Buck pulled on one of the long white robes called a dishdasha, worn by Sudanese men, and settled a white turban on his head as he ran for the stairs leading to the ground. He only had a couple minutes to get to the marching women and decide what to do before the motorcade arrived.
Keeping to the shadows, he ran along the walls of the bombed-out building between their hideout and the compound. If he were spotted, his white skin would stand out, even though most of it was covered. His tanned face and hands were not nearly dark enough to match the skin of the Sudanese men.
As he arrived near the street where the women were marching, the motorcade of black vehicles rolled into sight.
Buck cursed. If he made any kind of move to get out in front of the mob of women, he’d be picked off immediately.
Instead, he waited in the shadows for the leader of the march to pass. As she neared, a knot formed in his gut next to the one created by the MREs.
He knew her. Buck knew the woman leading the march. At least, he’d known her back in Chicago, what seemed like a million years ago.
How in the hell did she get here, half a world away from where he’d first met her?
Now more than ever, he had to get to her, to pull her out of harm’s way before the motorcade reached them.
Women in brightly colored clothing passed him, filling the streets, all chanting. Some were carrying signs Buck couldn’t read.
Ducking low, Buck melted into the crowd, working his way to the front where the woman led the march, yelling loud and clear in that voice he’d recognize anywhere.
When there were only two people between them, he made his move. He dashed up behind her, spun her around and threw her over his shoulder, then ran back through the women in the crowd. He did it so quickly, the women didn’t realize what was going on until he had her back by the building, in the shadows, yelling at him.
He shot a glance over his shoulder at the women who’d been marching. They’d stopped shouting and were scattering in all directions as the black vehicles rolled up to the compound.
“Put me down!” Buck’s captive said. She pounded his back and kicked her legs, squirming so wildly he all but dropped her on her feet.
As soon as she had her legs under her, she cocked her arm and smacked him upside the head.
She hit him hard enough to make his ears ring.
With the motorcade so close to where they stood, Buck didn’t have time to explain. He spun her around, her back to his front, clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her deeper in the shadows.
She fought, kicking, scratching and finally biting his hand so hard she almost drew blood.
“Damn it, Angela! It’s me,” he whispered. “Graham.”
* * *
DR. ANGELA VEGA STILLED. Her pounding heart stopped for a fraction of a second before racing ahead, for an entirely different reason than fear. “Let go of me,” she demanded.
“Only if you promise not to run,” he said in that deep voice she remembered all too well.
She hesitated a moment, her pulse pounding, and then said, “I promise.”
Her captor released her.
Angela spun to face the man who’d turned her world upside down years ago, while she’d been in medical school. So many questions ran through her head, like what was he doing here? And why was he dressed like a Sudanese man? But she had more immediate issues. “Why did you stop me?” She spun toward the road he’d yanked her off. “I was leading those women in protest. I need to be out there.”
His lips thinned. “They scattered. You won’t get them back together any time soon.”
“Damn it, Graham. They need food and medicine. We needed our voices to be heard by the local government officials.”
“Not there, you don’t.” He gripped her hand in his. “Come on, we have to get out of here, ASAP.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I work with those women. They need our assistance. Their entire families need help. And the local government is working with Koku, a bastard of a warlord, stealing the aid packages that are supposed to be going to the refugee camps.”
“And you think a protest is going to make a difference?” Buck shook his head.
“We had to do something,” Angela said. “The local government wasn’t helping.”
“I’m not here to argue with you. I’m just telling you that you’re in danger.”
She jerked her hand free of his and squared off with him, her shoulders back, her chin held high. “We knew that when we started. It was a risk we were all willing to take.”
“Yeah, well, the only way to reason with a man like Koku is with force.”
“We were protesting the local government, not Koku,” Angela insisted.
“Since they’re in cahoots with him, it’s the same thing.” He narrowed his eyes and took a threatening step toward her. “Now, are you coming with me peacefully, or am I going to have to carry you out of here?”
Angela backed up a step, then another. “I don’t have to go with you. I have to get back to my practice.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me until we know what’s happening. And the longer we stand here arguing, the greater chance there is of one of Koku’s men finding us and settling our argument with bullets.” He lunged toward her, bending as if to scoop her up.
“Hold it right there, buddy,” she said. “You don’t have to carry me like a Neanderthal.”
Sounds of gunfire erupted.
Angela ducked, her heart pounding. Maybe he was right. Now wasn’t the time to argue. “Fine. I’ll go with you. For the time being...”
Graham grabbed her hand and ran, leading her away from the street and into the shadows of a crumbling wall. They followed the wall until they came to the back of the building, which was no more than a pile of rubble.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “And what the hell is happening back there?”
He nodded toward the damaged apartment building. “We’re going there. And I don’t know what’s happening. Hopefully, we’ll find out when we meet up with the rest of the team.”
“Team?” she asked but was cut off when he practically yanked her arm out of its socket, dragging her toward the damaged apartment building.
Just as he started to climb a set of stairs leading up, five men came running down.
“Abandon ship,” one of them said and raced past them.
“What’s going on?” Graham asked.
“If the motorcade belongs to Koku, he’s not here to schmooze with the locals,” the second man down the stairs said. “He’s here to destroy it and the people inside.”
The man behind him continued speaking. “We think the trailer that just pulled up in front of the compound is full of explosives.” He kept running.
A big blond guy with massive shoulders was the last one out. “Run!”
Graham and Angela raced after the departing men. As they neared the structure on the back side of the abandoned apartment building, an explosion rocked the ground, spewing chunks of concrete, rock and splinters of wood into the air.
Angela fell to the ground and covered the back of her neck.
Graham fell on top of her, using his body as a shield to protect