“They’re definitely smugglers. The one on this side of the border just handed over an envelope of cash. The other guy is counting it. Now they’re walking to the rear of the truck, probably to inspect the goods.”
Kristi could hear the men’s voices in the distance, but she couldn’t see them. A cargo door clanked open. Voices. Then the door was slammed shut.
“Now the one who paid is climbing into the driver’s seat.”
Kristi heard the engine start, jackals or wild dogs howling somewhere nearby.
“They’re driving away. I’ll wait until I’m sure they’re gone, and then we’ll cross.”
It was after midnight now, and Kristi couldn’t wait to get a shower and a night’s rest. It turned out that running from killers was exhausting work.
Was today the day they’d almost been killed by a train—or was that yesterday?
No, that was today.
“When you get bars again, start looking for a hotel close to the airport. I’m not sure we’ll be able to get a room. We might have to spend the night in the vehicle.” There was a note of apology in his voice, as if this were somehow his fault.
“As long as I’m with you, and we’re safe, I don’t care.”
He glanced around with the NVGs, flipped them up, and handed her his helmet. “Time to roll.”
She put on the helmet, adjusted it for her smaller head, and flipped down the NVGs, watching for humans, for movement, for anything that might be a danger.
Malik drove down the embankment to the dirt road and made a left, heading west once more. They drove without music, neither of them speaking, until, at last, Malik broke the silence.
“We’re over the border. We’re in Benin.”
Kristi exhaled. “Thank God.”
But her sense of relief was fleeting and incomplete, the darkness and the vast openness of the landscape seeming to press in on her. She couldn’t forget Elizabeth’s warning about the Sky Kings having a possible presence in Benin. Out here, it would be so easy for those bastards to abduct them and drag them back to Nigeria.
“We’re going to make it, angel.” Malik reached over, took her hand, his gaze on the bushland ahead of them. “I’ll find a road into Parakou, and we’ll be there soon.”
It took them almost three hours, thanks to meandering roads, but at last Parakou came into view, the city’s lights a welcoming sight.
“There’s a Hotel les Routiers that says it’s open.” She made a reservation using the credit card information Elizabeth had given them and the surname of her nursing supervisor in Kaduna. “It says here that French is the official language. I don’t know much French. Do you?”
“I can manage Spanish. I know a little Arabic and a little Farsi, but that’s it.”
“We are Mr. and Mrs. Okoro, by the way.”
“Good to know.”
When they reached the hotel, Malik went inside to get the keys, while Kristi stayed in the car. He returned quickly. “Okay, Mrs. Okoro, let’s get some sleep.”
“What I want is a shower.”
The room was spacious with tile floors, a ceiling fan, a table and chairs, and a large bathroom with a tub and a shower that consisted of a showerhead and a drain in the floor—no walls or curtains.
Kristi set her bags aside, checked for bedbugs, then stripped, grabbed her toiletries, and walked into the bathroom to shower. The water was nice and hot as she stepped under the spray. She was rinsing the shampoo from her hair when Malik entered.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Please.”
He took the pistol out of his waistband and set it on the counter. Then he removed his clothes and walked over to her in graceful strides, the sight of his beautiful naked body like a jolt of caffeine.
He turned her to face away from him, took the conditioner from her, and worked it through her hair, massaging her scalp.