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Jordan agreed. “There isn’t a cellar or something?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it. If the rebels make it into the compound, they’ll check every outbuilding. I’ll take you and Dr. Morton to the supply hut.”
“What about you?” She clutched his arm with a strength he found astonishing.
“I’ll be back later.”
Her hands framed his face, and she blinked through her tears. “Be careful. Please, be careful.”
He nodded. He had no intention of sacrificing his life. Hand in hand they ran for the supply hut. Jordan glanced around for Dr. Morton and saw that the men had taken Molly’s friend and were hiding him themselves.
The supply hut was locked, but luckily Molly had the key. Jordan surveyed the grounds, wondering exactly how much protection this ramshackle building would offer her. If the rebels broke into the compound, he needed to be in a position to protect her.
Gunfire rang in the distance, like the soundtrack of a war movie. Only it was real…
“Keep your head down,” Jordan said, closing the door behind her. “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.” He noticed how pale and frightened she was. He probably didn’t look much better himself. His last thought as he left her was that anyone going after Molly would need to kill him first.
* * *
Terror gripped Molly at every burst of machine-gun fire. She was huddled in the corner, hunched down, her back against the wall, knees tucked under her chin. She covered her ears and gnawed on her lower lip until shetasted blood. The room was pitch-dark with only a thin ribbon of light that crept in from beneath the door.
Footsteps pounded past, and she stopped breathing for fear the rebels had broken into the compound. The worst part of this ordeal was being alone. She wouldn’t be nearly as frightened if Dr. Morton was with her. Or Jordan.
Nothing could have shocked her more than her husband bursting into the nursery, armed with a rifle and dressed as if he were part of Special Forces. He’d briefly served in the military, but that had been years earlier, when he was right out of college.
What had possessed Jordan to risk his life to save her? It might seem ungrateful, but she’d rather he’d stayed in Chicago. He was furious with her, that much she’d read in his eyes, although his anger wasn’t anything new. In the end, before she’d moved out, their marriage had deteriorated to the point that they were barely speaking. It hadn’t always been like that. Only after Jeffrey had died… She pushed thoughts of their son from her mind. Early in their marriage they’d been so deeply in love that Molly would never have believed anything could come between them.
Death had.
The grim reaper’s scythe had struck, and his blade had separated them in the most painful of ways, by claiming their six-month-old child.
Molly had no idea how much time had passed before the door opened. Panic gripped her as she squinted into the light, but she relaxed when she saw that it was Jordan.
“What’s happening?” she pleaded, eager for news.
“Don’t know.” He abruptly pulled the door shut. The room went dark once more and he lit a match that softly illuminated the small space. He leaned his rifle against the wall and sank down onto the dirt floor next to her. His breathing was heavy. His chest heaved as he exhaled. “Knowing Zane, he’ll do everything he can to come back for us, but there are no guarantees.”
“Who’s Zane?”
“An old friend,” he said. “You don’t know him. We met in the army years ago.”
He blew out the match, and the room was pitch-black again. He leaned against her, and some of the terror and loneliness abated at his closeness. “What about the rebels?” She needed to know if there was any chance of getting out alive. Death didn’t concern her, but how she died did.
“Apparently Zane and the others have been able to hold them off, for now at least, but there’re a thousand unknowns in this. Everything’s quiet, but I don’t expect that to last.”
She nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “What are you doing here?” The question had burned in her mind from the moment he’d stormed into the compound.
“Someone had to try to get you out of here. Ian’s worried sick. If you want to risk your life, fine, but you might’ve waited until your father was too senile to know or care. He’d never recover if anything happened to you.”
The words were thrown at her, sharp and cutting in their intensity.
“I certainly had no idea anything like this was going to happen,” she snapped back defensively.
“You might have opted to volunteer in someplace other than the East African Republic,” he said. “Why couldn’t you be content with dispensing medication to school kids? Oh, no, that would’ve been too easy. What’d you do, look for the hottest trouble spot on the world map and aim for it?”
He was stiff and distant. It hurt her to realize that, within five minutes of seeing each other after three years apart, they were arguing.
