against the side of the building.
Crouch down so you'll present the smallest possible silhouette. Okay?"
She nodded her understanding, and they picked their way over the jumbled boxes and
debris until they were standing under the window. Zane stretched to reach the sill, hooked
his fingers on the plaster and boosted himself up until he was balanced with one knee on the sill
and one booted foot braced against a rickety stack of boxes. The window evidently hadn't been
used in a long time; the glass was opaque with dust, the hinges rusty and stiff. He wrestled it
open, wincing at the scraping noise, even though he knew it wouldn't carry to where the
kidnappers were. Fresh air poured into the musty room. Like a cat he dropped to the floor,
then turned to her.
"You can put your foot in my hand, or you can climb on my shoulders. Which do you
prefer?"
With the window open, more light was coming through. He could see her doubtful
expression as she stared at the window, and for the first time he appreciated the evenness of
her features. He already knew how sweetly her body was shaped, but now he knew that
Miss Lovejoy didn't hurt his eyes at all.
"Can you get through there?" she whispered, ignoring his question as she eyed first the
expanse of his shoulders and then the narrowness of the window.
Zane had already made those mental measurements. "It'll be a tight fit, but I've been
through tighter ones."
She gazed at his darkened face, then gave one of her sturdy nods, the one that said she
was ready to go on. Now he could see her calculating the difficulty of maneuvering through the
window with the blanket tied around her waist, and he saw the exact moment when she made
her decision. Her shoulders squared and her chin came up as she untied the blanket and draped
it around her like a long scarf, winding it around her neck and tossing the ends over her
shoulders to dangle rakishly down her back.
"I think I'd better climb on your shoulders," she said. "I'll have more leverage that
way."
He knelt on the floor and held his hands up for her to catch and brace herself. She went
around behind him and daintily placed her right foot on his right shoulder, then lifted herself into
a half crouch. As soon as her left foot had settled into place and her hands were securely in
his, he rose steadily until he was standing erect. Her weight was negligible compared to what
he handled during training. He moved closer to the wall, and she released his right hand to brace
her hand against the sill. "Here I go," she whispered, and boosted herself through the
window.
She went through it headfirst. It was the fastest way, but not the easiest, because she had
no way of breaking her fall on the other side. He looked up and saw the gleam of pale, bare legs
and the naked curves of her buttocks; then she vanished from sight, and there was a thump as she
hit the ground.
Quickly Zane boosted himself up again. "Are you all right?" he whispered harshly.
There was silence for a moment, then a shaky, whispered answer. "I think so."
"Take the rifle." He handed the weapon to her, then dropped to the floor while he
removed his web gear. That, too, went through the window. Then he followed, feet first,
twisting his shoulders at an angle to fit through the narrow opening and landing in a crouch.
Obediently, she had moved to the side and was sitting against the wall with the blanket once more
clutched around her and his rifle cradled in her arms.
Dawn was coming fast, the remnants of darkness no more than a deep twilight.
"Hurry," he said as he shrugged into the web vest and took the rifle from her. He slid it into
position, then drew the pistol again. The heavy butt felt reassuring and infinitely familiar in his
palm. With the weapon in his right hand and her hand clasped in his left, he pulled her into the
nearest alley.
Benghazi was a modern city, fairly Westernized, and Libya's chief port. They were near
the docks, and the
Crouch down so you'll present the smallest possible silhouette. Okay?"
She nodded her understanding, and they picked their way over the jumbled boxes and
debris until they were standing under the window. Zane stretched to reach the sill, hooked
his fingers on the plaster and boosted himself up until he was balanced with one knee on the sill
and one booted foot braced against a rickety stack of boxes. The window evidently hadn't been
used in a long time; the glass was opaque with dust, the hinges rusty and stiff. He wrestled it
open, wincing at the scraping noise, even though he knew it wouldn't carry to where the
kidnappers were. Fresh air poured into the musty room. Like a cat he dropped to the floor,
then turned to her.
"You can put your foot in my hand, or you can climb on my shoulders. Which do you
prefer?"
With the window open, more light was coming through. He could see her doubtful
expression as she stared at the window, and for the first time he appreciated the evenness of
her features. He already knew how sweetly her body was shaped, but now he knew that
Miss Lovejoy didn't hurt his eyes at all.
"Can you get through there?" she whispered, ignoring his question as she eyed first the
expanse of his shoulders and then the narrowness of the window.
Zane had already made those mental measurements. "It'll be a tight fit, but I've been
through tighter ones."
She gazed at his darkened face, then gave one of her sturdy nods, the one that said she
was ready to go on. Now he could see her calculating the difficulty of maneuvering through the
window with the blanket tied around her waist, and he saw the exact moment when she made
her decision. Her shoulders squared and her chin came up as she untied the blanket and draped
it around her like a long scarf, winding it around her neck and tossing the ends over her
shoulders to dangle rakishly down her back.
"I think I'd better climb on your shoulders," she said. "I'll have more leverage that
way."
He knelt on the floor and held his hands up for her to catch and brace herself. She went
around behind him and daintily placed her right foot on his right shoulder, then lifted herself into
a half crouch. As soon as her left foot had settled into place and her hands were securely in
his, he rose steadily until he was standing erect. Her weight was negligible compared to what
he handled during training. He moved closer to the wall, and she released his right hand to brace
her hand against the sill. "Here I go," she whispered, and boosted herself through the
window.
She went through it headfirst. It was the fastest way, but not the easiest, because she had
no way of breaking her fall on the other side. He looked up and saw the gleam of pale, bare legs
and the naked curves of her buttocks; then she vanished from sight, and there was a thump as she
hit the ground.
Quickly Zane boosted himself up again. "Are you all right?" he whispered harshly.
There was silence for a moment, then a shaky, whispered answer. "I think so."
"Take the rifle." He handed the weapon to her, then dropped to the floor while he
removed his web gear. That, too, went through the window. Then he followed, feet first,
twisting his shoulders at an angle to fit through the narrow opening and landing in a crouch.
Obediently, she had moved to the side and was sitting against the wall with the blanket once more
clutched around her and his rifle cradled in her arms.
Dawn was coming fast, the remnants of darkness no more than a deep twilight.
"Hurry," he said as he shrugged into the web vest and took the rifle from her. He slid it into
position, then drew the pistol again. The heavy butt felt reassuring and infinitely familiar in his
palm. With the weapon in his right hand and her hand clasped in his left, he pulled her into the
nearest alley.
Benghazi was a modern city, fairly Westernized, and Libya's chief port. They were near
the docks, and the
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