A Summer Smile (2 page)

"You will tell him that we have treated you like a delicate flower." Ali Hassan dropped down into the seat beside Zilah, a smile of sleek satisfaction on his narrow, catlike face. "That you have been fed and allowed to sleep. We have not beaten you or used you sexually. You will tell him these things when he asks. You understand?"

"I will tell him." Zilah leaned her head back wearily against the cushioned headrest of her seat. She touched her cut lower lip gingerly. "However, I don't think he'll believe me when he sees this little memento."

"You should not have tried to snatch the gun from Hakim." Hassan shrugged. "It was a stupid move. We have no wish to harm you. You are too valuable to us."

"You're
 
insane to believe that Sheikh Ben Raschid will give you what you want. I'm nothing to him." Her hands tightened on the padded arms of the seat. "In the end he'll refuse your demands."

Hassan's smile faded. "I hope for your sake he is not so foolish. Your treatment will change radically at that point." His hand dropped to rest with insulting intimacy on her jean-clad thigh. "You are a very beautiful woman, Zilah Dabala. My friends and I would enjoy using you." He felt the muscles of her thigh tense beneath his hand, and there was another flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes. "Did you know I was a student at the university at Marasef eight years ago?"

Zilah felt the breath leave her body; panic rose within her. She knew what was coming. It was there in the expression of feline satisfaction on his face. She mustn't give in to the panic. She
wouldn't
give in to it. She was strong. David had made her strong. "How could I know that?" She lifted her chin defiantly. "I haven't noticed any measurable degree of educated intelligence in your actions so far. I'm surprised that they let you into any university."

His fingers tightened on her thigh with a sudden force that brought an involuntary cry of pain from her. "So proud," he sneered. "Have you forgotten the House of the Yellow Door so quickly?"

"I
have
forgotten it," Zilah said quietly. "It doesn't exist for me any longer."

"If Bradford fails to persuade Ben Raschid that we are serious, we will remind you. Be sure of it." Hassan's hand relaxed and fell away from her thigh. He stood up. "You might shed a few frightened tears for this Daniel Seifert to report back to Bradford. It wouldn't hurt." He turned away and made a sign to his cohort, who was lounging in a seat at the front of the plane, a machine-gun lying carelessly in the crook of his arm. "Seifert should be here in five minutes.

We will meet him outside and conduct a routine search. I doubt if Ben Raschid would be foolish enough to send one man against us, but Hakim and I will make sure."

He threw open the heavy metal door and went down the steps of the Learjet. Zilah saw that he said something over his shoulder to Hakim, who was following close behind him, and then laughed. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Animals. They were animals, and she mustn't let Hassan's words touch her.

It was so hot in the cabin that she could scarcely breathe. Perspiration was running down her back, causing her short-sleeved white shirt to cling to her like a second skin. She opened her eyes and stared numbly out the window at the desolate wasteland of sand. Nothing but dunes and sky as far as the eye could see, and the heat was rising from those dunes in shimmering waves.

She wouldn't be afraid. There must be some way she could escape Hassan and his men if she could rid herself of this debilitating fear. The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of terror. Yet she couldn't let them use her like this. David had done so much for her; she couldn't allow herself to be turned into a weapon against him.

The throbbing chug of a motor caused her to straighten swiftly and lean closer to the window. A jeep had halted a good fifty yards from the plane and the driver lithely swung to the ground. His hands rose quickly above his head. "Daniel Seifert," he called.

He should have looked cowed and intimidated in that position, but there was nothing in the least tame about the man who was standing with his legs astride beside the open jeep. He was a giant of a man, at least six foot five or perhaps taller, and dressed in

khaki trousers that outlined the powerful muscles of his thighs and calves. His khaki shirt seemed barely able to contain the sleek biceps of those massive arms. Auburn hair blazed in the sunlight and a closely trimmed mustache and beard were of the same fiery hue as his hair. He was a wild, barbaric figure and reminded her vaguely of a painting she'd once seen of a fierce Viking warrior.

Hassan and Hakim must have been equally impressed by the air of restrained menace that Seifert exuded because their attitude was distinctly wary as they approached him. They ordered him to lean against the hood of the jeep. The search wasn't the routine one Hassan had planned. It was very thorough but yielded nothing more lethal than a fingernail clipper. Then they were striding toward the plane, the red-haired giant a few paces ahead, apparently ignoring trie machine-gun Hakim was pointing at the small of his back.

"Relax," Hassan snapped at Hakim as they entered the passenger compartment of the plane. "You saw that there was no sign of a weapon. It appears Ben Raschid is being sensible for a change." He gestured to Zilah in her seat at the back of the plane. "There she is, Seifert. You can see that she's alive and unharmed."

"I want to talk to her," Daniel said. "Alone."

"That's not necessary," Hassan said sharply. "She will tell you we have not misused her."

"Then let her tell me," Daniel said. "Alone. I have instructions to make sure you've done her no harm before we deal. I hardly think she'd be willing to spill any beans while you stand there with a gun pointed at her head."

Hassan hesitated a moment before he shrugged. "Go ahead. We will stay by the door. You will be out of earshot back there if you lower your voice. You have five minutes."

Daniel Seifert looked even bigger in the confines of the cabin than he had by the jeep as he strode down the aisle toward her. He sat down in the seat facing her, his gaze searching her face. "My name is Daniel Seifert. Have they hurt you?"

"Not really. It doesn't matter." She moistened her lips nervously. "You have to tell Sheikh Ben Raschid not to give in to them. I'll get out of this by myself."

"Oh, will you?" Daniel asked sardonically. "That might be a little difficult considering the circumstances."

"I told you. I'll handle it. I owe too many debts already. I can't add a burden like this to them."

He was silent for a long moment, studying her intently. "You mean it."

"Of course I mean it. I don't say things I don't mean," she said, impatient. "Now, will you tell David and the sheikh I'm fine and that I'll find a way out of this mess myself?"

He shook his head. "We'll talk about it later," he said. Zilah Dabala looked more tired and more finely drawn than she had in the photograph, but the clear green eyes meeting his were steady and unafraid. There was no summer smile, however. Her lips were taut with the effort she was making to keep them from trembling. Strange that he could miss a smile he'd never really seen outside of a photograph. Suddenly his gaze sharpened as he realized that a cut marred the softness of her lower lip. His expression hardened into a fierceness that startled her. "Who struck you? I thought you said you hadn't been hurt."

Her fingers flew automatically to the cut on her lip. "Hassan. Stupidly, I tried to grab a gun from Hakim. I won't do anything so impulsive again." She deliberately dropped her hand away. "See, it's only a little cut. It doesn't hurt. And, anyway, it doesn't matter."

"It matters." His tone was granite-harsh. His finger rose to brush her lower lip with a gossamer touch.

Zilah felt a sudden sensation that was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It must be pain, she thought in bewilderment. But somehow it didn't feel like pain. It was more like a hot tingle of pleasure. Daniel Seifert's navy blue eyes were holding her own with mesmerizing power.

"It matters very much." His voice had softened to dark richness. Then he shifted so that his bulk was between her and the men in the front of the plane. "I'll take care of Hassan soon. It will be a pleasure I'll look forward to." His voice was a mere whisper. "We haven't much time. Be ready."

Zilah's brow knotted in puzzlement. "Ready for what?"

"There will be intense pain." Daniel was speaking rapidly, his eyes on her face. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of any other way. I knew I'd be searched, so I couldn't bring anything along to protect you. Will you trust me?"

"You're going to—"

"Trust me," he said again. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just hold on to me until hell freezes over. You won't be sorry."

She met his worried gaze. Gentleness, regret, and some other emotion she couldn't define were conflicting in that brutally powerful face. She smiled. "I'll hold on to you until hell freezes over. I
 
promise." He returned her smile. How odd that warm gentle smile looked in the rough-hewn boldness of his warrior face.

"Good. I'll damn well remind you of that promise if you forget. We're in this together, Zilah."

She nodded. "Toge—" The word was shattered as an explosion rocked the plane. "What!"

Within seconds of each other there was a chain of explosions that appeared to encircle the plane. After that the action was so lightning-fast that she perceived it only as a blur.

Daniel reached into his back pocket and brought out a pristine white handkerchief. "Cover your nose and mouth and keep your eyes closed. Try to hold your breath."

Then he tore off his left ear!

A false ear, she realized almost immediately as he balled it up in his palm.

The explosions were still going on outside the plane. Hassan was shouting something to the other man, who was peering through the window to try to sight their attackers.

Confusion became sheer madness as Daniel threw the object in his hand into their midst. Cerise smoke suddenly filled the plane.

Zilah's mouth was agape with astonishment. The spell was broken as Daniel gave her an exasperated glance. "Dammit, cover your face!"

She heard a scream of agony from Hakim somewhere in that thick red mist ahead. She quickly covered her mouth and nose with the handkerchief.

"Come on." Daniel was on his feet. "Grab on to my belt. I may have to have my hands free."

She heard another scream. Hassan?

She closed her eyes as they entered the thick mist by the door but not before she caught a shadowy glimpse of Hassan. He was doubled over, his hands over his eyes, and clutching desperately at his face. His rifle was on the floor beside him.

Pain struck her!

Her face was a fiery agony. The cloth of the handkerchief was offering almost no protection against the heavy fumes by the door. She halted, stunned by the sheer intensity of the pain. She heard a muttered imprecation from Daniel, and then his arm was around her, pushing her through the door, down the stairs, and out into the sunlight. The desert heat enveloped her, suffocating her. They were running toward the jeep, she realized. Another round of explosions was going off, shaking the earth beneath her feet and causing puffs of fire and smoke to appear like lethal blossoms on the starkness of the dunes.

Daniel's hands were encircling her waist, lifting, almost throwing her into the jeep. He jumped into the driver's seat and put the jeep into gear. The windshield in front of them exploded in a cobweb of splinters with a neat hole in the center. A bullet hole! She glanced back to see Hassan a few yards from the plane aiming again with the rifle. Hakim was stumbling down the steps of the plane, still reeling with pain.

"Get down!" Daniel's roar was so harsh, she obeyed instantly. "Dammit, I was hoping the gas would give us a few more minutes." His foot jammed down on the accelerator and the jeep leaped forward. Another bullet whistled past her head and ricocheted off the frame of the windshield. Daniel began to zigzag across the sands. Other shots followed, hitting somewhere in the rear of the jeep. Daniel was fumbling underneath the seat and bringing out a small black metal box.

"What's that?" Zilah had to shout to be heard over the roar of the motor and the hail of bullets.

"I was going to wait until we were farther away, but I think we need the distraction more than the distance." Daniel pressed the red button on the box.

The earth heaved as an explosion four times as strong as the previous ones rocked the desert. She glanced back over her shoulder to see that the Learjet was now nothing but a blazing inferno. "You blew up the plane!" "I told you we needed a distraction." He looked back over his shoulder. Hakim, who had been close to the plane, had been knocked off his feet and was crawling with desperate swiftness away from the filming wreckage. Another rifle shot sounded. "Hassan doesn't appear to have been stopped, but I think we're out of range now." "You blew up the plane," she repeated, dazed. "Ben Raschid wants them," Daniel said calmly. "I didn't want to chance them turning chicken and fly-ing out of here. I also wanted to make them mad enough to come after us across the border." "You
planned
for them to follow us?" "You're damn right." His grin took on a touch of ferocity as he shot a sideways glance at her. His gaze lingered on her swollen lip. "I've decided that I want them too."