She studied him for another long moment. “So you’ve come to rescue me? Who are you? Who sent you?”
He arched one eyebrow, clearly surprised by her resistance. Perhaps he’d expected her to fall into his arms, sobbing hysterically, thinking him her savior. But she hadn’t stayed alive as long as she had by blindly believing anything. Or taking anything at face value. And she couldn’t afford to start now. Not when she was so close to her ultimate goal of finding her way home.
“Does it matter?” he asked mildly. “All you need to know is that my men and I will get you out of the country and out of A New Era’s reach. Or would you prefer to take your chances with your group of protectors and lead them blindly to certain death?”
Honor bit into her lip, deeply conflicted. Why wasn’t she happier to see him? Why wasn’t she falling into his arms, relieved and grateful? Was that not why she was so desperate to cross the border into a country where there was an American presence? And that presence had just planted itself in her path, offering her safe passage. Perhaps it was because it had been too easy, too convenient, the timing either impeccable or coincidental. And she wasn’t a believer in coincidences. Especially when it came to her life.
“If they’re searching everyone leaving the village and if they have, as you say, a perimeter set up encompassing all routes leading out of the village, then how do you and your men possibly think you will be able to get past their roadblocks, impervious to the very thing you’ve sworn will happen if I leave the village with a group of people? Aren’t you a group of people just the same?”
White teeth flashed and she was reminded of a predator’s teeth set in a snarl as they closed in on their prey. A shiver of apprehension skated down her spine and she absently rubbed at one arm through the heavy material of her garment.
“I plan to drive right past them.”
Honor went rigid with fear. The people who’d awaited her were clearly uneasy and were inching away, clearly wanting to be out of this place. And to be rid of her. They well knew what they risked by allowing her to travel with them, and now, with the arrival of this ominous-looking stranger, they were even more nervous. She couldn’t blame them. And neither could she consign them to certain death. She couldn’t take the chance that this man wasn’t telling her the absolute truth. She would not be responsible for these people’s deaths.
She waved them off, making that sudden decision when it became clear that they knew she was a death trap. The American was right. She wouldn’t simply lead her supposed saviors meekly to the slaughter when it gave her absolutely no chance of escape. He, on the other hand, was offering one, and his arrogance suggested he actually thought—knew—he would be successful.
It came down to the lesser of two evils. One known and one unknown. She knew what fate awaited her at the hands of the savages who hunted her. She didn’t know what the American’s intentions were, but given that her only other option was certain torture, endless agony and death, it made the decision to go with the unknown the only logical choice.
“You’ve made your decision. Now move it,” he said, no gentleness to his voice.
Somehow she’d imagined her rescue a little different. Perhaps at the hands of American soldiers who would at least acknowledge her as a sister, inquire as to her health. Not taunt her into making a decision. For that matter, shouldn’t he have identified himself as a member of the U.S. military? Shouldn’t he have identified himself, period?
She frowned. The military didn’t just order people around for their own good, did they? But then she supposed that was exactly what they did on a daily basis when rescuing captives or hostages. Time was critical, and following orders was essential to their survival.