Page 80 of Locked and Loaded

"Tell me about your sister," Hassan said.

Lennox's eyes opened. "What?"

"Your sister. Dragan says you are looking for her. That is why you are here, yes? Running from men who do not wish you to find her."

She glanced at Dragan. He was studying his tea like it held the secrets of the universe. "You told him?"

"He asked,” he said matter-of-factly.

"Dragan tells me only what I need to know," Hassan added. "It is an old habit. One I have learned not to take personally." He settled back on his cushions. "I ask about your sister because I wish to help. If I can."

Lennox looked at him. At the weathered face and the shrewd dark eyes and the hands that had seen decades of desert work. She didn't know this man. She didn't know if she could trust him. But Dragan trusted him, and Dragan didn't trust anyone.

"Her name is Chloe," she said. "She was taken in Ibiza. I've been looking for her ever since." She pulled the picture out of her pocket. She had tucked it there earlier as a reminder that she needed to focus. “This is her.”

Hassan took the picture. “She’s beautiful. "How long ago was this taken?"

Lennox took a moment to think. “Eleven, no twelve weeks.”

"That is a long time to search,” Hassan said as he handed the picture to Dragan.

Lennox nodded. “But it’s a long time to be captive. That picture was the last thing she sent me. It was taken sometime a few days before she disappeared.”

“Do you have the original on your phone?” Dragan asked.

“No. My phone was stolen a couple of days after I got this. It’s in my email though. I backed it up to the cloud and then sent it to myself. She just looked so happy.”

“Can you email it to me?” Dragan asked as he put the picture down on the table.

Lennox nodded. She pulled out a burner phone she’d carried since she’d arrived in Marrakech. “There,” she said a moment later. “I like to have a hard copy because it seems more permanent.” She didn’t have to add that she wanted a permanent reminder of her sister.

Hassan nodded slowly. "You feel guilty."

It wasn't a question. She didn't answer.

"For resting," he continued. "For sleeping. For eating lamb and drinking tea while your sister suffers. This is what you are thinking right now."

She set her glass down. "You're very direct."

"The desert does not reward indirectness. There is no time for it. You are here because you must be here. You must eat. You rested because you must rest. A woman who does not sleep cannot fight. A woman who does not eat cannot think. You are doing what is necessary."

Lennox sighed. "It doesn't feel necessary. It feels selfish."

"Selfishness and self-preservation can look the same from the outside. They are not the same thing."

Lennox didn't know what to say to that. She picked up her tea and drank it instead.

Dragan glanced at the screen on his phone, and his expression shifted, the easy relaxation of the last hour vanishing behind the hard, focused look she knew too well.

"I need to make a call," he said. He stood and walked out of the tent without waiting for a response.

Hassan watched him go. "He is worried about you."

"He's worried about a lot of things."

"Yes. But you are the person who keeps him up at night." Hassan stood and offered her his hand. "Come. Let me show you something."

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He led her out of the tent and across the camp, past the red velvet pavilions and the patterned carpets, to a small enclosure at the far edge where three camels were resting in the shade of a canvas awning.