at least argue for her to have water.
But Noah might not be here for that purpose. A rescue mission would have involved more British men. The Turks seemed to know him, even welcome him. Fear snaked its way through her.
Quick footsteps approached, the hard boot strikes thudding against the desert. The soldier who had attacked her came in, followed by the officer.
Noah wasn’t with them. Disappointment pierced her heart.
The officer went to the table. “Ready to talk, English?”
Ginger lifted her chin. “I already told you. I’m a nurse, separated from my companions.”
The officer pursed his lips and displayed Ahmed’s bottle. He set it on the table. “And the secret message?”
“It’s not a secret message.” She shrugged. “Just a medical formula. Chemist notes. The bottle keeps them safe from the elements.”
The officer appeared skeptical and gestured toward his thug. The soldier shoved her into the wall, pinning her.
The officer approached, his steps slow, his posture menacing. “Now tell me the truth.”
The soldier released the pressure. “I have nothing else to say,” she managed.
Barking a quick order to the soldier, the officer stepped aside. The soldier dragged her across the room toward the water basin. He thrust her head under the surface.
Warm, algae-tinted water filled her nostrils and mouth. She fought the urge to drink, thirstily, her throat burning. She kicked and thrashed. She screamed, her words bubbles.
At last, the soldier released her. Air hit her lungs and her body went slack, her head dizzy. Each staggered wheeze felt like pinpricks in her throat.
How could Noah allow them to do this to her if he wasn’t a traitor? She pictured his taunting treatment at the CCS. Had he enjoyed the gossip he’d provoked—no doubt it had been on purpose. Everything he’d done seemed like a calculated lie.
Noah may not have even put as much effort into the horse chase as she’d imagined. He would have welcomed her folly in riding right toward the enemy he served.
The soldier tossed her against the ground. Her eyes opened, her gaze falling to a crevice by the wall, an arm’s reach away. A segmented tail caught her attention there, another deathstalker scorpion. Or the one from the night before.
The officer leaned beside her. “Tell me what you know.”
Her words slurred. “There’s nothing to tell you.”
Her head hit the water once again.
Immersed, Ginger fought the panic coursing through her system. Everything dulled, Keep focus.
One …
She opened her eyes. The basin’s red clay greeted her.
Two …
The hands against her neck pushed harder, her torso crushed.
Three …
Water burned like a hot knife against her open eyes. She squeezed them shut again. Focus. Focus. Stay alive.
Four …
Her lungs burned. She needed air. Her legs kicked. Firm pressure held her. Where was Noah?
Five …
Her pulse pounded in her ears and neck. Air pushed its way from her eardrums. Her head screamed with pressure.
Six …
Dizziness overtook her. If she breathed, the pain might go away.Noah wasn’t coming.
Seven …
Bubbles rippled from her nostrils and lips. She sucked in a mouthful of water, searing pain ripping into her throat and lungs.
She coughed and sputtered. More water filled her nose and mouth.
The red clay melted from her sight. Her mind grew hazy. Light brightened in her mind’s eye. The brightness drew closer. Ahmed’s image swam in her mind. A single drop of blood formed in the corner of Ahmed’s mouth and dripped to his chin.
Air broke across her face. Her head hit hard dirt. A solid thump on her back made water and bile spew from her mouth.
The officer hovered over her, his thug nearby. Her breaths came in spasms that rippled to her diaphragm.
“Please …”
The officer poured the basin of water over her and bent beside her. “Yes?”
She tried forming words. The quivering of her jaw prevented her.
“What do you have to tell me?” the officer demanded.
She clamped her teeth, stopping their chatter. A mixture of drool and water slipped from her mouth. She turned her face toward the officer, and sand scraped her chin. “Go”—she sucked in—“to hell.”
A gunshot cracked through the air. The soldier fell to the ground.
Before she understood what had happened, the officer shielded himself with her body, his hand sliding around her neck. A knife pressed into her throat.
Noah stood in the doorway, his pistol raised. A sob escaped her.
The officer shouted. The knife dug deeper, blistering pain cutting into her flesh as the blade scratched against her skin.
Noah placed his hands in the air. He spoke in Turkish, his voice calm. He lowered the pistol to the floor.
Ginger’s fingers clawed at the dirt. The knife pricked her skin. If she didn’t act, she might die anyway.
Her hands found the scorpion in the crevice, her bound hands clumsy.
She lifted the creature by the tail, right below the stinger, and threw it at the officer’s face. He leapt up from her, trying to wrench it from his face. The scorpion repeatedly struck at the thrashing man before he knocked it away. It scurried into the wall and from sight.
Noah bolted toward them and tackled the officer.
“Noah, watch out!” Ginger yelled as the officer raised the knife. She drew her knees into her chest. The two men tumbled.
Noah’s elbow smashed into the Turk’s face, and there came the gruesome snap of bone. Noah wrestled the knife from the man and slashed at him.
Blood gushed from the Turk’s throat. He gasped and gargled. Noah punched him in the face, sending the dying man onto the floor.
Ginger froze.
The knife dripped with blood. It clattered onto the ground.
Noah’s chest heaved. He shook out his hand, his gaze focused on the dead officer.
A gash on Noah’s forearm oozed. He stood over Ginger, sunlight gleaming on his face. He bent and pulled her into a seated position. “Are you all right?”
Water droplets dripped down her face, her mind in a daze.
He’d killed the officer.
She focused on the cut on his forearm. “You’re hurt.” She grasped the cuff of his sleeve.
“A flesh wound.” He grazed her jaw with a light touch. “Are you injured?”
She’d forgotten about the pain in her hip until then. He’d spared her from far worse. “Yes. My hip.”
Running steps interrupted them. Noah dove for his pistol. The kind soldier, the one who had called himself Haluk, came through the doorway. Haluk stared at Ginger.
“Noah, wait!” She held her hands out.
Too late. Three shots followed. Haluk slumped to the ground.
She lowered her hands slowly.
She stared at Haluk. All she saw was Ahmed’s face.
“Four more men brought me here,” she told him. Were they still outside? They might come running soon too.
Noah collected the guns from the dead men. “They’re on patrol. Hopefully far enough away that we have some time before they return. But they may have heard the gunshots. We need to hurry.”
Noah cut the rope away from her hands and ankles, then helped her stand. Pain shot through her hip.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I-I need water.”
“I have some in my saddlebag. We must leave. If the others return, we’ll be outnumbered. It’s why I had to wait so long to get you.”
“Wait. The officer. He has something … of importance.” Ginger grabbed the bottle from the table.
The unsaid hung between them, thick and uncomfortable. Noah took the bottle from her and frowned. “Can you walk?”
She rested some weight on her leg and winced. “I don’t know.”
Leaning down, Noah slid an arm under her knees.
She pulled away. “You don’t need to—”
He swung her into his arms. “I’m carrying you.”
Too weary to protest, her arms slipped around his neck. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, not wanting to see the bodies of the Turkish soldiers he’d killed. They would haunt her nightmares.
He carried her from the outpost into the sunlight. She squinted as they passed the remains of the fire that had taunted her overnight, now nothing more than charred, smoking log and ash. The stubs of smoked cigarettes littered the sand around the fire. Noah smelled strongly of tobacco. Had he sat here, smoking cigarettes while she languished?
She glanced over his shoulder toward the outpost, a weatherbeaten stone and concrete structure surrounded by rock and sand and sun. The canyons the Ottomans had brought her through rose in the distance, a few anemic trees and prickly bushes scattered in the landscape.
Noah’s horse stood beside a post and water trough. Nothing but open, flat desert met her eyes in that direction.
Noah set her down by his horse. She swayed. “Are you ill?” he asked.
She tried to meet his gaze, tears in her eyes.
“Why did you come?” she managed. Stubble covered his jawline, and she noticed a scar on his temple she hadn’t seen before. “Who are you?”
He gave her an odd look. “I came for you.” He removed the kabalak from his head and let it fall to the ground. “I’d think that would be obvious.”
“Yes, but—” Ginger breathed out, weakly. “How did you find me?”
Noah pulled a canteen from his horse’s pack and handed it to her. “You should drink some water.” He unscrewed the top and held it out. “I followed you, remember? Not the wisest thing I’ve ever done—riding into Ottoman territory with only my sidearm—but I knew if I lost sight of you, you’d be much more difficult to track.”
She sipped at the metallic warm water and had to restrain herself from gulping it down. She handed it back and drooped against the horse. “But why? And how did you get that uniform?” She ignored the buzzing flies, some circling the horse and landing on its soft mane.
He looked down at the khaki tunic and shrugged out of it, leaving his undershirt. “My uniform is in my pack.” He tossed the tunic alongside the kabalak. “I had to kill a scout for this. Which is another reason we should go. There’s a chance the men on patrol could find him.”
Noah leaned on the saddle, his dark-blue eyes alertly searching the horizon. “You have a lot to answer for, Ginger, but if you’re worried I’ll hurt you, you have nothing to fear. I’m returning you to the clearing station, and we can sort out what you’re involved in there.”
The clearing station? “You’re taking me back?” A traitor wouldn’t return her, would he?
His brows drew together, his expression suspicious. “Do you not want to?”
“No—of course …” A cry broke from her. “Of course I want to.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
Noah pulled her into his strong arms once more. This time the gesture wasn’t merely functional. His embrace held comfort and kindness. A kindness she wasn’t sure she deserved.
She’d put them both in danger. “I—” She tried to find any suitable words. Questions burned in her mind. Her tears stained his shirtfront, her shoulders shaking.
His arms tightened. He stroked her back. “You were brave. You fought like a wildcat.” He set his hands on her shoulders. “We must go. It’s dangerous to waste even a minute.”
He brushed her tears away with his knuckles. The horse stomped and whinnied, the clopping sound echoing out into the void of the dry rocky desert that shimmered like a fish’s scales in the midday sun.
Noah helped her onto the saddle. The hard leather pushed against her hip, and a throbbing pain shot through her leg. Despite the pain, she felt hope. Climbing behind her, Noah rested her against him. He flicked the reins and they bolted into the wilderness.