No Rules (24 page)

His forehead creased with concern. “Is that how you see me—threatening? Domineering?”

She flushed. “No.” It was hard to meet his eyes when she told him how she felt about him, so she looked at his chest as she smoothed her hand over the hard plane of his pecs, brushing lightly over his taut nipple and the light sprinkling of hairs in the center. “At first I thought you were dangerous and not my type at all. Which was disconcerting, because I thought you were also pretty sexy.” She raised her gaze shyly and was relieved to see that he’d relaxed.

“Good, because I would never hurt you, and I don’t want you to think I could.” He tipped her chin up and leaned closer. “And by the way, Jess, the feeling is very…” He kissed her. “Very…” He kissed her again, slower this time. “Mutual.” This time his kiss planted her deeply in the pillow and drew a satisfied moan from her. He ended with a quick peck on her nose. “I’ll be right back. Hold that thought.”

She watched him go to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, sighing with pleasure as his naked ass disappeared through the doorway. Sexy was the best word she could think of, but it was a vast understatement for the palpitations her heart endured when she looked at him.

Dr. Epstein was
so
going to hear about this. But it would have to be in a letter, because she wasn’t paying for one more office visit to someone who had steered her so wrong for so long. Maybe she should tell him to go fuck himself. In a helpful way, of course.

…

Donovan crossed the room and dipped into the side pocket of his duffle before crawling back in bed, because he knew there was no way he could lay beside her all night and not want her over and over again.

He was right. She was just as warm and enthusiastic the second time around and as responsive to his touch as anyone could ask from a lover. And for someone who’d never been able to enjoy the best part of making love, she was surprisingly willing to make sure he enjoyed himself. When she took him in her mouth and massaged his balls, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He had to stop her sooner than he wanted to, but it helped him set a record time for rebounding. He made good use of his hard-on, determined to give her another orgasm no matter how long he had to try.

She laughed when he said it, teasing him with, “You’re so selfless.”

“I’m entirely selfish. It’s an ego thing to make you come again.”

But that wasn’t it. He wanted to watch that startled delight take hold of her, and maybe he wanted to sound a little like a badass while doing it so she didn’t confuse him with the milquetoast men who’d come before him. He didn’t begrudge her some experience, but the thought of some candy-ass guy enjoying her body while giving her nothing in return but a sincere thank-you raised his hackles. She deserved so much more. And when she got it, gasping and stiffening as she gave in to the delirious pleasure, it sent him rocketing over the top with her. He ground into her and made it last as long as he could, until she lay breathless and sweating, with her heart pounding so hard he could feel it vibrate against his ribs.

He collapsed on top of her and desperately hoped his team didn’t call in soon because he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to get up.

He also was aware of the hell that Mitch would raise if he realized what had happened between him and Jess. Mitch would think it hypocritical. Donovan knew it wasn’t, because he hadn’t gone out alone tomcatting around Luxor the way Mitch had intended to, and he hadn’t drawn undue attention to the team or their location.

That’s if Mitch was telling the truth, and if he hadn’t been planning to meet someone to fill them in on the team’s progress. Donovan wasn’t ruling that out.

But even if he wasn’t a mole, all Mitch would see was that Donovan had gotten his rocks off and Mitch hadn’t. Which was technically true. It should have at least relieved some of his sexual tension. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t worked that way. After two sessions with Jess he felt more drawn to her than before and unable to keep his mind off relieving more of that sexual tension that he was sure would be building again momentarily.

It was a good time for a reality check. They’d taken advantage of a waiting period that could end at any moment. Mr. Atallah would be either retrieving that vase or having it brought to him, and they’d need to be ready to act, to find out where it came from. And not meet the others looking and smelling like sex.

“Shower,” he suggested.

“Mmm. Sounds good.”

He took the phone in the bathroom with them in case the team called. But he didn’t hurry. His cock might be depleted at the moment, but that was no reason not to take his time soaping every inch of Jess’s body, slowly and thoroughly, then kissing her stupid and pinning her against the tile wall, using his fingers to drive her over the edge one more time. She clung to him afterward, panting and gasping, as water poured over them from three directions.

“God, Tyler, you make me crazy. But you shouldn’t have done that. I’ll be too weak to help with the rescue.”

“You don’t need to help.” But he was pleased that, even with her part in it basically over, she still felt involved with the mission. Truthfully, he’d have been disappointed if she hadn’t felt part of it, and he liked knowing they were thinking along the same lines, like partners.

She dried her hair again, then staggered into bed, curling against him. He tucked her close and slipped one hand around to cup her bare breast and press a kiss to the back of her neck. She made a satisfied sound and was asleep within minutes.

It was the last thing he remembered until his phone buzzed at four a.m. Instantly awake, he sat up in the dark and thumbed it on. “Yeah.”

“The store just had a visitor,” Avery said, her voice pitched so low he barely heard it. “One guy with a large box on a dolly. And get this—the guy had a cast on one arm, like maybe it was broken.”

His assailant with the knife. He was glad to know the crack he’d heard had done some damage, but he was surprised that he would be making the delivery to Mr. Atallah rather than tailing Donovan and Jess around Luxor. “Must be a small operation if this guy also does shipping and receiving.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yeah, he just got here ten minutes ago. We’re in position to move out as soon as he leaves. You want to hear something else strange? He drove up in one of those little electric cars.”

Eco-conscious kidnappers? Green might be in, but he wasn’t buying it. He blinked away the fog of sleep, forcing himself to think. “No noise. They’re silent.”

“You got it.”

“So no one would hear him coming and going.”

“That’s just the thing—it’s not a concern on this end. It’s dark, but the meat market is all lit up, getting ready to open. A delivery truck is idling outside the restaurant, and some guy’s donkey is raising a fuss about being hooked up to his cart. It’s not exactly quiet around here.”

“Huh.”

“Hey, gotta go. He’s coming out. We’ve got a car and a motor scooter, and we’ll do our best to tail him. Talk to you later.” She clicked off abruptly.

He put the phone down and found Jess sitting up, watching him in the dark. “Someone showed up?” she asked.

He nodded and filled her in. “I can’t figure why he has an electric car in a country with state-subsidized gas prices. It’s so odd, it must be significant.”

“Maybe he borrowed it and that’s all he had available to him. Or he works for a dealership.”

“I’d believe that if we were in Europe, or even the States. But I haven’t seen one electric vehicle since we’ve been in Egypt.”

They thought about it in silence for a moment with no further ideas. “So what happens next?”

“We find out where the guy goes and hope he returns to where the hostages are. If he doesn’t, then we take him and persuade him to tell us where they are.”

She didn’t ask how, and he didn’t volunteer to tell her. He was pretty sure she didn’t want to know. “What about when Mr. Atallah calls to say he has the vase? He’ll be expecting a million dollars.”

“Tell him it takes time to get the money.”

“But can we get it if we need to?”

He barked a laugh. “I have no idea. I’ve never asked my boss for a spur-of-the-moment expenditure of a million dollars for a highly illegal purchase that is most likely nonrefundable. I prefer to avoid that sort of problem if I can.”

She didn’t look like she wanted to accept that answer. She was like Wally, a planner, someone who liked to cover all the bases. He understood the need for strategic planning, but he preferred action. When events didn’t lead to action, he’d found he could often precipitate it anyway with a little push. He’d rather push Mr. Atallah than offer him a million dollars.

She let it go. “What can I do to help?”

He smiled, glad she wanted to be part of the team even while he doubted there was anything she could do to help prepare for an assault. “How much do you know about guns?”

Chapter Fifteen

They sat on the two chairs facing the TV, with the guns laid out on the small coffee table—two Glock 19 handguns and two AK-47’s. Mitch, Avery, and Kyle had the other three Glocks with them.

Jess declined to carry a “just in case” handgun and wouldn’t even touch the AK-47’s. That was fine with him. Frankly, he was surprised that a woman who wrote about cute talking animals for a living didn’t have a lecture ready about violence and guns. Since he didn’t relish the idea of her getting hysterical about it if the need to shoot arose unexpectedly, he asked, “You don’t object to us using these if we have to?”

Her pretty lips tightened into a determined line. “They tried to kill you, Tyler. If they try it again, I hope you don’t hesitate.”

“They tried to kill you, too.”

“Yeah, they’re not making the nice-guys list.”

He was relieved that she could make light of it. She might have started out timid and scared, but she’d adapted quickly. And speaking of that…“The nice guys list—would that be the list of guys you can date?”

She looked up with a sly smile. “I won’t be dating nice guys anymore.”

An erotic thrill zapped him right in the ego, knowing his lovemaking had changed her life. He also felt a twinge of jealousy. “What kind of guys
will
you be dating?” he asked, the harmless euphemism “dating” leaving a sour taste in his mouth. But he didn’t like giving words to the thought of her making love with another man.

“Good question. What was it you called yourself? A badass? I guess that’s what I need to look for.”

She seemed to be having fun with the idea, but the implications bothered him. It wasn’t like he had any claim on her, but he didn’t want to see her get in trouble with the wrong sort of man. “Jess, please tell me you don’t mean you’ll be looking for guys with motorcycles and guns who will haul you off in the dead of night against your will.”

She laughed. “That did get my attention, didn’t it? But no, give me a little credit. I’ll be looking for a guy who will treat me like an equal in bed and out, who has a normal, healthy appetite for sexual intimacy, and who doesn’t assume I’m so emotionally fragile that I’ll break into hysterics if he wants to have wild monkey sex on the kitchen table.”

He squashed an instant of outright amazement and shook his head to rid it of the image. “Jess, I don’t think what we had qualifies as wild monkey sex.”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “No, but I think maybe I could get into that once in a while. I’ve missed out on a few things, you know. I need to catch up.”

Heat rushed to his groin and he thought he could help her start to work on that right now. He fitted a full magazine onto an AK-47 without taking his eyes off her, wondering if they’d have another chance to be alone together before they left Luxor.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back to the present. Laying down the gun, he grabbed the phone. “Yeah.”

“It’s Kyle. We lost him.” He heard him blow out an exasperated breath.

Doubts crashed in. In the predawn night, with one of the bad guys about to lead them directly to the hostages, they had somehow lost him. It stretched credibility. “How?” he managed to growl. “Where did he go?”

“Into the fucking desert, man. There’s nothing out here. No cars, no camels, nothing. Even when we killed the headlights, he would have heard the car because there’s nothing else around. And let me tell you, killing the lights is not a good idea. It’s dark as hell out here. Mitch followed a bit longer on the scooter, but that’s noisy, too, and the guy’s cautious.”

Donovan’s gut tightened. “Mitch wasn’t with you?”

“No, Avery is. We had two vehicles on him. But we couldn’t let him know we were trailing him, so Mitch had to fall back when he took some weird turns out in the desert. When the guy turned into the Valley of the Queens, we had to ditch our vehicles anyway, because they’re not allowed. The place is guarded, but our friend must be connected because he got through. We tried to follow on foot, but lost him.”

Donovan swore under his breath. “So where are you now?”

“Near as I can tell we’re somewhere between the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens. These damn wadis are like a sandy, wider version of the Grand Canyon. There are lights and guards near the temples and tombs, but not where we are. And get this—not a fucking river in sight. I don’t know, Tyler, could we be wrong about Wally? Are you sure this is right?”

Something
wasn’t right. It might be Wally’s information about a river, but it might also be the way Mitch conveniently lost their suspect when no one else was around to see it happen.

“Stay until it gets light,” he told Kyle. “If he comes back out, you’ll be able to pick him up.”

“Understood. What about all that shit about a river? This isn’t making sense, Tyler.”

Donovan raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Wally’s information is the only lead we have. We’re sticking with it.”

“Fine,” Kyle muttered. “But you tell me how to find a river in the middle of the fucking desert.”

…

Jess knew things weren’t going well from the way Donovan’s mouth pressed into a line and muscles twitched in his jaw.

“They’re holding position,” he told her when he ended the call. “We don’t have any choice. All we can do is wait for him to come back out of whatever wadi or canyon he’s gone into.”

“If they’re holed up at Ramesses VIII’s tomb, that could take days.”

“I hope not.” He scowled.

“We have to lure him out sooner,” she said, her mind racing over the possibilities. They were limited, which made it easier to figure out.

“Sure. How? Stake out a few archeology students in the wadi to attract him?”

His sarcasm would have been offensive if he hadn’t sounded so frustrated. Jess understood. “No, we get him to make another delivery.”

He didn’t say anything, just sat back and looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Mr. Atallah will call in a few hours to tell us he has the vase, right? We go see him and I get all effusive over the beauty and condition of the piece and decide I want another one. Something to go with it. But only if he can get it right away, because my husband’s birthday is tomorrow and we’re leaving in the morning for Switzerland. I must have it by then. I think he’ll jump at the chance to make more money. He’ll have to get his courier to make another trip from the tomb, which is what we’ll be waiting for. But this time we’ll already be waiting in the wadi and he won’t be able to slip past us.”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe. There’s just one problem—Mr. Atallah’s not going to jump to fill your second order without seeing some cash first.”

“Of course not. As I told you before, we need to get one million dollars. Call Evan. What time is it in Chicago now?”

He sputtered a laugh and shook his head. “You act like all you have to do is ask.”

“And you act like that won’t work. But you don’t know that, do you?”

“No, I don’t. You’re right.” He still looked amused. “It’s eight hours earlier in Chicago, which makes it about eight thirty p.m. I think you should make this call.” He tossed his satellite phone to her, and she caught it. “Dial 001, then the Omega number in the directory. Good luck.”

She looked at the challenge in his eyes, lifted an eyebrow, and dialed. The connection took several seconds, but Evan’s voice came through clearly. “Donovan. I’ve been hoping to hear from you.”

“It’s me. Jess.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Donovan?”

“We’re fine. You’re on speaker, and he can hear you. He’s sitting here trying not to laugh at me because I’m calling to tell you we need a million dollars.”

Silence. She held Donovan’s gaze and waited. “I assume you’re serious. Explain.”

She did. She told him about the vase and her theory about tomb robbers finding the lost tomb of Ramesses VIII. Also her offer to buy a vase they were shown. He listened without comment, then was silent a few more seconds.

“How sure are you that this is what Wally wanted you to see?”

“Positive. You know that discovering a new, untouched tomb is a big deal. Huge. Big enough to take two Americans captive if they stumbled across the operation. They probably would have been killed if they weren’t experts in exactly what the robbers need—sorting and pricing the items in the tomb. And what better place is there to hold them than in a tomb no one’s been able to find for the past three thousand years?”

“Good point.” More thoughtful silence. “When does he want the money?”

“Today. We expect him to call in a few hours. I realize it’s night there and the banks aren’t open, but—”

“It’s not night everywhere, Jess. Omega uses international banks.” He was silent for several seconds more while Donovan’s smug look changed to one of amazement. She resisted sticking out her tongue at him, but just barely. Finally, Evan said, “I’ll call you guys back as soon as I can.”

She tossed the phone back to Donovan, slowly letting a grin split her face. “He didn’t laugh at me. And you’re not laughing anymore, either. What do you think of that?”

He shook his head as if he was beyond words. “I think I’m glad we brought you. And I think if he comes through, I may ask for a raise. Omega obviously has more money than I realized.”

“Maybe. Maybe he’s borrowing it.”

“Whatever he’s doing, it’s because you’re Wally’s daughter and he trusts you implicitly, the same way he trusted Wally.”

It was a sobering thought. Evan didn’t know her at all. He’d only known her father, and no matter how her father had felt about her, they hadn’t known each other since she’d been a child. That was a lot of trust to place in a genetic link she’d barely acknowledged in the past fifteen years.

For the first time she realized she might have a lot to live up to as her father’s daughter. She hoped she was up to the task.

She expected Evan to take a few hours to get back to them, but it had barely been an hour when the phone rang. Donovan pulled free of her arms with an apologetic look as he answered it, putting the call on speaker.

“The Bank of Alexandria in Luxor, eight a.m. Mr. Mohammed Azim will be expecting you, Jess.”

“Thank you.”

Donovan smiled and shook his head in amazement.

“Donovan?” Evan said.

“Right here.”

“This is a loan. I want that money back.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And get those hostages soon.”

“Will do.” He ended the call, then smiled at her. “Ask and ye shall receive. You’re pretty damn amazing, Jess.”

He didn’t look concerned. “You told Evan we’d get those students soon. Can we?”

“We don’t have any choice.”

She wondered if she’d ever be able to look at obstacles that way—
I have to do it, therefore, I will
. Maybe it was time to try.

“We have a couple hours until the bank opens,” he said, thumbing the phone. “I’m going to call the others and fill them in.” He looked up. “Then I’m taking you back to bed.”

There weren’t any obstacles to that, but she liked his determination all the same.

…

He also arranged for a rental car to be delivered to the hotel, and it was waiting for them when they left two hours later. They stopped on the way to the bank and bought a briefcase and two inexpensive backpacks, then walked in and asked for Mr. Azim. Donovan had decided that casual clothes and backpacks would blend in better than business suits and briefcases in the tourist atmosphere of Luxor, and Jess had to agree. Still, she was nervous when they walked out, each carrying 500,000 dollars in their backpack.

Mr. Atallah called conveniently as they left the bank. Jess sounded appropriately eager to complete her purchase, and promised to be there in half an hour, allowing them time to change back into the
abaya
for her and
thobe
for him.

They were two minutes late. The young man named Majid was waiting for them and ushered them back to Mr. Atallah’s sumptuous office where he was waiting for them.

He stood, gesturing expansively. “Mrs. Hassan, please join me in a cup of tea.”

All she wanted was to complete the exchange and get out of there, but there seemed to be no choice. Mr. Atallah was big on manners and propriety, and she assumed Suzanne Hassan would be, too. She smiled graciously as they sat, accepting his invitation.

“It is wonderful to see you again,” he said.

“And you.” She sipped her tea, wondering what she could do to move this along.

“Perhaps one day I will make the acquaintance of your husband so that we might share our love of Egyptian antiquities.”

She imagined he would prefer to share her fictitious husband’s money. “I have no doubt you will, Mr. Atallah. I think he will insist upon it after seeing his gift.”

“Ah yes, I hope so. I think we have much in common.” He sipped his tea, too, apparently willing to pass an hour on pleasantries. Evan’s instructions to rescue the students quickly plucked at her patience. And as dignified as Mr. Atallah was, his gaze had strayed several times to the silver briefcase Donovan set close to his feet.

“I confess, I am anxious to see the vase,” she told him.

“Of course, forgive me for keeping you waiting.”

Once again they waited for Majid to do the honors, this time rolling in a tall wooden crate on a handcart. Mr. Atallah removed the front panel that had obviously already been pried loose, then stood back.