Sin and Sacrifice (The Daughters of Eve Series #1)

by Danielle Bourdon

  “That's it? They've tracked us with that little thing?”

  “Yes. I don't see any more on your back but it wouldn't hurt to give yourself a thorough looking over. Check your scalp. I really don't think they'd put more than one on at a time, but you can't be too careful.”

  “They'll all look like this?” Evelyn hated the thought someone was monitoring her every move. If she had been honest with Rhett about who was searching for her from the beginning, perhaps he would have understood they were capable of this. She'd led him in blind, understating the danger.

  “Pretty much. I'm going to go get rid of this one. We'll have to take cover quick in Cairo. I thought we'd be able to buy ourselves some time but they'll be expecting us now.” Taking the tracing device, he met her eyes in the mirror once more and left the room.

  While he was gone, freaked out by the thought someone had attached things to her body, she stripped the rest of her clothes off. She searched everywhere; behind her knees, the nape of her neck, over her scalp. Using the mirror, she checked her back again, though she knew Rhett wouldn't have overlooked anything else. There seemed to be no more of those tiny black dots anywhere on her person. Only marginally relieved, she got dressed and went out on deck in search of her agent.

  Darkness blanketed the sky like a comfortable lover, soothing in its endless serenity. The stars seemed even brighter than they had before the attack of the boat, glimmering like diamond dust. Evelyn saw no evidence of their attackers, no out-of-place spotlight on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, she scanned the lowest deck for signs of Rhett.

  She found Christian near the rail, smoke trailing up like winsome phantoms from the burning end of a cigarette. He didn't look any worse for wear from the confrontation and still had his shoulder holster on over clothes that blended with the night. Although not as tall or as broad as Rhett, Christian was not a small man. Physically fit, he had a leaner, more tapered appearance through the abdomen and hips. He gave her the impression he could be quick when he wanted to be.

  Evelyn wondered how much conditioning or experience it took for someone to become accustomed to shootouts. Maybe they weren't conditioned and were only better at hiding it than she was.

  “Christian?”

  He glanced over. “Yes?”

  “Is Rhett busy?”

  “He's with Aristo, going over new plans for arrival in Port Said. Is something wrong?” His brows furrowed either with curiosity or concern.

  Evelyn didn't know him well enough yet to tell the difference. Leaning her hip against the side of the boat, she said, “I'm wondering just what kind of connections these people have to be able to put tracing devices on me and freeze my bank account.”

  Not for the first time, she felt like such a deceiver asking her question. Evelyn knew firsthand who was doing this to her, and why. Even then, she couldn't have fathomed the Templar's reach. Their utter ability to manipulate the system any way they apparently saw fit. It unnerved her and she wanted to know what was going on in Rhett and Christian's mind. What they personally thought about the incidents. Christian didn't hesitate to answer.

  “The highest kind, Miss Grant. They seem to be able to pull any strings they want to, which makes them not only dangerous, but unpredictable.” Dragging off the cigarette, he exhaled and flicked the spent butt out into the water.

  “And you guys haven't found out anything more about them yet?”

  “No. Our boss keeps coming up against walls with his queries. They're like ghosts, all but untraceable themselves and good at covering their tracks. Whatever they want you and your friends for, it must be something big.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched her while at the same time, seeming to keep up a constant survey of the night around them.

  Evelyn shifted uncomfortably and forced herself to keep her attention on his face. She latched onto the opportunity he gave her to change the subject off why the Templars wanted her. “Speaking of my friends. I'd like to know if you can help us with...Galiana. We're—or I'm—the only one who can make any arrangements for her burial. But I'm a little afraid to do anything and now that they've frozen my account, I can't exactly do what I need to.”

  “What do you need help with, Miss Grant?” Christian looked and sounded like he sincerely wanted to help.

  “Well, for starters, we need to find out where she's being kept--”

  “Her body is at Papadopoulos Mortuary right now. They told my boss they'll hold the body for another three days and after that, she'll be cremated and her remains relegated to an ossuary of their choice.”

  “No, no. That can't happen. She needs to be buried.” Evelyn choked on the last word. The tension and strain of the last several days threatened to overwhelm her. All of a sudden, she struggled not to give in to more tears for her lost sister. Cremation was always a last, desperate choice when there was nothing else they could do to stop it. They preferred their bodies returned to the earth they sprung from.

  Lifting a shaky hand, she rubbed at her temple.

  She felt a headache coming on.

  “I can ask my boss if he'll make the arrangements through you,” Christian offered, like he'd interpreted the brow rub as a distress signal.

  “Yes, please. Can't you guys override the freeze on my accounts?” Evelyn didn't understand why the Templars had more pull than the government. What the Knights were doing was illegal, wasn't it? Never mind she was the victim here. That was her bank account being messed with.

  “For one, we didn't know they were locked until Crete. Two, he needs your permission to try and we've been a little...busy...the past few hours. But I'll see what he can do.”

  “Then go ahead. You have my permission. What about my other friends? I think we should count them missing by now.”

  “How can you say they're missing if you haven't been in touch with them? They might be anywhere in Athens or maybe even left the country for home,” he said.

  Evelyn didn't want to explain about their secret email set up. “None of them have called or texted me back, and they would have after all this. Just to let me know they were okay. I've heard nothing from any of them.”

  “We're looking for them, Miss Grant.” He reached out to touch her shoulder reassuringly. “The second we know something, Rhett or I will tell you.”

  The fresh tension sliding through her frame eased at his reassurance, even if she wasn't convinced her sisters were safe. “Thanks, Christian. I think I'm going to go try and get some sleep.”

  “That's a good idea. Things might get hectic in Cairo.” Pulling a soft pack from the front pocket of his coat, he shook free another cigarette and lit it with a lighter tucked into the plastic lining.

  With a grateful smile, refusing to worry about what might happen in Egypt, Evelyn headed for her stateroom.

  Dusk settled over the architectural wonders of Port Said in an orange film of muted light. High spires, swooping arches and arabesque shapes made a stunning silhouette against the encroaching evening.

  Rhett used his body to forge a path through the sea of humanity, marching them away from the busy harbor into the busier city. It almost felt like they were salmon, swimming upstream against an impossible current. An entity unto itself, the crowd milled and swarmed in all directions. One second she was beset by the stench of strong body odor, the next a sickening smell of over ripe perfume clogged her senses. Long robes lapped at the ankles of women who kept their gaze down while brazen tourists paused in the most inappropriate places for pictures.

  She caught Rhett checking on her often with quick, sidelong glances. Carrying his bag in one hand, he wore a jacket over his shirt to hide the holster packed with guns. Christian came behind, sandwiching her between them. They made an effective wall that moved her forward at all costs. Never back, never straying off to the side. Ahead, deeper into the flux, until it was hard to tell where one body began and another one ended.

  The decibel level felt like they were standing directly in front of a tower of speakers
at a rock concert, the very air trembling with noise. Evelyn hunched her shoulders up toward her ears, an inadequate barrier against the din. She never remembered it being this loud on any prior trips to Egypt. It grew worse when Rhett turned them down a narrow pathway between buildings. Vendors, set up on each side, hawked their wares with shouts and gestures, pausing to haggle with tourists and natives alike. The goods ranged from soda in bottles, stacked precariously like pyramids, to culture rich clothing hanging from eaves and jewelry that clinked prettily together in the dry, arid breeze. It was an explosion of color, sparkling glass, carts and teetering piles of hand-painted goods arranged to draw the eye.

  Any other time, she would have loved to wander the market, sampling food, purchasing trinkets and collectibles to take home. Just now, she concentrated on being Rhett's shadow, reaching out to touch his elbow or side when someone sliced their way between them. Christian lurked close at her back, a steady presence to help keep her on track and in sight at all times.

  Rhett took hold of her hand when they were halfway through the market, towing her to the right between two stalls. A dome shaped archway, cut into the wall of the building, led them into a shadowy alcove straight to a door that he pulled open to admit her.

  Stepping inside, letting go of his hand, she glanced around. Ahead, through a hallway, she could see the side of what looked to be a foyer and front desk. A dark haired man stood behind it, tending to guests signing in for the night. On her right was a broad set of stairs leading up and it was there Rhett motioned.

  “This way. Go on up. Three floors.”

  “But don't you need a key?” she asked, using the banister to start the ascent.

  “I've got it taken care of.” Rhett and Christian paced behind her all the way to the third floor. Charming little lamps provided light down the hallway when they got there, accenting the Mediterranean décor and tapestries lining the walls.

  Rhett stepped ahead of her after bypassing a handful of rooms and let Christian go in ahead of them at a door marked 214.

  Gun drawn, Christian went in with it raised, ready for trouble. Rhett monitored the hallway, a swivel-check each direction, until the agent returned.

  “It's clear,” Christian said. He exited into the hallway, taking up a post against the opposite wall.

  “Let's go.” Rhett guided her over the threshold with a hand at the small of her back.

  If Evelyn hadn't known better, she would have thought the agents had performed this dance a hundred times before. Their overlapping protection had few wrinkles, little room for mistake.

  She got her first look at what was more than just a hotel room. It was a suite, with several doors leading off the main living area to other bedrooms and a bathroom. Heavily Egyptian, the red and cream color scheme sported accents of brown and gold trim. The material looked new and fresh, the furniture heavy and solid.

  A set of french paned glass doors drew her out onto a narrow balcony that overlooked the market below. She could see clearly from one end of the street to the other.

  The structure across must have been a business with residential quarters above. Balconies like hers jutted out from the stucco, some decorated with potted plants, others used as a drying spot for colorful rugs.

  “You can sleep in here,” Rhett said behind her, motioning to one of the open doorways.

  “Thanks. Did Christian talk to you about my...Galiana?” One of these times, she was going to call the girl her sister. Chiding herself to think before she spoke, she stepped in from the balcony and closed the doors behind her. The barrier only cut the noise in half rather than obliterate it completely. Evelyn wasn't sure how anyone could get any sleep with that cacophony outside.

  Rhett watched her like a hawk.

  “Yes. We're waiting word from our boss. He's supposed to call before too long.” Rhett consulted the watch on his wrist. “Probably within the hour.”

  “Great. How's your wound?” she asked out of the blue, turning her mind from dead sisters and funerals she wouldn't be able to attend.

  Rhett dropped his bag on the coffee table and speared a hand through his hair before sliding his coat off.

  “It's fine. You're looking pretty good yourself.” His eyes traced her face and the bruises that had faded to all but indistinguishable shadows. She knew they were hardly recognizable from the state he'd found her in and that the healing was curious if not questionable.

  Evelyn didn't know what to do or say about it. This was another thing that could trip her up if she wasn't careful.

  “I've been icing it every night. It helps.” She hadn't had time to ice it. Every second she turned around there was a crisis to deal with.

  “Mm.” He rumbled a noncommittal noise, still studying her, like maybe he was trying to suss out the reasons she might be healing so quick. As if he didn't buy her icing explanation.

  “I'm going down to talk to the clerk on duty, have a look around,” Christian said from the hallway.

  Rhett ticked his chin in goodbye.

  The door clicked when Christian closed it.

  Evelyn didn't have time to give a goodbye of her own. She broke eye contact with Rhett and made her way into the bedroom he'd indicated. Better to settle in and let the topic of wounds pass by. The few hours sleep she got on the yacht healed the remaining wounds on her hands, leaving her fingers looking normal, the redness gone.

  Spacious and as well decorated as the rest of the suite, the room had a queen bed and its own small bathroom. Setting the purse she'd been carrying on the dresser, she sank onto the mattress and flopped back. It felt like she'd been on the run for weeks instead of an intense few days.

  “You hungry? I'm going to order up.” Rhett called from the living room.

  “Actually...yes. Will you choose something for me?” Feeling whimsical, wanting to just forget and rest for a while, she left the choice in his hands.

  “Feeling adventurous?”

  “I trust you,” she said with a laugh.

  A moment later, she heard the warm baritone of his voice ordering food—in Arabic. Versed in all languages, like the rest of her sisters, she understood everything he said. All the children who had eaten from the Tree of Life and Knowledge gained the ability to speak and understand every tongue. It was a talent that served them well over the centuries.

  Her surprise faded when she realized that if he worked in the area, he probably knew several languages, not just one or two.

  Rising off the bed, she made her way into the bathroom. At the freestanding sink in front of the oval mirror, she stared at her reflection while turning on the water. Eyes wide, hair windblown, skin glowing with a healthy tan, she looked the same and yet different. It was in the set of her lips, the faint frown on her brow and the quirk at the corner of her mouth. She couldn't decide if she looked thoughtful or perturbed.

  Fifteen minutes later, face freshened with a splash of cold water, she wandered back into the sitting room. She paused when she saw him; limned in the spill of dusky light from the balcony, Rhett sat on one of the couches with his hands locked behind his head, elbows askew. It was a masculine position of stolen ease. Knees tilted out, boots flat on the floor, jacket discarded, he looked peaceful with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. She almost hated to disturb him.

  “Room service should be here in about five minutes,” he said, somehow knowing she was there without opening his eyes.

  “Okay. What did you order?”

  “It's a surprise. You said you trusted me.”

  “I do trust you.” Evelyn was startled to realize she meant it more every time she said it. Or thought it. Rhett made it almost too easy to trust him. “But I also think you'd order something like octopus eyes and a side of tentacle just to see how fast I'd throw up.”

  He barked a laugh, one knee rocking back and forth like it was a lazy hinge. Finally, he slit his eyes open. “That's a little scary, Grant, because it's something I definitely would do. If you weren't under
my care, that is.”

  “But I am, so eyes and tentacles are off limits.” Grinning, she wandered into the kitchenette. It overlooked the sitting area so she didn't have to raise her voice to continue conversing with Rhett. This unexpected truce, or whatever it was, felt much better between them than the friction.

  “You'd do the same thing if the situation was different,” he said. It sounded like a challenge.

  Evelyn glanced over the short counter. “I would not. I'm the soul of propriety and good manners.”

  He snorted. “I don't believe you.”

  Rhett's disarming personality threatened the careful wall she tried to keep erected between them. It felt thin and all but useless when he bantered with her like this. Just as she opened the cooler to see what was inside, someone knocked at the door.

  Four hard raps.

  With sinuous grace, obliterating the languor and ease in a heartbeat, Rhett rose off the couch and removed a gun from the holster. At the door, he stood just off to the side.

  “Yes?”

  “Room service,” a muffled voice said from the other side.

  “Leave it there. Thanks.” Rhett listened with his head cocked, the gun angled low along the outside of his thigh.

  Evelyn watched in silent fascination. Cautious even in this, he took no chances with her safety. After several minutes, he cracked open the door with the chain still in place and peered out into the hallway. The section he could see must have been empty because he closed it, unlatched the chain, and swung it wide again to pull the cart inside. Bolting up the door when he was done, he pushed the cart to the small table adjacent to the couch. The gun went back into the holster.

  “I ordered drinks, but if you want something stronger than wine, there's a handful of little bottles in the cooler,” he said, lifting the steel tops off the plates to check the food.

  Evelyn came out of the kitchenette, wiping her palms down her thighs. The scent of the food made her mouth water.