by Addison Fox
“No, not things. It’s been a feeling up to now but I think it’s something more.”
“Like what?”
He stood to pace the area between the table and the bed, his large frame filling up the small space. Even with the slight panic that there was even more he wasn’t telling her, she couldn’t hold back the lick of attraction that sparked wild and hot in her veins.
Nor could she ignore how his black T-shirt and black slacks lent an aura of casual power to his already impressive frame.
And she certainly couldn’t ignore how she still wanted to reach out and touch him, using the physical to hide from the reality of their situation.
“Yesterday, in Cairo, when that man chased us out of the church. Do you remember what he said when he held the gun to my back?”
“I know he threatened you.”
“He asked me how I didn’t know why we were being followed.”
She tried to conjure up the conversation but the adrenaline of the moment and her focus on using her lock picks as weapons had her attention admittedly diverted. “He didn’t give you reasons, though. I don’t remember it fully, but I think I’d have remembered that.”
“No reasons, but he was British. And there was something in the taunt that I’ve not been able to get past. I think he was talking about the bracelet.”
While the Victoria bracelet hadn’t been out of her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a stretch, Rowan still didn’t understand how it could have anything to do with the danger they were facing in Egypt. “That doesn’t make any sense. We’re not here because of the bracelet. We’re here for an excavation in the Valley.”
“I can’t define it, but that’s what I feel. Add on the personal overtones to everything that’s happened. And the computer signal generating from Knightsbridge. It’s too neat and too connected to what happened twelve years ago.”
She didn’t want to dismiss him—years of trusting her gut had taught her that ignoring internal red flags was a bigger mistake than thinking your ideas might be off base—but it still didn’t change the fact that they were on a job that had nothing to do with the Victoria bracelet.
“I don’t want to dismiss it out of hand, especially because you’re nothing if not coolly rational under fire. But I’m struggling to connect our personal folly with a project for the British Museum.”
“Personal folly?” He quirked one eyebrow and she saw the first smile cross his face since those tense moments yesterday in the hotel.
Her own smile expanded quickly. “It seemed to fit.”
“Folly. Not a word you hear every day.”
“Nothing about this is ordinary or everyday.”
“No, it’s not.” Indecision briefly lit his features before he had his hand over hers and pulled her out of the chair. “Nothing about us is ordinary, either.”
“Finn.”
“Or this need for you I can’t sate, no matter how much I tell myself I have to walk away.”
Where indecision clouded their conversations, it was bold, decisive action that ruled the physical. He dragged her into his arms and she went willingly.
Hot, greedy need flared between them, rising high like a bonfire as his lips pressed to hers, demanding a response. His tongue sought entrance to her mouth, and when she opened for him, the shockingly carnal sweep of power only grew and expanded when she met him thrust for thrust.
They pressed each other on, with their mouths, with their hands, with wicked, whispered words of need.
And it was only when the physical threatened to overpower her that Rowan dragged herself from his arms. “We can’t do this.”
Hunger filled his gaze and the air around him filled with a pulsing tension that was nearly visible as it radiated from his body. “I want you.”
“I want you, too.” She fought the urge to wipe her lips, still wet and warm from his. “That’s the whole damn problem.”
* * *
Finn stared up at Nefertari’s tomb and shaded his eyes from the bright sunlight. He’d been here before, but the site never failed to take his breath away. Just like the woman at his side.
He’d spent a frustrated and sleepless night tossing for the sheer want of her. His body ached for release in her arms even as his mind urgently sought a way out of the trap he’d made for himself. But by the time dawn lit the edges of his window, he knew what he needed to do.
Even if Rowan refused to stay with him, it didn’t matter. He needed to give the bracelet back. The answer was so simple, but the path to the decision had been fraught with mental land mines he preferred to keep deep under the surface.
He was more than his actions, yet he knew his actions spoke volumes about his character. He was more than the impoverished childhood that had shaped him, and it was time he not only acted that way but understood it in his skin.
He’d crafted a business that he loved and a life that was the product of hard work. And if he worked at reforming his life, maybe he’d finally convince the woman he loved that he was worth a second chance.
He turned to face Rowan once more, hope boldly dancing in his chest. She stood beside him, dressed exactly as he’d pictured in his mind’s eye when he’d first proposed she join him on the dig. That slender frame was clad in a tank top and khaki shorts with a pair of work boots. Her vast array of excavation tools hung around her waist to complete the ensemble.
He’d seen her in several different outfits so far, but nothing compared to the rugged nature girl who stood next to him, ready to dive headlong into three weeks of grueling work.
“You ready?”
She turned to face him, resignation wiping away the excitement that had filled her face. “Sure.”
“There’s something you need to know.”
Her features remained impassive, but something sparked in those gorgeous blue eyes that still gave him hope. “What?”
“When this is over, I’m giving it back.”
“You are?”
“Yes. The object as well as whatever else I can quietly restore. I don’t need them any longer. I just need you.”
“Let me know how I can help.”
“You already did.” He extended his hand and knew the greatest joy when she took it, threading her fingers with his.
They descended into the tomb, hand in hand, down into the antechamber. Four large pillars supported the ceiling in the wide-open chamber, painted in a representation of the night sky. The entire room was covered with depictions of passages from the Book of the Dead, and well over two thousand years later, the paintings were still bold with color.
Egyptian gods surrounded them, Osiris and Anubis, Hathor and Ra, and so many others.
“So few get to see this.” Rowan dropped his hand and moved to the middle of the room. Her voice was reverent as she stood in one place and turned in a slow circle, examining each wall before turning another quarter to look at the next side of the tomb. “So few will ever look at this and feel the weight of history surround them in vivid color.”
“The government restricts visitation to the tomb in order to preserve the paintings.”
“Yet here we are.” Her gaze drifted toward the last wall before returning to capture his. “We’re lucky, aren’t we?”
“Very lucky.” Lucky to have found each other.
“Our work allows us to see things many can only dream of. World historic sites. Ancient artifacts. Even museums after closing hours. It’s easy to take it all for granted. To stop realizing just how special that sort of access is. We’re the lucky ones, Finn.”
When he only continued to stare at her, the gravity of the moment imprinting itself on his soul, Rowan smiled, the light of her filling up the dim room. She pressed her hand against her chest. “We own this. Possess it. In our hearts.”
“Yes, we
do.” He moved forward and pressed his palm to her cheek, that beautiful smile still filling her face with bright light. “And it’s enough.”
A heavy thud echoed behind them and they broke apart, a raised voice invading their private moment. Baxter Monroe marched into the chamber a few moments later.
“So you made it.” Baxter’s oily voice echoed around them. “We were beginning to worry.”
“We were only delayed by a day.” Rowan spoke first. “And from the rumors I heard this morning, the government’s still wrapping the site up in a lot of red tape.”
Baxter snorted before shifting the heavy pack he carried on one shoulder to the other. “I swear these people don’t know their heads from their asses. We’re spending a lot of money to be here. You’d think the government could get their acts together. They’re more than happy to let us excavate, but we can’t take anything out of the chamber yet for examination.”
Finn gestured Baxter toward the burial chamber. “Take us down so we see how far you got yesterday.”
“We got nowhere yesterday.”
“Nothing at all?” Rowan moved toward the corridor entrance, her voice ripe with excitement.
“No.”
“Well, let’s get down there, then.” She patted Baxter on the back. “And prepare for a better day.”
Baxter moved into the lead as they descended farther into the burial chamber, and Finn expected no less. The man loved being in control like a toddler loved throwing tantrums, and he gloried in the role of tour director.
Finn knew damn well Rowan’s knowledge of the tomb would make Baxter look like an amateur, and he admired her restraint as she asked simple questions the museum director would be able to answer.
The burial chamber opened before them and Finn exhaled a reverent breath. The weight of history filled the chamber and Baxter’s voice faded as Rowan’s rose up in his mind.
We own this. Possess it. In our hearts.
Rowan had come so far in her life and had been forced to deal with her demons. She’d not only battled them, but she’d conquered them, too.
Now he would do the same.
He drank in the beauty of the room, and as he stared at the wondrous space, Finn understood what Rowan had tried to make him see for the past week. The things in their lives didn’t define them. Nor could things bring back the ones they loved.
He believed it now.
Which was his only excuse for missing all the clear signs of a trap.
The empty chamber, bereft of excavation equipment.
The very few people that occupied the room when there should have been an entire team.
And the woman standing in the center who held a gun pointed directly at Rowan.
Chapter 17
Rowan stared into the familiar face of Bethany Warrington and finally understood. She’d spent years—endless years full of questions that seemed to hold no answers—and now she’d finally know.
With as flat a voice as she could muster, Rowan stared her old friend in the eyes. “This is all rather elaborate, don’t you think?”
The features she’d thought dim were anything but as Bethany’s sharp gaze flicked around the chamber. “I’d say it’s fitting. You came into my home and took something of mine. Now we’re on your turf and I want something of yours.”
“I don’t have it. I never did.”
“But he does.” Bethany sauntered over to Finn, her smile warm and seductive as she ran a finger down his chest. “On his body, I’d wager.”
With another flat laugh, Rowan tried to figure out the game. “You can’t be serious.”
Bethany leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Finn’s neck before she traced a path over his chest and down his stomach. “Rumor has it you never leave home without it. And since I couldn’t exactly get inside that destroyer of the London skyline that you live in, I thought I’d change the playing field.”
Tension bracketed Finn’s body in hard lines, but he didn’t move a muscle under the misplaced seduction. “Now, why would I do that?”
“You tell me.”
Finn shrugged. “You’re the one with all the answers. I’m just the poor sot who walked into the wrong place with my girl.”
“I love a man who tries to sweet-talk his way out of a situation. It’s such a magnificent waste of time. And I love it even more that he called you his girl.” Bethany’s husky laugh echoed off the walls. “If it’s a ploy for sympathy, you can save it.”
Bethany’s eyes narrowed and Rowan sensed the woman was anxious to move their little reunion along. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you have what I want.”
“So you waited twelve years to go after it? Doesn’t feel like a rock-solid plan, Bethany.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. My plans are far better thought out than yours. Hiding on the roof of my house?” Her old friend tsked lightly. “That’s so old school.”
“How’d you know that?”
“I know all of it.”
Rowan shook her head. “You were on vacation.”
“I was with my grandparents. Do you honestly think my parents wanted me along on their holiday?” The seductive voice gave way to something harsh and infinitely more dangerous.
And now the cracks were starting to show, Rowan thought.
“I was a burden, according to my mother. Always underfoot. Here you were, so lucky to have escaped that, and you didn’t even realize it.”
Lucky? Rowan balled her hands into fists, the urge to leap out and attack Bethany so intense she could actually see red. It was only when she looked at Finn, the compassion and understanding telegraphed from his gaze across the chamber, that she finally began to calm.
Focus.
Keep her talking.
Be bold, Rowan Steele.
With her father’s words ringing in her ears, Rowan forced a bored calm into her voice she didn’t feel. “So you set me up?”
“Set up is much too simple a term. I manipulated you. Teased you with the glow of gold. All I had to do was sit back and let you have at it.”
The friend Rowan remembered from childhood was a mirage and it surprised her how badly that simple fact hurt. Although their friendship had dissolved as both had grown up and gone their separate ways, she had carried fond memories of Bethany.
Although they hadn’t stayed close, at that time in her life, Rowan had enjoyed having a friend who was easy to be with. Where others always wanted to probe if she was “doing okay” and how she was feeling, Bethany had offered her simple friendship with no strings attached.
How disappointing, then, to realize Bethany’s string was actually a noose.
“Oh, don’t look so sad, Rowan. We all get bested from time to time.”
Which was exactly what she was afraid of.
Rowan took in the rest of the room. There were three men in the chamber besides Baxter. One still sported a line of scratches down his face, courtesy of her lock picks. The other was the man who’d followed them down the alley in Cairo.
But it was the third that rang all Rowan’s bells. The man from the Warrington job.
“So let me guess. You hired these guys all those years ago?” Bethany’s gaze flicked to the line of thugs, and Rowan kept up her questions, desperate to get as many answers as she could. “But you were only sixteen. How’d you do it?”
Bethany stood next to the man from the closet. “They were at my house all on their own, rumors of my father’s acquisition broader than dear old dad even knew. But Jared here’s an ambitious fellow. He was more than happy to listen to my tales of woe when I discovered him after the theft gone bad. I told him my plans, and imagine his excitement to right a heist gone wrong.”
“It’s about damn time.” The man’s smile was as menac
ing as she remembered and it was focused on Finn. “Imagine my surprise when years later we get a report someone spotted the bracelet on a job. Right there in your things, just as pretty as you please.”
Rowan’s gaze collided with Finn’s.
So now that they knew the reasons, they needed to figure out how to get out alive.
* * *
Finn cursed his sheer idiocy. He knew the job Jared spoke of. Remembered the distinct unease that a member of his crew was watching him, even though he couldn’t prove anything was amiss. Now he knew what had set his internal radar humming.
He’d carried that damn bracelet for years and never had a mishap; the one time he did, it was all over the London underworld in a matter of minutes.
Folly.
Although he’d joked about it at the time, the word had haunted him since Rowan had used it the day before. And now not only would he pay for his, but Rowan would, too.
Bethany’s gaze swung toward him. “Take them off.”
“Take what off?”
“Your clothes, darling. I want the bracelet.”
He’d left the bracelet in his bag at the hotel for the first time in years. But would Bethany believe he didn’t have it on his person? “I don’t have it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what you believe. It doesn’t make it any less true.”
Finn knew he only had a few minutes, and he had some questions of his own. He’d also sized up the room and he had an idea. Although he and Rowan didn’t have guns, Baxter carried a huge load of excavation equipment on his back and Rowan had her tools on her belt.
A snippet of conversation from Baxter’s launch party kept playing over and over in his mind, Rowan’s taunt to the incapable dolt giving him an idea.
And here I thought this incredible discovery was all because you got your panties in a twist and tossed a small, pointed archaeology trowel across a priceless burial chamber.
They needed a diversion.
But first he needed answers.
He caught Rowan’s gaze before flicking his toward her belt. The light trail of her fingers over her tools ensured she understood the message.