THIRTY
The track between the tents seemed to stretch forever. Philemon would never get there in time to warn her. Not before that misbegotten camel herder got his hands on her...and what if he hurt her? Philemon sucked in a breath and hopped faster.
Of course the sheikh's tent was at the far end of the camp. Where no one could hear the screams of his women as he tortured them, most likely. Barbarian.
Four guards stood at the entrance. Two tribesmen, Haidar, and Asad. Philemon cursed. He couldn't go in without her men spotting him.
He hopped around the back of the tent, looking for another way in. Maybe if he squeezed under the tent wall here, digging under it a little, he might manage...
A woman's scream sliced through the night. Then another. From inside the tent.
Anahita.
He
