She charged before she could change her mind and hit Busir hard in the back with the stun gun. He jolted, screamed, whipped around. And she hit him again dead in the chest without even a second thought.
She gritted her teeth and held on to the stun gun even as his coal black eyes focused on her. His body jerked and seized. His eyes rolled back in his head, and then he fell to his knees, finally slumping forward on the ground where he continued to twitch as electrical impulses flickered through his body.
Slick with sweat and breathing heavy, she stared down at what she’d done for the second time tonight. Not an inkling of remorse rushed through her. At that moment, she understood how men could kill. He deserved that and so much more for what he’d done to Sawil. To Shannon. To her.
Tires spinning on slush out on the road pulled Kat back to the present. She had mere seconds before Busir’s buddy in the car revived; minutes before Busir came to or his other friend from the auction showed up to help.
She hurriedly stepped over Busir and dropped to the ground next to Pete, slumped back against the wall, his head and eyes tracking her like he was operating in serious slow motion. Confusion drew his brows together as he stared up at her with wide eyes.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said quickly, checking to make sure there weren’t any bones sticking out of his body anywhere.
“Kat?” he croaked.
“Can you walk? I don’t think I can carry you.”
“Whoa.” He gave his head a hard shake and leaned it back against the wall. “Real…real…trippy dream.”
A nightmare was more like it.
His words were slurring together, and she knew the drug was taking effect. She had to get him up and out of this alley before it was too late. “I need you to stand.”
She stepped over him, slipped both her arms under his and around his back. A grunt tore from her chest as she used every last bit of strength to help him to his feet. Good God, he was nearly dead weight already. And smelled…
oh, heaven
…so incredible. She took a deep whiff of his scent and was bombarded by a thousand memories she’d put out of her mind years ago.
“You…” He set both hands on her shoulders as she pushed him back against the concrete wall and used her shoulder to brace him up. “You look like som’un I know.”
Definitely losing it. She needed to hurry.
“I get that a lot.” She shifted around, looped his arm over her shoulder. It slid down her back as his head fell back against the concrete again.
“Motherfucker…I feel like shit.”
That made two of them.
She grabbed his arm with her left hand and held on tight as she slipped her other arm around his waist and pulled him away from the wall. Her back and shoulders immediately screamed in protest. Panic set in when she looked up and saw how far away the car was. “Pete, you have to help me here. I can’t do this on my own.”
Somehow he listened. Though his head lolled around and his feet moved like there were bricks attached to the soles of his shoes. How the hell would she get him to the car before Busir and his muscle woke up? And what was she going to do once they got there? Just like he’d done once before, Peter Kauffman was suddenly turning her world upside down.
She maneuvered them around Busir, said a quick prayer the man was still paralyzed, and inched them both toward the sidewalk.
“I look as…bad as ‘im?” Pete asked when they reached the icy walk.
“Not quite.” He looked like Adonis to her, even bloodied
and bruised as he was. And as dangerous as a king cobra where she was concerned. This was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. And that was saying a lot, considering her history.
“No more champan’ for me, ‘kay? I don’ like hang…overs.”
Sweat slid down her temple as they moved. “Don’t worry. Something tells me a hangover is the last thing we’ll both be worrying about in a few minutes.”
Six-and-a-half years earlier
Valley of the Kings
“Your secret admirer’s back.”
Kat hefted her backpack up on a worktable outside the tomb and flipped open the top. She had a killer headache from not enough sleep the night before and the relentless heat, which, after three months, she still wasn’t used to. She popped two ibuprofen and downed them with a gulp of water. “He’s not my admirer.”
Shannon Driscoll rolled her eyes and gathered tools for the day’s work. “Fifth time in a row he’s taken the tour. I’d call that an admirer.”
“Fourth. And you don’t get a vote.”
“You forgot Sunday. He was here, found out you weren’t leading and left.”
Kat frowned at her roommate and reached for her hat. “Coincidence. And besides, even if for some strange reason he is here because of me, which he’s not,” she said with
a pointed look, “I’m not interested. There’s obviously something wrong with the man. That or he’s after something specific.”
“I’ll say,” Shannon muttered. Blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she reached for a pick. “And I have a pretty good idea what that specific is. By the way, you have a smudge of dirt on your cheek.”
Kat whipped around and rubbed her palm over her face. “Where? Did I get it? Is it gone?”
Shannon let out a hoot of laughter. “Yeah. And for the record? I’m totally buying that whole not-interested thing. I’ll see you after your tour with lover-boy.”
Kat frowned again as Shannon headed down the slope toward Dr. Latham, the site leader, who, with his trusty clipboard, was doling out assignments for the day. Just Kat’s luck she’d been relegated to tourist duty—again—like the grunt she really was.
Boy, this was an exciting job, wasn’t it? She loved the digging and research, but the catering to the public stuff really grated on her nerves. Now and then was fine. Days in a row? No, thank you.
She hated to admit it, but as much as she enjoyed being a part of the project, she was really looking forward to getting everything she needed and getting gone. Especially lately. Tensions were high on the dig. Several pieces they’d excavated over the last few months had mysteriously disappeared. Consensus among the crew was they’d simply been miscataloged, but Kat wasn’t so sure.
She let out a deep breath, wiped the dust from her forehead, and told herself not to worry about it so much. There wasn’t a lot she could do without proof, and as her colleague Sawil had told her repeatedly, it wasn’t her responsibility. Especially since she really was nothing more than a grunt. What she wanted most was to finish her dissertation. And she wanted to go home for a few weeks and see her mother. It’d been too long already.
Knowing that was several months off at least, she blew out a long breath and smashed her hat down on her head, then turned toward the group of tourists fifty yards off waiting for their guide. And just like Shannon had pointed out, there was the sexy American again, hanging at the back of the group like he’d been every other time for the past four—correction, five—days.
He was the kind of guy a girl would have to be blind to miss. Tall, blond, deliriously handsome. With eyes that were a strange color of gray. Today he was dressed in a white camp shirt and khaki pants, with scuffed boots that looked like they’d been around and back a few times.
He wasn’t a tourist, she’d bet her grad school tuition on that. Though he had the necessary gear—spiffy new hat, shiny camera and a map of the Valley in his back pocket—the shoes were a dead giveaway. As was the confidence and calculating calmness about him. He rarely spoke to anyone, always kept to the back of the group, watched everything with eagle eyes she doubted missed a thing. And she knew, too, because while he’d been studying everything else, she’d been watching him. Closely.
Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but this guy was after something. Something specific, like Kat had told Shannon only moments before. Only she was sure it wasn’t her.
Today she intended to find out just what that was.
She came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’d like a moment with you if you don’t mind.”
He turned her way, and the surprise she’d hoped to see on his face was anything but present.
Dammit, he’d been expecting her.
“Dr. Meyer. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
“I’m sure it is. Look, Mr.—”
“Kauffman. Peter Kauffman. But my friends call me Pete.”
“Right. Mr. Kauffman, like I was saying. I’m sure you
could give this tour yourself.” She paused to take a breath, only when he turned the full force of those eyes on her she realized they weren’t just gray, they were a rolling smoky blue-gray that reminded her of the Caribbean during a hurricane. And just as crazy, they made her think of a lounge chair on a swirling, sandy beach with the guy in front of her catering to every one of her fantasies.
Those mesmerizing eyes swept the length of her body. Lingered on her sweat-dampened shirt, clinging to her already overheated skin. The blood rushing from her head at his obvious admiration was a clear reminder that even in the sweltering heat she was a woman, not just a scientist.
Which, right now, was a bad thing to have click into her brain.
His brows slowly lifted. “Are you offering me a job, Dr. Meyer?”
She swallowed at the sexy sound of his voice. Smooth and deep and way better than she’d expected. Dammit. That voice was only going to fuel her already out of control fantasies.
She gave herself a mental slap. “No, actually, I wasn’t. And it’s not ‘doctor.’ Not yet, anyway. I was simply going to point out there’s nothing new at this site you can learn, so your time would be better served back in Cairo. The tours of the Pyramids are astound—”
“I’ve taken the tours. They’re not nearly as interesting as this one. Trust me.”
Oh, man. Just the way he looked at her with that twinkle in his eyes and that sultry half grin made her think of sex. Which was a very bad thing to be thinking of right now.
Remember, he’s not a tourist.
“Mr.—”
“Pete.” He took her right hand before she could protest,
ran his fingers over her palm and looked down at where he held her. “Your skin is soft. Way softer than I expected considering the hours you must spend out here.”
“I…” What was he doing? Though it was nine gazillion degrees, a shiver ran down her spine. “I use a lot of moisturizer,” she managed before she realized how stupid she sounded. “You know, working…out here.”
Whatever.
Now she sounded like a complete moron.
“I’d like to hear all about it.”
Irritated with herself, she looked up into his eyes to let him have it, then stalled out when she felt that pull. The same one she’d felt every time he’d looked at her over the past few days. The one that made her stomach flop all over the place and her heart kick up in her chest to the beat of a marching band.
“You already did,” she managed. “You’ve heard about it every day this week.”
He smiled then, a slow and easy curve of his lips that highlighted the deep dimple in his left cheek.
Oh, boy. The man had dimples. She was in deep trouble here.
His finger traced a lazy circle against her palm. The tiny movement shot electricity up her arm, straight to her belly. “I want to hear more about you.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good—”
“Trust me.” He glanced at her name tag, then back to her face. “Katherine.”
She swallowed, unable to pull her hand away or move back when he took a step closer. People were watching them, but part of her didn’t care. Damn, he smelled good, too. Clean, fresh. A hint of leather and something spicy. She fought to keep from closing her eyes and drawing in a deep whiff.
“I generally go by Kat.” Why was she telling him this? “To my friends. Not to, you know. Everyone.”
Dear God, she was losing it.
“Kat. Yeah, that’s better. Fits you.” He moved closer still. “But I like Kit-Kat more.”
Why did that insane nickname sound so damn sexy coming from his lips?
“Look, Pete. Um. Mr. Kauffman.” Wow. She liked how his first name sounded way too much. “You seem like a nice guy.” Oh, Lord. She was going to hell for lying. He seemed like a sex god, not in any way, shape or form a nice guy. “And I’m flattered. Really. But, um, I think you have the wrong idea about me.”
“What idea would that be, Ms. Meyer?”
The twinkle in his eye said he was baiting her, and part of her wanted to go on playing. But common sense took control. “I’m working here.”
He studied her a long moment. “I’ll tell you what. It’s clear I’m distracting you and that you’d prefer I quit hanging around your tomb, right?”
She nodded slowly, not entirely sure where he was headed.
“I’ll make you a deal then.” He smiled again, let go of her hand, and damn if that dimple didn’t wink at her. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“What?”
“Dinner. With me. Tonight. I pick the place. If you do, I’ll stop bugging you. If you say no, well then…” He shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’ll just have to keep taking this tour until you change your mind.”
The man was insane. He was willing to suffer through her boring tour and this sweltering heat just to get her attention? That was what he was doing here?
Shannon had been right.
“Well?”
She reached up to touch the chain that ran around her neck and disappeared beneath her shirt as she stared into those mesmerizing eyes. She should say no, but any guy
who was willing to go through all that deserved to have a bone thrown his way. And it was only dinner, after all.
It wasn’t like one meal would change her life.
Present day
Cairo, Egypt
Omar Kamil wasn’t happy with the interruption.
He leaned across Rehema’s long, naked body and reached for his cell phone, the one he’d left sitting on the nightstand just in case something urgent came up. He didn’t bother to glance at the number, instead flipped it open and growled, “
Matha?
”
“We’ve got movement.”
The heavily accented voice speaking English on the other end of the line drew his immediate attention, and he sat up.
Busir.
“Tell me,” he said in English as well.
“She came out of hiding at the auction. You were right.”
It was about damn time.
Omar let out a long breath and leaned back against the ornately carved headboard in the Nile suite at the Cairo Four Seasons. Out the window across the bedroom, palm trees framed a view of soaring high-rises across the river, sparkling in the late afternoon sun. Minutes before he could have cared less about the view. Now it was the most gorgeous picture he’d ever seen.
Six fucking years he’d been waiting for this call.
Rehema slid her hand across his abdomen, smiled a lusty grin and pressed her lips to his belly button. When she eased away as if to give him space for his conversation, he threaded his fingers into her long black hair and pulled her head back to his stomach. She wasn’t getting away now, not when he felt like celebrating. Especially not when she didn’t understand a lick of English.
Knowing what he wanted, she slid lower and took him into her mouth. The breath that slipped from his lips was pure victory.
“Where are you keeping her?” he asked in a relaxed voice.
“We’re not.”
He lurched up. “What?”
Rehema gagged and fell backward against the mattress. A series of coughs racked her body, but Omar barely noticed. He leapt out of the bed and strode naked to the window. “What kind of idiot are you? She finally shows up and you lose her? Of all the goddamned—”
“We had a…situation. The limo she’s driving has a GPS tracking device, though. The service is paranoid about security. We’ve already got someone on it and have narrowed down her location. It’s only a matter of hours before we apprehend her.”
Omar could feel the blood pounding in his brain. His hand wavered as he ran it over his brow, mopped up sweat that had popped out on his forehead. The tightness in his chest made it hard to get air, so he focused on breathing deep. Slow.
One, two, three.
He couldn’t afford another heart attack over this. Not after he’d finally changed his diet and started exercising. He’d lost twenty fucking pounds from his beefy frame as a result, but weight loss hadn’t been his goal. Staying alive was. He’d worked too long and hard to throw it all away now.
When he was sure his voice was calm, he said, “Explain to me how you lost her in a limousine, in downtown New York City. She’s one woman in a car the size of a goddamned boat!”
So much for calm. He took another deep breath.
“There was a…rush after the auction. We lost her in traffic. But we know where she is.”
He was dealing with imbeciles. Didn’t matter their affiliation
or who they took their orders from. They were imbeciles just the same.
He rubbed a hand over his balding head in utter frustration. “You’ve mentioned that already. If that’s the case why are you jabbering to me about it instead of going after her?”
“A nor’easter moved through the region. Roads are closed and power’s out over a large chunk of the area. She’s hunkered down to wait out the storm, but we’ve got her. We’ll have her and the boyfriend within twenty-four hours.”
The boyfriend.
Omar stared out at the city he’d grown up in, but hated with every fiber of his being. Keeping tabs on Peter Kauffman had finally paid off, just like he’d predicted. Did the man know she’d been in hiding all this time? Or had he been in on it with her right from start? Anything was possible, but one thing was certain. Keeping the antiquities dealer alive in the hopes that one day he’d serve as bait had been a stroke of sheer genius.
A wicked smile spread across his face.
Twenty-four hours. One day, and then he’d be free.
Once Katherine Meyer was safely back in Egypt, he could dispose of her as he’d fantasized for six long years.
The only question left was who would do it. Should he let Minyawi have his way with her first? Or would he do the deed himself?
A thousand different scenarios ran through his mind. And all sent his adrenaline surging.