Eileen Wilks - Night Of No Return

He had more than one reason now to find the base quickly.

Apparently, the mild discouragement of petty thefts was no longer enough. The damaged ladder was meant to cause an accident—an accident that, added to the other misfortunes, might cause the nosy foreigners to pack up and leave. It wouldn’t matter to the terrorists if someone died or was badly hurt—not if it accomplished their goal.

It hadn’t, of course. Nora had no intention of leaving her tunnel unexcavated.

Alex paused at the crest of a ridge, scowling at the burning sliver of sun nudging itself above a knobby hill to the west. He was not in a good mood.

He should have been. Though he hadn’t found the base, he was in a good position to search for it. With the moon nearly full, he had had decent light for his search, and his biggest problem had been solved the day he arrived. The vandalized ladder had given him a reason to pitch his tent in the quarry. He could come and go at night without anyone knowing.

From a professional standpoint, the sabotage had been a stroke of good luck. From a personal standpoint… He had no business having a personal standpoint.

He paused. That narrow slice of sun told him he’d better hurry. He had been following one of the smaller wadis, using it as a guide to get back to the quarry, but moving alongside it rather than at the bottom. He briefly considered moving to the bottom of the wadi, where he could make much better time, but the idea made the nape of his neck prickle. This particular wadi was too narrow and too exposed. A perfect place for an ambush.

He continued along the top of the wadi, his thoughts much darker than the gradually brightening air around him.

Nora was in danger. She didn’t realize that there were people who didn’t want her here routinely used mutilation or death to express their opinions. The thefts that worried Nora had reassured Alex. They had indicated that El Hawy hadn’t wanted to draw attention with anything as overt as murder.

But the open act of sabotage was a warning. The terrorists were getting nervous. The arms were on their way, and the buyer of those arms—the traitor named Simon—would be arriving once they did. El Hawy didn’t want outsiders nearby.

It was not healthy to be camped near a bunch of nervous terrorists.

The worst of it was that he couldn’t tell Nora she was in danger. He couldn’t even mention the watcher, much less tell her what was going on. He couldn’t afford for her to become too frightened or discouraged, because he needed her to continue to work the dig. He had to have a reason to be here, where few outsiders came.

Tourists didn’t venture into the Sinai’s interior. Religious pilgrims visited Mount Sinai and St. Catherine’s Monastery, while pleasure seekers stayed at resorts scattered along the coasts. Foreigners weren’t even allowed to leave the few main roads without special permits.

No, he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even—

Alex’s thoughts stopped as suddenly as his body. He froze, head up, listening. Footfalls, coming this way down the wadi. Fast.

He moved quickly behind a boulder that overhung the dry waterbed. A perfect spot for an ambush, yes. Which was fine—as long as he was doing the ambushing.

Nora had finally managed to run her mind blank, free of all the problems that had beset the dig—and free of the man who kept invading her dreams. Her whole being was focused on the challenge and exhilaration of moving swiftly over rough terrain, in spite of the aches that still plagued her from her fall.

She was breathing hard and sweating lightly. A tight curve loomed ahead where the wadi narrowed drastically, banked by a huge boulder on one side and crumbling rock on the other.

The ground was littered with gravel and loose stones. She slowed, not wanting the complication of a turned ankle.

Something hit the ground, hard, right behind her.

She stopped dead.

A hard voice demanded, “Why the hell didn’t you keep running?”

She spun around.

Alex. He stood four feet from her. There was no mistaking him now for civilized. From the savage readiness of his stance to the beard stubble on his cheeks to the glittering anger in his eyes, he was everything wild and unpredictable.

Her hand went to her throat. “Good grief! Where did you come from?”

“You’re a fool, you know. I could have slit your throat before you turned around. You would have been dead before you hit the ground.”

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