Page 29 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

“No. I just thought...” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry. Never mind.” She tried to move past him, but he hung on.

“I understand. You were thinking about everyone else but yourself. Like I said, you’re a good person, but in this instance the only way you can help your uncle is by getting out and getting help. You and I are the only ones who can do that. Ok?”

No, no she was not ok, but admitting that out loud wouldn’t help either of them. “Ok.”

“Besides, we need this tunnel to stay a secret for a while longer. It’s the perfect way to get troops inside the embassy without anyone knowing about it.”

“Yeah. Who’d have thought this was here?” She held her arms out to indicate the rounded walls. She had to stop thinking about the hostages they’d left behind, because no matter what Peter said, she still felt like she was running away.

Peter shined the light higher, splashing some of it into her face. She plunked a neutral expression over her features, hoping he wouldn’t see how close to tears she was. She’d already suffered through his well-meant comforting once. She didn’t want or need any more sympathy. What she wanted from him was something different.

After a couple seconds, he turned and continued down the tunnel. He bent down to avoid braining himself on the jagged edge of rock sticking out of the ceiling. “Watch your head.”

“Thanks.” Georgia ducked under it. “I don’t blame my uncle for not taking it very seriously in the first place, though. Whoever built the door disguised it as a wine rack for heaven’s sake. Having to lift the bottles in a certain sequence to get it to open, that’s so...Hollywood.”

Peter chuckled. The sound surprised Georgia. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel like laughing again.

“Maybe the guy who built it liked watching late-night mysteries or something.” His laugh echoed softly down the tunnel.

“Where does this thing end at?”

“Mitchell said in a small building that’s part of a private garden a quarter mile away.”

“Whose garden?”

“Someone who won’t mind a couple of trespassers, I hope.”

“That brings up my next question, where are we going, exactly?”

“A military base about five miles from the city.”

“Five miles.” Georgia groaned. “Getting there will take all night.”

“Not if we steal a car.”

Georgia stared at his back in disbelief. “You’re crazy. They chop people’s hands off for stealing here.”

Peter stopped and glanced at her. “No, they don’t. They halted that practice ten years ago. Besides, they have to catch us first, and I don’t intend on getting caught.”

“How reassuring.” The words were supposed to come out dry, bordering on sarcastic, but they quivered, full of unshed tears, instead.

His eyes never wavered from her face. “Scared?”

“Terrified.”

---