The mustachioed man glanced up and flinched.
“I need help.”
“I can see that.” He watched her, frowning.
How bad do I look? She shook her head. There was no time to care.
“Someone is following me. I need to get out of here and call the police.”
The man nodded, gesturing for her to join him behind the counter.
“Nashwa?” he called out and a woman appeared in the doorway of the backroom. “Can you handle things while I help the young lady?”
“Of course,” the woman said, and the man led Leila into the backroom.
With boxes stacked on top of boxes and shelves full of more statues and vases, it was the perfect hiding place.
Leila turned to the man. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m happy to help.” The corners of his eyes crinkled and his mustache lifted. “Wait here. I’ll get my phone.”
Once she was alone, she leaned against the wall. Her limbs shook and her breath rattled.
If only she hadn’t dropped her phone. How she ached to hear Xander’s voice now, telling her everything would be okay. She rubbed at her face, the sting reminding her of her injuries.
A door between a stack of boxes stood open, so she crossed the room and peered inside. With a mirror on the wall, a hose, and a squat toilet in the corner, it was all she needed for the moment.
She slipped inside and shut the door, turning the key in the handle to lock it. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was safe. A cricket’s song echoed in the tiled room, drifting inside through the small window of milky glass, cracked open enough to let in the light breeze.
She placed herself in front of the mirror and her mouth dropped open. Bloody scratches covered her forehead and cheeks. Her dark hair stuck out from beneath the scarf, falling in damp twists around her face.
Muffled voices came from outside the bathroom door. The man spoke with someone… a woman with a familiar deep voice.
“Don’t lie to me. I saw her come in here.”
Leila took a step closer to the bathroom door, leaning one ear toward it.
“Out of the way.”
“I said you can’t go back there. What are you—” A crash broke him off.
The handle rattled. A bang shook the door.
Curses. Leila bolted to the window. She shoved it open and lifted herself through, her shoulders scraping against the wooden frame. With a thud, she landed on the sidewalk of a quiet street. Ignoring the smarting pain in her arm, she scrambled back to her feet.
The sound of blood thrummed in her ears. She cast the occasional glance over her shoulder, but she didn’t see anyone behind her. Checking the road signs for a clue to her whereabouts, she broke into a jog. Even though she didn’t recognize this part of Cairo at all, it didn’t matter. She just had to find a train or bus station and get away from here.
And hopefully find someone who will actually help me. Her pounding footsteps fell in sync with her racing heartbeat. The glowing street lamps ahead looked similar to the ones that lined the bridge leading across the Nile. Encouraged, she sped up. There must be a good distance between her and her pursuer by now.
A beat against the pavement thumped behind her, growing louder by the second.
Leila risked another peek over her shoulder and her heart jumped into her throat. Her stalker ran yards behind her, so close Leila could see the look of determination etched into her features.
She whipped her head forward and focused on the street lamps ahead. There was no way she would make it. She had to try and shake the woman off again. Leila bolted right and dashed along the side of a building, dodging dumpsters and carts parked in the dark alley.
Heavy boots pounded the sidewalk, nearing until she could hear each heavy pant from the woman’s mouth. The path turned into a long, narrow staircase descending between two buildings. Leila bounded down the steps three at a time, emerging onto a sidewalk at the bottom.
Sweat burned in her eyes and her twisting gut urged her on. Flight instinct had taken over, her mind only focused on escape, her feet carrying her down the street faster than she thought possible. Yet the steps behind her told her of the closeness of her pursuer. One stumble, one mistake, could mean she was a goner.
Two headlights turned a corner farther up the road and headed in her direction. Leila’s gaze locked on the other side of the street.
The vehicle accelerated, speeding closer, and she darted off the sidewalk. The horn blasted, the sound deafening in the quiet street. Leila made it to the other side with seconds to spare. Just behind her, the truck swerved, still honking, tires screeching. She couldn’t see the woman anywhere.
Not waiting to find out what happened to her, Leila ducked into an alley, hoping to double back and head for the bridge. She managed a few strides down the alley and stumbled to a stop. A brick wall blocked her path, too tall to climb over. Whirling around, she searched for a hiding spot, expecting the woman to catch up at any moment. Her sight locked on the dumpster to her right.
She lifted the lid, the mildew stench engulfing her, and stopped. This would be the first place her stalker looked.
Footsteps approached. Her time was up.
She dropped the lid and shrank into the shadows, into the space between the dumpster and the plaster wall, trying to recall the techniques from various attacks in her self defense classes.
It would be a desperate attempt. She couldn’t remember all of the moves. But it was either that and have a chance to escape, or die cowering.
A black silhouette stepped into the alley. The stalker stood with her feet spread and gun raised, blocking the exit. She took a single step forward, her eyes trained on the overflowing dumpster.
Scratches from the wreck slashed across her cheek as if she’d been clawed. She skulked past the dumpster, turned, and looked the back wall up and down.
Seeing an opportunity, Leila lunged, grabbed her stalker’s arm, and twisted.
