Siren's Secret (20 page)

She surrendered willingly.

She lost awareness of the outside world until suddenly he stopped. Olivia opened her eyes, and Stafford was gone. She felt only air where his heat had been. It didn’t take much to figure out what had happened. He was sprawled on the ground with a giant towering over him.

She gulped. With
two
giants towering over him. She looked from one to the other in dismay.

Twins!

Now that was bad luck.

“Oh, hell.” Stafford closed his eyes with resignation.

“Stafford! Get up!” Olivia couldn’t watch. He was going to be spiflicated for certain!

He didn’t need to get up. The healthy giant reached down and pulled Stafford to his feet as if he didn’t weigh a thing.

Gads. Very bad luck. He was never going to forgive her for this … if he lived.

She needed to strategize. Much quicker than she usually did. She discreetly shoved her bag behind some furniture with her foot. The healthy giant held Stafford. It looked as if the injured one would get some free punches.

“Wait!” she cried, peeking from behind the ornately carved armoire. “That’s very bad sportsmanship! Not well done at all.”

It didn’t look as though Stafford could take much more. Which meant she had to make her move. Now or never. With a deep breath she shouted for their attention, holding up her bag. “This is what you want. And I’m the one who’s got it. Not him!” She lowered the bag, slowly stepping away.

The worker who had been minding his own business in the back watched the scene, as she inched toward the narrow staircase. The female shopkeeper, Stafford’s friend, was there too. They all stared, waiting.

Finally, the healthy giant tossed Stafford at his brother. He eyed her, and smiled.

Olivia’s feet froze in fear.

The shopkeeper pushed her to attention. “Run!”

Olivia did.

She bolted to the upstairs room. The ceiling was lower, and the space even more cramped. She couldn’t get through, but she could see an opening, a window in the back. She began to crawl over furniture, cloth, and strange pointy objects that all managed to find her skin to stab into.

“Ouch. Ooh. Ow.”

There was a sound of thunder behind her. She crawled on her hands and knees, halfway across a large dining table. At the crashing sounds, she turned. And gulped.

The giant was clearing a path—by tossing furniture out of the way as if it were nothing.

It was all the inspiration she needed to move faster. She scrambled and leaped to the window. Then she stopped. Not a healthy jump. She probably wouldn’t die, but definitely several bones would be damaged. She didn’t relish that experience.

There was another shop farther down with some kind of awning. It might hold her. Or break her fall. But how to get there? The building was mostly smooth. Not a lot of ledges or crevices to grab. Definitely no vines. She tilted upward. She could maybe get on the roof.

Another crash alerted her. He was running out of room to toss things, but he was definitely getting closer. Olivia thought again. Throughout the room lay whole sections of rolled fabrics. Only, she would have to move toward the giant to get to one. She left her bag by the large window and dived under a table. She dragged fabric from the largest roll and lined it up behind two sturdy legs of a table currently weighed down by a number of other pieces. She hoped it was enough to hold her weight.

She frantically pulled several yards of yellow-orange-pink material and prayed it would work. The giant stared at her from the opposite end of the table and said something in Arabic, or Algerian, or some other strange language she didn’t have a clue about.

“If that was the equivalent to ‘I’ve got you now’ ”—Olivia pulled the bag over her shoulder and sat on the edge of the window, winding one arm and wrist tightly with material—“then think again, sir.”

And with that, she dropped out the window like a petal in the wind, with a rainbow of color floating after her.

This was his reward for saving the girl. He looked into the eyes of the oversized Algerian fighter whom Olivia had injured earlier. Granted, he should never have kissed her. Not without securing the area. That had been an enormous strategic mistake, and he was about to suffer the enormity of it in the form of colossal pain. A couple of ribs were already damaged, and his brain felt as if he had butted heads with a bull. Samuel stepped backward again, his feet stumbling on some objects and tools in the workshop. He needed a plan.

The injured giant took his first swing with a fast, massive fist. Samuel ducked.

The plan was working so far.

Maybe he could wear the man out. But he really needed to help Olivia. He ducked again.

“Your aim is off, my good man,” he said in Arabic.

The giant swung low to his gut and lifted Samuel off his feet.

Samuel exhaled painfully. “Now I’m mad. And I really don’t want to hurt you. I think you’re probably a very nice man, just mixed up with the wrong people.” There was only one thing he could do, though. Olivia needed his help.

The man swung high. Samuel ducked again, turned, and kicked with his heel at the injured knee. Mean but necessary.

There just wasn’t a lot of time for getting to know each other.

He looked at Sunni, his friend and onetime lover, though it had been years.

“His name is Rashid,” she said. “He is not evil, but he will hurt you.”

“You’ll take care of his injury?” Samuel asked.

She nodded.

“And take care of yourself too,” he said.

“Always, Captain. I am engaged, you know.”

“No.” He smiled. “I—” Samuel stopped at hearing the cry outside. “Olivia!”

He hurried out the back door to the alley. Sunni and the shop worker smiled at each other. It seemed their friend had met his match.

Samuel looked up to find Olivia hanging halfway down the building, her arm wrapped tightly in fabric. It would have seemed a genius solution to descending a wall, had there not been a monster at the top, pulling her back up. Olivia struggled against it, swinging. As if amused, the giant got into the fun and started swinging Olivia until she was swaying dangerously high and being knocked and slammed into the wall.
Thump.

“Stafforrrrd!”

“Hold on!”

“I can’t do anything else.” Thump. “My arm is—” Thump. “Owww! Stuck,” she wailed.

Samuel combed the ground for rocks and stones of any kind. He quickly gathered them and took aim. The third one did the trick. Just enough momentum in the face to surprise the giant. He let go of the fabric, and Olivia’s rhythmic swing jolted as she fell into the building. Then more fabric released, and she slid into his arms—with enough force to knock him to the ground. It felt familiar. He grunted.

Then suddenly she was being lifted again. She screamed.

Samuel saw the fabric around her wrist tighten. She was still tangled in material. She dropped her bag and tried to free herself. Samuel pulled violently to give her some loose maneuvering room. She began to unwind herself.

“Just another second!”

Samuel yanked again, and the entire piece of fabric came down, floated in the air, and landed in a tent on top of them. They tore it off. Only to discover one final enemy … and his friends.

Samuel took the bag in one hand and Olivia in the other. They faced the gunmen. Three were European. Three others were local. He heard his men come up behind him.

“Hand over that bag, and no one needs to be harmed,” the leader offered. He was about Samuel’s age, tall, lean, blond, and British. And he was good-humored. A man who would rather charm his way through life than actually work. Samuel hated that type.

He looked down at Olivia. Her face was pained and disappointed. A click of a gun helped make up her mind. It was pointed at him.

He thought he could survive it. Five more guns clicked. He counted. Six bullets might be tougher, but he would try. For her.

Olivia shook her head. “Give it to them.”

The back alley filled with bystanders. Their odds were not insurmountable. Bad, but not insurmountable. “Are you sure?”

Olivia touched his arm gently. “Please. You’re more important than what is in that bag, Stafford. Besides … I’m exhausted, hot, dusty, I want a bath, and truthfully, I don’t think I’m really cut out for adventuring.” The last part was said with pained sadness. She looked miserable.

“A wise person knows their strengths, ma’am,” the leader said.

Samuel smiled at her. “Very well,” he said.

Samuel handed over the bag to one of the local men, who took it from him cautiously and hurriedly stepped back.

“Thank you,” the leader said. “I can get very angry when things are taken from me. However, no harm done. We can part friends.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Olivia grumbled.

They waited as the man mounted his horse and waved farewell. The others followed.

As soon as their backs were turned, Olivia grabbed his arm and waved to the crew.

“Hurry! We have to run! This way!”

“I think we’re relatively safe, Ollie.” Samuel didn’t want to reenter the building with the twin giants, but she was already ahead of him, running into the back of Sunni’s shop. They followed and watched as she pulled out a bundle wrapped in her spare breeches.

“We
really
have to go, Stafford! I don’t think it will be long before they realize—”

Samuel swore. And laughed. And swore again as he grabbed her arm and they raced to the front of the shop. Their carriage driver was outside, searching for them. Samuel called. An instant later they were barreling back to the ship.

“Had the stone been in the bag, would I still have been more important, Ollie?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She said it with disgust, leaving the interpretation to him. “Anyway, we could’ve taken them. Right men?” She grinned at the crew, cocky and full of herself.

They stopped at the hotel and he held her back, sending one man to alert Nathan and Elizabeth of the change in plans.

“Wait. My bath!”

“Forget the bath, Ollie. We’ll be lucky if we survive getting out of the harbor without running into your friends again.”

“They’re not my friends.”

“My mistake. No friends among thieves, eh?”

She elbowed him. In his bad side. It hurt.

He grunted, trying to breathe. “I’ll let you pick: the bath, or what you’re holding?”

She clutched the package on her lap protectively. “Very well.”

“Right.” He smiled having won a very small victory. “I’ll give you one thing, Ollie.” She turned to him, and he noted the recovered artifact in her hands. “You sure are something.”

“What?” She asked curious. “What ‘something’?”

“It’s an expression, Professor,” one of the men explained.

Samuel tried to get comfortable. His head was killing him, his body felt old.

Trouble followed Olivia, and somehow he needed to stay one step ahead.

Hugh Lampley threw himself back in a chair, frustrated. Damn. The wench had tricked him. The contents of her bag lay on the table in front of him. No Egyptian cone. He’d left Alexandria to meet his men in Algiers, only to be betrayed. That left him out of money and out of luck. Without the artifact in his hands, Hugh lacked the power to control the expedition and enter the chambers of the librarian.

Hugh touched the charming bits and pieces displayed for him. They were soft, feminine … intriguing. He sniffed a worn bar of soap appreciatively, absorbing the rose scent. And it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. Too long since he’d smelled anything fresh and innocent. He put the soap down and got up to find a drink. That woman was anything but innocent. He shook his head, amused, as he picked up the male dress shirt at odds with the rest of the items. Not innocent, but damned clever.

A knock at the door turned his thoughts.

“Come in.”

Hugh expected one of his men. Instead, a stranger entered. Behind him were two more men, who stayed posted outside the door. The man who entered was dark, swarthy, and in his midforties. Hugh noted the fake smile and cold black eyes. Not someone with whom he wanted to do business.

“Hugh Lampley?” the visitor inquired.

His voice was cultured, French, and annoying. Hugh threw back two fingers of bad rum and put the glass on the table. “Who’s asking?”

The stranger offered his hand. “Sir Jason Moreau. May I have a seat?”

Hugh ignored the hand and nodded to an empty chair.

Moreau sat quietly a moment, and when conversation was not forthcoming regarding his business, he finally spoke up. “I’ve come to make you an offer, Mr. Lampley.”

Hugh lifted an eyebrow and stared without emotion.

“I understand you have an investment in the excavation of a certain tomb in Alexandria.”

Hugh still did not speak.

“I’d like buy into the project, for a small price in return.”

“We’re not looking for any new investors, but thank you for your inquiry,” Hugh said.

Moreau twirled the short end of his mustache thoughtfully.

“That’s a shame. According to my sources, your funds dried up over a month ago. How long do you think the workers will continue to follow you blindly, Lampley?”

Hugh poured another glass of rum.

“You have a keen interest in business that isn’t yours.”

“I do my research.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And the thing of it is, Mr. Lampley, is that you need me.”

Moreau laid a bag of coins on the table. “Your reputation for effectiveness precedes you, but even you need funds to remain effective. Don’t let all you’ve invested thus far be for naught. I’m after a single item. Whatever else is in the tomb is yours.”

Hugh didn’t look at the bag. Damn. It was tempting. Enough perhaps to get him out of this mess?

“You need leverage, Mr. Lampley, and I provide that.”

“How so?”

He glanced at the feminine items on the table. “As you know, Merryvale’s daughter is on her way to Egypt. She travels with men and money. Once she arrives, Merryvale will have the upper hand. Where will that leave you?”

Hugh picked up the bag of coins, and Moreau smiled. The man was a manipulative bastard. Hugh should know. He was a master himself.