Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  “Did you hear from your boss?” she asked.

  “Just eat, hm?” he said, giving her a look that said he wouldn't tell her anything until she'd replenished her energy.

  Pancakes, two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs stared up at her from the plate. A small glass of orange juice sat to the side. Suddenly, she realized she was ravenous. Picking up her fork, she dove into the meal that seemed home made rather than ordered up from room service.

  Rhett must have had Christian gather supplies and cooked it himself.

  She watched him cross the room to scoop back the drapes and tie them off to the side of her balcony doors; through the panes, she could hear the bustle of early shoppers and merchants in the street market below. He didn't open the doors themselves, standing with his hands propped on his hips while he surveyed the building across and what he could see of the milling crowd. Searching for threats. Calm and in control, he didn't act suspicious and yet there was no denying that he was alert and attentive.

  She didn't think much got by Mister Rhett Nichols.

  He turned with a sharp pivot and slanted her a vague smile that she couldn't read. “I'll be out here when you're done.”

  “I'll be out in a little bit.”

  He left, closing her door behind him. The man was an enigma, government agent or not. Last night he'd kissed her and this morning she half expected him to start whipping out the 'Miss Grant' again.

  Ten minutes later, she set the tray aside with fully three quarters of her meal demolished. Awake, but still needing coffee, she made quick work of a shower. From her luggage she found another pair of jeans and a lemon yellow shirt with tiny white piping to wear. Leaving her hair to dry into natural waves, she folded all the spare cash she could find from the luggage, the identification and credit cards, into her pockets.

  Done with that, she gave Galiana's luggage a last touch, stifling the knot in the back of her throat, and left the bedroom.

  Don't think about it now.

  More sunlight poured in through the open balcony doors in the living room, drenching the suite in a warm glow. Rhett made a strong silhouette outlined against the bright day, one arm up on the door frame. She couldn't tell from this angle exactly what he was looking at, but he seemed as serious and as intense as he'd been in her room.

  “All set?” he asked before she could announce her presence.

  How did he do that? She started to frown and then smiled to herself. If he wasn't so astute, she probably wouldn't be alive.

  “I am. What's going on? What did you find out?” Perching on the arm of a chair was as comfortable as she could get until she knew more about what happened to her sisters.

  He turned around and leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It made him look broader, if that was possible. She tried not to openly stare.

  “They didn't get your friends, Evelyn.” Straight up, with a scrutinizing stare, lips thin with displeasure.

  Whatever stray thoughts had started to slide through her mind cut off at the news. She looked at his eyes.

  “What? Why not?”

  “They weren't there went the agents went in. Some time during the night, they were moved through an underground tunnel beneath the church. We didn't know it existed until they did a thorough search.” Rhett seemed grim about the news.

  Evelyn's stomach lurched. “Well surely they can track them? I mean, if it's a tunnel, then it leads somewhere.”

  “They did that. The basement it emptied into was the building next to the church, an old mortuary no longer in use. They didn't find your friends there, either.”

  Evelyn got up off the couch and started pacing. “I don't understand. Was that just a preventative measure on their part? Did they have some other goal? I mean, it seems strange to me that they would just up and move them.”

  Rhett shook his head, watching her. “We haven't figured it out yet. But they're working on it. Believe me when I say Dragar and Dracht know what they're doing.”

  Evelyn wanted to snap and say she didn't think any of them knew what they were doing; it served no one, least of all herself, to give in to that kind of knee jerk reaction. If she lost control and allowed anger to rule, she'd only end up offending the only people trying to help them. And, the devil on her shoulder reminded her, she wasn't telling Rhett and his co-workers the truth. Not the whole truth.

  Rubbing her forehead, she paced a path through the living area.

  “So what do we do now? Keep waiting?” she asked.

  Rhett straightened away from the wall and dropped his arms. “It's all we can do. But I'm not in favor of holing up in the room all day. Feel up to a short trip?”

  Chapter Seven

  The Egyptian sun blazed down from a sky as clear and blue as a sapphire. Not one puffy cloud interrupted the perfect canvas. Dry and arid, the breeze buffeted against her skin. Evelyn sat aside Rhett in a jeep he'd acquired from some contact in the city. It reminded her of an older military model, wheels thick with tread, the color a fading pea green. Roofless, with the doors welded closed, they'd had to climb up and over to get inside.

  Rhett drove with as much authority as he had the night he'd extracted her from the basement of the church, aiming for the outskirts of Port Said by what appeared to be every back road and short cut he knew.

  They passed robed natives and tourists piled into ancient looking buses and a few more markets that seemed to do brisk business no matter what time of the day it was. Camels brayed, led by their owners, and a few donkeys pulled cockeyed carts filled with produce. Raucous crowds reduced the grind of the engine to a low hum.

  Once they left the teeming city behind, Rhett steered onto dirt roads without consulting any maps, leading her to believe he knew this area much better than she'd first thought.

  Several times, to distract herself from distress over her sisters and Galiana, she let her gaze wander over the flex of muscle under his clothing and the strong span of his hands. When she found he'd caught her looking she veered her attention out to the sandy landscape, wondering just where in the devil he was taking her.

  In what seemed the middle of nowhere, with no one in sight, he brought the jeep to a halt and hopped out.

  “C'mon. We'll set up right over here.” Dressed in khaki colors, from his pants to the shirt and vest over his shoulders, Rhett matched the desert around him.

  Evelyn unclasped her seat belt and hoisted herself over the welded door to the ground. Whatever her other faults and flaws, she was fit and in good shape.

  “Set up for what?” she asked, meeting him at the back of the jeep.

  “You'll see.”

  He hadn't worn the shoulder holster in the open, but she saw a small cache of weapons when he opened a black bag to sort through the contents. Skin tingling from the heat, she watched him take two handguns and three glass bottles of soda out.

  “What's that for?” she asked, following him away from the jeep.

  Rhett strode ahead, purposeful and intent. Evelyn had her first inkling when he propped the three bottles a foot apart from each other on a waist high wall of chipped cinder blocks. Beyond stretched barren acres of desert.

  “I'm going to teach you to shoot better.”

  “I've shot a gun before--”

  “Not the way I'm going to teach you. This one's unloaded for now,” he said, handing her one of the black handguns.

  Evelyn eyed it skeptically, then reached out to fold it into her palm. It was heavy but not uncomfortable.

  “Aim for one of the bottles,” he said.

  She raised the gun and aimed for the bottles.

  “Okay. Your stance is all wrong and you're holding the gun like it might bite you.” Rhett stepped behind her, a solid wall of hard muscle and heat, and knocked her feet apart with one of his. Gentle taps of his shoe against hers. “Widen your feet a little.”

  “I feel ridiculous.” She widened her feet, glancing down.

  “You won't feel ridiculous if you're
in that basement again and they're coming at you with torture on their mind,” he muttered. “Shooting at that boat on the ocean is a whole different animal than protecting yourself in face to face combat.”

  “Is it normal procedure for a government agent to teach the people under his watch self defense?” she asked, feeling truculent and belligerent.

  “Is it normal for a group of women to be hunted, murdered and tortured by a clandestine faction no one can seem to trace?” he retorted.

  His comeback grated on her fragile nerves. It galled her that he was right. She hated that she couldn't confess, couldn't admit who she was, or they were, and certainly didn't want him becoming more suspicious than he already seemed to be. Instead of fumbling around for an answer to his question, she centered her balance evenly over her feet and got serious about the lesson. Alexandra and Minna would be proud of her for making an effort.

  “All right. That's better.” The resonant timbre of his voice that close to her ear sent a tingle down her spine. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists and over her hands.

  “Hold it like this. Tighter. Leave your finger off the trigger for now even though it isn't loaded. Get used to the weight and feel of it.”

  Evelyn adjusted her hands and tried not to be distracted by the way he wrapped himself around her. The bottles gleamed in the distance. She focused in, realizing she felt more in control in this stance than she had any other time she'd fired a gun.

  Rhett talked her through the basics, adjusting her shoulders a little more. His chest kept making contact with her back though he never knocked her balance off. When he seemed satisfied that she understood what to do, he took the gun from her and showed her how to load the clip.

  “Try to remember how many bullets you have and how many you shoot.”

  “That might be difficult in a panicky situation, but I'll try. If it comes to that.”

  Rhett met her eyes under the ridge of his brows. “You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

  Evelyn wanted to tell him she had no intention of getting into confrontations often that required the use of a gun. He took out two sets of ear plugs from one of the many pockets on his pants and gently pressed a set into her ears. Then he did his.

  Standing behind her, he said, “All right. Let's see what you got.”

  Lining up a shot, his instructions running through her mind, she depressed the trigger. And missed. She frowned.

  “Try again.”

  She missed four more times. None of the bottles so much as twitched. It really had been a long time since she'd done any target practice and it showed.

  “Line it up again. Breathe. Concentrate,” he murmured behind her.

  On her fifth try, one of the bottles of beer exploded into a shower of glass and liquid. Evelyn, lowering the gun, glanced behind her to find Rhett smiling his approval.

  “Well done. Four more rotations and we'll call it a day.”

  ***

  Dusk sheared away the last of the sunlight, leaving Port Said in that twilight time where night hadn't quite taken hold. Evelyn walked at Rhett's flank after they dropped off the jeep, keeping an eye on the swirling bodies filling the street. Moving at a brisk clip, he kept both hands free of his pockets, alert and attuned to his surroundings.

  Evelyn wondered if he was always this intense. Even while he taught her how to shoot, she'd detected the underlying sense of awareness about him. As if he would never be completely at ease.

  The bag of weapons, slung over his shoulder, made them appear, she thought, like any other tourist couple on a sight seeing trip. She tried to give off that aura, concentrating on not drawing any undue attention their way. The acrid heat made her shirt stick to her shoulders and back. She plucked at the material at her hip, letting in a fissure of air to cool her skin.

  Around them, the scent of food mingled with sweat, smoke and concrete. Jostled from almost every direction as they sank into the crowded series of market streets, she felt Rhett reach back for her hand. Warm, rough-palmed, it encased hers and held firm. Evelyn had never been the hand holding type when it came to men and relationships, no matter how brief, but she enjoyed the sensation with Rhett.

  Without any warning, he stopped.

  Evelyn bumped into his side with a quiet oomph. Glancing up, she saw him twist a look behind them, eyes narrowed.

  “What is it?” She had to raise her voice to be heard even standing right at his side.

  He didn't immediately answer. While bodies swarmed around them, making her feel like a sardine in a tin, Rhett surveyed the area.

  “Get in front of me. You know the way to the hotel from here, right?” He tugged on her arm and gave her no choice but to do as he asked.

  “I know the way.” She recognized several of the taller buildings.

  With a lurch, she started walking in front of him, the clasp of their hands broken. All along her spine she felt his heat. Several times he bumped her when the crowd pressed too close. The urgency she detected from him set her on edge.

  Something was wrong. Maybe his instinct kicked in and he felt like they were being followed.

  Twice she felt him turn around to look behind them.

  “If I tell you to, you go and don't look back. Take the shortest route to the hotel and wait for Christian.” Into her palm he slapped the card-key to the room.

  “But I don't think--”

  “Just do it, Evelyn. Don't argue or interrogate me for once.”

  The short, clipped way he said her name told her that he was on high alert. Using her shoulders, she threaded through the crowd, unable to stop herself from glancing back once or twice. He loomed so close that she couldn't really get a glimpse of his face or his expression. Clutching the key card in her hand, she navigated one street to another, looking for the opening to the market that ran the length of their hotel.

  She saw it ahead, finally, and was just about to tell him so when he gave her a push. He didn't shove her, just propelled her forward.

  “Go. Right now. Go.”

  Evelyn stumbled forward a step but didn't fall. Adrenaline surged through her like a hot lash. Breaking into a run, she didn't look back because she couldn't, not without banging into an unsuspecting body. Cutting down the market street, she thought she heard heavy, hard breathing not far behind her.

  As if someone were giving chase.

  The hair stood up on the back of her neck because she knew it wasn't Rhett.

  “Excuse me!” A knot of people haggling over an item at a booth seemed an impossible barrier between her and the door to the hotel. She squeezed through them instead of going around, gasping when she thought she felt someone grab for her arm.

  Bursting out of the group, she hit the doors to the hotel and darted in. Without looking back, heart in her throat, she veered to the steps and ran up them.

  Every second she expected to hear the door slam open behind her. Making it to the fourth floor, and then the suite, she jammed the key card into the slot. Glancing down the hallway, she saw no one rushing toward her but that didn't slow her momentum. Sweeping inside, she closed the door and engaged all the locks.

  Rhett could knock when he got there.

  “Christian?”

  Silence.

  “Christian, are you here?” Evelyn tossed the key card on the table and searched the suite. Christian was no where in sight.

  Wary of the balcony, she stood near the sheer drapes and peered out along the market street, though it was too narrow to really get a good view of the end without being on the balcony itself. Worry for Rhett increased when he didn't show up right away, and doubled after fifteen minutes passed by. Holding the panic at bay, she started mentally going through options and making hasty plans. She had money, identification and Galiana's credit card in her pocket. That was all she would be able to take with her.

  The chain on the door rattled, startling her, when someone tried to come in. She froze.

  “Evelyn? It's Christian. Rhett's on his
way up. Can you open the door?”

  Relieved, she went over and removed the chain.

  Christian looked out of breath and sweaty. Like he'd been running.

  “What happened?” She closed the door when he came in.

  “Ran into Rhett out on the street. He thought you guys were being followed so we took a little detour away from the hotel, then split up to make our separate ways back.” Christian bent and put his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

  “Well, were you? Being followed?”

  “It's hard to say, but Rhett's instincts are pretty good. Likely, he saw the same face too many times in a row too close to your position.” Straightening, Christian reached for his phone when it beeped.

  “Is that Rhett? Why isn't he here yet?” she asked. Evelyn stood near the door so she could open it again once Rhett got there. She had the key card—he had no other way to get in.

  “He's making a circuit downstairs, just sent me a text. Said the foyer and all that looks all right.” Christian pecked out a brief reply and put his phone back in his pocket. “We might have to change hotels or something.”

  “Whatever we have to do. I don't know how they could have found us already though.” A hard rap of knuckles on the door a few minutes later startled her even though she was expecting it. Undoing the latch, she swung it open to admit a just as out of breath and sweat sheened Rhett.

  “You didn't use the phone or anything in here, did you?” Rhett asked right off, without even greeting her first.

  “I haven't touched anything.” She held up her hands after closing and locking the door again. The situation unnerved her a little. The brief respite they'd had from the Templars seemed to be over. Evelyn just didn't understand how the knights could be breathing down their necks again. Like they had some sort of sixth sense.

  “It could be they're making methodical checks of every port—or maybe it was someone else to do with something else altogether,” Christian said. “There's more going on in this town than just what we're doing.”

  “Could be, but I won't take any chances.” Rhett drug a hand back through his hair and went into the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water out of the cooler.