“Smart girl.”
Xander dropped his hands to his side, his fingers flexing. “What’s going on? Where is she?”
She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Someone wants her dead.”
Xander’s fingers dug into his palm at her lame attempt at sarcasm. “Who?” he asked, though he was still certain the answer was Faris.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Shifting his weight to his left foot, he resisted the urge to rush forward. He’d hold her by the neck over the rushing Nile below them, and demand his answers. The only thing stopping him was the gun she held in her hands. If she was as quick as she looked, she’d pop a bullet in his head in a blink of an eye. No. He had to take a more diplomatic approach for once. He couldn’t ruin this and risk making things worse for Leila.
“Were you supposed to kill her?”
Her dark eyes studied him, the reflection of the row of street lamps flickering like a spark. “Yes. Just another hit, you know? I’ve killed more people than I can count. Including plenty of men, about your age and build.”
Why was she telling him this? Did she think she was scaring him? It wasn’t working. All he needed was a moment of distraction to close the distance and break her fingers. Or he could slip out his reserved weapon. Either way, the cards weren’t all in her hand.
“I’m sure you have.” He shrugged. “Who hired you?”
The woman shook her head. “I don’t know, but she should be alive. Out of harm’s way. Don’t go looking for her. You’ll make things worse.”
“What do you mean?” Xander frowned. “You were helping her?”
“Something like that. So stop your search. She’ll be fine.”
Xander licked his lips. He wasn’t convinced. At all. An actual location would be nice. An idea of why this was happening would be nice, too. But he suspected he would have to detain her and have a chat later at the police station to get any more information out of her. Where was his backup, anyway?
He held eye contact and kept his arms at his side, keeping up his appearance of harmlessness. “Listen, I need to know where she is. Or wherever you last saw her. If she has to stay in hiding, fine. That can be arranged.”
The woman’s eyes darted to the side. She flexed her fingers on the gun handle, then met his gaze again.
Come on. Say it. He was so close.
Blue lights flashed behind her. Her gaze shot toward them, giving Xander the moment he needed to pull a small gun out of his ankle holster.
“You called the police,” she snarled, pointing her weapon at his chest.
“I am the police.” Xander aimed his gun at her.
She leaped forward and her shoulder hit his chest like a bull. He stepped back, caught his balance, then swung a fist. She bolted.
Muttering a curse, Xander darted after her. She was already halfway across the street. His hunch had been right. She was incredibly fast.
The police car screeched to a halt as he ran into the road in front of it. The doors clicked open and slammed shut. Footsteps pounded the pavement behind him. Near the end of the bridge, the woman looked over her shoulder and slowed her steps. She changed course and climbed on top of the railing.
Xander stopped several yards away and lifted his gun. “Freeze!”
She glanced at him, a smile tugging at one side of her lips. A second later, she was gone.
Muttering more curses, Xander ran to the railing and leaned over. A boat with a long deck and a flat-roofed cabin floated down the river beneath him. The woman dashed across the roof.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stuck his gun into the back of his pants, and the two police officers came to a stop at the railing. He ignored them and swung one leg over the side.
“Mr. Harrison, don’t,” one officer warned.
The woman climbed off the roof, landed on the deck, and ran along the side.
Xander pulled his other leg over the railing as the boat drifted farther under the bridge. The officers reached for his arms. He jumped.
Both feet landed on the deck with a loud thud and before he could throw himself into a roll, one foot broke through the wooden floorboards, a sharp pain shooting into his thigh. He toppled forward and his gun slid across the deck, then lodged itself between two crates at the stern. After tugging his foot from the hole, he limped toward the crates. The flooring creaked as he passed piles of ropes and nets. Puddles of water dotted the deck. There was no sign of the woman. He swore. He shouldn’t have hesitated on the bridge.
Out of nowhere, a plank swung at his face and he ducked. It swished harmlessly over his head. He charged forward, wrapping his arms around the woman’s middle, and tackled her to the ground. She squirmed beneath him as he clamped a hand around her neck.
“I’m trying to help you,” she gagged.
“Where. Is. She?”
Stinging pain erupted at the base of his throat. A burning sensation spread beneath the skin, crawling down his back, his shoulder, and into his arms. He inhaled sharply. His pulse began to race. He tightened his grip on her neck.
“Take the highway east,” she said breathlessly, dropping her hand that clutched an empty syringe. “Near an oasis a hundred miles out. I dumped her there. She was alive, but out cold. Hopefully the vultures didn’t get to her before she woke up.”
Alive. Leila was alive. As soon as he was finished here, he’d be in the car on his way to her. “Now tell me who hired you or I’ll really squeeze.”
“I don’t know.” He felt her swallow beneath his palm and she struggled to get the words out. “He wouldn’t tell me anything. He paid with cash.”
“Give me a description. Something.” His arms started to shake with a numbness beginning in his fingers.
“Tall. Blond. Creepy. I don’t know. He could be anyone.” She spoke more calmly now, her voice regaining confidence. He tried to keep his grip tight, but his fingers wouldn’t respond.
