Page 39 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

“They’re looking for us.”

“How do you know that?”

“The soldier reported no sign of the two escaped American criminals.”

She was so close he could feel her swift intake of a breath. “Us?”

“I think it’s safe to say that our terrorist friends know we’re gone.”

“I thought... Weren’t they going to leave us in the storage room all night? We haven’t been gone six hours.”

“Someone must have changed his mind.”

He felt her shudder and she clutched him around the waist. Peter hugged her to him for a moment, so fucking glad they hadn’t waited to escape.

“They would have... Were going to—” Her voice shook.

“We don’t know what they were planning to do,” he interrupted. “Don’t think about it. It didn’t happen.”

She sniffed once, exhaled deep and released her frantic grip on him. He rubbed her back, offering what little comfort he could.

Finally, he sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “The terrorists must have at least one person helping them in the local police, maybe more. Maybe even in the government.”

“Is that really possible?”

“Very possible. The royal family runs the government, and money is the number one negotiating tool with these people. I know, I’ve had dealings with them before.”

It was several seconds before she asked, “So, what are we going to do?”

“Keep moving, but with everyone searching for us it’s going to be slow going. We need to get as close to the edge of town as we can and find someplace safe to hole up for the day.”

“But what about the bomb? Won’t they blow it up?”

“I don’t think so. Remember, they need publicity, haven’t got nearly enough of it yet, and their pet journalist just escaped with a secretary. That’s got to have pissed somebody off. They’re going to want to find us before they blow the city off the face of the earth.” He pressed his hand against her back a little harder. “We’re not out of time yet.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

There was a long pause before she replied in a low but firm voice. “I trust you.”

Resisting the urge to voice his relief, Peter let go of her and ran his hand through his hair again. He felt ash drift across his face and grinned, just what he needed. Makeup. Rubbing his fingers in the soot on the floor, he first smeared his face, hands and arms with the black stuff, before dusting it through his hair.

“What are you doing?” Georgia asked.

“Camouflage.

***

The bottom fell outof Georgia’s stomach again.

The way he talked, it almost sounded like he enjoyed risk. He’d certainly kept the survival skills he learned in the military sharp. Keeping the two of them hidden when danger got too close, and now he was covering up his too pale skin with black soot and ash.

Did he participate in those weekend warrior games? Running obstacle courses or through the woods armed with paintball guns, shooting at each other for fun. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t going insane with fear. She’d have gone over the deep end already if it hadn’t been for his calm, ready for anything attitude.

She took a couple of deep indrawn breaths to settle her stomach. Throwing up wasn’t an option right now.

“Stay here,” Peter said, for about the fiftieth time. “I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

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