A thousand questions burned her lips. She wanted to demand answers. It took all her discipline not to interrogate her “savior” and ask him what the hell his plan was and what he planned to do with her. Because she wasn’t entirely certain that he was one of the good guys, despite knowing the bastards gunning for her weren’t the good guys.
Quiet descended over the interior of the vehicle, and she heard the sound of a window sliding downward. She closed her eyes and remained limp, pushing her thoughts into a blank void of nothingness. Calm was the only thing that would save her, and so she simply did as she must and drew it around her like one of the soft quilts her mother created for her loved ones.
She allowed herself to drift into those happier memories, pulled images of her parents, her brothers and her sister into her mind and surrounded herself with their love. It allowed her to float free of her current circumstances, the danger cloaking her like a dense fog, and remain still and serene, blocking everything but the smiling faces of her loved ones.
So ensconced was she in her alternate reality that she didn’t register the vehicle lurching into motion again. It wasn’t until the American’s hand delved beneath the blanket, lifting it, and then his fingers slid over her chin, turning it so she was angled to partially face him, that she realized they had resumed traveling.
“Honor?”
The one-word question conveyed it all. He was asking if she was all right. If she was still with them in the mental realm or if she’d lost the battle for her sanity and retreated deep into herself.
“Who are you?” she asked hoarsely.
CHAPTER 7
HANCOCK’S gaze flickered dispassionately at the stubborn, courageous woman with grudging admiration he didn’t allow to show. He didn’t want to feel anything with regard to a woman who was nothing more than a pawn. A means to an end. A tool he would use like any other intel or weapon in order to take down a man who’d caused more casualties than most wars, and he’d suffer no remorse whatsoever.
It wasn’t in his nature to underestimate anyone or any situation, and yet he could admit that he’d underestimated Honor Cambridge and her resourcefulness. At first but not any longer.
When he’d left Bristow, the cowardly bastard was pissed because Hancock had left none of his men behind for his protection, leaving him to rely solely on the other lackeys he called his security. But Hancock had fully expected to apprehend his quarry and be back in a short amount of time. Instead, he’d spent days combing through villages, questioning the locals and keeping his ear to the ground as rumors had started to whisper on the winds of a lone woman who’d eluded a vicious terrorist organization for over a week.