“You make a sound and you will die,” a rough voice muttered in her ear. “Understand?”
He spoke English, excellent English. In fact, she recognized the voice and accent. “Sadiq?” she asked, realizing it was her translator. The man who’d spent two weeks with her traveling from Atiq to El Saroush.
“Be quiet and you won’t get hurt,” he said.
Tally nodded, wincing as the knife blade was pressed harder against her side. She could feel it nick, cut, but she wasn’t afraid, not as afraid as she should be. Tair had said the men she’d traveled with were Barakan rebels, zealots who refused to recognize Ouaha as an independent territory.“Ash bhiti? What do you want?” she whispered, speaking the simple Arabic she’d learned, and calmed by the knowledge that Tair would help her. Tair would save her. He always did.
“How many are with him?”
“With who?” she asked, deliberately playing dumb because she knew this was about Tair. It had to be about Tair.
The forearm against her throat tightened, bruising. “Don’t be stupid.”
She wouldn’t tell him anything. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Her captor didn’t like her response and he increased the pressure on her throat, ruthlessly punishing, squeezing, cutting off her air. Tally’s head swam. Little spots danced before her eyes and just as her knees started to buckle everything went dark.
When Tally came round she was no longer in the palace garden by the fountain and pool. She was in a plain room somewhere, hands and feet tied, tethered to a chair. It was dark in the room and even though the shutters at the windows were closed, she knew it had to be dark outside. In the desert sunlight always penetrated the shutters and blinds but the room was eerily dark, almost black, and Tally felt fear. But also calm.
Tair would come. Tair would find her. Tair would save her before it was too late.
It was a long night but she did sleep for a while and when she woke again light outlined the square windows and poked through cracks and holes in the weathered wood shutters.
Tally glanced around the room and discovered she wasn’t alone, either.
“So you’re awake,” the man said.
It was a different man than last night, and blinking Tally stared at him, wondering where the other one had gone, wondering what would happen next.
“How is your throat?” the man asked. “Sore?”
She swallowed, her gaze holding his and nodded.
“Sadiq wasn’t to hurt you. He’s been punished.”
Tally just continued to hold his gaze and looking at him, she made a point of pulling on her hands, showing him she was tied, showing him she didn’t like it.
“It’s for your safety,” he said almost apologetically. “This way you will be protected.”
“From whom?” Tally finally spoke, her voice, rough, bruised, but her words were bitter and they betrayed her anger. “I certainly wouldn’t hurt myself. So who would hurt me?”
He didn’t answer her question, he merely shrugged and offered her an affable smile. “I am Imran. I want to help you.” He extended his hands, demonstrating his friendliness, trustworthiness. “Tell me where you want to go. I will personally see you there.”
“Tell me what you want first.”
“Details about Sheikh el-Tayer’s home. His travels. Future plans.” Imran paused. “Things of that nature.”
“I don’t know any of that. He doesn’t talk to me—”
“You’re his wife, aren’t you?”
“Yes but he’s Sheikh el-Tayer. He doesn’t confide in women.”
Imran regarded her steadily, his gaze unwavering. “We just want him. We don’t want to hurt you.”
But they would hurt her. They’d do anything they could to get to Tair.
Tair was in trouble.
And she, somehow, unwittingly, was going to make it worse for him. Because she knew Tair and he would come after her. He wouldn’t leave her, not behind, not even to save himself. Her Tair would risk himself to save her.
And she had to do the same. Something to help Tair, to protect him. “And if I help you, you’ll send me home? You’ll let me go?”
Imran smiled. “I’ll take you to the airport myself,” he answered.
Yes, she thought, in a body bag. Because now she knew just who and what she was dealing with. And Tair had been right. They were lawless men. Men who’d do anything to further their cause.
“We’re returning to the desert late tomorrow,” she said. “Going back to his home at Bur Juman.”