As if magnetized, she leaned in to meet him. But Xander stopped and pressed his lips into a hard line. “There’s not going to be a wedding.” He turned away.
Leila covered her mouth, her heart twisting painfully. This time, there was no holding back the tears.
“There’s a highway checkpoint a couple of miles ahead,” he said, pulling the backpack on as if he didn’t notice her tears or care for that matter. “We’ll flag down any bus that comes along. It’s nine o’clock, so there should still be a few coming this way. Probably will have better luck getting a non-touristy one to stop. We’ll sit separately on the bus and use the fake passports at the checkpoint. Should get through without a problem.”
With that, he began the hike toward the checkpoint. As if on autopilot, Leila walked a few feet behind him, barely able to see through her tears. Even if she did survive the week, even if she did get her mom and brother back, she’d lost Xander. Forever.
CHAPTER 13
Leila walked as close to the guardrail as possible. Pick-up trucks and semis zipped down the highway, paying no attention to the pair of hitchhikers or the faded white lines that marked the road. If they didn’t get shot, they were probably going to get run over. Not that that would make much of a difference—she already felt like she’d been run over by a truck. The farther she walked, the more her arms throbbed from the cigarette burn blisters.
Xander walked ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at each passing vehicle, keeping his eye out for that elusive bus.
Leila tried not to look at him. She would just start crying again if she did. Instead, she kept her gaze down but her ears open to listen for any approaching vehicles.
When a small, white Toyota bus finally came into view, Xander waved it down and negotiated with the driver—who didn’t make any indication whether it was unusual or not to pick up two people off the side of the highway in the desert—telling him their car had broken down. The driver nodded his approval, and Xander paid their fare.
Before climbing onto the bus, Xander paused and pulled something from a side pocket on the backpack. He slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses, then handed a case to Leila. Without looking at him, she took the case and put on her pair of sunglasses. It was a half-hearted attempt of a disguise, but she supposed it was better than none at all.
As long as I don’t have to cut my hair and dye it pink.
Most seats in the bus were already taken. Leila scanned the crowd until her gaze settled on an empty seat next to a veiled woman in the back. She sank onto the ragged cloth seat, the surface hard despite the tufts of foam sticking out from the holes in the fabric. She glanced up as Xander slipped into a seat toward the front, setting the backpack on the dusty floor between his feet. Then she whipped her head around to gaze out the window.
Exhaustion swept over her as the bus lurched forward, the scent of diesel fumes filling her nostrils, but she wouldn’t find sleep just yet. They still had to clear the checkpoint. A few minutes later, the bus pulled up to the small shack and squeaked to a stop.
Leila didn’t even know who she was traveling as. Chewing on her bottom lip, she slipped out the passport she’d grabbed from the backpack. She ran her fingers over the light green cover, tracing the golden eagle in the center. Egyptian. She could be Egyptian—she was halfway there, anyway. Flipping it open, she scanned the first page with her picture and the fake name, Zahra Azizi.
A twinge of nervousness tightened in her chest as the bus came to a stop and the driver spoke through the window with a guard.
Just be a weary traveler. She sure was weary.
Her gaze flickered to Xander, who sat with his arms crossed and his chin to his chest. Realizing her mistake, she swallowed against the hard lump in her throat, closed her eyes, and settled her head against the window. Her eyes were too heavy to hold open, anyway.
Until she heard the driver mention hitchhikers.
Her eyes snapped open. Slowly, she turned her gaze to the front, thankful for the sunglasses to prevent any eye-contact. The police officer was looking right at her.
Dead. I’m dead. Play dead.
Hoping she appeared disinterested, she slid her eyes shut once again and tipped her head to the side. The discussion with the driver continued, and then, finally, the officer’s footsteps clomped out of the bus. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lungs and her shoulders slumped. The bus rumbled forward.
They roared down the highway, rattling and shaking on the uneven pavement. As the sun inched its way across the sky, the desert flashed by in hues of browns and yellows. The occasional patch of green flickered past as the bus wound through flatlands and mountains. Leila mostly kept her eyes shut, not eager to see any more of the desert than she had to. She’d already seen enough to last a lifetime.
When the urge to cry had lessened, her gaze would wander to Xander. His head rested against the top of the seat, rolling limply with each bump. She studied the angles of his face, the pattern of the shadow on his jaw and chin.
A secret agent… How is this even real?
His job could get them both killed, and yet he hadn’t said a word to her. Had he been planning on letting her in on this before or after the now-canceled wedding?
What a mess.
After a few hours, the highway turned south, following the coast of the Sinai Peninsula, until they reached the checkpoint to enter Sharm El-Sheikh that evening.
Leila kept herself as nonchalant as possible by looking out the window while the officer checked the passenger list. A few minutes later, the bus was waved through, and they passed the concrete walls that surrounded the city.
The driver halted at a bus stop on the main street long enough for everyone to climb out, then puttered off. The other passengers dispersed in all directions, leaving Leila and Xander by themselves on the curb.
She glanced up and down the street lined with restaurants, cafés, and gift and surf shops. Tourists milled along the sidewalk, easily recognizable by their lobster-red skin and large, floppy straw hats.
“Right.” Xander shrugged the backpack over his shoulders and glanced down at her through his sunglasses. “Let’s head that way, shall we?”
With no destination in mind, they started walking. They blended into the crowd well enough, though Leila knew her hair and face were probably a disaster. At least her sunglasses hid a part of it.
They found themselves passing underneath a stone gate flanked by statues of ancient Egyptians and ATMs. At a leisurely pace, they wandered through the souq, passing market stalls full of fruit and nuts, and colorful shops offering fabric-by-the-yard, jewelry, postcards, T-shirts, sandals, and the same floppy hats on exhibit by the tourists. The scent of charcoal and sizzling meat drifted through the air, harmonizing with the stalls displaying an array of herbs and spices.
A slim woman in aviator sunglasses and a flowery sundress passed by, her long black hair swishing off her shoulders as she walked. She laughed about something her male companion said. A loud, hearty laugh that reminded Leila of her mother. If Leila hadn’t known better, she would have taken a second look. A crushing pressure wrapped around her heart. Where was her mother now? Her brother? Not in Egypt…
Leila sucked in a deep breath. In one day, her family had been ripped from her. Despite its faults and imperfections, she had to somehow find the pieces again and glue them back together.
Was that Xander’s goal as well? He walked with purpose, cutting through the crowd, his gait confident and determined. Leila hurried her steps to keep up. She was about to ask where he was going in such a hurry, when he veered to the side and parked himself at the end of the line for a street food vendor.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I want my life back. Leila shrugged. She glanced to the front of the line where a menu with pictures of overstuffed pita sandwiches was displayed overhead. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”
They fell silent for a moment. The customers at the front walked off with their sandwiches and the line inched forward.
“Any idea where we can find this Drake person?” Xander asked, taking one step. “I don’t want to wander around this place much longer.”
