A Summer Smile Read online

  "Relax," Hassan snapped at Hakim as they entered the passenger compartment of the plane. "You saw that there was no sign of a weapon. It appears Ben Raschid is being sensible for a change." He gestured to Zilah in her seat at the back of the plane. "There she is, Seifert. You can see that she's alive and unharmed."

  "I want to talk to her," Daniel said. "Alone."

  "That's not necessary," Hassan said sharply. "She will tell you we have not misused her."

  "Then let her tell me," Daniel said. "Alone. I have instructions to make sure you've done her no harm before we deal. I hardly think she'd be willing to spill any beans while you stand there with a gun pointed at her head."

  Hassan hesitated a moment before he shrugged. "Go ahead. We will stay by the door. You will be out of earshot back there if you lower your voice. You have five minutes."

  Daniel Seifert looked even bigger in the confines of the cabin than he had by the jeep as he strode down the aisle toward her. He sat down in the seat facing her, his gaze searching her face. "My name is Daniel Seifert. Have they hurt you?"

  "Not really. It doesn't matter." She moistened her lips nervously. "You have to tell Sheikh Ben Raschid not to give in to them. I'll get out of this by myself."

  "Oh, will you?" Daniel asked sardonically. "That might be a little difficult considering the circumstances."

  "I told you. I'll handle it. I owe too many debts already. I can't add a burden like this to them."

  He was silent for a long moment, studying her intently. "You mean it."

  "Of course I mean it. I don't say things I don't mean," she said, impatient. "Now, will you tell David and the sheikh I'm fine and that I'll find a way out of this mess myself?"

  He shook his head. "We'll talk about it later," he said. Zilah Dabala looked more tired and more finely drawn than she had in the photograph, but the clear green eyes meeting his were steady and unafraid. There was no summer smile, however. Her lips were taut with the effort she was making to keep them from trembling. Strange that he could miss a smile he'd never really seen outside of a photograph. Sud­denly his gaze sharpened as he realized that a cut marred the softness of her lower lip. His expression hardened into a fierceness that startled her. "Who struck you? I thought you said you hadn't been hurt."

  Her fingers flew automatically to the cut on her lip. "Hassan. Stupidly, I tried to grab a gun from Hakim. I won't do anything so impulsive again." She deliberately dropped her hand away. "See, it's only a little cut. It doesn't hurt. And, anyway, it doesn't matter."

  "It matters." His tone was granite-harsh. His fin­ger rose to brush her lower lip with a gossamer touch.

  Zilah felt a sudden sensation that was like noth­ing she had ever experienced before. It must be pain, she thought in bewilderment. But somehow it didn't feel like pain. It was more like a hot tingle of pleasure. Daniel Seifert's navy blue eyes were holding her own with mesmerizing power.

  "It matters very much." His voice had softened to dark richness. Then he shifted so that his bulk was between her and the men in the front of the plane. "I'll take care of Hassan soon. It will be a pleasure I'll look forward to." His voice was a mere whisper. "We haven't much time. Be ready."

  Zilah's brow knotted in puzzlement. "Ready for what?"

  "There will be intense pain." Daniel was speak­ing rapidly, his eyes on her face. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of any other way. I knew I'd be searched, so I couldn't bring anything along to pro­tect you. Will you trust me?"

  "You're going to—"

  "Trust me," he said again. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just hold on to me until hell freezes over. You won't be sorry."

  She met his worried gaze. Gentleness, regret, and some other emotion she couldn't define were conflicting in that brutally powerful face. She smiled. "I'll hold on to you until hell freezes over. I promise." He returned her smile. How odd that warm gentle smile looked in the rough-hewn boldness of his war­rior face.

  "Good. I'll damn well remind you of that promise if you forget. We're in this together, Zilah."

  She nodded. "Toge—" The word was shattered as an explosion rocked the plane. "What!"

  Within seconds of each other there was a chain of explosions that appeared to encircle the plane. After that the action was so lightning-fast that she per­ceived it only as a blur.

  Daniel reached into his back pocket and brought out a pristine white handkerchief. "Cover your nose and mouth and keep your eyes closed. Try to hold your breath."

  Then he tore off his left ear!

  A false ear, she realized almost immediately as he balled it up in his palm.

  The explosions were still going on outside the plane. Hassan was shouting something to the other man, who was peering through the window to try to sight their attackers.

  Confusion became sheer madness as Daniel threw the object in his hand into their midst. Cerise smoke suddenly filled the plane.

  Zilah's mouth was agape with astonishment. The spell was broken as Daniel gave her an exasper­ated glance. "Dammit, cover your face!"

  She heard a scream of agony from Hakim some­where in that thick red mist ahead. She quickly cov­ered her mouth and nose with the handkerchief.

  "Come on." Daniel was on his feet. "Grab on to my belt. I may have to have my hands free."

  She heard another scream. Hassan?

  She closed her eyes as they entered the thick mist by the door but not before she caught a shadowy glimpse of Hassan. He was doubled over, his hands over his eyes, and clutching desperately at his face. His rifle was on the floor beside him.

  Pain struck her!

  Her face was a fiery agony. The cloth of the hand­kerchief was offering almost no protection against the heavy fumes by the door. She halted, stunned by the sheer intensity of the pain. She heard a muttered imprecation from Daniel, and then his arm was around her, pushing her through the door, down the stairs, and out into the sunlight. The desert heat enveloped her, suffocating her. They were running toward the jeep, she realized. Another round of explo­sions was going off, shaking the earth beneath her feet and causing puffs of fire and smoke to appear like lethal blossoms on the starkness of the dunes.

  Daniel's hands were encircling her waist, lifting, almost throwing her into the jeep. He jumped into the driver's seat and put the jeep into gear. The wind­shield in front of them exploded in a cobweb of splin­ters with a neat hole in the center. A bullet hole! She glanced back to see Hassan a few yards from the plane aiming again with the rifle. Hakim was stumbling down the steps of the plane, still reeling with pain.

  "Get down!" Daniel's roar was so harsh, she obeyed instantly. "Dammit, I was hoping the gas would give us a few more minutes." His foot jammed down on the accelerator and the jeep leaped forward. Another bullet whistled past her head and ricocheted off the frame of the windshield. Daniel began to zig­zag across the sands. Other shots followed, hitting somewhere in the rear of the jeep. Daniel was fumbling underneath the seat and bringing out a small black metal box.

  "What's that?" Zilah had to shout to be heard over the roar of the motor and the hail of bullets.

  "I was going to wait until we were farther away, but I think we need the distraction more than the dis­tance." Daniel pressed the red button on the box.

  The earth heaved as an explosion four times as strong as the previous ones rocked the desert. She glanced back over her shoulder to see that the Learjet was now nothing but a blazing inferno. "You blew up the plane!" "I told you we needed a distraction." He looked back over his shoulder. Hakim, who had been close to the plane, had been knocked off his feet and was crawling with desperate swiftness away from the filming wreckage. Another rifle shot sounded. "Hassan doesn't appear to have been stopped, but I think we're out of range now." "You blew up the plane," she repeated, dazed. "Ben Raschid wants them," Daniel said calmly. "I didn't want to chance them turning chicken and fly-ing out of here. I also wanted to make them mad enough to come after us across the border." "You planned for them to follow us?" "Y
ou're damn right." His grin took on a touch of ferocity as he shot a sideways glance at her. His gaze lingered on her swollen lip. "I've decided that I want them too."

  She was wiping her streaming eyes with the handkerchief. "Well, I don't think there's any question you succeeded in making them mad enough.

  When the other two men return with the jeep, they'll probably be hot on our trail."

  "Probably. But by that time we'll be out of this desert and halfway through the hills. You'll be across the border and safe at my friend's compound before they reach Sedikhan." His lips tightened grimly.

  "And then I'll go on a little hunting trip."

  A shiver ran through her. The ferocity was no longer a touch but glittering sharp as a dagger in his face. Daniel Seifert was obviously a very dangerous man. For an instant she felt almost sorry for Hassan and his meji. Then she realized just how ridiculous that thought was. He was only one man, for heaven's sake. Clearly an extraordinary man, judging from his actions in the past half hour, but not invulnerable.

  "No," she said quietly . "I've caused enough trouble. I don't want you to put yourself in any more danger because of me."

  "My choice," he said tersely. "You don't have any­thing to say about it. I want them."

  "I do have something to say about it." Her green eyes were suddenly sparking. "I'm very grateful for your help, but I won't accept any more from you. I'll handle everything from now on."

  "We'll see about that," Daniel muttered.

  The glance she threw at him was exasperated. She felt as if she were beating her head against a stone wall. "I mean it, you know."

  He patted her knee affectionately. "I know you do." His smile was so warm and gentle, she could almost forget the harshness that had been there before. "You seem to think you can handle the whole damn world."

  She lifted her chin. "I can."

  He chuckled, his dark blue eyes twinkling. "Maybe you can at that. It will be fun to stick around and at least see you try."

  She frowned. "How did you do it?"

  His brow lifted inquiringly.

  "My rescue. It was quite spectacular." She shook her head in wonder. "Almost unbelievable."

  "I'm very good," he said with a roguish grin. "I've been known to boggle the mind on occasion."

  "You've certainly succeeded in boggling mine. It was like something out of a James Bond movie."

  "The fireworks were a little theatrical, I admit. I have a tendency to be somewhat flamboyant, but it doesn't make me any less effective. Clancy Donahue is also very fond of gadgets and indulges me."

  "You're one of Clancy's agents?"

  His expression hardened. "I'd forgotten how familiar you are with Bradford and his friends. I was one of Clancy's lieutenants, but I'm retired now. This is in the nature of a special mission." His grim expression dissolved into a reckless grin. "He offered me something I couldn't refuse."

  "It must have been very valuable to cause you to risk your life."

  "I think it may prove to be priceless." His gaze held her own for a long moment, and she experienced hat same bewildering sensation as when he had touched her lip on the plane. But he wasn't touching her now. she thought. Only with his eyes and that smile that caused an almost physical rapport. She hurriedly looked away. "You didn't answer me. How did you do it?"

  He shrugged. "I spent most of the night planting those charges and setting the timers. The only dicey one was on the fuselage of the plane. If Hassan's out­side guard had been on the ball, he would have spot­ted me. There was no ground cover."

  "Was that a tear gas bomb you exploded on the plane?"

  He shook his head. "It was one of Clancy's chem­ical specials, created to affect the sinuses and the respiratory tract. It's far more sophisticated than tear gas, as well as much more painful. One good whiff and it almost completely incapacitates a man." His eyes darkened with concern. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded. "My chest aches and I can't seem to stop crying. Otherwise I'm fine." She frowned. "But how did you manage to stand it with nothing to cover your face?"

  "Nose plugs and contact lenses." He grimaced. "Together with that damned false ear I felt like the bionic man from the television series."

  "Oh, yes, the false ear." She shook her head and chuckled. "I nearly fell over when you tore your left ear off. It looked so real."

  "Nothing but the best for Clancy. He did give me a choice of which appendage I wanted to duplicate for the bomb. But there were only two choices, and the other appendage I refused to destroy even in effigy." He glanced casually at the gauges on the panel in front of him and his smile disappeared. He uttered a brief but violent curse.

  "What's wrong?"

  "The gas. dammit. The gauge is dropping like a stone. One of the bullets must have hit the gas tank. "

  Her eyes widened apprehensively. "We're almost out of gas?"

  He nodded. "And we're still a good ten miles from the beginning of the foothills. We'll be lucky if the jeep makes it another eight or nine miles. We'll still have to hike a mile or two in the desert."

  "Is that all?" Zilah breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought we were going to be stranded out here for Hassan and his men to find."

  "It's bad enough. It means that we'll have only a short head start on Hassan and may have to play hide-and-seek in those hills tonight. We'll have to stay off the main paths. We'll be lucky if we get to the bor­der by tomorrow morning."

  She shrugged. "It doesn't matter when we get there, just so we do. A night in the hills wont be so terrible."

  "You can handle it?" he asked mockingly.

  "I can handle anything," she said in a grave tone of voice. "I've had an excellent teacher."

  His lips tightened. "Bradford?"

  She nodded. "David taught me practically every­thing I know." Her voice softened. "He's a wonderful, wonderful man."

  "I'm sure he enjoys enormously the manner in which you express your gratitude,'" Daniel said harshly. "But I'll wager there are still a few lessons you could learn."

  She stared at him, clearly puzzled. "I don't know what you mean."

  His boot suddenly jammed on the accelerator with a force that caused the jeep to buck. Then, realizing that the impulsive action had wasted precious gas, he cursed beneath his breath. "You will."

  His gaze was fixed on the hills wavering in the distance like a cool, verdant mirage. "I assure you that I have every intention that you understand me very well."

  They were some nine miles closer to those hills when the jeep sputtered, choked, and then came to a halt.

  "Out," Daniel ordered tersely, swinging his long legs over the side of the jeep.

  Zilah was already scrambling from her seat as he spoke. The sand was hot beneath the rubber soles of her tennis shoes. It would probably get hotter, she thought grimly. She had better get accustomed to it. She joined Daniel at the back of the jeep, where he was raising a false bottom panel on the floor before the rear seats.

  He quickly pulled out an army-green backpack, a canteen, and a lethally efficient-looking rifle complete with carrying strap. He thrust the gun at her. "Hold on to this for a minute, will you?"

  She accepted the rifle with a faint sensation of unreality. It looked like an army issue machine-gun of some sort. Who would have believed a few days ago at peaceful Texas A&M that she would be here in the desert holding a rifle with which only a man like Dan­iel Seifert would be comfortable? She watched bemusedly as Daniel extracted the nose plugs and contact lenses he was wearing and threw them care­lessly on the backseat. Then he was strapping on the

  backpack with swift, economical movements. He took the rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and reached for the canteen.

  "Let me carry the rifle," Zilah said quietly. "It makes no sense for you to be burdened with all of the equipment. I want to do my share."

  He shook his head. "We have to move fast. I want to be halfway up that first hill in twenty minutes— tops!" His lips tightened. "It may be all the time we hav
e." He gave her the canteen. "Hang on to this. The rest of this stuff is no problem for me." He grinned. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm as big as a house. It comes in handy once in a while." He took her hand. "Come on, hike!"

  She slung the canteen over her shoulder and fell into step with him. His clasp on her hand was warmly comforting, yet she was still conscious of that bewil­dering tingling of awareness. She had the odd feeling that a part of her was being absorbed by his grasp. It made her vaguely uneasy and she instinctively tried to pull away. He released her at once and she immedi­ately felt a little foolish.

  His gaze flew down to her face. "You're frowning," he noticed. "Are you frightened?"

  "Yes," she said honestly. "I'm scared to death. I have been ever since you tore off that ridiculous false ear and exploded the gas." She looked directly at him. "But you needn't worry about me falling apart. I know you have enough problems without having a hyster­ical woman on your hands. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

  His brow rose quizzically. "Just like that? No indignant protests? No women's lib? No ranting about your right to have a say in all this?"

  "I'm not a fool," she said. "This type of action is obviously your metier, not mine. When you're with an expert, you get out of his way and let him do his job."

  Her lips curved in an ironic smile. "I'll help in any way I can, but I'm afraid that blowing up airplanes wasn't in my college curriculum."

  "I'd never know it. You're a very cool lady when the chips are down." His expression softened. "Try not to worry too much. I'm not saying this is going to be easy, but I have no intention of letting Hassan get hold of you again. I don't like to lose. I make a habit of avoiding it at all costs."

  "I hope this isn't the exception that proves the rule," she said, trying to smile.