The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  Without thinking, his arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her close, pressing his forehead against her belly. For a second, she relaxed, the tension seeping from her, and her hand moved to his head, her fingers running over his hair.

  She pulled away. “I have to go shower. I smell.”

  He breathed in deeply. “You smell good to me.”

  “Huh.” She stepped back as a knock sounded on the door. “That will be room service. Make yourself useful and get my dinner.” She turned away then glanced over her shoulder as she opened the bathroom door, a smile of…promise on her face. Then the door closed behind her.

  He could hear the shower running as he set out the food on the table. He thought about joining her, but he was hungry. And from the amount of food she had ordered, he was guessing so was she.

  Good thing they had all night.

  He switched off the main light so the room was lit by the rosy glow from a lamp. Very atmospheric. There seemed to be no pulling away tonight.

  The door opened, and she stood there, dressed in one of the hotel’s fluffy white robes and no doubt naked underneath. The muscles in his belly tightened at the thought. He waved her to the table, and she sat down opposite him, a smile curving her lips. Her face was free of makeup, her skin golden.

  “Very domesticated,” she murmured. He raised his glass as she sat, and she picked up her own. “What are we drinking to?”

  He thought for a moment, and a wave of sadness washed through him. “To Eve. Who solved the unsolvable but never quite made it to the end. That would have pissed her off.”

  She raised her glass. “To Eve.”

  “Now, no more work for tonight. Eat.”

  The food was delicious and the wine cold and sharp. He watched her eat, the movement of her lips, her throat as she swallowed. Afterward, she put down her knife and fork, swallowed the last of her wine, and stood up. Holding his gaze, she tugged open the robe and dropped it to the floor, and heat flared through his body.

  She held out her hand. He took it, and she led him to the bed, where he did his utmost to clear both their minds of all that had happened and all that might happen tomorrow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harper lay in the darkness listening to the creaks of the old house as it settled around her.

  She wasn’t a little kid. She knew that something bad had happened.

  Otherwise her dad wouldn’t have left them. Not so soon after her mom had died. She glanced toward the door. Even after all these weeks, she still expected her mom to come walking in.

  Bad things happened to adults.

  She wanted to go look for her dad, but she had to stay and take care of Lucy and Daniel. They were so little, and they didn’t understand.

  And there were strangers in the house. Her gran had tried to tell her that they were the new groundsmen. But since when did groundsmen have guns? She’d seen one of them. And since when did they sleep in the house? No, they were bodyguards for her and Luce and Dan. Because they were in danger. Her mom was dead and her dad was gone, and she had to stay strong and protect her sister and brother.

  They were sharing a room down the hall. Maybe she should go join them. Check they were safe. She could share Luce’s bed for tonight.

  She didn’t want to be alone.

  There, she’d admitted it.

  But that was different than being afraid.

  She was just about to slip out of bed when something tapped against the window. A scrape and then a click, and she froze in place, a strange fluttering in her belly.

  Someone was there.

  Or maybe it was just a bird.

  The scrape came again.

  For a moment, the curtains parted, and moonlight slid through the gap. A shadowy figure formed between the window and the bed, and a small squeak escaped her throat. A scream for help filled her head but wouldn’t come out, trapped inside. She lay turned to stone—she’d heard the phrase but hadn’t understood it before now. A small whimper leaked from her mouth, and she squeezed her eyes tight shut.

  Then the shadow was upon her and she could move at last. She shot upright in the bed, flailing, her eyes flying open. Too late. Hard hands held her down, fingers gripping into the bare skin of her arms. Then something was over her face, sharp and smelly. She tried not to breathe, but her lungs were burning, and at last she took a huge gulp of air and her nostrils filled and her head swooned.

  As she was going under, her last thought was if she would see her mom again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Noah rolled onto his back and lay with his eyes closed. His shoulder ached, but otherwise he felt good. Like he’d just had a night of great sex.

  Which he’d had.

  It was what he’d needed. What they’d both needed, from her response; she’d been as wound up as him. He reached out a hand and patted the mattress, but the bed was empty, and he reluctantly opened his eyes.

  It was tomorrow. Time to make some difficult decisions.

  “Star?”

  No answer.

  He dragged himself up, leaned his back against the padded headboard, and listened. There was no sound from anywhere in the room. Maybe she’d gone to get coffee and she’d be back in a few minutes, but he had a strange twisting in his gut.

  He flung off the sheet and climbed out of bed. His jeans were on the floor, and he dragged them on then sank back down onto the mattress. He felt almost hungover, a dull ache in the back of his skull. Too much sex. He pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to get his brain to work.

  Had she mentioned going anywhere? He didn’t think so. Not that they’d talked much last night.

  He pushed himself up and went into the bathroom, splashed cold water onto his face, then came back and finished dressing—he needed to be ready for whatever came next, and clothes seemed like a good idea. No doubt Star would be back soon bearing whatever passed as a Starbucks in Russia.

  He picked up his phone and hit her number. He heard a ringing and went into the bedroom and found Star’s cell phone on the table. As he ended the call, it went silent.

  He crossed the room to the door, opened it, and peered down the corridor.

  Empty.

  He went back, searched for a note. Nothing. And something occurred to him. They’d left the envelope with the image on the table, and now it was gone. Had she moved it? Maybe she’d been unable to sleep and had spent the time studying the image.

  Somehow, he couldn’t convince himself of that. And there was that twist in his gut again.

  The hotel phone rang, and some of the tension eased from him. But when he picked it up, it wasn’t Star on the other side, but Stacey, Eve’s mother.

  “She’s gone. Harper is gone. They’ve taken Harper.”

  For a minute, the words were just a jumble of nothing as his brain refused to allow them to make sense. He shook his head. “Tell me what happened.”

  “In the night. They broke in through the window. Took her out the same way.”

  “Lucy and Daniel?”

  “They’re fine. They didn’t wake up. Only Harper.”

  “What about the guards? Concentrate, Stacey. This is important.”

  “There was one on duty overnight. We found him outside. He was unconscious and Harper is gone.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. They left a note. They said they would kill her if I talked to anyone but you. They gave me this number and told me to tell you. And that if you don’t do what they say, then they’ll kill her.”

  His phone beeped then, and he glanced down. A text message.

  Talk to no one or she comes back to you in pieces. We’ll be in touch.

  Jesus.

  “Get her back, Noah. You have to get her back. This is down to you. The life you lead. This is your fault. Get Harper back!” />
  He took a deep breath. “I will. I’ll contact you when I hear anything.”

  He ended the call. He had to think. Concentrate. Instead, he sat with his head in his hands. They had his little girl. Harper pretended to be so brave, but she must be terrified—if she was even alive. He couldn’t think like that. Wouldn’t think like that.

  Was this tied in with Star’s disappearance? Had someone come in the night and snatched her, too? Or maybe someone had gotten to her. Offered her something in exchange for the image. Her life, maybe. Or the life of someone she loved. Or money. While he would have sworn that she wasn’t the mercenary type, how well did he really know her?

  Hell, for all he knew, she could have been involved in Harper’s kidnapping.

  He rubbed at the base of his skull where the ache still throbbed.

  Had she drugged him? He remembered now. She’d gotten up in the early hours of the morning, brought him a glass of water. He’d been thirsty after working hard for most of the night, and he’d gulped it down and fallen asleep.

  While she’d snuck out, stealing the image.

  He had no clue where to go next. Until he heard from the people who had Harper, he had no idea what to do. He would go crazy with the waiting. He stared at his phone, willing it to ring.

  Instead, there was a thumping on the door, and he almost jumped. For a moment, he stared at it, dread turning his stomach molten. He pushed himself up and crossed the room, peered through the peephole, and frowned. Three men stood outside. Two in uniform—the local police—and the third in a shiny blue suit. Investigator Rorik Pozniak. What the hell?

  One of the uniforms banged again, and Noah looked around him. He had no choice except to let them in. Maybe the investigator had some more information on Eve.

  As he opened the door and stepped back, one of the uniforms grabbed him by his injured shoulder, turned him around, and slammed him into the wall. Acting on instinct, Noah went limp until the man’s hold loosened then he tore himself free, whirled around, and kicked the man in the gut. He went down with a guttural choke of pain as the second uniform lunged for Noah. He kicked him in the thigh then punched him in the throat so he went over backward.

  In the ensuing silence, he heard a sharp click.

  He went still then turned slowly. Pozniak was standing just inside the door, legs braced, a pistol in his outstretched arm, aiming for Noah’s chest. He eyed it up. Could he take him? Before he got a bullet off?

  “Stand down,” Pozniak growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. Noah had no doubt he would pull it.

  He stepped back, put his hands in the air, and forced his breathing to slow. The adrenaline was still spiking in his bloodstream, and he needed to bring himself down. Pozniak looked pissed enough to shoot him just for fun.

  “Just what I needed this morning,” he muttered. “A goddamn lethal weapon. What was that? Fucking karate?”

  Noah didn’t answer; he was trying to get his head around this. He’d probably overreacted, but his emotions and instincts had already been on high alert, and he’d snapped. It had never happened before, but he had been provoked. “Why the strong arm stuff? If you wanted to talk to me, couldn’t you have just…talked to me?”

  Pozniak pursed his lips. He glanced at his men. One was still prone on the floor, the one he had punched in the throat. The other was dragging himself to his feet, shaking his head. He took in Noah with his hands raised and sank down on the bed behind him.

  Pozniak reached for his belt and tossed Noah a set of cuffs. “Cuff yourself.”

  He didn’t want to cuff himself.

  “Do it!”

  He snapped the cuffs onto his right wrist then his left. “What now? Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “I got a call earlier this morning, informing me that you were planning a terrorist attack on Russian soil. That you were armed and dangerous. We decided to act first, secure you, and then talk.” He cast a look of disgust at his men. “Obviously, that didn’t go down as planned.”

  “A call from whom?”

  “I have no clue.” He holstered the gun but kept a wary eye on Noah. “You.” He pointed a finger at the man slumped on the bed then spoke in rapid Russian, none of which Noah understood.

  “I’m no fucking terrorist and you know it,” he said.

  “I know nothing of the kind. Perhaps you could explain why you are booked into this hotel under a name that is not your own.”

  Shit.

  The uniform called out, and Noah knew what he must have found. His gun where he’d dropped it when he stripped off last night. Pozniak approached him, the holster and gun hanging from one finger. “You have a license for this? In any name?”

  Noah remained silent, and Pozniak snorted. “I’ll take that as a no. I’m going to read you your rights now, which you won’t understand as they’re in Russian. I’m sure you’ll get the general gist.”

  Noah didn’t even attempt to listen, just let the words flow over him. He had to get out of this. He had to find his daughter. This couldn’t be happening.

  Who the hell had made that anonymous call?

  Star’s face flashed up in his mind.

  Goddamn it.

  Whether she’d done it personally or paid someone else didn’t matter. The latter was more likely, as her Russian wasn’t good.

  She’d given herself a little time to get away.

  And probably killed his daughter in the process.

  Chapter Twenty

  Noah shoved his hands through the bars, and the uniform unlocked the cuffs and disappeared from sight. He rubbed at his wrists and tried to ignore the pain in his belly. Pozniak’s men had gotten in a few punches in the back of the car on the way to the station. Payback. Pozniak had ignored them. The bastard.

  “Why are you doing this?” Noah asked.

  Pozniak pursed his lips and studied Noah through the bars of the cell. “Maybe we just don’t like know-it-all bastards sticking their noses into our business.”

  “My business as well. She was my wife.”

  “Ex-wife, I believe. Or maybe I disliked you inferring that I would take bribes. That is what you were inferring, is it not, major?”

  Maybe he should offer the man money. Except he didn’t have any. It was all back in his hotel room.

  He thought about telling Pozniak about Harper. But for all he knew, this could be some sort of test. Pozniak could be in their pay, whoever they were. They were testing him to see if he would follow instructions.

  Christ, he didn’t know what the hell to do. Always before it had been his life on the line. He could cope with that. Hell, it had made him feel alive. Now he could sense the panic clawing at his gut, mingling with the pain of the beating.

  What if the kidnappers tried to contact him and he wasn’t there? Would they hurt Harper? “You have to let me out of here.”

  “Actually, I don’t. You’ve obviously made enemies. Pissed someone off. Someone other than me. Now you take the consequences.”

  “Let me make a phone call.”

  “Perhaps later.”

  He grabbed the bars. “There’s something I need to do. Something important and I can’t do it from here. Look, contact General Blakeley. He’ll vouch for me.” He could feel the anger rising, a red mist in his brain. “Just call him. You don’t need to do this.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He smiled. “Might take me a day or two, though.”

  And he was gone. The outer door clicked shut, leaving Noah alone. For a second, his hands tightened on the bars, then he released them with a choked cry.

  He backed up then slid down the wall to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him. Wrapping his arm around his stomach, he closed his eyes.

  All he could see was Harper.

  Two fucking days.

  Noah gritted his teeth
and resisted punching the wall. Or yelling. Except he knew from experience it would do no good. He figured they’d put him somewhere out of earshot.

  Pozniak, that bastard, had been true to his word. While Noah had been fed three times a day, the officers had not said a word. He probably wouldn’t have understood them if they had.

  Shit, he needed to get out of here. He needed to find out what was going on. What had happened to Harper.

  He paced the short distance back and forth across the cell. Everything was wound up tight. He was an explosion waiting to happen, and he’d never felt so powerless in his life.

  He sank down onto the cot bed, head in his hands, tried to see a way forward. The truth was, while he was in here, he could do nothing.

  Except think.

  About Harper. About Star.

  Where the fuck was Star? For the first day, he’d lived with the hope that she would somehow appear. That she really had just been off on some errand when he’d been arrested.

  That hope had died a death by the second day.

  She had gone.

  What had happened to her? Had she gotten scared and run? Maybe she’d been taken by someone. Someone who had snuck in, taken Star, stolen the envelope…and left him untouched and sleeping peacefully in his bed? Yeah, that didn’t gel.

  Maybe she’d been using him the whole time, and the meeting, saving his life, had all been part of some elaborate plan to get him to lead her to the image in the safety deposit box. Could she have been working with the enemy all along? Been in their pay? Except she’d had the image. She was the one who sent it to Eve in the first place. And someone had tried to kill her, too.

  Noah groaned and pressed his fingers to his forehead, swallowed the growl of frustration rising in his throat. He couldn’t think about Star now. If he could get to the bottom of this thing with Eve, it would all come out in the end.

  Eve was hunting for the tomb of Genghis Khan. Someone had given her the incentive to move out of her comfort zone and go to Mongolia. With Star’s help, she had found the location of the tomb but had died without actually visiting the site.