Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (16 page)

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to have sex on a public staircase in Turkey?” she whispered.

Stefan barked a laugh, the sudden impossibility of her words combined with her teasing tone striking him exactly the right way. He pulled away quickly, smoothing Nicki’s hair, shaking his head in surprise at his own actions.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I…I shouldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” she grinned, giving him a broad wink. “I have international diplomats falling all over me all the time. It happens.”

Their laughter threaded around them, a comforting balm, all the way to the doors of their hotel.

Chapter Thirteen

They parted at their rooms to complete their separate work, and Nicki fell asleep at her table instead of in Stefan’s bed. This was less than ideal, but when she’d woken she’d at least gotten through the rest of the blogs for the next twenty-four hours. She’d be in the clear to do whatever Stefan needed. And Stefan hadn’t come for her either, which had somewhat surprised her. Then again, she supposed he was busy too.

And of course, there was the guard stationed in her sitting room. That sort of put a damper on things as well.

The next morning she learned that Stefan received notice during the night that the tour wouldn’t be possible due to a work conflict—construction involving heavy equipment would be all over the site. Visitors would be strictly forbidden to ensure the high safety standards of the construction company.

Nicki frowned as Stefan relayed the news to her over breakfast. “You think he’s clearing out evidence of undocumented workers?”

“He’s clearing out evidence of something, without question,” Stefan said. “He believes the tour is possible, only tomorrow, not today. Clearly, he doesn’t think anything is seriously amiss, or he wouldn’t be letting us get anywhere near the site.”

“Fair enough,” Nicki said. “Is it private property though, around it? Josef’s student was able to get pretty close without issue.”

“I suspect there’s probably some security within the site. As to around it, I’d doubt it.” Stefan eyed her over the table. “Why?”

“Well, I have this windsurfing thing later in the day, but I haven’t worked out in an age. Might be nice to, I don’t know, hike around the city?”

His smile was all the reward she could have asked for. “You have climbing equipment?”

“Packed it in case. I assume you have what you need here as well.”

He nodded. “Packed it in case.”

Within the hour they were decked out like any of a thousand Alaçati tourists that morning—hiking shoes, tee shirts and cargo pants, packs slung over their back that could carry anything from sandwiches to maps. In their case, it carried rope and carabiners and soft soled shoes. They didn’t expect to run into any cliffs, but it was always good to be prepared.

The walk to the edge of the city was short, and mostly uphill. It was good to get out, to feel the sun on her face while she was moving, Nicki thought. She’d let Stefan set the pace, but he hadn’t slowed appreciably for her, she was certain. Her energy was high and she’d eaten and consumed enough water. She would be fine today.

“According to the squatters, that’s the asylum, directly behind me,” Stefan said. He had a tourist map and was facing the city, while the thick, ugly building rose up from the cliff. “On the map it’s indicated as a warehouse. Possibly was at one time. Not too difficult to convert that into a makeshift hospital or holding tank, particularly if it’s broken up into small rooms.”

“Not too easy for anyone to get out of either,” Nicki said. She squinted up as if trying to gauge how much higher they would climb the ridge. “No windows at all on this side—which is odd, since it’s the side with the view. Holds with the warehouse idea.”

“Agreed. I think we’re looking at a usage of convenience, not intended as a long term solution. Then again, they’ve been using it for a year.”

“Must have proven very convenient,” Nicki said. “Either way, we’re not getting in on this side. Let’s move around and see how protected it is.”

They continued up the street. At this height, in this particular section of the city, the quaintness of Alaçati was less in evidence. They appeared be in an industrial area that hadn’t quite been reached by the touch of gentrification. That development was coming though—there were indications all around. Most of the houses were empty and bore official placards indicating likely demolition. Construction equipment grew more prevalent the further up they went, and workers too in patches. No one appeared to care they were there, however. At the top of the ridgeline, the countryside spilled into more parklands. So they could easily be heading in that direction.

The warehouse loomed to their right as they continued mounting the hill, separated by the street by a thick patch of vegetation and a relatively new fence that abutted the asphalt.

“Electrified?”

“Nope,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Hey, I grew up in Indiana. I know things.” Nicki reached down and ripped off a blade of grass. She laid the strand against the wire, and touched the tip of the grass section. “See?” She grinned. “Also, this is a new fence. Way newer than the building. Maybe see if there’s a tag on it from the builder, if we need to get in legitimately?”

“Agreed,” Stefan said.

They walked up the street a further distance, then a crossroad opened in front of them. Up was definitely the direction of the park, but the ruins helpfully were on the other side of the warehouse, and a huge swath of trees and vegetation had been cleared out, revealing a hint of the excavation beyond. More of the same fence that circled the warehouse snaked in front of the excavation site, but there was still plenty to see. It was easy to justify them altering course to check out the site. If they got caught, even by Omir, it wouldn’t be a big deal—Nicki didn’t have her camera.

“No name on the fence,” she said as they walked along the perimeter. “And the warehouse isn’t exactly in good shape.”

“Could say they’re fencing it for public protection until it can be torn down or renovated in connection with the site. Or they could say nothing at all.” Stefan’s tone was distracted as he surveyed the building, scanning its roofline as they walked. “This isn’t America.”

“Thanks for the update. At least they have a truck intake. So someone’s going in and out.”

The fence broke to a wide gate and they paused to peer in, not stopping long enough to draw attention. The sound of construction at the ruins site was clearly audible, but the warehouse was silent, the huge truck bays shut. The doors on the bays were newer, however, and the locks were as well.

“These guys are up on their security.”

“No cameras though.” Stefan moved past the opening, his attention squarely on the excavation site. “Fence isn’t wired, no closed circuit monitoring. This isn’t meant to be a permanent holding cell. Probably squalid inside—I’d be surprised if the plumbing or the electric worked. Couldn’t afford anyone to see the lights. Windows are only on the upper floors, and then not many.”

Nicki made a face. “No plumbing? And they have a bunch of workers stashed in there? No way someone wouldn’t eventually notice that.”

“Fair point,” Stefan said. “There’d have to be a waste dump close by.” He glanced over her shoulder. Between the warehouse and the excavation site there was another thick knot of vegetation, bristling with jungle-level brush and trees and vines. A ditch had been cut by what appeared to be natural forces a long time since, and it snaked from the road through the trees, heading downslope. “Can you remember what was on the other side of this ridge? To the right of the warehouse as we faced it from below.”

Nicki tilted her head. “Trees, I think. There was sheer wall directly beneath the warehouse, but the ridge sort of ducked in at that point and it was all vegetation. No houses beneath the jungle growth for another hundred yards, maybe, and then those started up again.”

She nodded. “Plenty of land to dump or bury waste, if needed. Trash anyway. Let’s say there are plumbing facilities—that’s one thing. But it’s not as if they can truck out typical garbage without someone noticing.

She peered back up the street. There were workers in hard hats in the excavation site, but the fence angled in enough that they weren’t directly in their sightline. If anyone happened to turn the corner, though…

She decided she didn’t care. “Tag,” she said and as Stefan turned to her, she hit the fence. It was a standard interlocking wire fence with a metal crossbeam at the top—no razor wire, importantly—and she was over it in less than thirty seconds, Stefan right behind her.

“Ditch,” he said and she headed that way. It’d be the least clogged with vegetation and chances were good that it’d find its way down.

They were under the cover of trees almost instantly, slowing to a crouched walk. The ditch was narrow, allowing only one of them to go through first, and Nicki stood back to let Stefan take the lead. His op meant his ass sliding down the mountain if the dirt gave way unexpectedly.

It was preternaturally quiet as they crawled through the underbrush—no birds up here, probably scared away by the loud machines and people. It didn’t take them long to get to their destination.

“Hold up,” Stefan said, raising a hand. “This is it.”

Stefan surveyed the ditch as it cascaded down the mountain. Piles of organic material that was not natural to the forest—the rotting rinds of fruits and vegetables, disintegrating paper and grease—littered the area, but the tree cover was less intense, allowing bugs and animals and rain to pound down on the detritus, returning it to the earth. There were other more permanent junk items as well. Utensils and clothing mostly, nothing of value.

“No way are we going to find something legit here,” Nicki said, coming up beside him. “They’re not stupid. This could be anyone’s junk.”

“Agreed. The fact that it’s here, though, lends credence to someone living in the warehouse. Not that anyone would necessarily listen to that proof unless we were in the midst of an international incident.”

“Still.” Nicki peered off into the trees. “If this is where they’re dumping stuff, it has to be the shortest distance to the warehouse, right? I mean, wouldn’t they cut a path of literal least resistance?”

“They would.” Stefan stood and bent into the foliage. “They wouldn’t be dumping anything in broad daylight, either.”

Silently, they moved out of the ditch and into the thick underbrush, following a trail that had been beaten down by what appeared to be months of travel back and forth. The warehouse was only a hundred feet into the brush, the fence not gated, but bent back and secured with thick twine, making a makeshift opening.

“Not very secure.”

“It is if no one knows it’s here.” Stefan pointed past the opening. More foliage loomed beyond the fence, the jungle ever encroaching, and then a flat asphalt drive and an equally blank wall. “If the workers never saw anyone dumping the trash, they wouldn’t have any reason to suspect this is here. And no gate saves the need to either explain why there’s a gate here in the first place, or to entrust your guards with keys that they’ll inevitably lose. With this setup, they can rescue the fencing as necessary, no one the wiser. The entire building and fence line will be torn down soon enough, I suspect, as construction ramps up on the ruins.”

Nicki poked at the fence. “Should we go in?”

“I don’t think so,” Stefan said. “Still not enough proof that there’s anything on the other side, and we’d be seen if that courtyard is open to the sky. But…” he smiled. “No dogs. I was worried about that as well. They’d never leave this open if losing dogs were a concern.”

Ari was close. Stefan knew it. Still, he forced himself to remain calm as he and Nicki traced their way back to the main ditch, then kicked at a few more mounds of trash. Bugs skittered away, but nothing more useful revealed itself.

“I say we go down,” she said, scanning the trail. “We need to know where this ends up, and what kind of climbing we’d need to do.” She flashed him a quick smile. “You know, hypothetically.”

The ditch went on for another few hundred feet, then the cliff wall that had been evident below the warehouse showed its face. The ground dropped off precipitously into maybe a thirty-foot drop. Nicki peered over the edge, but there was no denying the delight on her face.

“Not really worth ropes,” she shrugged. “How’re your free climbing skills?”

“Adequate,” Stefan said. “A descent isn’t necessary, though. We don’t know where that bottoms out.”

“True.” She picked up a good size rock and leaned further over the edge, then dropped it. They heard the crashing of tree branches, then a distant splash. “Water,” she said. “Not deep. Probably where the ditch drains. Maybe houses beyond it, but I bet it’s a shared ravine system, probably more trash in it—yard waste, scraps, that kind of thing.”

“Snakes, bugs,” he said. “Rodents.”

“Excellent.” She squatted down and surveyed the rocky outcropping. “Seriously, they might as well have cut stairs into this thing. Totally no big deal.” She rolled back up to her feet and turned to him. “You up for it?”