No Rules (29 page)

Or if it was Mitch, and he really was a traitor, he’d shoot Donovan.

There was no time to figure it out. He had to trust his team, and his gut.

“Gun! Now!” he yelled. Then, without hesitating, he transferred his aim to Alicia. And he shot her.

Gunfire echoed from the stone walls of the ancient chamber, two gunshots fired at the same time, followed immediately by Alicia’s scream. He felt the vibration of the echo in his skull and deep inside his ears. With a flicker of surprise, he realized he was still alive. He hadn’t been sure he would be.

The gunshots were followed by two seconds of deafening silence. Alicia crumpled to the floor, staring in horror at the blood on her thigh.

Jeffery closed his eyes, a look of defeat settling in painful furrows across his brow even as Kyle scrambled toward him through the small opening.

The gunman grimaced and cradled his arm, his shattered gun having flown out of his hand into the depths of the tomb. Donovan watched with a flicker of surprise as his other shooter rushed forward, zip cuffs at the ready. Mitch. He hadn’t shot Donovan, and despite a perfect opportunity, he hadn’t taken out a man who could identify him as their informer. Why not?

The question would have to wait. At the far end of the sarcophagus, Jess sagged against the granite resting place of Ramesses VIII, late pharaoh of Egypt and god for all eternity. Donovan ran to her side, slipping his gun into his waistband as he bent over her. Behind him, Kyle and Mitch shouted orders as they took control of the wounded and stunned tomb robbers.

“Sweetheart, lean forward.” Jess turned her head to give him access to the knot behind her as he pulled out a knife, slitting the cloth gag. The material fell from her mouth, aided by her tongue pushing it out. She didn’t try to talk, just moved her jaw slowly as he applied the knife to the duct tape at her wrists and ankles.

She sighed with relief and moved her arms, then immediately whimpered in pain. Her cry hurt him more than if the pinched nerves and tortured muscles had been his own. He lifted her into his lap and hugged her to his chest, careful not to hurt her strained shoulders but needing to reassure himself that she was okay. She groaned and laid her head on his shoulder as he rocked her. He cradled her gently, thinking it would be fine with him if they sat here like this for an hour. Slowly her arms came up to his shoulders as she worked through the pain and stiffness, hugging him back. They rocked together through the sounds of Kyle and Mitch tying off Alicia’s wound, then hustling the student robbers toward to the lighted rooms.

“Idiot,” Alicia hissed to Jeffery as he stumbled by under Kyle’s control. “I told you Shikovski recognized me.”

Donovan looked up as it finally registered.
Academic recognition.
Wally had tried to tell them that one of the students had recognized him, but they’d been stuck on the idea of the students as victims and didn’t get it.

But she hadn’t said it for his benefit. With a vicious glare at Jeffery, she growled, “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”

“We did kill him—”

“Shut up,” she ordered, then switched abruptly to “Ow. Goddammit.” The cry ended on a sob as Mitch none too gently hauled her upright. At her words, he stopped suddenly, letting her wobble on her one good leg. Even in the dimness of the tomb Donovan noticed the muscles pull tight in Mitch’s jaw and imagined he could feel the crackle of added tension in the air.

“What did you say?” Mitch asked her, his low growl eerily emotionless.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Mitch’s hands moved behind her back, and Alicia uttered a short scream of pain as the zip cuffs cut into her skin. “What did you say about Wally Shikovski?” he repeated.

“I didn’t say—” Her words dissolved into a scream that ended on a whimper. Whatever he was doing was probably unethical, but Donovan watched dispassionately, not even considering objecting. “I, I said Jeff should have killed him,” she panted. “But he didn’t.”

“Who did? Who sent the killer to Michigan?”

“How should I know?” Another subtle movement by Mitch made her gasp and moan. “Stop,” she whined. “I don’t know anything.”

“Now why don’t I believe you?”

Donovan didn’t believe her, either. More importantly, he didn’t believe his original conclusion about Mitch. Not only had he seen no glimmer of recognition between him and the kidnappers, he’d seen real anger and deep hurt on Mitch’s face when questioning Alicia about Wally. It wasn’t an act, he’d bet his life on it. He
had
bet his life on it, two minutes ago. Mitch wasn’t the mole.

A cold feeling settled in his gut; he had a very important question to ask Mitch. Later. Now he watched Mitch shove Alicia beneath the low door, and was pleased to hear a few more curses and cries of pain. It wasn’t nearly enough to make up for what they’d done to Wally.

They were alone, the others barking orders and hustling their captives through the tomb. The lights from the adjoining room cast a dim yellow glow through the room, not enough to read Jess’s expression. She hadn’t stirred and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

He pulled out his gun and laid it on the floor, using its bright light to pierce the gloom as he pulled back and looked at her face. She stared back at him, eyes sharp and alert. “You understood,” she said, her voice hoarse but her meaning clear.

“Of course I did,” he told her, stroking her cheek and smoothing the tender skin beside her mouth where the gag had pulled so tightly. Fresh anger flared at the evidence of her ordeal, and he forced himself to concentrate on her words instead. “You used the code. All the Omega team members understand the code.”

Her smile spread. The piercing claws that had gripped his heart with fear eased a bit. Wally’s daughter was pretty damn resilient.

Her gaze shifted to the granite slab that rose beside them, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes. “We did it, Tyler,” she said, her voice a little stronger this time. “The two of us together.”

“Yes, we did.” She deserved most of the credit, but for the sake of accuracy, he added, “The whole team did it.”

She shook her head, obviously amused at his misunderstanding. Her eyebrows rose, encouraging him to follow her meaning. “The tomb of Ramesses VIII,” she said eagerly. “Wally’s clues led us here.” Her grin could have lit the whole room. “Dad and I found it.”

He couldn’t help smiling, too, warmed by her obvious love for her father and pride in his accomplishments. No anger, no pain, and for the moment at least, no regrets. He hoped Wally could see it, wherever he was.

He helped massage the feeling back into her arms and legs, then led her back through the low doorway. “Let’s catch up with Mitch,” he said as he guided her, making sure she didn’t bump her head. “I need to ask Mitch about whether he knew Alicia and Jeffery in college.”

Jess stood, brushing at dirt. “Mitch didn’t go to college.”

He turned. “What?”

“I talked to him in Cairo while you were with the customs people. He said he registered at a community college, then dropped out the first week and joined the Marines. Why, what’s wrong?”

Everything. A bad feeling settled in his gut. “Come on, let’s find the others and get some answers.”

He turned, expecting to see his team members and their four captives waiting in the treasure chamber. Only one man stood there.

Donovan squinted in the dim light, certain his eyes were fooling him.
“Evan?”

“About time you came out,” Evan said.

Behind him, Jess tried to edge around his side to see better, but he held her back. The bad feeling was spreading through him, fast. “What are you doing in Egypt?”

“Finishing what I started. But not in here. Outside.” He motioned toward the tomb’s entrance with one hand, and Donovan’s gaze automatically dropped, following the movement. Ice water washed through him as he finally saw what he should have noticed immediately—the gun Evan held pointed at him, and at Jess behind him.

Chapter Eighteen

Jess had picked up the tension in Donovan’s rigid posture and the firm arm he’d flung out, holding her back. She peeked around him cautiously, then froze at the sight of Evan holding a gun on them.

Evan? A gun?

Puzzlement swirled in her mind, finally coalescing into a bright, hard-edged anger. She didn’t know how or why, but one thing was clear—Mitch wasn’t the mole. Evan was.

That meant he was the one who had sent a hired killer after her father. He’d killed his best friend.

“Thank you for bringing Jess along,” Evan said, his conversational tone seriously out of whack with the gun aimed at Donovan’s chest. “It’s so convenient to have you all together when I eliminate you. But it would be a shame if a bullet went through your body and nicked any one of the priceless treasures in here.” He stepped aside, giving them room to pass. “We wouldn’t want to affect their historical value like that, would we?”

“Or their monetary value,” Donovan said flatly.

“Exactly. So I would much rather do this outside. Move. And don’t try anything, Donovan. I might not be as well trained as you are, but I do know how to handle a gun, and at this range, I can’t miss.”

Jess moved slowly and Donovan took her hand, helping her along. She imagined that like her, he was in no hurry to get outside where the deserted, nighttime wadi provided a perfect killing ground.

Where were Kyle, Avery, and Mitch? Everyone had cleared out of the tomb. She imagined Evan taking them all by surprise, having the rearmed tomb robbers hold the team hostage while he’d waited for Donovan and Jess to emerge from the back chamber. Or had the others been killed already? She staggered at the thought, and Donovan wrapped his arm around her, steadying her.

Just as she regained her balance, Evan reached out and yanked her backward. Jess gasped, then cried out in pain as fire shot up her arm and across her shoulder. She tried to break free, but Evan held her aching arm in a position that felt like it might twist off if she moved another inch.

Donovan whirled around, crouched to spring, but halted abruptly as Evan dug the barrel of his gun into her neck. She flinched from the painful pressure on her carotid, but couldn’t move. “The first shot goes in Jess,” Evan said. The threat was low, but clearly audible in the close confines of the cluttered tomb. “Turn around and follow the tunnel to the surface. We’ll be right behind you.”

Donovan’s eyes met hers and lingered, a determined look that promised…something. She didn’t see what he could do for her. For either of them. Evan stood behind them, and Alicia, Jeffery, and their two Egyptian helpers waited ahead of them, all armed and ready to kill. Maybe they would take them farther out into the desert before shooting them. More likely they would do it right here, then transport their bodies at their leisure. It would be easier to handle five dead bodies than five unwilling captives, four of them trained fighters. No, she would be dead as soon as they reached the surface. Kyle, Avery, and Mitch might already be dead. If they weren’t, it could only be because their captives were waiting for orders from Evan.

Evan’s grip on her loosened, but only enough to let her walk ahead of him. When they came to the partially excavated tunnel and she had to crouch, he grabbed a handful of her hair in one fist and pressed his gun into her back, one jarring move away from an accidental discharge that would sever her spinal cord. She had no choice but to follow Donovan in an awkward shuffle through the tunnel.

Ahead, light filtered into the gloom. As they got closer she could see the stairs cut from the rocky desert floor, leading back to the surface. Donovan paused. Evan jerked her hair and she cried out, and it was all the prompting Donovan needed to keep going. He climbed, not quite upright until his head cleared the surface. From below she saw him pause again, taking in the scene. She wanted to ask what he saw, but figured she could guess—the four tomb robbers waiting to finish off the Omega team.

As Donovan’s feet disappeared up the final two stairs, he called down, “Be careful Jess. Don’t fall.”

Don’t fall? Why, because she might get hurt? Yeah, that would be a real bummer, breaking her leg just before being shot to death. At a nudge from Evan’s gun, she began climbing the short flight to the surface.

He released her hair. The gun dropped away too, although she knew it was just a few feet away, aimed at her back as she climbed. Not a huge relief.

Light glared on each side as she rose. She saw the lanterns fist, their steady lights glowing on each side of the opening to the tomb. As her head broke the surface, she saw silhouettes beyond them, eight people standing in the dark desert night, their feet and legs brilliant in the glow of four lanterns that sat on the sand. Her gaze darted over them as she climbed another step—Donovan, Kyle, Alicia, and Mitch, each with one of the tomb robbers close behind them. No, scratch that. One man guarded both Avery and Mitch, as Alicia sat on the sand off to one side, holding something around her bleeding leg. Kyle, Avery, and Mitch appeared to have their hands bound behind them. Donovan didn’t, but Mahmood motioned him backward with a particularly large and menacing gun as she took another step upward. The desert floor was at her waist level, with only one more protruding slab of rock to serve as a step. No one offered a helping hand. She put her foot on the step and leaned forward, prepared for an ungainly crawl up the final few feet.

“Careful,” Donovan warned again. “Don’t slip and fall.”

She shot him an irritated look. “Thanks for the helpful advice,” she began, then stopped talking. He watched her intently, his expression not nearly as solicitous as his words. He looked tense. With dawning understanding, she glanced at the others. They stood perfectly still, but she recognized the tension in each stance and saw the alertness in each face as they watched her. They looked ready, like runners poised for a race, looking at her for the signal to start.

They were waiting for her signal, and she was so dense she’d almost missed it. They were fighters, trained in hand-to-hand combat, where their captors most likely were not. They would not go meekly to their deaths. But she had no training, and she was their responsibility, a member of their team with a gun at her back. Except that gun was below her now, and the man holding it was occupied climbing the steep stairs to the desert above.

Don’t slip and fall…

Crawling over the lip of the entrance, she hung her head and glanced between her legs. Evan’s head was visible, just emerging from the hole. It was now or never. She put one knee on firm desert sand, ready to climb to her feet, then pulled the other leg up—and kicked backward as hard as she could.

Her hiking boot made direct contact with the side of Evan’s face. She couldn’t see it all, but knew the hard rubber heel had caught the edge of his eye socket, while the ball of her foot smashed his mouth. His head jerked sideways and his arms flailed for balance, but with no handholds, he fell backward down the stairs into the dark tunnel.

The desert exploded with action. Bodies ducked, swung, kicked, and rolled as the Omega team turned on their stunned captors. Jess crawled onto the sand, barely aware of the grunts, thuds, and cries of pain. She kept her anxious gaze fastened on Donovan as he dropped and lunged, taking Mahmood down to the ground with him. He came up holding the automatic rifle, using the butt end to deliver a sharp clip to Mahmood’s head as he tried to rise. The man fell without a sound.

Donovan whirled, pointing the gun at her. “Jess, move.”

She hesitated for no more than a second, but it was enough. From below the surface, Evan reached up and wrapped strong fingers around her ankle, pulling her toward him. She wiggled and clawed at the sand, but slid several inches closer to him while uselessly yelling, “No! No!”

Donovan didn’t bother yelling. He rushed forward, lifted the gun, and released a blast of bullets into the opening of the tunnel.

Gunfire bounced off the canyon walls. As the echoes died, Evan’s hand slipped from her ankle and his body collapsed down the stairs with a slither and
thud
. She scurried away, suddenly freaked out by the image of a hand rising from the ancient tomb, more real than any three-thousand-year-old mummy. Donovan stepped close to the edge and lifted one of the lanterns, taking his time as he peered into the dark stairway. Finally satisfied, he set the lantern on the sand and walked toward her.

“Are you okay?” He stooped beside her as she sat up, raising her chin to the light and running his finger gently over her cheek. “You did great, Jess.” He smiled.

She had. She looked around, noting Kyle, Avery, and Mitch, now free of their cuffs, busily securing their prisoners. Judging by the muttered curses and Alicia’s pitiful cries, they weren’t careful about it, either. She looked back at the hole in the ground, then at Donovan. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, wondering if she was supposed to feel sorry about that. To mourn for the man who had been her father’s friend and coworker for years before turning against him for money. Before nearly executing her and the entire Omega team. She couldn’t find an ounce of pity within her. “Good,” she muttered, then closed her eyes and shuddered with revulsion.

Donovan laid the gun aside and sat beside her, pulling her into his lap. She wanted to ask him why he did that. The others were busy barking orders at their prisoners, calling the police, giving directions to Mr. Atallah’s shop, and demanding guards for the tomb. She was fine, and he had things to do.

But she wasn’t fine. Her body had started trembling as if from a bone-deep cold, and she couldn’t make it stop. To her embarrassment, two tears streaked down her cheeks. She swiped at them, saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Adrenaline,” he said, stroking her hair. “Shock. You came close to being killed, Jess, and you fought back with both your wits and your body. That takes a toll.”

Not on him, apparently, and not on the others. But she wasn’t really a member of Omega, and he was right, cheating death and causing someone else to die had an effect. Laying her head against his shoulder, she sniffled quietly while he rocked her and waited for the tears and the shaking to stop.

She felt better by the time the lights of the first police helicopter winked in the night sky. Donovan still remained close, her self-appointed guardian. Kyle and Mitch dragged Evan’s body up the stairs and laid it out on the sand. She looked away but couldn’t escape the pain of knowing that her father had been betrayed by his best friend.

“Do you think Wally suspected?” she asked.

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “We may never know.”

She hoped he hadn’t. She lifted a hand to smooth the lines of pain beside his mouth. “He had other friends. I’m glad he knew you,” she told him.

He smiled sadly. “So am I.” Then squeezing her hand, he added, “And I’m glad I know his daughter.”

It warmed her heart far more than it should. With the mission over and no promises between them, she doubted their paths would ever cross again, and she could already sense the gaping hole that would leave in her life. She would have to get used to the pain, because it was never going to go away.

It was more than sheer weariness that allowed Jess to lay her chair back on the flight home and fall asleep before reaching cruising altitude. She didn’t need the usual Dramamine or wine or Ambien to relax. She didn’t even need Tyler’s distracting male aura to take her mind off flying. Somehow the drama and adventure of her time in Luxor had taken away any worries about what she might face next and how she would get there. It turned out that getting the most out of each moment in life beat chewing her fingernails over the hundred ways it might all go wrong.

She slept through their refueling in Paris and woke up somewhere over the Atlantic. Donovan was in the seat next to her and appeared to have been watching her as she slept.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “Sleep well?”

She nodded, righting her chair and smiling. “Great.”

He returned her smile, but something felt different. He was more remote, more emotionally distant than he’d been in Luxor. Separating from her. No matter what she felt for him or how much it hurt, he didn’t have to worry. She knew how to be a big girl.

“So what’s next for you?” she asked brightly. “Another mission?”

He blinked a couple times, apparently doing a mental U-turn. “I don’t know. We have to meet with lawyers and reestablish Omega’s leadership. Wally had hoped I would take Evan’s place someday, but I didn’t expect that day to come so soon. I don’t know if I’m ready to leave the field.” He watched her with an expression that seemed carefully blank. “What about you?”

“I have a book that’s almost done, so I’ll be at the drawing board for the next couple weeks. After that, I’m not sure. I had plans for more books in the
Mossy Log Meadow
series, but I’m not excited about starting them. Maybe I’ll take a break, reevaluate some things.”

He nodded seriously as if this was terribly insightful and interesting. Then he was quiet for a minute, staring at the seat in front of him. She looked out the window at the clouds.

“Jess…” She turned toward him, saw the awkwardness. “We should probably talk about what happened.”

It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be to smile at him. She wasn’t happy, but she couldn’t stand to think he felt bad about anything they’d done. If he was sorry, she didn’t want to hear it. “No, we shouldn’t.”

“But…”

“It’s fine, Tyler, really. I had a great time, and I have a lot of great memories.” She doubted anyone else could hear them, but she whispered anyway. “You’re in the best ones.”