She remembered the blankets upstairs. The least they could do was keep her warm.
“Nothing,” Abdullah said.
Leila stopped at the bottom of the steps. A rock formed in her chest. He couldn’t mean that.
“There’s nothing you can do.” He slowly leaned forward, resting his head on Amina’s stomach.
Leila took a step back, unable to breathe. Her eyes locked onto Amina’s face. Blood seeped from her lips. Her cheeks were gray under the splotches of dirt. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Leila’s gaze dropped to Amina’s hand, hanging over the side of the couch, unmoving. A drop of red splashed to the floor from a fingertip. A coldness overcame Leila. Her mind screamed denial. Amina was gone.
CHAPTER 32
Amina couldn’t be gone. Why her? They’d stood right next to each other. The man could have just as easily shot Leila instead. Why couldn’t he have left Amina out of this? Before Leila’s knees could give out, she leaned against the wall, covering her mouth with one hand.
Maybe Abdullah’s made a mistake. Amina could still be alive, just unconscious. Every second counted now.
“We need to find help,” Leila finally managed, her voice shaking. “I’ll go—”
“I said there’s nothing you can do,” Abdullah said, dangerously calm. He straightened his shoulders, moving away from Amina’s form, folding her limp hand over her chest.
“I can ride ahead. Find a doctor.”
“You understand nothing, don’t you?” Abdullah rose to his feet. His back was still to Leila, his arms hanging at his sides as he looked down at his sister. With her eyes closed and hands resting on top of her chest, one might mistake her for sleeping—if it weren’t for all the blood. Leila took a step away from the wall. He couldn’t give up on Amina like this.
“We have to do something.” Her voice cracked. She had no idea what could be done. But this wasn’t right either. “She’s lost a lot of—”
“Shut up!” Abdullah pivoted and faced her.
Leila’s heart jolted. Abdullah squeezed his hands into fists and, although dry, his bloodshot eyes accentuated the dark rings under them.
“This is all your fault,” he spat.
Her throat tightened. He might as well have slapped her in the face. Because he was right. She should be on that couch. Amina should be back at the Bedouin camp. Or at a university, studying medicine. Abdullah stepped closer, so close she could feel his hot breath against her face. In one swift movement, he pushed her with his forearm on her collarbone until her back hit the wall again. The curve of a razor-sharp blade pressed against the center of her neck.
“I knew you were trouble,” he said through bared teeth, digging his janbiya deeper into her skin. His arm pressed down on her lungs. “Anyone dragged out of Cairo like some vile mutt could only cause problems.”
Abdullah’s face was a blur through her tears. With one jerk of his hand she’d be finished. He was probably going to leave her to bleed to death on the floor.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Leila croaked, keeping her eyes locked on his, pleading. “I just want to go home.”
“I should have left you in the desert. You’ve only brought us pain.”
His words confirmed what she already suspected—he regretted ever saving her. His behavior the entire time she’d known him had told her that.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Abdullah was silent for a moment, as if struggling with an answer. He eased the pressure on the knife but kept her pinned to the wall. He slowly shook his head, his lip curled in disgust.
“Drake brought you to me.”
“Drake?” Leila whispered, her gut churning. He didn’t mean who she thought he did, did he?
Abdullah didn’t answer, only glaring at her with a look of poison.
Leila swallowed, momentarily feeling the scrape of the blade again. She hadn’t given her kidnapper much more thought since being rescued by the siblings.
“You mean that woman who dumped me in the middle of the desert?”
Abdullah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Dumped in the sand like the worthless dog that you are. I left you to die. Why should I waste my time and risk our lives for you? But Amina found out. She’s the one who insisted I go back for you. If only she’d known.”
“What do you mean?” Leila broke eye contact, trying to make sense of this. That woman, Drake, hadn’t dumped her randomly in the middle of nowhere. She’d brought her out here to hide.
Though she could spend ages pondering this new bit of information, it was overshadowed by the fact that help had been that close, and he first chose to let her rot.
“I spent two days lost in the desert. You tried to kill me.”
“If only.”
“You know her? Drake?” Leila wanted to scream. “How?”
Abdullah pressed his mouth shut and it was clear that he wasn’t going to answer the question.
Great. Someone is either going to stab me or shoot me. How was she going to get out of this mess?
“I don’t know what’s going on.” Leila’s voice shook. “I don’t know who wants to kill me. I don’t know why she, this Drake person, brought me out here. I don’t know, okay? You, on the other hand, seem to know a lot more about what’s going on than I do.”
Abdullah stepped back, lowering his knife, his glare still burning enough to set a house on fire. “You led this murderer to us. Believe me. Next time, I won’t rescue you.”
Leila choked back a sob. “You think I wanted this? Drake, or whatever her name is, brought me to you. Why don’t you go dish it out with her?”
