Read Online No Stranger to Danger by No Stranger to Danger (Evernight) - Free Book Online
Authors: No Stranger to Danger (Evernight)
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kill her. Mara lifted her hands to cup her breasts, pressing them in so she could look down the front of the bloodstained dress.
Mara did a little turn where she stood in the dip between dunes. "Logan! Where are you?" she called. A rush of wind scattered her hair, and she grabbed it to keep the wavy mass in place.
No answer.
" Oooh , no! He is dead! He has to be dead," she said to herself as she stumbled barefoot in the hot sand toward the plane a few yards away, leaning on one wing by a grouping of palms.
"Logan!" she shouted again, lifting a hand to cup her mouth.
The white plane had turned orange from the dust particles clinging to it in the open desert. The engine smoked, and a small plume rose into the hot air to disappear.
Mara held her hand up to shield her eyes.
What in the hell was she going to do if he was dead?
She was stuck in the middle of God-only-knew-where—
"Oh, shit," she breathed, and planted a hand to her chest in relief as Logan appeared from behind the tail of the aircraft. Mara took a breath and stomped forward, prepared to give him the earful she had been longing to give him for five years.
Mara trudged through the sand to him. "Are you crazy?" she yelled.
He lifted a brow at her. "A little."
"You could have killed us. What the hell are we going to do now?" Her eyes fell to the plane at Logan's back.
"So the landing was a bit rough," he said.
His charm didn’t amuse her in the least. "Logan," she said with warning. If he did not clarify a few points this very moment … she was on the edge of explosiveness.
Logan turned halfway around, nodding in the direction of a hill. "We got lucky. The Azalai salt-trade route is right over that dune and just so happens Tuareg traders are coming this way." He tilted a coconut up to his lips. The shemagh wrapped around his head covered the top of his head to his neck, but the rest of his face was slightly red already.
Mara glanced down at her arms. Her fair skin was starting to bake, too. She looked to the sky. It wasn’t even noon yet. Why in the hell did she ever have to meet this man? He had caused her nothing but grief.
She watched as his throat moved as he drank, followed the sweat that trickled down an unshaven jaw, down his neck, and bled into the black t-shirt clinging to his chest. Mara swallowed, her mouth falling open just a little.
God, she hated him.
Why did he have to look so damn hot?
Her eyes fell further down him, to the khaki tactical pants and the holster strapped around his thigh. Five years wasn’t long enough.
He lowered the coconut, and Mara looked away as he continued. "I spotted some men with camels about three klicks to the north coming our way." He shrugged. "Must be them. I don’t know of any other sons of bitches who would be out in the Sahara with a bunch of damn camels." He looked back toward the dune.
" Klicks ," Mara mouthed. What the hell was a klick ? She looked at him incredulously a moment. " So , we’re going to steal camels now?" she asked with a bit of confusion. Mara scratched her head and turned toward the dune.
Logan scoffed and shook his head. "No. We’re going to ask for a ride in exchange for the drugs I found on the plane. If we’re lucky, they will take us as far as the next village. Coconut?" He handed a second one out toward her.
Mara snatched it, first checking to see that he had opened it for her. He had. She drank from the coarse shell, then tossed it to the side when it was empty. She tromped through the sand after Logan, her feet sinking and making her feel heavy and awkward as she followed her ex-husband to the top of the dune where he went down, going flat on his belly in the sand. She dropped beside him where he looked over the crest with binoculars, and glanced back to the plane.
"So what is the endgame here? We travel with these—" she gestured toward the man-dress wearing traders riding camels in the distance "—these people to where? Then we go back to the United States
Mara did a little turn where she stood in the dip between dunes. "Logan! Where are you?" she called. A rush of wind scattered her hair, and she grabbed it to keep the wavy mass in place.
No answer.
" Oooh , no! He is dead! He has to be dead," she said to herself as she stumbled barefoot in the hot sand toward the plane a few yards away, leaning on one wing by a grouping of palms.
"Logan!" she shouted again, lifting a hand to cup her mouth.
The white plane had turned orange from the dust particles clinging to it in the open desert. The engine smoked, and a small plume rose into the hot air to disappear.
Mara held her hand up to shield her eyes.
What in the hell was she going to do if he was dead?
She was stuck in the middle of God-only-knew-where—
"Oh, shit," she breathed, and planted a hand to her chest in relief as Logan appeared from behind the tail of the aircraft. Mara took a breath and stomped forward, prepared to give him the earful she had been longing to give him for five years.
Mara trudged through the sand to him. "Are you crazy?" she yelled.
He lifted a brow at her. "A little."
"You could have killed us. What the hell are we going to do now?" Her eyes fell to the plane at Logan's back.
"So the landing was a bit rough," he said.
His charm didn’t amuse her in the least. "Logan," she said with warning. If he did not clarify a few points this very moment … she was on the edge of explosiveness.
Logan turned halfway around, nodding in the direction of a hill. "We got lucky. The Azalai salt-trade route is right over that dune and just so happens Tuareg traders are coming this way." He tilted a coconut up to his lips. The shemagh wrapped around his head covered the top of his head to his neck, but the rest of his face was slightly red already.
Mara glanced down at her arms. Her fair skin was starting to bake, too. She looked to the sky. It wasn’t even noon yet. Why in the hell did she ever have to meet this man? He had caused her nothing but grief.
She watched as his throat moved as he drank, followed the sweat that trickled down an unshaven jaw, down his neck, and bled into the black t-shirt clinging to his chest. Mara swallowed, her mouth falling open just a little.
God, she hated him.
Why did he have to look so damn hot?
Her eyes fell further down him, to the khaki tactical pants and the holster strapped around his thigh. Five years wasn’t long enough.
He lowered the coconut, and Mara looked away as he continued. "I spotted some men with camels about three klicks to the north coming our way." He shrugged. "Must be them. I don’t know of any other sons of bitches who would be out in the Sahara with a bunch of damn camels." He looked back toward the dune.
" Klicks ," Mara mouthed. What the hell was a klick ? She looked at him incredulously a moment. " So , we’re going to steal camels now?" she asked with a bit of confusion. Mara scratched her head and turned toward the dune.
Logan scoffed and shook his head. "No. We’re going to ask for a ride in exchange for the drugs I found on the plane. If we’re lucky, they will take us as far as the next village. Coconut?" He handed a second one out toward her.
Mara snatched it, first checking to see that he had opened it for her. He had. She drank from the coarse shell, then tossed it to the side when it was empty. She tromped through the sand after Logan, her feet sinking and making her feel heavy and awkward as she followed her ex-husband to the top of the dune where he went down, going flat on his belly in the sand. She dropped beside him where he looked over the crest with binoculars, and glanced back to the plane.
"So what is the endgame here? We travel with these—" she gestured toward the man-dress wearing traders riding camels in the distance "—these people to where? Then we go back to the United States
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