Barbara Dunlop - Millions To Spare

“Yes, ma’am, they let us study pretty much whatever we want.” He walked through the door, then shortly returned. “As long as we keep shooting people in our off-hours, of course.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He went to work on Cedar Twist’s bridle. “You do know I’m joking, right?”

No, she hadn’t. “You’re not a lawyer?”

“No, I don’t shoot people. You don’t go to law school during the day and shoot people in the evenings.”

“Oh.” Well, she hadn’t assumed he meant every evening. “Then, what did you do?”

He crossed to Roc, removing the stallion’s bridle, as well. “I was involved in the Gulf War, early on, aerial reconnaissance.”

“You fly planes?”

“Yes. I prefer that to killing people.”

She fought a smile. “Good to know.”

He gathered up the two bridles and gave her a nod. “I would think so. What with the two of us all alone out here on this deserted little road.” Then he turned once more toward the shack.

She stared after him in frozen silence, suddenly hyperaware of the quiet, the heat, his excruciatingly powerful maleness.

It hadn’t occurred to her to question her safety. It certainly hadn’t occurred to her to question his intentions.

He exited the shack, looming closer, his feet sending up small puffs of dust into the still air, his powerful arms swinging with his determined walk, his dark eyes watching her.

“Oh, hell,” he spat out, making her jump. “I was joking. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She tossed her head. “I’m not scared.”

He stopped in front of her, hands going to his hips. “I protect people,” he stated, the offense clear in his tone. “I would never, ever, not in a million years, harm a defenseless woman.”

It occurred to Brittany that his words would ring a lot truer if he wasn’t shouting them at her.

Julia moaned loudly, folding her arms on the dashboard of the Jeep and dropping her sweaty forehead onto them. “I’m melting.”

The sun had cleared the eastern mountains two hours ago, but Harrison refused to run the air-conditioning. He claimed it wasted fuel. And while she was firmly against the idea of running out of gas in the middle of a desert, she was also firmly against the idea of dying of heatstroke with the Jeep still running.

“Buck up,” said Harrison. “I don’t think it’s more than ninety-five.” The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and he’d long since discarded his tux jacket and bow tie.

“But we’re in an oven.” She sat up and gestured to the heat waves rolling up off the sand. “We’re actually cooking!” She tugged at the collar of her dress. “And I’m wrapped in foil.”

Harrison started to laugh.

“Don’t,” she barked at him. Whatever the metallic fabric was, it held in every ounce of heat and moisture. “I swear, I’m going to rip this thing off my body.”

“Be my guest,” he said. Then he nodded ahead down the faint sand track. “But you might want to have something on when we meet up with them.”

Her gaze darted out the windshield.

Half a dozen colorfully dressed men on horseback were riding toward them. The troop looked like something straight out of Arabian Nights.

“Bandits?” she asked Harrison, her sweat suddenly turning cold.

“I have no idea,” said Harrison. “There are a lot of different tribes out here, doing a lot of different things in the desert.”

“Are they dangerous?” Their windows were all down, and the fabric top of the Jeep offered little protection if somebody meant them harm.

“Looks like we’re about to find out.”

The group drew closer, kicking up dust and revealing a camel amongst the horses. If Julia wasn’t so frightened, she might have appreciated the fascinating spectacle.

As it was, she held her breath while the riders separated around the Jeep, passing by on either side. Harrison didn’t slow down, which Julia thought was exceedingly wise.

When the last of them streamed past, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. Perhaps they were merely fellow travelers, moving from one village to the next.

“Uh-oh,” Harrison muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror and pushing his foot down on the accelerator.

“What?” Julia twisted her head.

They were coming back.

“This can’t be good,” she intoned.

“Tell me about it.” He shifted gears.

But the riders were gaining on them, whooping and shrieking in a chantlike fashion. She was pretty sure it wasn’t a greeting.

They passed by, arms raised, some with swords, peering in the window, before peeling off to circle around again.

“Be nice if you had a head scarf,” said Harrison.

But she had nothing she could use. For the first time today, she was glad of the full coverage provided by the evening gown.

“What do we do?”

“Just what we’re doing.”

And then she saw him.

Outside her window.

His chin was covered, his forehead obscured by a white-and-blue headdress. But she recognized his nose, and those piercing eyes, and the uneven eyebrows.

And then he peeled away, like the others, circling back around for another pass.

“Holy shit,” said Julia, whooshing back in her seat.

“What?”

“I know that man.”

“How?” Harrison demanded. “Why?”

“From the track. He gave me Millions to Spare’s name. He thought I was placing a bet.”

Harrison stared at her for a moment.

“Hang on,” he said, gearing down, popping the clutch and increasing his speed.

The Jeep rattled frighteningly, but the horses and camels began falling behind. At first they were lost in the dust. And then, as the Jeep reached fifty, she knew they had to be gone.

“It has to be a coincidence,” she said, more to herself than to Harrison.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

She was trying not to panic. She was seriously trying not to panic. “So he went to the track. Lots of people go to the track. Don’t they?”

“He learns you’re interested in Millions to Spare. Millions to Spare dies, and then he practically ambushes us in the desert? That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“It could happen,” she insisted.

“You want to bet your life on it?”

Julia stared back at the dust plume funneling out behind them, then turned to the endless desert in front of them.

“Whatever you do,” she told Harrison, “don’t turn on the air-conditioning.”

Four hours later, death was beginning to feel preferable to spending another minute in the bouncing Jeep under the broiling desert sun.

Julia was half-asleep-or maybe she was half-delirious from thirst and heatstroke-by the time Harrison stopped the Jeep and killed the engine. She groggily blinked open her eyes. They’d long since run out of water. Dust had scratched her eyeballs raw. It had seeped into her hair, her clothing, her very pores.

Harrison lifted his sunglasses and parked them on top of his short, dark hair. “Are you all right?” he asked in a voice that sounded as raspy as hers felt.

“Great,” she answered, bracing her hands on either edge of her bucket seat and easing her body upright. “Where are we?”

“Khandi Oasis. I doubled back.” He pocketed the keys to the Jeep in the breast pocket of his dust-streaked dress shirt. “It should take them a while to find us.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Hopefully, forever.”

She tried to smile at his joke, but her dry lips felt as if they might crack.

She glanced around at the collection of white huts and square buildings set amongst coarse grasses, thorn trees and palms. “Is there a hotel here?”

“Not exactly,” said Harrison, setting the brake and reaching for his door handle.

“A tent?” she asked, getting less particular by the second. If it was out of the sun, out of the wind and had any kind of a beverage available, she was in.

“I have a friend here. He may have a cottage we can use.”

Julia breathed a sigh of relief. “Lead me to him.”

While she pawed at her door handle, Harrison rounded the front of the Jeep to help. He held out a hand while she straightened her reluctant legs. They were decidedly weak as she rolled to her feet.

Then the world began to buzz and spin.

“Uh-oh,” Harrison’s voice was hollow and distant, and she felt his arms close around her.

She woke up on her back, in a cool room, with a fan turning lazily above her. As she blinked her way back to reality, bright fabrics came into focus against stark, white walls. Woven baskets and hammered silver dotted the tables in the room, while bentwood, rattan chairs were interspersed with vividly colored rugs.

“Welcome back,” came Harrison’s soft voice, and she turned her head toward the sound.

He smiled down at her. His dark eyes were uncharacteristically warm and kind. She guessed swooning was what a girl had to do to bring out his softer side. Had she known, she could have swooned days ago.

His fingertips touched the cool cloth on her forehead.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

“I guess I passed out.”

“That you did.”

He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, propping her up while handing her a glass of water.

She took a few sips of the tepid liquid. “Is there air-conditioning in here?”

“They use it sparingly.” He took the glass from her hand and let her lie down again. “The settlement has a generator.”

“It feels like heaven.”

He sat back in his chair. “I’m glad you approve. We may be here for a while.”

Reality crept back into her consciousness. “Are we safe?”

“As safe as I can make us.”

She nodded, feeling suddenly emotional and maudlin. “Thank you,” she croaked.

“No problem.”

She wheezed out a weak laugh. “Right. I can’t imagine I’ve been any trouble at all.”

He paused. “You are exciting. I’ll give you that.”

She willed her strength back, reminding herself they were still in precarious circumstances.

“Exciting is one way to put it.” She pushed herself into a sitting position.

He reflexively reached for her, but then backed off when it was clear she wasn’t going to keel over.

She took another drink of water.

Gazing down, she realized she was wearing some kind of loose cotton tunic and skirt instead of the evening gown. She blinked at the maroon-and-yellow fabric, layered over the full-length brown skirt. Had Harrison undressed her?

“Yes,” he answered her unspoken question.

She wasn’t sure how strongly she objected to him undressing her, or even if she objected at all. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.

“Well, I sure hope you didn’t look,” she said.

“I thought about closing my eyes,” he responded mildly. “But then I realized I’d have to feel my way around.”

“So you ogled me while I was unconscious?” She drank some more water, feeling stronger by the second.

He gave her an enigmatic smile, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

“Is that what they teach you at Oxford?”

“You were wearing underwear. And you were dying of heat prostration.”

Julia reflexively scrambled to remember if her bra and panties matched. Stupid thing to worry about under the circumstances, but she couldn’t help herself.

And she really couldn’t remember. It had been too long since she’d dressed yesterday, and it was dark when she switched clothes with Brittany.

So she was either wearing a stylish little white set with royal-blue piping, or she’d gone with the comfortable, canary cotton panties with the beige sport bra. She wriggled a little to see if she could tell the difference.

Using a clay pitcher on the table, Harrison refilled her water glass. “You’d rather I’d let you die?”

“I’d rather you’d found a nice, matronly woman to take off my clothes.”

She took another drink, unable to stop herself from wondering if, aside from the underwear, Harrison had liked what he saw. Between her busy job and her gym membership in Lexington, she was in pretty good shape. At least she had that going for her. And she had a decent tan. Was he the kind of guy who cared about tan lines?

“We’re hiding, remember?” he pointed out. “The fewer people who see us, the better.”

He made a good point. She forced herself to set aside thoughts of Harrison and her near-naked body, taking in the room around her, reminding herself she was only temporarily safe. “What is this place?”

“It’s a guest cottage. It belongs to Ahmed Hassanat. He’s Nuri’s brother.”

Julia’s stomach contracted at the mere mention of the dour man. Maybe she wasn’t so safe after all. “I think he’s the one who called the police.”

“Nuri?”

She nodded.

“That’s ridiculous.”