Книга - Danger in the Desert

Danger in the Desert
Merline Lovelace






Danger

in the Desert

Merline Lovelace




































www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover (#ue93b2d0a-5d73-5fa4-b92e-3d5d8db12a97)

Title Page (#u0917cf9d-399f-568a-b575-d24099c0f62c)

About the Author (#ueff60aa0-b632-5d1c-a7e1-a98b08a1cbde)

Dedication (#uabe0c7ed-b982-55db-a76b-4936eb72ab6a)

Prologue (#ue681da02-4a51-505f-abb1-f0f3b8126398)

Chapter One (#u60d5b6f4-fba0-5301-9e8d-9fcfbd957057)

Chapter Two (#u7dd1ec39-44bd-56ed-a127-4ed45da01995)

Chapter Three (#u81e6abf1-e613-507b-b1f5-9ddb261ace71)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




About the Author


As an Air Force officer, MERLINE LOVELACE served at bases all over the world, including tours in Taiwan, Vietnam, and at the Pentagon. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to combine her love of adventure with a flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her experiences in the service. Since then, she’s produced more than eighty action-packed novels, many of which have made USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. Over eleven million copies of her works are in print in thirty countries.

When she’s not glued to her keyboard pounding out a new book, Merline and her husband Al pack their suitcases and take off for new, exotic locations—all of which eventually appear in a book. Check her website at www.merlinelovelace.com for travelogues, pictures, and information about upcoming releases.


To the Sensational Six. You know who you are. Thanks

for making our jaunt to Egypt

and the Holy Land an honest-to-goodness,

once-in-a-lifetime experience.




Prologue


If she hadn’t tripped over her own feet while gawking at the tombs in Cairo’s City of the Dead, Jaci would never have spotted the tiny bit of green. It was almost buried in the dirt, tramped down by the centuries of mourners who’d brought their dead to be buried in the jam-packed maze of tombs that stretched for miles along the west bank of the Nile.

“Be careful, dear!” Susan Grimes, the seventy-something retired schoolteacher who sat next to Jaci on their tour bus, stretched out a quick hand to keep her from falling.

She didn’t go down, thank goodness. She still had a nasty bruise on her hip from the tumble she’d taken a week ago. Wishing to heck she was a little less klutzy, Jaci righted herself. That’s when she spotted the bit of green. She thought at first it was a shard of glass or broken piece of plastic. Curious, she nudged it with the toe of her sneaker.

Mrs. Grimes leaned closer and squinted under the brim of her University of Florida visor.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Jaci dug a little deeper with her toe. “Hey! It looks like a scarab.”

It wasn’t the first scarab she and her fellow tourists had spotted since arriving in Egypt early this morning. Cairo’s souvenir shops were crammed with cheap plastic imitations of the beetle that ancient Egyptians associated with the creator god Aten.

This one, Jaci saw when she pried it out of the dirt, looked different from the fat little good luck charms hawked by souvenir sellers. Its body was longer, leaner. And it had lost one of its antennae. When she turned it over, the hieroglyphics on its belly were so worn they were barely distinguishable.

“Looks like a cheap fake,” silver-haired Mrs. Grimes commented.

“Feels like it, too,” Jaci confirmed. “Probably dropped by some other gawking tourist.”

But a nice souvenir just the same. A keepsake of the trip she’d scrimped and saved so long for. If she could keep it.

She wasn’t about to get crosswise of Egypt’s stringent antiquities laws. Their tour group leader had cautioned them repeatedly about picking anything up at the pyramids or purchasing “stolen treasures” from supposed grave robbers.

And she was in the City of the Dead, with Saladin’s massive fortress and the great mosque of Mohammed Ali looming above the jumble of tombs. The scarab Jaci had dug out of the dirt looked and felt like a modern-day, mass-produced version, but it wouldn’t hurt to get the opinion of someone more knowledgeable about these things.

The tour leader had moved ahead, guiding her flock to the next intricately carved tomb, but the Uzi-toting guard who’d accompanied the group from the moment they’d boarded their bus was only a few paces behind.

“Hanif?”

“Yes, miss?”

“I found this buried in the dirt.” Jaci uncurled her palm to reveal the little green beetle. “Do you think it’s of any value?”

The curly haired Egyptian gave it a casual glance. Then he frowned and looked more closely.

“You found this?” he said slowly. “Here?”

“Yes.”

When he took the scarab and turned it over, the crease between his dark brows deepened. The guard studied the markings for so long that Jaci was convinced she would have to forfeit her find.

“This is …”

He stopped, shook his head and dropped the beetle into her palm.

“This is nothing to worry you, miss. You may keep it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get thrown in jail for pilfering an antiquity.”

“No, no. Trust me, miss. You found it. It is yours. You must keep it with you.”

“Well …”

“Jaci!”

Susan Grimes beckoned urgently from the entrance to a narrow alley lined with tilting monuments.

“Stay with the group, dear, or you’ll get lost among all these tombs.”




Chapter 1


A frigid November breeze rattled the branches of the chestnut trees lining a quiet street just off Massachusetts Avenue, in the heart of D.C.’s embassy district. It was late, well past midnight. The windows of the brick, Federal-style town house halfway down the street was shuttered and dark.

As far as most of the world knew, the elegant town house served as home to the offices of the president’s special envoy. Only a handful of insiders were aware that the person appointed to the job of special envoy also served as director of OMEGA, an agency so secret that its operatives were activated only at the direction of the president.

One of those agents had just reported to the high-tech Control Center, which was tucked behind impenetrable walls on the third floor of the town house. An urgent phone call from OMEGA’s director had yanked him out of the arms of the very accommodating flight attendant he’d bumped into at D.C.’s Reagan National Airport earlier that evening.

Deke Griffin, code name Ace, was no stranger to airports. Or flight attendants. A former air force fighter pilot, he’d ruptured a blood vessel in his eye when he’d had to eject during the first Gulf War. The injury meant he couldn’t pull G’s or fly high-performance jets any longer. But he could still fly the big heavies, which he did until he left the military to head his own aeronautical consulting service. Ace now jetted all over the world to advise developing countries on air safety.

The nomadic lifestyle suited him. As an added benefit, it provided a perfect cover for his covert OMEGA missions. He’d performed a good number of them over the years, but this one looked to be a real bitch. The political ramifications alone had Ace staring at his boss.

“Did I hear right?” he drawled in the West Texas twang that slipped into his voice at unguarded moments. “You’re tellin’ me we have an American tourist on the loose in Cairo.”

“Supposed American tourist.”

“… Who may be the focus of a small but fanatic religious sect determined to oust the current Egyptian president by any means possible?”

“You heard right.”

Nick Jensen, code name Lightning, shoved a hand through his sun-streaked hair. Usually so urbane in Brioni suits and Italian silk ties, he’d pulled on well-worn jeans and a warm turtleneck for this hurried trip to the Control Center. Like Ace, he’d been yanked out of bed by a phone call, this one from the president himself.

Ace knew Lightning had been thinking about turning over the reins of OMEGA so he could devote more time to his wife and young twins. Everyone at the agency hoped that day wouldn’t come soon. Lightning didn’t look anywhere close to retirement tonight, however. His jaw tight, he’d focused his formidable energy on the American tourist at the center of what could be a diplomatic nightmare for the United States. A quick click of a mouse brought up her passport photo on the Control Center’s wall-size screen.

“Her name’s Jacqueline Marie Thornton,” Lightning related tersely. “Goes by Jaci. Age, twenty-nine. Marital status, single. Residence, Gainesville, Florida. Occupation, assistant research librarian at the University of Florida.”

Ace leaned forward, his gaze intent. The woman in the photo hardly looked like a radical subversive out to overthrow a government. Her soft brown hair just brushed her shoulders. Her green eyes stared straight at the camera. A tentative half smile curved her full lips.

But Ace knew all too well that appearances could be very deceptive. He’d been burned once by a sweet young thing who promised more than she’d ever intended to give. He’d ended up having to face down two very angry fathers—hers and his own. He’d only been eighteen at the time, but the lesson he’d learned from that fiasco had seriously impacted his outlook on relationships with the opposite sex.

As a result, Ace now confined his extracurricular activities to females who played the game by the same rules he did. No starry-eyed romantics for him. No nesters itching for hearth and home. Just savvy, fun-loving women looking for nothing more than a few hours of companionship. Ace couldn’t help wonder what category Jacqueline Thornton fell into.

“She arrived in Cairo yesterday morning and joined a group of fellow travelers at the airport, all part of a tour organized by the University of Florida for alums and employees,” Lightning continued. “Eight days and nights exploring the mysteries of Egypt’s past.”

“How many of those days will the group be in Cairo?”

“Four more, including today. That should be enough time for you to get close to her and find out what she’s up to. I’m thinking it won’t hurt for you to tap into the resources of your friend, Colonel El Hassan.”

Ace nodded. He’d known from the moment his boss mentioned Egypt why he’d been tagged for this op. He and Kahil El Hassan had gone through undergraduate pilot training together at Vance Air Force Base in Oklahoma. With little else to do in their off-duty hours, the two bachelors had cut a wide swath through the adjacent town’s available females. He and Kahil had stayed in touch over the years, each visiting the other whenever they happened to be in close proximity. Kahil was now a colonel in the Egyptian Air Force. He was also deputy director of his country’s elite Military Intelligence Division.

“What have we got that indicates this Jacqueline Thornton is involved in a plot to overthrow the Egyptian president?” Ace wanted to know.

“Less than twelve hours after she arrived in Cairo, her name popped in cell phone chatter being monitored by Egypt’s counterterrorist agency.” Lightning paused, and a dry note entered his narrative. “Seems this far-out religious sect I mentioned thinks she’s a messenger sent by an ancient goddess.”

“Come again?”

“Evidently there are a scarab and some hieroglyphics involved. Also a legend handed down through the centuries.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish. We pulled together a dossier. You can read it on the flight to Cairo. We’ve got you on a 6:20 a.m. departure out of Dulles.”

“Roger that.”

“In the meantime, we’ll keep digging into Thornton’s background,” Lightning promised. “Rebel will act as your controller for this op. She’s on her way in from Atlanta as we speak.”

Ace gave a quick nod of approval. Victoria Talbot, code name Rebel, was relatively new to OMEGA but she, too, had once sported the silver wings of a United States Air Force pilot.

Word was she’d earned her call sign at the Air Force Academy, when she flatly refused to put up with some sadistic hazing that later got a whole bunch of academy officials, including the commanding general, fired. Her subsequent military training and the lethal tricks of the trade she’d picked up since joining OMEGA had quickly inducted her into the ranks of highly skilled operatives. Ace was more than pleased to have her working this op with him.

Along with his old friend. Thinking of the wild times he and El Hassan had shared, Ace extracted his cell phone from the case clipped to the waistband of his jeans.

“I’d better call Kahil and give him a heads-up.”

The phone was no ordinary cell. It was sleek, super high tech and the brainchild of OMEGA’s guru of all things electronic. Mackenzie Blair Jensen had cut back on her work for various government organizations since the birth of her twins. Except her work for OMEGA. Her ties to the agency went too deep, and the fact that she was married to its director kept her personally involved.

This particular Mackenzie-special was right out of a James Bond novel. It looked like an ordinary flip phone, but one touch of a key turned the user into a walking, talking biometric sourcebook. Sensors instantly verified the user’s fingerprint and body heat signature. A built-in camera performed iris scans and facial recognition. A microchip-size voice synthesizer not only authenticated speech patterns but it analyzed them to determine if the speaker was under duress. The phone also provided instant, encrypted satellite access for email, texting, GPS locator service, flight tracking, weather updates and more gee-whiz applications than a dozen iPhones cobbled together. Ace was still trying to figure out how to use half of them, but he knew enough to rouse his old buddy from sleep with one touch of a key.

“Kahil, you ugly bastard. I’m headed your way.”



The long flight from D.C. to Cairo provided plenty of time for Ace to multitask.

His first order of business was a catnap to catch up on the sleep he’d forfeited to the sexy flight attendant. His second was to brush up on the Arabic he’d learned over the years from Kahil. Most of the phrases he’d picked up involved ordering beer or cursing at Cairo’s kamikaze taxi drivers, but there were enough polite words sprinkled in there for him to order a meal and find his way around town. The rest of the flight he spent studying the dossier OMEGA had pulled together on this crazy legend. It made for some wild reading.

Supposedly, ancient tomb raiders had stolen a scarab from a small temple in the Valley of the Kings. The temple had been constructed by the legendary female pharaoh, Hatshepsut, and dedicated to Ma’at, the goddess of truth, justice, harmony, balance and cosmic order. For more than a thousand years, Ma’at’s followers had waited for the scarab to reappear. The one who found it—they believed—would be a messenger sent from the goddess herself, heralding the need to restore order to a chaotic world.

Included in the dossier was a digitized photo of a statue now in the Cairo Museum. It depicted Ma’at in lapis lazuli and gold. She was seated on a throne holding an ankh in one hand. A headdress crowned by a towering ostrich feather circled her forehead.

The feather, the ancients believed, was used to weigh the heart of a dead person. If the scales balanced, it meant the deceased had followed Ma’at’s forty-two principles for an orderly existence and his soul would pass into the afterlife. If not, the soul would be devoured by a demon, thus condemning the deceased to a final death.

Heavy stuff for a college librarian from Florida, Ace mused. He spent the last leg of the flight wondering just how the hell Jacqueline Marie Thornton had landed in the middle of a plot to restore Egypt to what some wild-eyed radicals believed was a natural cosmic order.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Jaci?”



Mrs. Grimes hovered a few feet away, facing the hoards of camel drivers who’d descended on their tour group the moment they’d exited their bus on the plateau overlooking the pyramids of Giza.

The late afternoon sun blazed down on the noisy, gesticulating group and made Jaci glad she’d left her lightweight jacket on the bus. She was perfectly dressed for a camel ride in sneakers, loose-fitting slacks and a short-sleeved white blouse with jaunty safari tabs decorating the shoulders and pockets.

One driver proved more vocal and persistent than the others. Shoving his way to the front of the crowd, he practically dragged Jaci to his shaggy mount.

“This way, madam. This way.”

The ends of his green-striped headdress flapped as he steered her toward a beast with a high saddle and a tasseled bridle. The guard from their bus followed them and so did the stalwart Mrs. Grimes. The retired teacher glanced at the other tourists struggling to climb aboard their chosen mounts and reiterated her concerns.

“My guidebook says to be careful,” she worried aloud. “Some of these camel drivers are real rip-off artists.”

Jaci had read that, too, but seeing the pyramids of Giza from the saddle of a camel topped her must-do list. She wasn’t about to forego the experience.

“Here, miss.” Sensing he had his customer on the hook, the doggedly persistent driver dragged off his headdress and plopped it on Jaci’s forehead. “Now you are Bedouin.”

Blinking, she adjusted the lopsided turban. The stained cloth reeked of sweat, human and otherwise. Resolutely, Jaci refused to even think about head lice. This was all part of the thrill of being in Egypt.

The three pyramids looming in the distance only heightened the exhilaration. This was what she’d scrimped and passed up pedicures for! This was what she’d dreamed about even before she’d joined her Thursday night Ancient Civilizations study group.

Eternal Egypt. Land of the pharaohs. Birthplace of a culture older than any other still in existence. Jaci could hardly believe she was finally here, seeing for herself the wonders she’d dreamed about for so long. She couldn’t count the number of books she’d read, the hours of research she’d put into planning this trip.

No book or dry academic treatise could compare with the vibrant reality, however. The dust, the heat, the biting flies, the omnipresent and tenacious souvenir sellers … none of them could dampen her soaring spirits.

“Will you take my picture when I climb aboard?” Still dubious but willing to oblige, Mrs. Grimes accepted the digital camera Jaci fished out of her canvas tote. The silver-haired teacher snapped several pictures while the driver boosted his rider into the saddle. Once Jaci had settled herself comfortably, she grinned and waved at the camera.

Then her camel pushed up on its hind legs.

“Yikes!”

She grabbed the pommel just in time to stop herself from catapulting forward, right over the animal’s head. Her smelly headdress slipped down and covered one eye. She managed to stay in the saddle somehow but came close to tumbling off again when the creature got one front leg under him. Or her. Who could tell?

Swaying from side to side, the ungainly creature rocked up. And up. And up. Jaci looked down, gulping at the distance to the hard-packed dirt, and hung on for dear life. As if mocking her fears, the driver leaped aboard his own mount and brought it to its feet with seemingly liquid grace.

“We shall go to the edge of the plateau, yes?”

She unlocked one hand from the pommel just long enough to push the tail of her borrowed turban out of her eyes.

“Well …”

“You must see the pyramids by themselves. Away from the all these people. To do so is to see Egypt.”

The guidebooks warned about this. Always, always establish a price up front.

“How much?”

“Very cheap, miss.”

“How much?” she insisted.

The driver glanced at Hanif, as if calculating how much he could gouge from a member of the guard’s group.

“Twenty dollars U.S.”

“Done!” Jaci was too excited to haggle. She would have paid twice that for this experience. “Let’s go.”

The driver took her mount’s reins and kicked his own into gear. The animals’ shuffling, rocking gait took some getting used to. Side to side. Forward and back. Feeling like a rag doll strapped into the wooden saddle, Jaci hung on to the pommel with both hands while they descended the sloping plateau.

Then the magic of the pyramids engulfed her. There they were, right in front of her. The great tomb of Cheops, flanked by two lesser pyramids, burial chambers for the king’s wives. They’d been constructed on a windswept stretch of desert many miles from the ancient capital of Memphis.

Egypt’s present capital now formed a dramatic backdrop to these majestic structures. Cairo shimmered in a haze of heat and exhaust fumes just across the Nile, but Jaci had no eyes for the sprawling city. Her fascinated gaze remained locked on the pyramids.

As she and her guide got closer, she could make out the monstrous blocks of stone the builders had positioned one on top of the other. How, she couldn’t imagine. The massive reality of these monuments seemed to make a mockery of every theory her study group had read or researched concerning the tombs’ construction.

She was so enthralled by them that she didn’t realize the camel driver had angled toward the dark green palms lining the river banks.

“Excuse me! Where are you going?”

“You must see the pyramids from the Nile. It is to see them as the ancients saw them.”

“I’d like to, but …” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “I’d better get back to my group.”

“It is not far. Just there.”

Jaci injected a stern note into her voice. “Our tour is on a tight schedule. I need to get back. Turn around, please.”

When the driver ignored her command and kept dragging on her camel’s reins, the light dawned. How stupid was this! How stupid was she! In her excitement and eagerness to view the pyramids from the back of a camel, she’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she called out to him. “I get it now. Twenty dollars to approach the pyramids. How much to take me back?”

The driver kept going.

Okay, now she was pissed—and just a tad nervous.

“Hey! You! How much to go back?”

When he didn’t respond, she bit down on her lower lip. This had ceased to be fun. Fighting to hang on to both her balance and her composure, she angled around and stabbed a finger repeatedly toward her group.

“Back! Take me back.”

To her profound relief, she saw Hanif break away from the cluster of tourists and lope down the plateau in her direction. No, not Hanif. Another guard, this one in jeans and a lightweight sport coat.

He moved fast, thank goodness! Within minutes, he was close enough to shout something.

Startled, the driver twisted around in his saddle. When he spotted their pursuer, he muttered what sounded very much like a curse. Producing a short, braided whip from the folds of his robe he slashed the neck of his camel while yanking on the reins of Jaci’s.

Her mount brayed and made an awkward lunge.

Jaci yelped and tumbled sideways.




Chapter 2


Talk about timing!

The moment Ace had cleared security at the Cairo airport, he’d contacted Kahil. As promised, his friend had obtained an updated itinerary from the local agency handling the tour for the University of Florida group. Ace had jumped in a rental car and arrived at the most touristy of all locales—the camel circus on the plateau above the Giza pyramids—just in time to spot his target lumbering off.

He’d hung back, mingling with the crowd while he observed this supposed messenger from Ma’at. It didn’t take him long to decide the goddess had to be pretty hard up for emissaries. Jacqueline Marie Thornton looked just short of ridiculous with a greasy headdress tilted over one eye and an overstuffed canvas tote thumping against a hip while she bobbed along.

“Oh, dear.”

That came from a smallish woman wearing a visor decorated with a University of Florida Gator. She was standing a few yards away, her worried gaze on the camels.

“I hope Jaci doesn’t go too far,” she said to another member of her group. “The tour leader warned us about these drivers.”

With good reason. Ace had spent enough time in Egypt to know these guys had a real racket going here. They dressed like Bedouins, but most had never trekked across a desert. They also raked in so much from the hordes of tourists that many sported Rolexes and Air Nikes under their robes. Even the tourist police on their distinctive white camels rubbed their fingers together, demanding payment for every digital photo snapped by a gawking visitor. More money probably changed hands here at the pyramids than anywhere else in Egypt. And from the looks of it, his target was just about to be taken for double the usual fee.

She knew it, too. She’d contorted in the saddle and was pointing repeatedly toward the buses. The incipient panic on her face elicited a twitter of dismay from her older traveling companion.

“Hanif!” The woman turned to an Egyptian in a cheap green suit ringed with sweat at the armpits. “Jaci wants to come back. Do something!”

The man—a guard assigned to the group, judging by the weapon bulging the back flap of his suit coat—cast a glance at the duo.

“Do not worry. They will return.”

Ace hid a predatory smile. Perfect! He’d just been handed the ideal opportunity. His instructions were to get close to the target. What better way to win her trust than to rescue her from an unscrupulous camel driver?

He took off at an easy lope. Luckily, the sand on the plateau had been packed hard by centuries of tourists and plodding camels. Ace barely broke a sweat before he got within shouting distance.

“Stop, you son of a flea-bitten dog!”

It was one of the more useful Arabic phrases he’d learned from Kahil. Very handy when dealing with pickpockets and Cairo’s suicidal taxi drivers.

The driver jerked around and cursed. Ace bit out an oath of his own when the man lashed his beast with a whip. The lead camel stretched his neck and broke into a hump-rolling gallop. When the second beast did the same, its rider shrieked and toppled sideways.

Christ! The woman was going to fall right out of the saddle!

Ace sprinted the last three yards and caught her just as she tumbled to the ground. He broke her fall, but she took him down with her. Grunting, they hit the sand and sprawled there, hips and legs tangled, while the driver and his camels galloped off.

“I … uh …”

Scrambling for purchase, the target dug an elbow into Ace’s sternum. She levered up, then used her free hand to shove back the rankest turban he’d ever smelled.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Manfully, he repressed a grimace. “As soon as you remove your elbow.”

“Huh? Oh!”

She squirmed, digging the bony joint in deeper.

“Sorry.”

Her face brick-red, she wiggled off him. She managed to mash her breasts into his chest in the process. The connoisseur in Ace didn’t fail to note they were as lush and ripe as her lips even as the undercover operative took full advantage of her obvious embarrassment.

“No problem.” He rolled to his feet and held out a hand. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“Thanks. I … ouch!”

Her leg folding, she almost went down again. Ace kept a grip on her hand and slid his other arm around her waist.

“Your ankle?”

“My knee. I banged it coming down.” Biting her lip, she took a tentative step. “It’s not bad. Just a little …”

When she broke off, wincing, Ace almost didn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t have scripted a better scenario.

“Better let me carry you back to your bus.”

“No, really. I’m okay.”

Ignoring her protest, he scooped her into his arms. The foul-smelling turban fell off, thank God. They left it in the dirt and started up the slope.

“I’m Jaci.” Self-consciously, she hooked an arm around his neck. “Jaci Thornton.”

“Deke Griffin.”

“You’re an American.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway. “Yep.”

“Are you on a tour, too?”

“Business.” His civilian occupation provided the perfect cover. “I flew over to do some consulting. Just got in today and decided to stop by the pyramids on my way into town.”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m certainly glad you did.”

Whoa! The woman’s passport photo hadn’t done her justice. Ace could see himself in her eyes. The irises were greener than they’d appeared in the photo, almost as deep and verdant as the palms lining the Nile. Her shy smile and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose gave her a kind of girl-next-door appeal.

Definitely not his style. Aside from the fact she was his target and therefore off-limits, Ace went for less wholesome types. But he had to admit she made for a nice armful. Firm thighs, slender hips, narrow waist. The behind pressing against him wasn’t bad, either. Not bad at all.

“Jaci!”

Led by the diminutive woman in the Gator visor, Thornton’s travel companions rushed to greet her.

“We saw you fall! Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. Just, uh, banged my knee a little.”

“More than a little if you can’t walk. You’d better have it x-rayed, dear. Hanif, where’s the nearest hospital?”

The gun-toting guard frowned. “Not far. I will call someone to take her, yes? The rest of you can go on with the tour.”

Jaci’s heart sank. The next portion of their itinerary included a visit to the base of the Great Pyramid, time to explore the Sphinx and dinner at an open-air restaurant before the spectacular laser light show telling the history of these ancient monuments. She couldn’t come all this way and miss the show.

“I don’t need to go to a hospital. Really.”

Hard to sound convincing while hefted in the arms of a total stranger. Embarrassed all over again, Jaci wiggled against his chest.

“You can put me down, Mr. Griffin. I’m fine.”

Except she wasn’t. When her tall, broad-shouldered rescuer eased her to her feet, she grimaced and had to lean heavily on his arm.

“I’ll just …” She gulped, fighting tears of both pain and disappointment. “I’ll just take a taxi back to the hotel and wrap my knee in ice. If it’s still hurting tomorrow, I’ll find a doctor.”

“Oh, Jaci.” Susan Grimes clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I know how much you were looking forward to the Sound and Light Show this evening.”

“How about I offer a solution?”

The whole group, Jaci included, looked to her rescuer.

She’d had plenty of time to study his profile while he’d carted her up the slope. The strong, square chin. The gray eyes framed by lashes as black as his neatly trimmed hair. The faded, almost invisible scar above his left eyebrow.

She’d had time, too, to feel the muscles under his lightweight tan sport coat. He’d carried her so easily, with such a sure, long-legged stride. No doubt about it. The man was buff.

“The show doesn’t start until dusk,” he said in a slow, easy voice that hinted at Southwestern roots. “That’s a good three hours yet.”

Three hours to sit in her hotel room with an ice pack on her knee. What a way to spend her evening! Jaci tried not to let her disappointment show while her rescuer continued.

“The wife of one of my business contacts here in Cairo is a physician. She operates a clinic just across the river. I could drive you there, have her check you out and bring you back to your group in time for the show.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that! You have business to take care of.”

A look she couldn’t quite interpret flickered in his slate-gray eyes.

“My plans are nothing if not flexible. Hold on. Let me call my friend.”

Like she could do anything else? Wobbling on one leg like a tipsy stork, she clung to his arm while he flipped up a cell phone. The fact that he had his business contact on speed dial told Jaci he dealt with the man on a regular basis.

“Kahil. It’s Deke. Is Fahranna holding clinic today?”

His glance cut to Jaci. Smiling, he nodded.

“Good. How about giving her a heads-up to let her know I’m bringing in a patient?” He paused a moment, listening, and his smile took a wry tilt. “I’ll explain later.”

“I don’t feel right about this,” Jaci protested after he hung up. “You have other things to do besides chauffeur me around Cairo. If you’ll give me the address of the clinic, I’ll take a taxi.”

“It’s your call. But …” Her rescuer shrugged. “You might find yourself taking the long way into town. Cairo taxi drivers have elevated milking tourists to a fine art.”

Jaci hesitated. During her day and a half in Egypt’s capital, she’d found the people to be warm and friendly. Falling prey to a wily camel driver hadn’t changed that opinion but it had made her a little more cautious.

Mrs. Grimes, too. Hands on hips, the silver-haired grandmother demanded some identification. “How do we know you’re who you say you are and not some white slaver?”

“You don’t,” he replied with a nod of approval for her caution. “Here’s my card. If it’ll reassure you, we can give my operations center a call. I have someone on duty 24/7.”

Jaci hovered on her good leg and peered at the card with Mrs. Grimes. The embossed lettering identified Deke Griffin as CEO of Griffin Aeronautical Consultants, based in Arlington, Texas.

“Aeronautical?” Mrs. Grimes read aloud. “Are you a pilot?”

“You bet,” he replied, his mouth curving.

Later, much later, Jaci would kick herself for letting that cocky grin erase all doubts about driving off with a stranger. At that particular moment, though, all she saw were a pair of glinting gray eyes and an impossibly sexy smile.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble?” she said a little breathlessly.

“No trouble at all.”

“Then I’ll take you up on your kind offer.”

“Good. Keep the card,” he told Mrs. Grimes as he scooped Jaci up in his arms again. “Have your tour guide call me in a half hour or so, and I’ll let y’all know what the doc says.”

The address on the card and that easy “y’all” confirmed Jaci’s initial guess. The man sprang from Western stock.

Unlike her. Born and raised in Illinois, she’d followed her high school sweetheart’s lead and applied to the University of Florida. Unfortunately, Bobby had used the year between his graduation and hers to dramatically expand his sexual horizons. Worse, he hadn’t bothered to tell Jaci he wanted to continue his extracurricular activities until after she’d shown up for her first semester.

She’d endured a miserable four months while he strutted around campus with a variety of different women. Then his partying and late nights caused him to flunk out at the end of the semester. Jaci considered that sweet justice, but his abrupt departure from her life didn’t lessen the sting.

She’d pressed on and completed her degree in library science. A subsequent job offer at the university’s Architecture and Fine Arts Library had kept her in Florida after graduation. She’d never joined the lively on-campus party crowd, though—or the beach bunnies who headed for white sands and green waters every weekend. Her values were still solidly Midwestern, and her interests were more academic than social. Work filled her days, and an assortment of study groups took up several evenings a week.

It was one of those groups that had hooked her on ancient cultures—especially Egypt. Since joining the group, Jaci had dreamed of visiting this cradle of modern civilization. Three years of watching her pennies had made the trip a reality. She refused to let a fall from a camel ruin it!

She confided as much to her knight errant once he’d deposited her in the passenger seat of his rental car and had taken the wheel.

“I really, really appreciate you doing this. I can’t afford to waste a minute of my time in Egypt.”

He slanted her a quick look. “Have a full schedule laid out, do you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe! I’ve been planning this trip for ages.”

She settled back in the seat, thinking of the months of study and preparation that had gone into her trip. Thank goodness for the Thursday-night group. One of the members had been born in Egypt. A former adjunct professor at the Health Science Center, Dr. Abdouh had retired from medicine years ago. He’d been a great help to Jaci in preparing for her great adventure.

She would have to email him about her near disastrous camel ride and send him a digital picture of the little scarab now tucked in her tote bag. Maybe he could interpret the markings on the beetle’s back. He’d probably tell her the inscription read “Made in China,” she thought ruefully. She didn’t care. It was …

A shrill horn and the screech of tires cut into her musing. Gasping, she thrust out an arm to brace herself as a taxi shot into their lane. Her self-appointed chauffeur stood on the brakes and let loose with some Arabic. When Cairo’s unbelievable snarl of exhaust-spitting traffic had sorted out a little, Jaci gave him a sideways glance.

“You must spend a lot of time in Egypt if you’ve learned to speak the language.”

“I’ve picked up a few phrases. Not anything you’d want me to translate, though.”

There it was again—that quicksilver grin. Jaci felt its impact all the way down to her toes. She curled them inside her sneakers and barely cringed when Deke had to swerve into another lane to avoid a donkey cart filled with cabbages piled to an impossible height.

Jaci twisted around for a better look. This was Cairo at its most vivid, she thought on a rush of pure delight. Donkeys were vying for road space with exhaust-spewing vehicles. Multistory concrete buildings were decorated with Arabic arches. Old men were fishing in canals dug by their ancestors millennia ago.

“So where’s home for you, Jaci?”

The question brought her back around in her seat. “Gainesville, Florida. I’m an assistant research librarian at the university there.”

“Guess that explains the gator on your friend’s visor. The lady who took me for a white slaver.”

“That’s Mrs. Grimes,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “She’s a former high school teacher. She takes nothing—and no one—at face value.”

“Smart lady.”

Very smart, Ace thought with a sideways glance at his target.

“Here we are.”

He dodged a stream of oncoming vehicles and pulled through an arched entry into a palm-lined courtyard. Kahil’s Egyptian-born, American-educated wife had opened her free clinic two years ago. Ace had been present at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. His company also contributed heavily to the clinic’s operation. Dr. Fahranna El Hassan was nothing if not persuasive.

She was also tall, slender, gorgeous—and iron-willed enough to have tamed Wild Man Kahil. And now that she had her husband on a short leash, she’d moved Ace to the top of her list for reform—a fact she reminded him of after an attendant had showed him and Jaci Thornton into an exam room and the doctor burst into the room.

“Deke!” She threw her arms around him, digging her stethoscope into his chest as she kissed him on both cheeks. “Why didn’t you give Kahil and me more warning of your visit? I have a cousin I want you to meet. She just might be the woman to wean you from your evil ways. Or …”

Her curious eyes swept over the female perched on the edge of an exam table.

“Have you brought one of your own for me to check out?”

“Curb your matchmaking instincts, Fahranna. I’ve brought you a patient.”

All brisk business now, the physician addressed Jaci in her usual blunt manner. “I am Dr. El Hassan. And you are?”

“Jaci Thornton. Mr. Griffin, uh, Deke and I just met.”

Fahranna lifted one delicately arched brow. “Did you?”

“We were at the pyramids. He was kind enough to bring me here after I fell off a camel.”

“Ah, yes,” she said with a wry smile. “The camels. What did you injure?”

“My knee, but it hardly hurts anymore.”

“Let’s take a look at it, shall we? You will have to remove your slacks. Deke, take yourself back to the waiting room.”



To Jaci’s relief, Dr. El Hassan’s diagnosis confirmed her own. She hadn’t broken any bones, just collected another bruise. The doctor recommended an ice pack if her knee started to swell and heavy-duty aspirin for pain.

When she walked Jaci to the waiting room, Deke tossed aside the newspaper he’d been perusing and offered his arm for support. Jaci took it with a shy smile that the physician didn’t fail to note.

“You must come for dinner,” she announced with a gleam in her dark eyes. “Kahil will want to meet the woman who moves his friend to such noble acts of chivalry.”

Jaci opened her mouth to decline the offer, but her companion preempted her.

“You know I never turn down a free dinner, Fahranna. I’ll give you a call later and set up a time that fits with your schedule and Jaci’s.”




Chapter 3


Ace waited until he had his target back in the rental car and was headed back to Giza to dig the hook in deeper.

“How long will you be in Cairo, Jaci?”

“Three more days.”

“What does your agenda look like?”

“It’s packed, morning to night. We’re doing a breakfast cruise on the Nile, a visit to the pyramids of Saqqara and a whole afternoon at the Cairo Museum.”

With its priceless gold and lapis lazuli statue of the goddess Ma’at, Ace remembered with a sudden tightening of his belly.

Coincidence? Could be. A trip to Cairo’s famed museum was on every tourist’s agenda.

“And,” his passenger added with a flush of excitement, “we’re going to the Valley of the Kings! We’ve got a whole day to explore Luxor and Karnak.”

The Valley of the Kings, where Hatshepsut had constructed the temple to Ma’at. The same temple supposedly raided by tomb robbers more than a thousand years ago, giving birth to the legend that the goddess would someday send a messenger that it was time to restore cosmic order.

Another coincidence? Once again, it could be. But Ace had spent too many years in this business to take anything on supposition.

“What evening could you have dinner with Fahranna and her husband? You need to see their home,” he added when she looked doubtful. “It’s been in Fahranna’s family for generations. The mosaic tiles in the entryway were supposedly fired in the same kiln as the tiles in the Grand Mosque.”

“Really?”

She chewed on her lower lip, obviously torn. Ace reeled her in even further.

“The garden alone will make think you’re in something right out of Arabian Nights. Moorish arches, marble fountains, swaying palms. Last time I was there, they even had a nightingale warbling away.”

“It sounds incredible.”

“It is. How about tomorrow evening?”

She’d taken the bait. Her eyes were as bright as emeralds.

“If that works for you and your friends.”

Ace knew damn well Kahil would make it work. His people were closely monitoring the sudden spurt of emails and cell phone chatter that mentioned Jacqueline Thornton by name. The colonel had already indicated to Ace that he wanted to make his own assessment of Thornton’s motives for visiting his country.

“I’ll give them a call later and let you know.”

He cut the wheel to avoid a wobbly cyclist and decided to go straight for the jugular.

“So what brought you to Egypt?”

“My Thursday-night study group,” she answered with a smile. “We meet once a week to explore ancient civilizations. We’ve been focusing on Egypt for the past year and … well, guess you could say I’m hooked.”

“On?”

Her hand made circles in the air. “The culture, the history, the architecture, the rich pantheon of gods and goddesses. They all fascinate me.”

“The gods and goddesses, huh?” He shot her a quick look. “I don’t know that much about Egypt’s ancient deities, but from what my friends have told me, there were a bunch of ‘em. Anyone in particular catch your interest?”

“Yes!”

Ace gripped the wheel as she angled toward him, her face alight. He paid no attention to her sparkling green eyes this time or the way the ends of her soft brown hair brushed her cheek. His entire being was focused on the seemingly artless disclosures that spilled from her lips.

“I’m thoroughly intrigued by the goddess Bast.”

Bast? Was that another name for Ma’at? Ace knew most Egyptian gods and goddesses had changed names and shapes over the various dynasties. Had he missed that one?

“She was the Egyptian cat goddess,” Jaci related eagerly. “Did you know the Egyptians highly revered house cats?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It’s true. Cats helped keep vermin out of grain supplies and would kill snakes, especially cobras. Owners would adorn their cats with jeweled collars, even let them eat from their plates at the table. If the owners were wealthy enough, they would have their household ‘protector’ mummified. Supposedly, more than three hundred thousand mummified cats were discovered when one of Bast’s temples was excavated.”

“Three hundred thousand?”

“I know. Sounds wild, doesn’t it? Unless you’re a cat lover.”

“Like you?” Ace guessed.

“Like me,” she agreed, grinning. “I’ve got two.”

Figured. A college librarian with those wholesome, girl-next-door good looks. Not the type to go for a pit bull or a big, galumphing Lab.

“One—Mittens—is the laziest feline in the universe. She usually can’t be bothered to do more than lift her head and twitch her tail when I come home from work. The other—Boots—is more lively. The little stinker has shredded two sets of living room drapes.”

Good Lord! Mittens and Boots.

Restraining a grimace, Ace gave his passenger another quick glance. Was she for real? Or really, really good at projecting an air of wide-eyed innocence to disguise other, more suspicious activities? Damned if he could decide … yet.

He had pretty well made up his mind by the time he pulled into the parking lot for the Sound and Light Show.

Jaci Thornton had to be exactly what she seemed—the archetypal American tourist on the trip of a lifetime. When Ace had brought up Ma’at, she’d scrunched her forehead and said she’d read something about that goddess but couldn’t recall specific details.

He’d then casually steered the conversation to Egypt’s current political situation. Other than knowing the name of the current president and that he advocated reforms that had stirred opposition among some conservatives, Jaci didn’t seem to have a clue as to who led the opposition.

She’d sounded so convincing, so sincere, that Ace was ninety-nine percent sure she was the naive, trusting tourist she appeared to be. Until he’d satisfied the remaining one percent doubt, however, he didn’t intend to let the woman out of his sight.

He made sure of that by parking the car and insisting she let him walk her to the entry point for the Sound and Light Show.

“I’m fine, Deke. Honestly. My knee hardly hurts at all anymore. I can navigate on my own.”

“Save your breath. No way I’m going to just dump you in the parking lot. Besides,” he added as he hooked her arm through his, “I’ve never seen the laser light show. I’m thinking I might join you. If you don’t mind?”

Mind?

Jaci’s heart skipped a beat. Like she would mind sitting under the stars with this kind, thoughtful, incredibly sexy man?

In the few short hours she’d known him, he’d rescued her from an unscrupulous camel driver, used his own body to break her fall and rearranged his schedule to get her to a doctor. He’d also promised to set up what sounded like a truly magical evening at his friends’ home. Incurable romantic that she was, Jaci already viewed Deke Griffin as her own personal knight in shining armor.

“Of course I don’t mind,” she said in answer to his question. “But …”

She slowed to a stop and stood beside him in the parking lot. Chewing on her lower lip, she tried to find a delicate way to express her thoughts. There wasn’t one.

“Look, I don’t want to sound ungrateful for all you’ve done or, well, misconstrue your motives. It’s just that I’m, uh, not …”

His eyes locked with hers. “You’re not what, Jaci?”

Okay, she could do this. She owed it to him as much as herself to be completely honest.

She’d learned that painful lesson from her first and only love. If Bobby had been honest with her, if he’d told her about the “freedom” he’d discovered his freshman year in college, she wouldn’t have followed him to Florida—or endured the agonizing humiliation of knowing he was out partying with a different girl every weekend.

Jaci hadn’t dated all that much since college, but she made it a point to be totally honest with the men she did go out with. After all his kindness, she owed Deke Griffin the same courtesy. Pulling in a deep breath, she met his intent gaze.

“I’m not looking for a vacation fling.”

Was that a glint of surprise that came into his eyes? Or approval? She was still trying to decide when his mouth curved and the glint turned positively wicked.

“Glad you let me know. Guess I’d better scrap my plans to carry you off to a remote desert oasis for a wild orgy.”

Jaci had to laugh, but the erotic vision he’d painted sent a shaft of sudden and totally unexpected heat through her belly.

Now that, she decided, would be the adventure to end all adventures! Her vivid imagination concocted an image of the two of them alone in a silken tent, of her peeling off his sport coat and shirt. Popping the snap of his jeans. Gliding her palms over his taut belly.

She didn’t realize her breath had shortened and her face had heated until Deke cupped her cheek with his palm. His skin felt smooth and cool against hers.

Good Lord! Was she really blushing like some Victorian schoolgirl? She didn’t know—and when he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his, she didn’t care.

The kiss reinforced her growing conviction she’d stumbled on an honest-to-goodness Lancelot. As his lips moved over hers, she could taste the heat in him, feel the strength in the arm he moved to her waist. Yet he lifted his head and ended the contact long before she was ready, darn it!

“I shouldn’t have done that.” His gray eyes were stormy now, his brow creased. “I’m sorry.”

She let out a slow breath. “I’m not.”

They stood in the dusty parking lot for several moments, his gaze on her face, hers on his. The honk of a taxi driver impatient to disgorge his passengers jerked them from their separate reveries.

“We’d better get inside,” Deke said, a muscle working in the side of his jaw, “or we’ll miss the show.”

As they approached the modernistic building that formed the entrance to the laser show, Jaci leaned more heavily on his arm than she needed to. Her senses were still running riot from that kiss, and the play of hard muscle under his sleeve evoked another series of images—more X-rated this time. She pictured him naked this time, stretched out on a bed covered with jewel-toned silks and his body sleek with sweat as she straddled his hips and …

“… your ticket?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Do you have your ticket,” Deke asked, “or do we need to buy another?”

“Oh! I’ve got it. Somewhere.”

She fished around in her tote for several moments before finally producing the envelope of tickets included in the welcome packets provided by the tour agency. Deke paid for his and ushered her inside.

The entrepreneurs who’d come up with the idea of an ultramodern laser light show to tell the story of four-thousand-year-old pyramids hadn’t missed a trick. The building giving access to the open-air amphitheater was crammed with cafés, bars, ice cream stands and, of course, the inevitable souvenir shops. One contained a window display of every object a tourist could desire. Her eyes widening, Jaci dragged Deke to a halt in front of a dazzling display of artifacts.

“Look, there’s the Egyptian cat goddess.”

She nodded to a slim, elegant feline with emerald eyes and a collar studded with colorful rhinestones.

“And there’s a scarab just like mine!”

The muscles in Deke’s forearm seemed to tighten under her hand. “You bought a scarab?”

Eagerly, she pointed to a dizzying display of beetles stacked one almost on top of the other. Most were round and fat. Only a handful had elongated bodies and one missing antennae.

“I didn’t buy it. I found it in the City of the Dead.”

She fished around in her tote again and produced a tissue-wrapped object. When she unfolded the tissue and held her prize up in her palm, Deke leaned forward for a closer look.

“It’s only a cheap imitation,” she said with a rueful smile. “Still, it’s a fun souvenir.”

She poked the chipped beetle with a finger and flipped it over onto its back.

“I’d love to know what these hieroglyphics stand for. One of the members in my Thursday-night study group is Egyptian. As soon as we get a break in our schedule, I’m going to snap a digital picture of the symbols and email it to him.”

“Or,” Deke said slowly, “you could let me send the scarab to Kahil. He’ll know someone who can decipher the symbols. I bet he could have a translation ready when we join him and Fahranna for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“I couldn’t ask him to go to that trouble!”

“I can. The two of us go way back.”

“I got that impression from Dr. El Hassan. But …”

Jaci fingered the green insect, oddly reluctant to relinquish it. Look at the good luck it had already brought her. Who would have dreamed she’d literally fall into the arms of a man like Deke Griffin?

“The symbols most likely say ‘Made in China.’”

“Probably. Kahil will find out for you.”

“If you’re sure he won’t mind …”

“I’m sure.”

She dropped the beetle into his outstretched palm. She felt another odd pang when he pocketed the bug. The strange feeling disappeared when she reminded herself that she was now firmly committed to another evening with this fascinating man. The prospect made her heart beat a little faster as he ushered her out of the concession building into the viewing area.

With the last rays of the sun fading fast, the massive monoliths of the pyramids were now only faintly visible in the distance. The Sphinx, Jaci saw with a sudden catch in her breath, appeared much closer. In ancient times, the sandstone monument had marked the approach to the sacred tombs. Now it would form a dramatic backdrop for a display of ultra high-tech lasers.

That wasn’t the only juxtaposition of ancient and modern to strike Jaci. Like a Greek amphitheater, seating for the outdoor show descended to the desert floor in steep tiers. Instead of polished marble, however, these seats were stackable plastic lawn chairs.

Smiling at the incongruity, Jaci showed her ticket to an usher. Her tour ticket entitled her to a seat in the middle tier. Deke’s, the usher informed them, was in the front tier.





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