“I’m well aware of the culture and customs here,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose you are,” Hancock mused after studying her a moment. “But I never assume when it comes to life or death, so expect to hear more information you already know.”
He had a solid point.
“How many regional languages do you speak?” he asked, surprising her with his seeming curiosity.
“I’m fluent in Arabic and seventeen other lesser spoken languages in a three-country block and quite passable in at least a dozen more. I’m particularly good at mimicry. I hear an accent and can immediately pick up on it.”
Hancock lifted one eyebrow. “How long have you studied Middle Eastern languages?”
“I was self-taught in high school,” she admitted. “Well, before that in junior high, but I went hard-core in high school. There aren’t many high schools in the entire country that even offer Arabic as a course, much less the less-spoken regional languages.”
“You must be a very good student to pull that off in less than a decade.”
She shrugged, uncomfortable with the compliment even though it wasn’t stated as such. It was more a statement of fact.
“I have an affinity for languages. In addition to the Middle Eastern languages I speak, I’m also fluent in French and Spanish and can carry basic conversation in German and Italian. It was just something that always interested me and I pick them up quickly. Once I got to university, I spent an extra three semesters beyond the time it would have taken to earn my degree taking every Middle East language course they offered and taking another dozen online courses concurrently. I knew what I wanted to do after college. My degree was simply a training tool that enabled me to better understand the culture I would be immersing myself in.”
“What’s the going rate for an angel of mercy these days?” Viper drawled.
She felt a quick surge of anger and to her surprise, Hancock shot his man a look of clear reprimand that had Viper clearing his throat.
“No disrespect intended,” he said before focusing his attention through the windshield once more.
“I receive a tax-free stipend,” she said through stiff lips. Somehow for him to question the reason for what she did, to reduce it to a mercenary business, pricked her nerves. “A very small stipend. Certainly not enough to make a living wage back home. My housing is provided for here, but I share—I shared,” she added quietly, “quarters with three other women relief workers. And food is more often than not provided by the villages, though they have little to spare. The certified medical staff certainly make more—they’d have to be paid well to take this kind of job—but the people like me, we’re basically volunteers.”
She fell silent, refusing to say anything further—to defend herself any further when she had no obligation to justify her life to these men. Even if they were saving it.
“Since it will be obvious that we aren’t from this immediate area, if and only if you must speak, do so in the common language, Arabic,” Hancock instructed needlessly.
But this time she didn’t remind him of her extensive knowledge. As he said, when life or death was the ultimate consequence, it never paid to assume.
CHAPTER 11
THOUGH Hancock had warned her—them all—that the village was a crossroads in a rural area, she hadn’t been prepared for just how much traffic flowed through the village seemingly dropped in the middle of nowhere. It was as if the outpost served as a central hub to the entire country. Everyone traveled through this place when traversing the region.