Night Of No Return. Eileen Wilks
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went chasing off after this intruder you spotted because of the vandalism at the site, which makes your actions my business. I don’t want you doing such a foolish thing again. Is that clear?”
“We don’t always get what we want, though, do we? I don’t want you taking these blasted solo runs of yours.”
She wanted to kick something. Maybe him. “You sound like Tim. He’s always nagging me to give up my runs, but it’s terrorists he’s got on the brain, not smugglers.”
A pause. “Terrorists?”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it? I’ve tried to tell him that terrorists are interested in headlines—big, splashy acts that will draw attention to them and their cause. Pestering a handful of archaeologists in the middle of the Sinai isn’t going to do that.”
“Americans are targeted for kidnapping sometimes.”
Good grief. He sounded as paranoid on the subject as Tim was. “What good would it do anyone to grab me? I’m not connected to the government or to any big, rich corporation that might pay to get me back. And though there’s always tension in this area, there isn’t anything going on right now that has people especially stirred up against the U.S.” She shook her head. “They’d have to be pretty stupid to waste time on me.”
“There’s no rule that says terrorists have to be smart.”
“Oh, come on. Do you really think there’s a danger of some under-bright terrorists snatching me on my morning run?”
“Are you willing to bet your life that there isn’t?”
She thought about it. “There are risks in everything,” she said at last. “I’m from Houston originally. Have you ever seen the traffic there? People risk their lives on the way to work every day, taking the chance that they won’t become a statistic, the victim of road rage or another driver’s inattention. Or their own.”
“That’s not risk taking. It’s habit, coupled with the comforting conviction that the bad stuff only happens to other people.”
She nodded. “Partly. But I think people do automatically take risks when we feel the outcome is important—whether that outcome is a good job, a new house, or time alone in the desert. I’m not going to give up my morning runs unless I can see that the risks outweigh the benefits.”
“I take it I haven’t persuaded you of that.”
“No.”
The silence that fell between them then wasn’t entirely comfortable. In spite of her confident words, Nora had to wonder if she was being foolish. Ibrahim had included a professional bio of Alex with the letter he’d sent her. Not only had Alex Bok spent large parts of his childhood in this region, he’d spent a fair portion of his adult life here, too, on various digs. He was much more familiar with the area than she was.
She glanced at him. According to Myrna, he was a great deal more familiar with other things than she was, as well.
Sex. Any woman would think about that around a man like Alex. It wasn’t any pleasant, pastel version of romance he conjured up, either, but the raw, blunt side of passion. Tangled sheets and straining bodies. Sweat and need and urgency.
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