“Ask Professor Soliman.” Her voice shook, almost sounding like someone else’s. “He’s the one who knows where it is. I can’t help you.”
“Soliman would die before telling me,” Faris spat. “He has nothing to lose. No close family. Nothing at stake. You, on the other hand…” He twisted the gun, digging the cold metal into her neck. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to yourself or, say, your fiancé, now would you?”
Leila’s breath caught in her throat. Of course he’d threaten Xander—and she had no reason to doubt that he meant it. She didn’t have a choice, did she?
“Fine.” She couldn’t believe she said it, but she knew it was the only answer Faris would accept. The only answer that would get her out of this office alive. All she could do right now was buy herself time to figure this out. “Just let me go.”
He released his hold and pushed her toward the door.
Glowering, she rubbed her arm and nodded at the desk. “I need my things back.”
Still holding the gun, he took a step away from the desk, motioning for her to help herself.
She grabbed her bag, the case with the artifact still inside, and tossed in her phone and knife. Shrugging it over her shoulder, she stopped in front of him. “The gun.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. After a moment’s hesitation, he kept his eyes locked on her as he thumped the gun handle against his palm to pop out the magazine, which he slipped into his pocket, then he pulled back the slide. A round flew into the air and hit the floor with a harmless clink, then he handed her the empty weapon.
Her stomach twisting, she put the pistol inside her bag, then turned and started for the door.
“Don’t come back to Cairo without the scroll, Leila.” Faris’s voice was dangerously soft.
She threw him a glare over her shoulder. He returned her gaze, his lip curled in disgust. “You have one week.”
Though her limbs shook, she marched out of the office and slammed the door behind her.
• • •
Leila sat in her Jimny, doors locked, hand resting on the ignition. Her breaths came out in shaky gasps. What just happened?
Alive. Her mother and brother were alive. Despite being so close to losing them again, they were going to be okay. How Leila would love to hug them both and never let go. If only Faris hadn’t gotten to them first.
And what about Drake? Leila couldn’t just go searching for her. Even if she tried, she had no idea where to look. She reached over to the backpack on the passenger seat and pulled out her phone.
Call Xander.
He would know what to do. He wouldn’t care if it was three in the morning, he’d be at her side in an instant.
She turned on the screen and stopped. Her heart twinged as guilt seeped through her. She’d have to tell him everything. She never should have lied in the first place, but it was too late to fix that now. He’d be shocked. Furious. And he probably wouldn’t understand. What if he saw her as a criminal? A thief? Telling him a secret like this would put their entire future at jeopardy. What about the wedding?
Oh no. The wedding.
She dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. Xander would hear the whole story. She’d tell him, in person. No matter what. Her stomach flipped painfully. He deserved to know. There was no way she could marry him with something like this hanging over her head. She would tell him, and she would look him in the eyes while she did it. She just needed some advice first.
Leila swallowed and started the vehicle. Before going home, she would just finish the mission like she was supposed to and deliver the artifact to Soliman. Then she could tell the professor the issue with Faris. Going to the police wasn’t much of an option, considering how they’d laughed her off the last time she reported Al-Rashid for a crime.
The car bounced over the curb as she rolled the SUV forward in a U-turn. The wooden camel swung from the rearview mirror, drawing her eyes toward it. She bit down on her lip. She needed hope now more than ever. Real hope. A wooden camel wasn’t going to cut it.
Two yellow headlights appeared in the rearview mirror, and she rolled her eyes. Of course, Faris would send one of his thugs to tail her. He’d want to keep tabs on her progress.
To test her theory, she took a right turn, then a left, and ended up on the street she’d come from. Sure enough, the headlights stayed right behind her. Faris wasn’t going to let her out of his sight for the next seven days. It was no use shaking her follower off now. Faris knew where she lived, worked… everything.
She tried Soliman’s number while she idled at a red light—with her follower waiting two cars behind. The tone buzzed for a minute, then clicked to his voicemail. Leila released a frustrated huff and tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat. She lowered her head and rested it on the steering wheel. What a day.
The cars behind her honked. A vehicle maneuvered around her on the right, bumping over the sidewalk to pass.
“I’m going, I’m going,” she grumbled as she sat up, shifting the car back into gear. With her eyes focused on the road, she took in deep breaths through her nose. There was no need to panic. She dug herself into this mess, and she would be able to dig herself back out. There was still time.
The car behind her followed each turn she took. She mostly ignored him, her fear slowly boiling into rage again. She wouldn’t become Faris’s puppet. She wasn’t going to find any scroll for him—although, she was intrigued enough to want to know more about it. Was it really worth threatening her and Xander’s lives over it? Why would he want written texts from a medieval alchemist…
Her heart jolted.
The bombing. He was on the scene. He looted the place. Now he wanted the notes from an alchemist who had created the most powerful form of Greek fire. Faris wanted to make bombs.
Her pulse raced as she turned onto Soliman’s street. Was she going crazy, or was Faris really that evil? She pulled into a space across from Soliman’s house and killed the engine. What did she know about Faris for sure? He kidnapped her mother twenty-two years ago, had her father killed, left Leila to die in a burning room, and stole hundreds of artifacts from the Egyptian Museum. Yes, he was that evil.
The two yellow headlights shone in her mirror, then turned to the right as the vehicle parked. Leila found another full magazine in the brown paper bag and, after a few tries, managed to reload the gun. She slipped it into her waistband. The guy probably knew she was armed, so she wasn’t expecting trouble. Not yet.
Her mouth tight, she grabbed the backpack and got out of the SUV, checking for oncoming traffic before she rushed across the street. She briefly considered giving the thug the bird as she made her way up to Soliman’s front door. Her hand twitched, but she kept it in a tight fist. It was probably too dark for him to notice, anyway.
A stone pathway led the way up to the porch. At first glance, it seemed all the lights were off. She stopped in front of the door.
He didn’t seriously go to bed already, did he? He knew we’d be dropping off the artifact.
She rang the doorbell. Moments passed and nothing happened. She rang the doorbell again. Soliman had to be home—he always was so they could drop off the artifacts.
When no one came to the door, she left the porch and crept to the front window. Peering through the bars, she found a crack in the drapes that gave her a sliver of a glimpse into the living room. The room itself was dark, but a dim glow was partly visible from the doorway leading to the kitchen. After a moment of contemplation, she crept around to the back of the house. She’d take a quick look in the kitchen window. Maybe he’d fallen asleep while he was waiting. It had happened before, but he’d always woken up and come to the door.
As she expected, the back of the house was quiet. She glanced through the kitchen window, the light over the breakfast table glowing. Soliman was nowhere in sight.
