Free No Stranger to Danger by No Stranger to Danger (Evernight) Page B

you need to do, I'm gonna see about the next flight out of here."
    "K," she said as she shut the door.
    Logan sat down on the bed and began to flip through a folder with Arabic scrolling on the cover. On the inside were listings of numbers to local amenities, first in Arabic and secondarily in French, as Nouakchott had once been under French control and a majority of the population of Mauritania spoke French.
    He ran his finger down the worn list. The word aéroport stuck out, and he reached for the phone on the bedside table to dial the numbers, unsure which airport he was calling.
    After three rings, "Hello, thank you for calling Aéroport de Nouakchott . How may I assist you?" a French-speaking woman asked.
    " Avez-vous un vol pour Caracas?" Logan asked in her language.
    "Hold please." The line went to static temporarily. "Yes, we do. Air France flight three-sixty-eight departs at ten-thirty-five this evening and arrives at CDG in Paris at five-thirty-five tomorrow morning with a five-hour layover. You would get to your destination at, um, let me see … two in the evening on Wednesday. Would you like to book this flight, sir?"
    " Oui ," he said.
    It took about twenty minutes, but he arranged a flight for Mr. and Mrs. Hines.
    He wouldn’t doubt Conyers was on his trail by now, but only news of a plane crashing in the desert was going to lead him in the right direction, and for now, the only people who knew of the plane were the nomads who had dropped them off in Zouérat . He and Mara had since stolen a car and made the thirteen-hour drive from Zouérat to Nouakchott, which gave Conyers time to catch up, but not enough time to stop him before they got on the plane.
    Logan rose from the bed and went to the window to push the curtain aside. The morning sun touched the city below their second-story room and softened the stone buildings. Brightly dressed people milled through the streets, some in hijab fashion, some not. Nouakchott was a big place, the biggest city in Mauritania, with a population close to a million. For being in the Sahara, the city could be considered civilized compared to other places in Mauritania.
    Still, they were in a place heavily influence by extremists, and the sooner he had them out of here, the better. Mara didn’t know the danger they were truly in, and the more danger they could get into trying to leave the country without passports. His only hope was in finding a bribable crook—and in his line of business, he had gotten particularly good at finding crooks.
    On some days, a crook could be one's best friend.
    "Mara," he called. Logan dropped the curtain and walked to the bathroom door. He twisted the worn handle and stuck his head inside the steam-fogged bathroom. "Stay in the room. I'll be back in a few minutes."
    Mara growled at him and stuck her head out of the shower to give him a dirty look. She kept her body covered with the plastic curtain. "Privacy, if you don’t mind."
    Logan raked his stare down the dark silhouette of her figure and shifted against the door. Oh, he minded. Suddenly, the room was far too small, and the need to escape it—to escape being near the one woman who had ever held his heart—ratcheted up into his chest and tightened painfully.
    "Where are you going?" she asked.
    Logan cast his stare away, silently cursing himself for thinking he could handle being near Mara. "Just out to the street. You're going to need something else to wear."
    Mara scowled as he shut the door.
    God, she hates me , Logan thought.
    She had every right to.
    "Well, pick something decent," she called.
    It would be decent, but she wasn't going to like it.
    They both needed a disguise to get to Caracas, and the fashion of Mauritania had never seemed so alluring.
    ****
    Logan stepped back inside the room a half-hour later with clothing tossed over his arm. He reached behind to close the door, then stopped short as he looked up to find Mara turning from the bed. She was wearing a short