Page 23 of Deceptive Lies

There was a hint of familiarity about it, but all she could focus on was dragging air into her starving lungs.

“That’s right, honey, keep breathing. Nice deep, long breaths. There you go,” the voice encouraged. Hands tugged at the material over her face, and she heard a muttered curse when he obviously discovered the tape over her mouth. “Sorry, honey, this is going to hurt,” he murmured before the tape was ripped off, taking layers of skin with it.

If it wasn't for the fact that she could now drag in proper deep breaths, she might have cared about the sting, but honestly, Willow had gotten so used to pain over the last couple of weeks that it barely even registered.

While she sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air, the man just held her, smoothed a hand down her hair, and whispered words shecouldn’t even understand but that soothed her nonetheless. It was the American, part of her knew that even as part of her was struggling to just comprehend the fact that she wasn't dead.

Alive.

She was alive.

And safe now.

The strong arms wrapped around her kept her in a cocooned little bubble of security that she never wanted to pop.

“You saved me,” she whispered through her burning throat once her breathing was finally under control. “Thank you.”

A nod was all she got as an acceptance of her gratitude, and a niggle of unease settled inside her. The American had saved her from Darius, but was he going to take her away from Professor Mahmoud or was he going to leave her to her fate?

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Willow Purcell.”

“Do you know how long you’ve been here, Willow?”

“Two weeks.”

Those storm-gray eyes of his were a turbulent mess of emotions, and she still wasn't sure if he was going to help her escape even if he’d just saved her life.

The storminess grew when he lifted a hand and very gently traced a fingertip across the bruises she knew must be covering most of her face. At least she knew that anger wasn't directed at her.

“He did this to you?” the American demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Professor Mahmoud?” When he nodded, she did, too. “Most of them. His friends, too. Darius as well. Did you …?” Willow trailed off, not wanting to ask aloud if the American had killed Darius or just incapacitated him.

“Dead. He had his hands on you and … I snapped.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again. There was not a doubt in her mind that if the American hadn't intervened when he had, Darius would have killed her and suffered whatever consequences there might have been when the professor found out.

“Didn't do anything any decent person wouldn't have done,” he told her gruffly.

“Hate to break it to you, but thereareno decent people around here.” Willow didn't mean in Egypt, in the entire country, she was sure there were lots, but in this neighborhood, there wasn't a single one to be found. “What's your name?”

There was a slight hesitation before he answered. “Cooper.”

“You aren't … here for me … are you?”

“No.”

Panic coursed through her at his simple one-word answer. “But you won't leave me here, will you?” Even though just moments ago death had seemed like an almost pleasant alternative, now that she’d been dragged back from the brink, she found she didn't want to die. She wanted to live. Wanted to fulfill her promises to her dad. Wanted to destroy Tarek Mahmoud.

Again, there was a pause, and his gaze shifted from her to what she assumed was Darius’ body, then to the office door. “No, honey, I wouldn't leave you behind.”

Relief swept through her, quickly followed by logic.

They needed a plan, and they needed one quickly.

“Thank you. I heard the questions you asked the professor. Once we’re free, I’ll tell you everything I know about him. I don’t know if it will help you get the answers you need about your mom, but if nothing else, you can use it as leverage.”

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