Could the boy be lying about a more insidious meaning? Or was he telling the truth? Either way, they had to move forward on the assumption that he was telling the truth.
A translator would have to decipher which variation of the local language was used. Even if the words seemed benign, a decoder—like her—would have to discern if a hidden meaning had been inserted.
Unless the boy was lying to buy time.
She looked up at the teenager. His dark eyes were wild with desperation. She believed he would do anything to stay safe. Was he wily enough to make up a really good lie?
A tug pulled her out of her thoughts as Mr. Smith eased the wrap from her hands. “Where did this come from?”
“Uhm…” She blinked fast to clear her blurry eyes and dulled senses. “Sutton and I both took items from their store of stolen goods for survival purposes. This was from Sutton’s backpack.”
Mr. Smith folded the fabric carefully. “Then I think we need to make sure Mr. Harper passes over his backpack before he leaves here today. Sergeant, could you please escort Stella to her quarters? She needs rest and medical care after her ordeal. We’ve asked enough of her.”
She had a million questions she wanted to ask Ajaya and the enigmatic Mr. Smith, the same Mr. Smith she’d been working with since she arrived in Africa six months ago. But he couldn’t relay that. Obviously. Because as far as the teenager and all the hostages knew, she was just a student getting debriefed, fed, and evaluated like all the rest of them. And even as a full-fledged operative, she didn’t always get clearance on everything.
But God, she ached to be in on this.
Her gaze flicked to Jose, then back to Mr. Smith. The CIA agent was right. She needed to rest up while he finished the interrogation. Once they had a handle on what was in the border of the cloth, if there was a code to crack, she would need a much sharper mind. Right now, she felt like she was walking through peanut butter.
Jose’s arm went around her waist, and she didn’t bother protesting. She leaned into him and let him guide her out of the hangar.
The blinding midday rays stung her eyes as she took in her first comprehensive look at the American base here. Rows of plain tan buildings sprawled ahead, baked and cracked by the harsh African sun.
Step for step, she walked alongside Jose. The heated concrete steamed warmth through the soles of her gym shoes. “Where exactly are we going?”
His hand felt warm and right against her waist. “You’re no good to yourself or anyone until you eat some real food, shower, and sleep.”
“I know I need to clear my head, but walking away from work is easier said than done.” A trio of jet planes split the clouds overhead, leaving contrail to fade in their wakes.
“No offense, Stella, but have you looked in the mirror today?”
His leg brushed against hers, his lean strength as familiar to her as her own skin. How strange to feel stirred in the middle of utter exhaustion. Especially when he’d just told her she looked like crap.
Ouch. “I’ve avoided mirrors.” She stopped at a corner, waiting for a line of camouflage trucks to roll past. “It’s been a rough few days.”
“Exactly why you need to forget about everything for a while.”
“Easier said than done right after hearing there’s a group planning some kind of massacre.” God, she felt like she was running in circles, a futile and exhausting endeavor.
“The kid also said the plan was tied into the vice president’s wife’s visit.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “So we have a couple of days. You can take this time to recharge—really recharge—while Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown and however many more Jones and Johnson buddies of his can help out doing their jobs.”
“Why have you assigned yourself to be my babysitter?”
“Honestly, I don’t trust anyone else. You’re mighty damn good at maneuvering people.” He guided her past a long open-air building with a metal dome roof. “I care about you, and I understand you.”
That’s what made this all hurt so much, knowing he still cared. “Thank you for being here, for being so damn good at what you do.”
For caring.
He stopped outside a two-story concrete building, steps leading up to the second floor. She stared up into his eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable jolt of awareness, the delicious shimmer that ignited her nerve endings with the promise of pleasure. An intense pleasure unique to being with Jose.
“Jose?” Was that whispery voice really hers?
“I know.” He cupped her shoulder. “Not easy to just pretend everything’s okay between us.”
Her skin flamed to life, pushing aside the fog of exhaustion. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, for hauling out all our past baggage again.”
“You did what had to be done. You’re damn good at your job too.” His hand fell away. “My room’s down the hall. Since your gear is all back at the hostel where you were undercover as a student, I rounded up some essentials for you while you were watching the questioning of Ajaya. I put the stuff in my room.”