Night Of No Return

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.”

Chapter 4

Nora took a step back, fear balling up in her stomach. “You need a new line, Alex. That one won’t impress many women.”

“You think I’m trying to impress you?” He closed the distance between them, stopping close to her. Too close. “That’s as stupid as coming out here alone.”

She licked suddenly dry lips. “I’ve been out here alone almost every morning ever since we set up camp. So far, you’re the only thing that has happened to worry me.”

His mouth twisted in what looked more like a threat than a smile. “At least you’ve got the sense to be worried now.”

Should she try to get away? Somehow, in spite of the way he was acting, she couldn’t believe Alex meant to hurt her. But fools seldom recognized their folly while they were busy committing it, did they? “What are you doing out here, anyway? Did you follow me?”

He hesitated. “I was following someone, but not you. I must have lost him.”

“Did someone come messing around the quarry? And you took off after him!” Anger licked in, freeing her from the fear. “And you’ve got the gall to call me stupid! I knew I shouldn’t have let you camp away from the rest of us, but I didn’t realize you’d turn into a one-man vigilante squad!”

“I wasn’t in any danger.”

“But I am?” She shook her head, disgusted. “You went chasing after someone who is either a thief or a vandal or both. I’m out here by myself, yes, but I’m no threat to anyone.”

“You could be, if you see something you’re not supposed to see. The Sinai is a major drug smuggling route.”

And he had been nearly killed—by bandits, maybe, as she’d first guessed. Or maybe by drug smugglers. That might explain his odd behavior. “Is that what happened to you?” she asked more quietly. “Did you see something you weren’t supposed to?”

He turned away abruptly and started down the wadi, heading back the way she’d just come. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Nora fell into step beside him. She supposed that talking about whatever he’d seen might be dangerous. The authorities wouldn’t want their investigation jeopardized, either. “Look, I appreciate your concern, even if I don’t like the way you went about expressing it. But most smugglers aren’t as bloody-minded as the ones who stabbed you.” A grin flickered. “Take Mahmoud, for example.”

He frowned. “Your driver? You think he’s connected to smuggling?”

“Probably. This odd quirk he has about driving at night—he claims he doesn’t like the heat, but I suspect it’s habit. He’s used to driving after dark to avoid patrols. Smuggling is an old, honored tradition among many of the Bedouin, you know. They don’t consider it wrong.”

“It’s a tradition that has become tainted by the drug trade.”

She sighed. “I suppose so. So many of their ways have been changed, and often not for the better, by what passes for modernization. But that’s another subject.” She reached out to stop him, laying a hand on his arm.

He was warm to the touch. And hard. She pulled her hand back quickly, because her blasted heart started thumping again. “Alex, I’m not claiming that I’m perfectly safe, but I’m probably safer on my dawn runs here than a lot of joggers are in big cities. I do take precautions.”

“Precautions.” One lifted eyebrow loaded the word with a wealth of skepticism. “Such as—?”

“Why do you think I always run in the same place at the same time?”

“Do you?”

“Yes. If I’m predictable, I’m less likely to surprise someone who wouldn’t appreciate it. So I run at the same time, along the same route, every day. I made sure Mahmoud knows this, just in case, and I’ve mentioned it to people in Feiron Oasis, too.”

Grudgingly he nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. But…” His glance slid down her body, then back up to her face. “Let’s keep moving. You could use some cool-down time.”

Nora bit her lip. She ought to ignore him and finish her run.

She went with Alex instead. “We’ve talked about my safety. Now let’s talk about yours.”

“My safety isn’t your concern.”

“Not personally, no. But professionally—”

“Let’s not pretend, Nora. You and I will never have a truly professional relationship.” He said that coolly, as if he were mentioning the weather. “There’s too much heat between us.”

That messed up her breathing, even as it infuriated her. She got both breath and temper under control after a moment. “Still, the last time I checked, I was in charge of the dig. You may only be here temporarily, but while you are here you are under my authority.”

“You’re in charge of the dig, yes. You’re not in charge of me.”

“You’re quibbling. I assume you went chasing off after this intruder you spotted because of the vandalism at the site, which makes your actions my business. I don’t want you doing such a foolish thing again. Is that clear?”

“We don’t always get what we want, though, do we? I don’t want you taking these blasted solo runs of yours.”

She wanted to kick something. Maybe him. “You sound like Tim. He’s always nagging me to give up my runs, but it’s terrorists he’s got on the brain, not smugglers.”

A pause. “Terrorists?”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? I’ve tried to tell him that terrorists are interested in headlines—big, splashy acts that will draw attention to them and their cause. Pestering a handful of archaeologists in the middle of the Sinai isn’t going to do that.”

“Americans are targeted for kidnapping sometimes.”

Good grief. He sounded as paranoid on the subject as Tim was. “What good would it do anyone to grab me? I’m not connected to the government or to any big, rich corporation that might pay to get me back. And though there’s always tension in this area, there isn’t anything going on right now that has people especially stirred up against the U.S.” She shook her head. “They’d have to be pretty stupid to waste time on me.”

“There’s no rule that says terrorists have to be smart.”

“Oh, come on. Do you really think there’s a danger of some under-bright terrorists snatching me on my morning run?”

“Are you willing to bet your life that there isn’t?”

She thought about it. “There are risks in everything,” she said at last. “I’m from Houston originally. Have you ever seen the traffic there? People risk their lives on the way to work every day, taking the chance that they won’t become a statistic, the victim of road rage or another driver’s inattention. Or their own.”

“That’s not risk taking. It’s habit, coupled with the comforting conviction that the bad stuff only happens to other people.”

She nodded. “Partly. But I think people do automatically take risks when we feel the outcome is important—whether that outcome is a good job, a new house, or time alone in the desert. I’m not going to give up my morning runs unless I can see that the risks outweigh the benefits.”

“I take it I haven’t persuaded you of that.”

“No.”