by Cherry Adair
She took another deep swig of cool water just as the car went over a bump in the road. Water trickled down her chin and wet the neckline of her T-shirt. Nice and cool. It put an abrupt halt to her fantasy. She was tempted to douse herself, just for the hell of it. Instead, she swiped her chin with the back of her hand and glared at him. "Really?"
"Really. Raazaq has a preference for beautiful, redheaded American women. He's also a sadistic son of a bitch, and given half a chance will rip your wings off because it amuses him."
"I don't have wings."
He shot her an annoyed glance. "Would you prefer I said he'd perform weird, perverted sex acts on you and then rip your throat out with his bare hands, or watch while his people cut out your tongue… or worse?"
"Wings are good."
"Get him alone," Kane said grimly. "Do the world a service. Kill him. We'll be Stateside by the weekend, with no one the wiser."
The Hummer hit a rut in the road and she bounced high enough to slam the top other head into the ceiling. When she landed again, she asked, "Now, why does this sound just too simple?"
"The best plans usually are."
The Fayoum Oasis was one of Cairo's weekend getaway destinations. Only a couple of hours outside the busy metropolis, the waters of the Nile had been diverted here centuries ago, creating a rich agricultural area. Considered the "garden of Egypt," El-Fayoum had lush fields of vegetables, sugarcane, groves of citrus fruits, and nuts and olives. It also had one of Egypt's largest saltwater lakes, which was used for recreation.
"Did you know the Auberge du Lac was originally built as a hunting lodge by King Farouk?" AJ asked as they pulled under the portico of the hotel.
"No," he muttered, "but I bet you're about to tell me how many bathrooms there are."
She did.
As with all her comments and observations for the past couple of hours, Kane just tried to ignore her, throwing a grunt in when nothing else would do. The woman talked. Incessantly.
She'd given him a blow-by-blow history lesson as they'd traveled the desert roads. Past children working in the cotton fields with cows and camels, past mud huts and date palms, past sand and vegetation. Past inquisitive women turning to stare at their vehicle through a narrow slit in their veils. AJ Cooper had chattered on. Non. Frigging. Stop.
He'd always considered himself something of a student of Egypt. Well, if he was a student, he'd just met the professor.
"Winston Churchill stayed here in 1945," Cooper informed him as they were swamped by bellhops and children the second they opened the car doors.
Every one of their all-male audience dropped back a step, eyes wide, mouths falling open when Cooper unfurled her long bare legs from her seat and straightened as she glanced around, apparently oblivious to the commotion she was causing.
She wore a sleek, fuchsia-colored silk tank top tucked into a multihued pink floral skirt, which dropped in soft folds to swirl around her shapely calves. Her loose red hair caught the sun, and shone a brilliant, blatant, hot orange. Against her creamy, lightly tanned skin the long skeins were enough to have every man in a hundred-mile radius panting to run his fingers through the fiery strands. She screamed female sexuality. An Egyptian goddess sent to earth to torment mere men into doing rash and foolish deeds for just one smile.
"Winston loved the place," she told him, whipping that amazing hair back from her face. "Said he felt like King Tut—which was pretty funny, considering poor Tut died at thirteen and…"
Kane strode toward the front door, leaving the staff to remove their luggage from the vehicle, and Cooper, still talking, to follow. He caught a glimpse of the shimmering blue waters of Lake Karoun. According to his loquacious travel guide, the oldest man-made lake in the world.
He wanted a cold shower and an hour of peace and quiet.
The woman talked as much as his sister, Marnie, did, all while tap dancing on his last nerve. The two women would get along great. And if they were ever in the same room together, Kane would have to kill himself.
AJ Cooper rattled his cage and set every sense on red alert. There was no doubt that the second Raazaq saw her, he'd be a goner. In more ways than one.
If Cooper didn't inadvertently screw this one up again.
On the phone, he'd discussed her situation with the T-FLAC shrinks. They believed she could do the job.
He was here to see that she did.
All in all, Kane thought, as they followed a fleet of moon-eyed hotel personnel to their rooms, things were going according to plan.
All they needed now was for their prey to see the bait.
The small plastic-surgery scars, one on the inner curve of her shoulder, the other on her back, had barely healed. The marks were still pink and shiny, and an obscenity on her clear, smooth skin, despite the skills of T-FLAC's best team of doctors. Kane had an old scar on his left shoulder in exactly the same position. But it was a knife that had dug into his flesh, not a bullet.
The bullet that had shaken AJ's confidence had taken her right up to death's door and helped her knock. It was a lot harder to go into a battle situation when you knew what the impact of a bullet felt like. Kane knew. He'd had several.
She was swimming laps in one of the hotel pools. She was a strong swimmer. Good form. He bit back a smile. Terrific form. Jesus. Even the women poolside were watching her. Poetry in motion in a white bikini.
AJ's slender arms sliced through the water, she jackknifed into an underwater dive, showing a nicely curved ass, then surfaced on the pool's edge beside his lounger, arms folded on the lip of the pool. She blinked diamond droplets of water off spiky lashes. "I'm starving. Let's eat."
"Out here, or one of the restaurants?" The air was hot and still. The setting sun glowed red and magenta over nearby Lake Karoun, and the pigeons were returning to their tall domed pigeon house nearby. Hungry for their dinner, not knowing they'd be someone else's dinner the next day. It was a dog-eat-dog world.
"Here's fine." She hauled herself out of the pool, dripping wet. Kane almost swallowed his tongue.
That damn white suit was transparent, and blast if his gaze didn't lock right onto the dark circles of her nipples, standing taut against the wet fabric. He needed to send a memo to wardrobe. There was attractive and there was blatant. Cooper didn't seem to be aware of the view she was affording the other swimmers.
The thought annoyed the hell out of him. He, and every other male who laid eyes on her, apparently, wanted to jump her bones. He gave a "back off, asshole" look to a young stud who appeared stupid enough to come over. The guy tried to hold eye contact, then wisely subsided into his lounger. He wasn't as dumb as he looked.
There were a dozen excellent reasons not to have sex with Cooper. Not the least of which was they had a mission that couldn't be screwed up a second time.
They both had to keep their minds on business. But if she was going to walk around three-quarters naked for the next couple of days, he was sure to be a basket case.
Being around her made him irritable. He couldn't have her. Shouldn't want her. Didn't want to want her. And just looking at her slender, voluptuous body spiked his blood pressure and made him hornier than he could remember being. Ever.
It was a damn nuisance. Not an insurmountable problem, but a nuisance, nevertheless.
He tossed her a towel, and she absently blotted her face, leaving her long hair glued to her wet skin like seaweed to a mermaid. She shrugged into the toweling robe she'd thrown over her lounge earlier, and reached for the menu on the small table holding their drinks. "What's your pleasure?"
He wondered what her reaction would be if he told her.
Twenty-four hours, and still no sign of Raazaq.
If he was anywhere within a hundred miles he knew about the American redhead staying at the best hotel in town. Everybody was talking about her. From their auspicious arrival yesterday, to the shoot this morning, Kane and AJ had been blatant and out there.
If their mark didn't contact them by early thi
s evening, they'd have to go and seek him out.
They were in the car again, this time traveling a few miles to the Pyramid of Hawara. This morning Kane had taken shots of her near the lake. AJ might be oblivious to her looks, but the camera loved her.
She was a natural, and a photographer's dream. Not self-conscious in any way, AJ was more concerned with their need to draw a crowd to attract Raazaq than she was with his recording her every move.
And damn, she did a good job of attracting a crowd. Little kids loved her and she gave it right back, laughing and playing with them whenever she had a break. She ignored the young men with their hot eyes and teased the old men who looked at her in fond memory of what they would have liked to have done with her if they were thirty years younger.
She was more than he'd thought she'd be. More than just a great face and an incredible body. More than a halfway decent agent and a good shot. She was the whole damn package. Through the viewfinder he found her face even more compelling. Other than her obvious physical beauty and the symmetry of her features, there was a strength of character, and a complete lack of guile one didn't expect to find in a woman who could turn intelligent men into puddles of testosterone.
By the time they'd been at the morning location for half an hour, upwards of a hundred people had joined them. Standing respectfully in a semicircle around them, AJ's admirers had offered to assist, fetch, carry, and generally make themselves useful in the hope of getting closer to the woman or getting a baksheesh, a tip, for running errands, or carrying water.
Now, back in their car, on the way to the Pyramid of Hawara, nine vehicles, three horses, and two camels followed in their wake. It was a damn parade, and if Raazaq didn't know about her, then he clearly wasn't around.
"Did you know that seventy-eight percent of all women, if given the chance, would rather drive than be driven?"
"Is that so?"
She blinked her eyes at him. "You don't believe me?"
"Nope." Kane brought his attention back to the desert road ahead. If the fools wanted to eat his dust, more power to them. "You're a natural at this. Why didn't you pursue modeling? It's a hell of a lot more lucrative than working for T-FLAC."
A nerve flexed in her jaw. "There's more to me than a face. And money isn't everything."
She'd got a bit of sun this morning and her nose and cheeks were pink and glowing. It made her look younger and, damn it, even more appealing.
"Tell me about being Miss Illinois."
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Oh, please. That is so yesterday."
He did his best not to react to that laugh. Her low, throaty laugh was a man's fantasy come to life.
"Don't like tiaras?" he asked.
AJ snorted. "Trust me, I still have nightmares about my pageant years." She mulled it over. "Of course, being forced to wear high heels and be slathered in makeup is my idea of a nightmare. Wanna hear about the Pyramid of Hawara?"
"Do I have a choice?" He glanced in the rearview mirror. The convoy was still behind them, kicking up a mile-long cloud of dust.
"Sure. You can hum under your breath while I talk. Built by Amenemhet the Third, the pyramid was the most visited site of the ancient world." She turned in her seat, held her hair back from her face, and grinned at him. "It was also called the Labyrinth because it's so enormous inside. It's been estimated to have over three thousand rooms in the two stories. Twelve covered courts—"
"Cooper?"
"What?"
"I don't give a damn."
"I thought you found Egyptology fascinating."
"I do. But right now the only Egyptian I'm interested in is Raazaq. I want him to show so we can do our job and go home. If you still have this newfound fascination with frigging pyramids, come back some other time, and spout to your heart's content."
"Fine." She uncurled her legs and faced forward. "You know, we have to be together. I thought I'd be friendly. But apparently you don't know jack about friendly. I just thought it might be nice if we got to know each other a little. But, hey, don't mind me, I'll just—"
"You said you were gonna shut up."
"I am."
"When?"
"You have something against conversation?"
"I like quiet."
"Quiet is too noisy for me."
They lapsed into silence.
Kane discovered quiet could be noisy.
AJ leaned against the sun-warmed brick and smiled nicely for the camera—and about a hundred men, women, children, and livestock who'd followed them out to the pyramid. Raazaq better show up pretty damn soon. She wasn't cut out to be a model. It wasn't that she couldn't do it. She was just bored out of her mind.
"Curve your left arm over your head."
She obeyed and went back to thinking about the nightmare of walking in high heels and a tiara.
"Why the hell are you scowling? Turn into your arm and smile. Could you try to make that a little more sincere? Yes, like that. Tilt your chin down a little. Too much. Yes. Hold it."
"I thought digital cameras don't have moving parts."
"They don't."
"For a guy who likes quiet, you've sure got a noisy camera. How come yours clicks, whirrs, and beeps?"
"So I know when I've taken the shot. Go put on the yellow dress," Kane instructed, switching cameras as he spoke.
She left the shade of the makeshift canopy Kane had erected and walked across the scraggy grassed parking lot to the tent to change out of a blue shorts outfit.
The tent was hot despite the battery-operated fan sitting on the small table. AJ let the flap drop closed behind her and unbuttoned the short, sleeveless blouse, standing in front of the fan as she finished undressing.
Kane had to be as bored as she was, she thought, as she checked her makeup—looked fine to her—and her hair—annoyingly curly.
The yellow evening dress—Badgley Mischka, Kane had told her, as though she should know… or care—was filmy lemon chiffon. The skirt was made up of miles of flounces, and the top consisted of a couple of Band-Aid-size scraps of practically see-through silk crossed over her breasts, leaving her entire back and tummy bare.
AJ would've given her next five paychecks to be wearing her favorite jeans and a T-shirt, and packing her weapon. She sighed and went back outside, holding the hem of the fragile dress up as she strode across the sandy lot, still wearing her boots.
Kids scrambled to get a place beside her as she walked.
They jabbered as they ran to catch up. AJ just smiled, and indicated she didn't understand what they were saying. It was easier to pick up bits and pieces of intel when people thought you didn't understand what they said.
The decision suited AJ just fine. She did understand a word here and there. Arabic, and all its dialects, was a good language to know. Unfortunately she had no ear for languages and was second from the bottom of her class. She'd work harder at that when she returned. Kane's linguistic skills were phenomenal.
A few hundred yards ahead, she watched him fiddle with his camera and adjust a white umbrella for better reflected light. He wore a long-sleeved, collarless, green cotton shirt. The snug fit of the shirt accented his broad shoulders and flat belly. Tan pants tucked into heavy boots emphasized his long legs and tight butt. His shaggy hair looked lighter in the sun as he bent over to retrieve a straw cowboy hat to shade him from the unrelenting rays of the sun. He moved with an easy, fluid grace that was at once relaxed and purposeful.
The hat shaded the top half of his face, and highlighted the stubborn curve of his jaw and the sensual curve of his mouth.
AJ forcibly dragged her attention from Kane Wright's lips to the pyramid behind him.
Didn't look much like a pyramid now. More like a large mottled green hill in the middle of scrub brush. Just the mud-brick core remained, the external limestone had long since disappeared, but Kane liked the primitiveness of the broken stone as a backdrop to the expensive clothing she was to wear for the shoot.
AJ made a menta
l note to ask him if he'd actually do anything with all the pictures he was taking. He certainly knew his way around a camera.
The hot sun felt good on her bare shoulders, but staying out here unprotected for long was dangerous. Heatstroke was always a possibility in the desert. They'd set up a large awning against the side of the pyramid for the shoot, and she picked up the pace to get into the shade.
She watched Kane as she approached and almost did a double-take. Right before her eyes he changed from a tall, virile, take-charge kind of a guy into a bony, bad-postured camera geek. He looked like a paler, less interesting version of himself. Different, and yet the same.
He squinted at her absently as she approached. "More lip gloss," he instructed, holding out the tube as she passed him. "Take your time. I believe the party's about to get interesting."
AJ paused. My God, even his voice was different. Lighter. Slightly hesitant. Less substantial. How did he transform himself so subtly with no makeup or costume change? Nothing but his own body and demeanor. It was remarkable.
Slowly, she applied the sticky gloss to her mouth as she glanced back to the crowd of observers. From the corner of her eye, she saw the long, black stretch set apart from the other spectators.
Her heart did a little hop, skip, and jump of anticipation.
Raazaq had sought her out.
The game was afoot.
CHAPTER SEVEN
« ^ »
Kane glanced at the large man who'd lumbered out of the front seat of the limo and now stood, loomed, out of camera range, clearly waiting for AJ.
"Tourist?" he asked the guy facetiously.
The goon, in a dark, shiny suit, folded his arms across his massive chest. He was the bad guy straight out of Central Casting. No neck, shaved head, small reptilian eyes, and lip-less as a trout.
"Waiting for ze girl." The accent was French. His weapon, tucked in plain sight in a front holster, Russian, and his dental work, American.
The small, gold cartouche earring in his cauliflower ear was a nice touch.