There we go.
Could she do it? Wrestle that thing away from him? Maybe. If she somehow distracted him. She sucked in a deep lungful and changed course, taking a step forward. She’d have to pretend she was going to take the pendant. And then what? She took another step. Her gaze flickered to the knife at his waist, then up to his face. He held the pendant out expectantly. She inched closer, sweat trickling down her back. He watched her every move. There was no way she could disarm him. She would have to go for a more classic approach.
She reached for the pendant, locked her gaze on the box, visible over his shoulders. Widening her eyes as far as she could, she gasped.
“What’s happening?” she cried, pointing.
He whirled around, and she pounced. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his janbiya, and it slipped from the holster. Slashing out, she severed the gun strap. The weapon clattered to the floor. She threw herself at it and dropped the knife; the blade slid across the tiles.
Abdullah grabbed the back of her kaftan, stopping her before she could reach the rifle. With a loud tear, the seams ripped, giving her the last few inches she needed. She snatched the gun. He pulled her back, seized the barrel and tried to pry it from her grasp. She held on tight, twisting and pulling. Slick with sweat, her hands slipped to the end of the handle.
With one last surge of strength, she twisted in the opposite direction. Abdullah dropped her. Whether he lost his grip or let her go, she didn’t care. She hit the floor, the firearm tight in her hands, rolled away and jumped to her feet, swinging the gun around to point it at him. A finger slid over the trigger.
Watching her through narrow slits, Abdullah bared his teeth. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
She adjusted her aim, slightly to the left. If she fired, she’d only hit his arm. Hopefully.
“How do you destroy it?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and took a step to the left. “I don’t know.”
Leila followed him with the barrel of the gun. “Would shooting it ignite it? Do you have to set it on fire? Press a button? What?”
“I told you,” he growled, his hands clenching and unclenching, “I don’t know.”
Could she believe him? No, she couldn’t. So now her best option was to tie him up until she knew Xander was nowhere near this place. The problem was she couldn’t tie him to the statue—apparently that was an exit. The columns were massive, so those weren’t an option, either. They didn’t have rope long enough.
They’d have to go back upstairs. She could shut him in one of the tombs.
“Move,” she demanded, nodding toward the doorway.
Abdullah turned, keeping his eyes on her. He took a step, and another, then crouched, picking something off the floor. Slowly, he straightened, his dagger in his fist.
“Give it back,” he whispered, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Tightening her grip around the weapon, she swallowed. There was no way she was doing that. Even if she had no intention of shooting him, unless he gave her no other choice. It was her only leverage. And if she waited here any longer, he’d attack.
She whirled around and ran.
Abdullah’s footsteps pounded behind her. She reached the steps and bounded up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins as her legs pumped. His footsteps echoed in the staircase, gaining.
She made it to the circular room at the top, her fingers tightening around the rifle. With her eyes on the tomb entrance in the distance, she raced past the altar with the bowl and past the golden vault doors. She ran back into the cavernous hall, and something flew at her face with a whoosh. Stars exploded in front of her eyes. The world tilted. Everything went black.
• • •
Leila groaned and rolled onto her side. Medjay statues danced before her eyes. Slowly they stopped, returning to their proper spots on either side of the front doorway. Somehow, she’d made it all the way outside. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She looked up.
A figure dressed in black stood over her, the long barrel of a rifle pointing at her chest. For the first time she was able to get a close-up glimpse of the tormentor. Tall, thin, with short hair that looked white under the moon’s glow. It was definitely the same man she had seen in the museum a year ago. She started to lift a hand to touch the throbbing part of her face, only to feel something tighten around her wrist, her hand refusing to budge. Her breath faltered as she realized they were tied.
Not again.
“Don’t move,” came that silky, cold voice.
She froze. Her head pounded, and she was certain that trickle she felt down her temple was blood. Despite the dizzying pain, she couldn’t take her eyes off the gun.
“Or what?” she growled, without thinking. He’d been chasing her all this time, trying to kill her. Why hadn’t he done it already?
The man lowered his arm, the weapon still gripped in one hand, then reached into his coat with his free hand. He pulled out a phone.
Leila watched him, her pulse racing out of control. How could she get away from this psycho? Jump. Right off the edge of the cliff. That was all that came to mind. Not exactly the option she wanted.
A bright light flared. She twisted herself away, clenching her eyes shut. Was he taking pictures?
The man grabbed a fistful of her kaftan, holding it above her chest. Despite his warning, she pushed and kicked. A rock appeared in his other hand and he smashed it against her temple.
Blackness. Flashing silver stars. Her back met the ground with a burst of pain. Another flash of light. Another picture. Now it made sense. He was going to document every step of this. Make it as slow and painful as possible. Unless Abdullah blew the mountain up first. After all, they were all right where he wanted them.
CHAPTER 44
Keeping as still as possible, Leila glanced around. The man’s gaze was fixated on the glowing screen of his phone. He hadn’t realized she was awake again. A cold wind brushed her cheeks, and she wished she could spread her arms and float away.
Where did Abdullah go? He’d been right behind her. She searched the shadows, almost expecting to see him lurking, but they were empty. Would he bother to help her now? Probably not. He had other things on his agenda.
Her gaze fell on the rock the man had used to knock her out. It was within arm’s reach. With a slight lift of her head, she checked—he was still messing with his phone. Though her wrists were tied together, she wrapped all ten fingers around the stone.
His head shot up. Using what little strength she had left, she threw the rock. He twisted and it bounced off his shoulder, not hard enough to do any major damage. Just annoy him even more.
It took him three strides to reach her, too quickly for her to grab more ammunition. He dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her to her feet.
