“Thanks, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
She wrapped herself in the blanket, lay down with her head resting on her arm—and in the next breath was sound asleep.
* * *
Dylan watched Sister María sleep,a strange sense of protectiveness swelling in his chest. Long, dark lashes rested against her bruised cheek, her veil revealing thick, dark hair, her small hand tucked beneath her chin.
She must have been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly. Or maybe the blow that had split her lip had given her a concussion. He would have to watch her.
What could he have done differently to prevent this? How could he have gotten her to the helicopter? She should be on a Navy vessel, sleeping in a warm bunk, not huddled with him in a dank basement.
He ran the last few minutes of the rescue through his mind—the rush into the basement, blowing away the lone guard, freeing the other hostages, seeing that Sister Maria wasn’t there. He’d heard Segal say that one of thesicarioswas running and had taken her with him. He’d run upstairs and onto the street, trying to cut the bastard off.
It had worked, but the lost time had cost them. Even if they had run like hell and made it into the building, there was no guarantee they’d have made it to the rooftop far enough ahead of the enemy forces to make it onto the helicopter. And if that helo hadn’t lifted off when it had, they might all have been killed.
No, there wasn’t anything he could have done differently. But now her life was in his hands.
Pull the trigger.
That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. There’d been no fear on her face, only deep trust in him and a sharp determination to survive.
He wouldn’t let her down.
He set the alarm on his watch, closed his eyes, let himself drift.
The vibration from his watch brought him wide awake. It was oh-five-hundred. Outside, the streets were quiet once more.
Had the bastards moved on?
Sister Maria slept still, her lips slightly parted, her face relaxed.
He hated to wake her, but they needed to get out of here before someone discovered them. “Sister, wake up. It’s time to go.”
Her eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright. “What…?”
“Easy, Sister. It’s okay. We just need to get out of here before someone finds us.”
She nodded, straightened her veil, pulling herself together faster than he had expected. “I’m ready.”
“I’m not.” He stood, stretched, reached for his rifle. “I’m going to head up and take a look, make sure those bastards … er… are gone. Sorry, Sister.”
He needed to clean up his mouth.
“Please, don’t worry about it. If you apologize every time you swear, I have a feeling you’ll be apologizing all the time.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “You’re probably right about that. Stay here. Don’t come out no matter what you hear, okay?”
She met his gaze, nodded. “I understand.”
He moved the chair, opened the door, and moved silently up the stairs and down the hallway to look outside.
The street was quiet with just early morning traffic. There was no sign of enemy forces. The body of the man he’d killed was gone.
The coast was clear—for now.
In the apartments around them, people were waking, getting ready for their day.
He needed to get Sister María far away from here.