Drake raised Jada’s Coke glass in a toast. “Hey.”
The woman turned back to Jada and Sully and lowered her voice. “Please, let’s work together on this. Tyr is here in Egypt as well. His men have been following me. I’m afraid they’ll kill me like they did Luka. I came here in the first place because I thought the only way I would be safe is if I could figure out what he was trying to keep secret and make it public. If it’s out there, if it’s not a secret anymore, there’d be no point in killing to keep it quiet.”
Sully tilted his head, studying her, stroking his mustache. “You’re not working with Henriksen on this?”
Olivia paled, looking stunned. “Luka was my husband.”
“Oh, please,” Jada snorted. “You treated him like a dog who messed on your rug.”
“That’s awful,” Olivia said, her lip trembling again. She shook her head. “I know you never liked me, Jada, but you weren’t in our home. You didn’t see our relationship the way it was, only the way it inconvenienced you.”
“Really?” Jada said, her voice low. One of the waiters had started to approach but thought better of it and retreated. “That’s the story you’re sticking to? The loving and misunderstood wife?”
“Jada,” Sully said warily.
“No, Uncle Vic,” Jada snapped, raising her voice just a little, trying to control herself. “Don’t tell me you’re buying any of this crap. How did she find us, huh? That’s what I want to know. We’re in a restaurant in a random hotel in Fayoum City. How the hell did she know where to even start looking for us?”
Olivia stared at her. “I’m staying in the same hotel. It’s where Luka stayed. I was out most of the day, but when I got back, the desk clerk mentioned there was another guest named Hzujak, and what a strange coincidence. You asked for directions to get here, which is how he knew where you were going.”
“You couldn’t have waited for us to get back to the hotel?” Sully asked.
“I couldn’t know when you’d be back,” Olivia argued. “And I told you, I think I’m being followed. Now, are you going to invite me to sit so we can talk about this, or should we all just stand here looking more and more conspicuous.”
Drake watched Jada’s face, then glanced at Sully. He saw the hesitation there, and he understood it, but Olivia’s explanations seemed at least halfway believable, and he didn’t like the attention they were drawing.
“She should sit down,” Drake said, looking at Sully. “We’ve got too many eyes on us right now.”
Jada swung around to stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”
Drake returned her gaze. “We can’t do this here, Jada. Or do the words ‘international incident’ mean nothing to you? We don’t have an exit strategy. So please, sit down.”
Jada turned and stared at her stepmother. Olivia’s expression was almost pitiful, even more so in a woman who seemed so practiced at projecting an air of aloof sophistication.
“Not a chance in hell,” Jada said. She glared at Drake and then turned to Sully. “You want to make nice with her, have a blast. But don’t be surprised if you’re the next one who turns up dead.”
She turned on her heel and made a beeline for the exit. Sully and Olivia called after her, but Jada didn’t look back. When Sully started to follow, Drake stood up quickly and grabbed his shoulder.
“No. You stay with her,” he said, indicating Olivia. “I’ll get Jada back. Whether she likes it or not, there’s a conversation that needs to happen here.”
Drake took off after Jada, all too aware of the eyes on him. Most of the people were watching his quarry, however. An attractive young American woman with magenta streaks in her hair would have gotten a lot of attention even if she hadn’t been storming off like a spoiled teenager.
That’s not fair, Drake thought, catching himself. If their positions were reversed and he truly believed Olivia had had a hand in killing Sully, he wouldn’t stand there and listen to her spin lies, either. But Jada had hated Olivia even while her father was alive, so Drake had to make her see that she might not be viewing things objectively. He had to make her see that if there was a chance she was wrong, they’d be leaving an innocent woman alone in the path of a killer.
As he emerged from the restaurant into the lobby, he caught sight of Jada leaving the hotel. There were lights outside the doors, but their glow did not reach very far into the darkness, and he quickened his pursuit.
Pushing out into the night, he paused outside the door, squinting at the night.
“Jada!” he called, wondering in which direction she’d gone.
Back to the car, he thought. She was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. That meant to the left, where the parking lot was three-quarters full. He picked up his pace, scanning the cars, and caught sight of the people struggling beside a dark sedan.
His eyes adjusted to the starlight, and he saw magenta.
Jada screamed and struck one of the dark-suited men, trying to break free, and then Drake saw the glint of a gun barrel. Reaching for his gun, he started to run.
9
Drake crouched behind a dented Sahin sedan and took aim.
“Leave the girl or I drop you right here!” he shouted.
One of the thugs spun and took a shot at him, blowing out the Sahin’s rear window. Drake pulled the trigger twice, and the grim-eyed man danced backward, one bullet taking him in the shoulder and the other in the chest. His gun flew, clattering to the ground.
Jada punched the goon who was holding her in the throat, and he let go, gasping for air. She launched herself full-out after the gun and skidded on the pavement on her belly, hands reaching. One of the remaining men went after her, the other two drawing their guns.
Drake fired again and missed, the shot echoing off parked cars and the side of the hotel. The two armed men opened fire, bullets punching the flimsy body of the sedan and bursting the rest of the windows. Drake threw himself to the right, counting on the night to veil his movements. He scuttled behind a red Tata minitruck and stood up, looking through the driver’s window. The parking lot was on the side of the hotel and poorly lit, but the men were out in the open and the glow of the city was enough for him to make out some details. The two still standing were in dark suits like the one he’d shot, and though one had the olive complexion of the Middle East and northern Africa, the other was Caucasian.
Their car was a dark gray BMW, and it was still running, a low growl coming from the engine. Three of the doors were open. They’d been trying to force Jada into the car when he had come out, which meant that they had been lying in wait for her and that they were quick and well organized. This wasn’t some random tourist abduction; that much was clear.
He heard Jada scuffling with the third one, and he wanted to intervene, but rushing in now would only get him killed and it seemed clear they wanted her alive. However, the men who’d come after them in New York hadn’t seemed all that concerned about whether she lived or died, and if these bastards were working for the same employer, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if it came to that.
One of the standing thugs gestured for the other to circle around to their left-Drake’s right. They were a few cars away, but if they split up now, they would flank him in moments. He’d have to try to take them down from cover, which would mean revealing his precise location.
He took a breath, finger resting on the trigger. He’d shoot the one who seemed to be giving the orders first.
A single gunshot split the air, and Drake flinched, thinking they’d found him. But then he realized that the shot had come from the gun Jada and the third thug were fighting over, and ice twisted in his gut.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Throwing caution to the wind, he ran between the truck and the bullet-riddled sedan, taking aim at the broad-shouldered white guy. The thug had been waiting and started to take aim, when a shot came from off to the left. It sang through the air and shattered glass but missed its target.