“Leila, wait,” Aisha called out behind her.
Leila whirled around, hands curled in fists at her sides. Aisha and Sami crossed the lobby, Aisha carrying a bag overflowing with tulle samples, silk flowers, and magazines she had quickly stuffed inside.
“You’re angry with me,” Aisha pleaded. “I’m sorry. There are things you don’t understand… But maybe you can, if you’ll give me a chance to explain.”
“Can we see the mummified crocodiles now?” Sami asked, looking up at Leila, his deep brown eyes full of anticipation. The phone and headphones had disappeared.
Leila glanced between the two of them, her jaw tight. She’d been looking forward to a stroll through the museum, but now she couldn’t imagine walking through the place with her. She’d have to come back alone with Sami some other time. That would probably be better for them, anyway. Leila had only found out about her brother two years ago and after the shock had worn off, it had been difficult to get to know him with their mother always interfering. Despite who his father was, Leila longed to have a normal, sisterly relationship with Sami. He couldn’t choose who his parents were, but they could choose to be friends.
“Sorry, bud,” she muttered, “I have to go.” She turned on her heel, leaving her mother standing in the lobby next to her brother. Knowing she’d only see the disappointment on Sami’s face, she didn’t look back. She hated turning her back on him. None of this was his fault.
“Everyone deserves to be loved, Leila,” Aisha called out after her. “Even the worst people.”
Without slowing, Leila marched out the front doors and down the steps. The sun pounded down on her, sweat immediately beading on the back of her neck.
She reached the sidewalk and walked a few yards until she arrived at one of the sphinxes at the end of the decorative pool full of lily pads. She stopped, took a deep breath, and slowly turned to face the red brick museum. A busload of tourists now filled the steps, her mother and brother nowhere in sight. They probably decided to walk through the museum without her.
So be it. She pulled out her phone and sent a flurry of text messages to Xander. He was more than aware of the issues between her and Aisha. He only had to listen to her venting at least once a week—sometimes twice.
After sending the last text, a fly buzzed in her face. She scowled and swatted it away. Had she been too harsh? No, her mother needed a hard dose of reality. She couldn’t go on like this, married to the man who’d murder her daughter in a heartbeat, while also trying to rebuild a relationship with her. What was she thinking? Everyone deserves to be loved. What was that supposed to mean? Was she referring to herself or, heaven forbid, Faris? That would be disgusting. But she did spend twenty years with the man. Could it be Stockholm Syndrome? Something else?
The memory of the look on Aisha’s face replayed in Leila’s mind. Eyes wide, hands trembling. No, that wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome. Fear. That was it. Her mother was afraid. There was something going on that Aisha wasn’t telling her about, some threat. And maybe that was what she was finally ready to talk about.
Leila finished sending another text when a short, bald man approached from her right. Glasses perched on the tip of his nose, arms full of books and loose papers, he walked quickly. She’d recognize the Egyptologist anywhere.
“Hello, Professor Soliman,” Leila said as he came close.
“Oh, hello, Leila.” He came to a stop and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Enjoying your day off?”
Leila shrugged.
Soliman cast a glance at the museum, then tilted his head toward the street. “Walk with me for a moment. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
Leila fell into step beside him, grateful for the distraction. She noted the books and documents in his arms. “Were you…?”
“Making a delivery, yes,” Soliman confirmed.
A triumphant smile pulled at Leila’s lips. Another artifact rescued and returned, safe and sound. It had been two weeks since the late-night heist when Leila and two others had broken into a dahabiya on the Nile. The Anubis mask—once worn by a priest three thousand years ago—had gone missing during riots in Cairo five years ago, when goons plundered the Egyptian Museum. While the heist had been a success, there had been an accident resulting in one of the Medjay losing two fingers. She was glad Soliman didn’t mention it. The memory still made her stomach churn.
But hunting lost and stolen artifacts was more than just a side gig. The band of anti-thieves, the Medjay, were dedicated to the cause—and sworn to secrecy. Leila didn’t need to use her imagination to understand why.
With crooks like Faris Al-Rashid out for their blood, keeping their identities hidden was key to their survival. Not even Xander knew Leila was a part of the Medjay. Not yet. Not until she could figure out how to tell him without getting them both onto the Medjay’s bad side. She’d already seen enough of that. Keeping it secret was for his own good, really.
She glanced into one of the towering, arched museum windows as they passed. “I’m glad it’s back.”
“I put it on an empty shelf in the basement.” Soliman’s breaths came out in puffs as if the walk across the courtyard was exhausting. “Someone will come across it eventually. It’s safe now.”
They reached the road and stopped at the curb. Soliman pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and patted his forehead. “Well, I had best be going. I don’t want to be late.” He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket.
Leila frowned. Had she ever seen him out of breath like this? “Are you okay?”
He waved a hand. “I’m sure I’m fine. I just have an appointment to go to.” He chuckled. “With my pulmonologist, Dr. Sobek.”
Hearing the name Sobek—the ancient Egyptian river god—she immediately pictured a man with the head of a crocodile. Shoving the imagery aside to consider the other information the professor had shared, Leila chewed on her bottom lip. She was pretty sure a pulmonologist was a lung doctor. Hopefully, he wasn’t going for anything serious. She couldn’t help but think of the moment when she witnessed his heart attack a few years ago. “Well, I won’t keep you.”
They both waved in farewell. After all, they’d be seeing each other for research at the university lab tomorrow. Soliman hurried down the sidewalk. She watched his back for a moment until he turned a corner and disappeared into the crowd.
What if it was her mother going to a lung doctor?
There’s no time for hard feelings. Haven’t you already learned that lesson?
Leila’s shoulders heaved as she took in another breath, guilt twisting in her chest. Her heart rate had gone down, her anger dissipated—just her skin slowly roasted. Now it was the July sun she wanted to escape.
She knew what she had to do. She shouldn’t run from her mother. She shouldn’t push her away. She had to fight for her. They weren’t reunited after twenty years just for their relationship to fizzle out over vanilla cake.
Aisha was only doing what she thought was best. And by taking over the wedding planning, she had given Leila more time for work, for Xander, and her secret missions. They would be able to find the middle ground and in time, Leila would figure out what was keeping Aisha from divorcing Faris. There had to be something behind the “it’s complicated, you don’t understand” excuse. Hopefully, that’s what her mother wanted to talk about. And judging by the fear she had seen on her mother’s face, it wasn’t going to be pretty.
Determined to get back on track, Leila turned back toward the museum and took a step. She’d go inside and pick up where they’d left off. After all, she’d promised to show Sami some crocodile mummies.
A blinding light flashed, and a deafening boom roared across the courtyard. Leila didn’t even have time to scream before the blast knocked her off her feet. For a moment, everything went black. Stings and stabbing pains assailed her body as debris pelted her. Arms over her head, Leila curled into a ball on the ground. Not until screams and sirens tore through her deafness did she dare look up.
The courtyard was coated in dust and fragmented brick. People rushed in and out of the museum while a plume of black smoke billowed from the gaping hole where the front used to be. Horror sent an icy wave through her veins.
Mom. Sami. Leila pushed herself to her feet and, screaming their names, she ran toward the burning museum.
CHAPTER 2
Xander clenched his jaw and threw himself behind the crumbling tomb wall. Resting a shovel on his shoulder, he leaned his head against the stone. After rolling the corpse of an Iranian spy into the Nile two nights ago, he should have expected he would be getting unhappy visitors. And hiding wasn’t going to do him any good. Whoever was following him wouldn’t give up that easily.
