Hang in there, love. I’m on my way.
• • •
There was no getting out of this. Her time was up. But this was war. She had nothing else to lose now. She’d lost Xander. She’d lost her mother.
She would go down fighting.
She’d have to get her hands on another gun, but to do that, she’d have to leave her hiding spot. Gun ready and heart pounding, she peered around the side of the column. The guards stayed hidden behind ruins and boulders, the muzzles of their firearms pointing in her direction.
More hurried footsteps crunched across the dry grass and dirt, coming to a stop close by.
“Enough!” Faris’s voice rang out, then he directed his words to her. “Come out, and let’s finish our talk.”
Finish it by putting a bullet in my head.
Unless she put one in his first. She turned the gun over in her hands, wishing they would stop shaking. She was no good at this. Here she sat, in the dirt. Defeated. Alone. Unwanted.
But she still had one ally, and she had the keys to his cell. The only problem: Faris and his guards stood between her and that door. And yet, if she’d escaped once, she could do it again. In theory. She just had to keep taking this step by step. Improvise. Make Faris think she’d surrendered. With some luck and some speed, she could do it. Aim quick, fire without hesitation. She slid a finger over the trigger.
Her lungs constricted as she stared at the weapon. What would happen if she hit her target? What did it matter? It would just be another death on her hands. What were her other choices?
Face him.
Approaching footsteps warned her of the guards’ arrival at her side, but she remained still, her back against the column. Someone grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet, another ripped the gun from her hands, then someone pushed her forward. She stumbled to her hands and knees.
Faris stood a few feet in front of her, within arm’s reach. Her eyes locked on the gun he held at his side. Dare she try to snatch it from him? Knock it out of his hand? He was quick—she’d learned that when he’d confronted her in the office. Anything she tried would probably end badly for her. Unsure how to get out of this, she lifted her chin to glare up at Faris.
“I was prepared to offer a compromise,” Faris growled, “but you blew it. You failed the test.”
“Test? What test?”
“The scrolls, Leila. Do you have them?”
“No.”
“And why not?”
Leila ran her tongue over the back of her teeth. She didn’t see the harm in telling him. “Soliman got to them first.”
“That’s right. And what did he do with them?”
Leila knitted her forehead together. Faris knew? Soliman hadn’t mentioned he’d told Faris about the scrolls. “He destroyed them,” she said slowly.
“Are you sure about that?”
She rose to her feet. “I have every reason to believe him.”
“Is that so? What makes him more believable than me?”
Leila balled her hands into fists. “He’s not the one hoarding stolen artifacts on a remote island. He’s not the one going around blowing up museums. I’ve seen enough to know you’re going back to prison.”
Faris chuckled. “Thank goodness.” A sly smile settled on his face. He pulled out a cell phone and held it up. “I suppose he also told you about this?”
Leila’s mouth dropped. There it was. She was glad she trusted the professor—he was right again.
“One phone call, and the entire British Museum gets blown away.”
A nervous flutter tightened her chest. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t follow through on the threat, especially not in front of witnesses. Would he? She had to get that phone away from him.
“Don’t do it,” she whispered, even though she didn’t believe the diplomatic route would work on him.
“I’m not going to.” Faris’s smile widened. To her surprise, he held the phone out to her.
He was giving it to her? Just like that? She took it with trembling fingers. There was nothing special about the cheap model phone. The surface was clean and sleek, like it was new and unused.
“Check the saved number,” Faris suggested. “There’s only one.”
She opened the phonebook. Sure enough, there was only one number saved—a number with a UK country code.
She looked back up and her breath caught. Faris pointed his gun at her again.
“Call it,” he snarled.
She swallowed, her mouth dry, her tongue thick. Did he really think she would do it? Of course not. But it was a pretty good set up for the authorities. Her fingerprints were now all over the phone. She’d opened the phone book as if to call the number. If he shot her like this, he’d be the hero.
Faris shook his gun at her. “Call it!”
She lifted her gaze from the phone. If only she had taken a stand in that office one week ago, it never would have come to this. She never should have given in to his demands.
