Dark Sins and Desert Sands by Stephanie Draven

self-assured. But the moment the two slabs of metal slammed together, shutting out the brighter light and noise, she watched her captor’s face go ashen. The look that passed over his eyes was something desperate and feral.
    She heard the deepening of his breathing as he backed up against the wall. She could’ve asked him a thousand questions in that moment. She could’ve asked why he’d grabbed her off the street. She could’ve asked where he was taking her, and why. But watching the blazing intensity of his dark eyes lose focus and turn glassy, her instincts as a mental health professional kicked in. “Are you going to faint?”
    “I don’t faint,” Ray said, punching the button for the fifth floor and every one after it. His voice was filled with pain and contempt and sweat broke out over his face as he stumbled.
    It’d been the closed doors that had triggered him. She’d seen it with her own eyes. And now his heart was beating so hard she could actually hear it. “Take a deep breath and focus on my voice,” she said quietly. “If you can calm down, the feeling will pass.”
    “What the hell would you know about it?” he growled.
    Layla wasn’t surprised that he lashed out at her. “I know a panic attack when I see one.”
    In answer, Ray turned and pounded his fist into the door, as if he could batter his way out. Given the force of the blows, maybe he could. “Why is this elevator so goddamned slow?”
    He looked like a trapped animal—one who might be willing to gnaw off his own arm to escape. He stumbled again, and this time she steadied him. “Close your eyes and imagine the desert, wide and open to the horizon.”
    He sagged against her, the bulk of his weight pinning her to the wall. She couldn’t tell if he was even conscious anymore. He was a big man. He wasn’t just tall; his shoulders were also very wide. His coat had fallen open so that the outlines of his muscles were clear beneath his black T-shirt. Something pressed hard into her side, and she looked down to see that he was wearing a holstered gun. It should have terrified her, but the proximity of his masculinity, so raw and powerful, also awakened the same yearning she’d felt in her dream.
    “It’s going to be all right,” she said, softly stroking his arm.
     
    Back in Syria, every time they’d thrown Ray in the coffin, he’d wondered if he’d seen light for the last time. The elevator brought back that sensation, and the terror had crawled up inside him until he was ready to claw the doors open with his bare hands.
    Beautiful . As an army translator, he’d lived through firefights and hostage situations. As a prisoner, he’d been beaten and left for dead. But what frightened him now? A goddamned elevator. And to make matters worse, she was on hand to witness his weakness. Like she needed another weapon in the arsenal of tricks she’d used to chip away at his psyche and find the cracks.
    As soon as the elevator doors opened, he flunghimself out into the hallway, crashing into the opposite wall.
    “Count your breaths and breathe slow,” she said, offering her voice as an anchor against the rising tide of panic. But they were being followed; he didn’t have time for slow. Through sheer force of will, Ray straightened up and herded her down the hallway to the old man’s room and pushed her inside. He shut the door and peered out the peephole.
    He didn’t see anybody coming, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. Ray ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, then checked his gun. It made him feel more secure somehow, to touch it. “Unless those guys are determined to search every room and alert casino security, we’ve probably given your entourage the slip for now.” The panic was subsiding, but he was still unsteady. If she wanted to scream, or push past him and run away, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d have the power to stop her.
    She didn’t try. Instead she said, “I’ll get you a glass of water. It