“Keep drinking small sips every few minutes. You should rest until morning. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” Amina smiled and stood, then lowered the tent flap as she limped out.
The whistling of the wind and the sounds of footsteps dimmed and Leila’s eyes fell on the large jug of water. Water and sleep were the only things she needed. She would have time to voice her gratitude, find out where she was, and how to get home later. So she drank a few mouthfuls, waiting a minute or two in between, then slowly, her limbs smarting with each movement, curled herself into the pillows. The crackling of the fire quickly coaxed her into the first peaceful sleep she’d had in days.
CHAPTER 13
Leila woke with a jolt, a cold sweat trickling down her temples. She sat up, gasping heavily as she took in her surroundings, her heart thudding a panicked beat. Tent walls flapped in a strong wind and a soft, orange glow shone through the cracks.
The blackness of her mind slowly filled with color as memories returned. She was safe, wherever she was. She leaned into the pillows and sucked in her breath, savoring the sensation.
She was alive. That’s all that mattered for now. It wouldn’t be much longer before she could see Xander again. Throw her arms around him. Feel the stubble on his chin scratching her neck. Take a deep breath of his delectable cologne. Hear the rumble of his deep voice. Let him provoke her as much as he wanted. And she would never let go. Ever.
For that to happen, she had to get back on her feet. She opened her eyes again. To her side stood a jug of water and the cup she had used last night. Without another thought, she drank, refilling the cup several times until her aching mouth was satisfied. Never again would she take drinking water for granted.
Her throat constricted as reality hit. She would be dead right now if that couple hadn’t found her. The decaying process would have set in quickly in the heat. Vultures would already be picking at her waxy, purple flesh. In a few weeks, she’d have been nothing but skeletal remains.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, imagining Xander as he came across her corpse. Staring at her sun-bleached bones, picking up her favorite silver scarab necklace from the sand. Which was weird, since she hadn’t even been wearing it. She shuddered and shoved the thoughts from her mind, wishing she hadn’t taken that forensics class a few years ago. The bit about mummies had been useful. The rest, not so much. She just had to call Xander as soon as possible.
The sound of footsteps and voices came from outside the tent. She caught a glimpse of a shadow as someone passed by. Curious, she stood, easing herself onto her feet. They ached and her legs only moved stiffly. Her arms felt weak and her back twinged, but nothing seemed to be broken.
She padded across the soft rugs to the flap that served as the door. After all, she didn’t get the impression that she was a prisoner here. The woman wanted to help her. The man as well, despite his hostility. He saved the life of a complete stranger—he couldn’t be all that bad.
Although she’d like to find him and thank him properly, she had to relieve a pressing need after all that water she drank. She lifted the flap and squinted, allowing her eyes to adjust to the brightness.
A dozen tents stood in a circle, their fronts opened, their occupants sitting in the shaded areas. In front of a few of the desert homes, women kneaded dough and stirred steaming pots. Leila didn’t recognize any of them as her rescuer from last night. If only she could remember the lady’s name so she could ask.
The aroma of the baking bread teased her senses and her stomach grumbled. How many days had it been since she had last eaten? A pang of guilt surged through her chest as the scene sunk in. These people didn’t have much. They were in no way obligated to help her. She was only going to be a burden. And yet, here she was.
She took a cautious step out of the tent, suddenly conscious of her outfit. Inquisitive glances shot in her direction. People leaned toward others to whisper. While some of them wore the traditional jellabiyas, others wore jeans and T-shirts. Her torn and dirt-streaked clothing, however, looked as if she’d been in a wrestling match with a lion. Not to mention the stench of her sweating in it for the last few days. She waved, gave a weak smile, and scurried behind the tent, out of sight.
With sandy wind nipping at her face, she searched the surroundings for a sign of her rescuers. The tents were situated within a small cluster of palm trees, their leafy branches rustling overhead in the wind. Where exactly in the desert was she? How far was it to Cairo? How would she even get back?
Aside from the whistle of the wind, talking, and laughter, the desert was still. No traffic noises. No electric and telephone wires criss-crossing overhead. It was like stepping into the past—except for the lonely vapor trail in the sky, signaling she was still in the right century. Hopefully someone in the camp had a satellite phone she could use.
“Are you feeling better?” came a familiar voice from her right. The woman stood a few feet away, smiling with closed lips, her arms carrying a bundle of cloth. Wisps of black hair poked from her headscarf and a streak of white powder dusted her left cheek.
Then it clicked. Amina. That was how the woman had introduced herself yesterday.
“You slept the whole night through,” Amina went on in Arabic, “and most of the day.”
“Yes, I feel much better.” Warmth rose in Leila’s face. “I can’t thank you enough for your help.” She hid her unease with a grin. It was no good. These people saved her life and that was all she could say?
With a smile that caused dimples to appear in her cheeks, Amina held out the bundle. “Here, I brought you something to change into.”
Grateful, Leila took the folded clothing, then found out where she could answer nature’s call. Once that was taken care of, she changed into the flowy kaftan Amina had given her, and returned to where the woman knelt on the ground outside the tent. Rocks had been arranged in a circle with a fire crackling in the center, a flat metal pan on top of the small flames. Wisps of smoke swirled into the air. From the corner of her eye, Leila noticed a figure in the shade of a date palm several yards away, half-hidden by the trunk. The man from the night before concentrated on a chunk of wood and the large, curved blade in his hands. Tiny fragments flew into the air.
Her insides twisted. It must have been his less-than-warm welcome. Or maybe mistaking him for Faris. She pushed the uneasiness aside and turned her attention back to Amina.
“Have a seat. I’m sure you’re hungry.” Amina patted the empty space beside her.
Leila eased herself onto the blanket, watching the woman knead a ball of dough on top of an empty burlap sack. Water, shelter, clothing, and now food. How on earth could Leila repay them?
Amina flattened the ball with her fingertips, pressed out the edges, and dropped the doughy disk on top of the pan. She leaned forward and picked up a bowl.
“I kept this warm for you,” she said, holding out the bowl with both hands. “I’m also making some tea. The herbs need a few more minutes to steep. It should help ease any aches and pains. I also have a balm you can use on your scratches. It will help them heal faster.”
Leila thanked her and took the bowl, taking in the savory scent of lentils. Her stomach clenched painfully, ready for a meal.
“You may be stuck with us for a while,” Amina continued, giving Leila an apologetic look. “But we will figure out a way to get you home soon.”
Leila bit down on her lower lip. How could she stay here? Someone had tried to kill her; she had to get to the police as soon as possible. Then take a break and spend some time in London with Xander. At least until Faris was under control. She wouldn’t let him chase her away that easily. Regardless, she couldn’t expect Amina to go through even more trouble for her sake.
“No, no. That’s okay.”
Amina looked at her curiously. “But I’m sure you want to get home. After everything you’ve been through?”
“Well, yes, what I mean is you shouldn’t go out of your way for me. You’ve already done so much. Maybe I could arrange for someone to come pick me up.”
“That might be tricky.” Amina’s cheeks dimpled again. Then her brows knitted together and she tilted her head. “So how did you end up in the middle of the desert? We’re a hundred miles from Cairo.”
How should Leila answer that? She couldn’t blurt out that someone was trying to kill her. The less Amina knew, the better. She had no intention of dragging her rescuers even deeper into her problems. “I don’t know. It’s all still a blur.”
“Were you traveling somewhere?”
“No.” Leila shifted, pulling her feet underneath her.
“Oh, your tea should be ready.” Amina poured a cup and handed it to Leila. “So tell me a little bit about yourself.” She picked up a stick to lift the flatbread from the pan and flip it. “Who are you?”
Leila breathed in the steam from the tea. The flowery scent calming, her muscles loosened. “I’m a research assistant. Right now I’m working on an excavation in Saqqara. I mean, I was.”
