She stopped and glanced over her shoulder, unsmiling. “Salma.”
“Thank you, Salma.” Leila lingered at the bottom of the stairs as the woman walked away, wondering if that was the kind of life awaiting her if her plan backfired—a meek and obedient servant.
She wasn’t alone with her thoughts for long when a set of footsteps approached. She groaned inwardly. If she had to describe the expression on Amir’s face, it would be one of smugness.
“A draft of the contract is being written up,” Amir said in place of a greeting. “The lawyers will arrive in three days to discuss the details and to notarize the signing.”
An impish smile crept over his face, and he slid an arm over her shoulders, turning her around.
She grimaced, squeezing her shoulders together as he guided her down the hall.
“So, I hope your new residence is to your liking, okhti,” he said.
There it was again. Sister. Leila forced a smile. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“No use denying it. We’re family.”
Leila resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“During your tour, of course,” Amir went on, “you would have noticed the cameras and the armed guards?” He pointed casually at a black tube suspended in a corner of the foyer, watching their every move.
Leila nodded, and seemingly satisfied with the response, he continued walking. “The villa has everything one would need to satisfy any whims. A pool, a stable, fast cars… but that’s not why we are so adamant about security.” Amir turned toward a door and released his hold on her to fish out a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and held it open, gesturing for her to enter. A staircase led the way underground, and a chill swept down her body.
Not a basement. God help me.
Her mind reeled with all the possibilities of what could be down there. A torture chamber? More prisoners?
“It even has a laboratory. An archaeological laboratory.”
She gave him the side-eye as she stepped up to the doorway, then stole a glance down the stairs. It was windowless but well-lit with fluorescent tubes. There were no signs of blood or other kinds of torment on the white walls and tiles. Though skeptical, resisting would put her plan at risk. She headed down the stairs and waited as he unlocked another door at the bottom. This one opened into a large room lined with wooden shelving units filled with boxes. Throughout the room stood several tables, arranged with microscopes and assortments of chemical testing supplies.
Amir waved for her to follow as he held a side door open. Feeling better, she joined him and peeked inside to see more shelving units crammed full of boxes. Between the boxes, artifacts had been placed alone on the shelves, collecting dust.
“In this storage room are thousands of artifacts awaiting classification. In fact, it’s a museum in its own right. Now we need someone qualified and trustworthy for the job. I’d do it, but the tombs won’t raid themselves.”
“Impressive,” she said. “Did you steal all of this?”
“A portion of it, yes. Most of it has been traded or bought from collectors. And it’s all just waiting for you. If—” He gave her a dark look. “If you can prove to me that I can trust you.”
A hoard of artifacts at her fingertips. Leila sighed. She couldn’t get out of here soon enough. She knew the police would be happy to make sure everything found its way safely to a museum. “How should I prove that?”
Amir shut the door and walked back into the lab. He stopped at the table where the Neferkheri papyrus lay on top of its white cloth. “Part of the deal was for you to be unchained. I have followed through. Now you need to show me you’ll follow through with your agreement. If you should try to escape at any point—which you won’t, thanks to security—you can watch me burn every single artifact.”
Leila gasped. “Burn them? Why?”
“Why not? The papyrus would be a good start.” He drew a lighter out of his pocket then slid the cloth toward him, holding the lighter near the corner of the papyrus.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she growled. “Why would you steal them just to burn them?”
“For the thrills?” He grinned. “Besides, I have plenty. And soon I’ll know where to get more.” He flipped the lighter on. The small flame flickered and teased as a small trail of smoke rose into the air and the edge crinkled, blackened.
“Cut it out.” She slapped his arm away from the document. With a scowl, she crossed her arms. “I get your point. I’m not going anywhere. What about the other part of the deal? Is Xander free?”
Amir shrugged. “He was to go this morning. But he refused.”
“Then force him out.” She clenched her hands into fists, certain Amir was trying to avoid releasing him. “Once he’s gone, we can discuss more.” She turned around and headed for the stairs, her heart pounding. Had he seen through her plan? The guilt of the destruction of artifacts would weigh heavily upon her—and he knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
To Leila’s relief, Amir didn’t follow her outside. With no one to tell her where to go or when, she wandered along the path through the gardens. To one of the servants, it probably looked like she was out for a stroll, soaking in the last rays of sun, breathing in the warm air as the shadows elongated. But her eyes scoped the layout of the complex, hoping something would stand out to her that might aid an escape.
An entire storage room and lab full of artifacts. If only she’d known. She would have considered a different course of action. Not that she knew what or how. It was too late, anyway. With her initial plan already in motion, she didn’t see how she would be able to save the artifacts as well.
Her stomach churned as she thought about all the history he had just threatened to wipe out. As if it meant nothing more to him than a collection of cheap replicas he’d picked up at a bazaar. But all she could do for now was stand her ground and make sure Amir kept to his side of the bargain.
She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face, so she could study a camera mounted in a corner from behind her arm. If only she hadn’t taken Soliman up on his offer for her to search for Neferkheri’s tomb. If only she’d gone home when she had the chance.
She could be back in Indiana, probably building snowmen with her cousins or curled in front of the fireplace with a book. Her grandma would have decorated the house for Christmas. Leila could almost smell the cookies baking in the oven.
It all seemed so far away and foreign.
At the sound of shouting, Leila whirled around. It was coming from the front of the villa, just beyond the garden wall. She wove her way around the palm trees and bushes, slowing when she reached the wall and peered around the entrance.
A man was being led to the front gates by two thugs, followed closely by Amir. The man’s hair was shaggy and his short beard unkempt. She swallowed down a gasp. Xander.
She trailed after them, stopping a car’s length away from Amir, in case he was feeling punchy, when one of the thugs let go of Xander to unlock the gate.
Xander’s eyes wandered over to her and a scowl twisted over his bristly face.
