Hazel

18 CONNOR

I left Sam organizing the board she’d insisted was necessary while I headed downstairs to call Gretta, who’d responded to my email with information about the armorer Samantha had found.

“Whenever I get a call from your area code, I expect it to be news that you’ve been arrested,” Gretta grumbled the moment I said hello.

“I’m offended you think someone could catch me that easily,” I replied, crossing to the other side of the street. “So? Did you get anything useful on this Raafat guy?”

“I’m still good at this job, dear.”

“You’re the best.” I scanned the facade of my little hideout, my gaze settling on the window.

From where I stood on the sidewalk, I could see Samantha’s reflection in the mirror near the bed.

She was reaching up, pinning photos and notes we’d made to the board.

She was so absorbed you could almost see the gears turning smoothly.

“Are you listening to me?” Gretta asked from the other end of the line.

“I was.” I shifted my gaze to the street, which was emptier than I’d ever seen it.

“Like hell you were,” she huffed. “Anyway, I had an old friend do some digging, but the artist seems to have dropped off the map. All I found was an address for an old warehouse where he used to store his materials, a few miles outside Cairo. But my friend said it might be a dead end.”

“Send it. Can’t hurt to check it out.” A notification popped up immediately with the address. “You’re fast.”

“I’m trying to get rid of you. I have a spa appointment.”

“Work must be easy over there, huh? You’ve got time for spas,” I teased.

“I think you were the problem,” she shot back. “I’ve never been so at peace.”

“Don’t get used to it.” My eyes betrayed me, searching for Samantha again. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Relax. I’m trying to do things right.”

“Are you really? And who’s the saint responsible for this miracle?” Gretta teased. I hadn’t told her about the girl. And I wasn’t about to start now, especially not now.

“I need to go, Gretta.” I changed the subject.

“Connor... have you talked to your brother?” she asked suddenly.

“No? I’m not sending updates to the family. Besides, he’s in season. When he’s not sleeping, he’s training or playing.”

“Right,” she said hesitantly.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“I think... no.”

“Gretta?”

“Relax, okay? Do what you need to do there and come back soon.”

She hung up before I could press her. I checked the time on my phone. Ethan would probably be at the club by now. It wasn’t worth calling, so I just sent a text.

Hey, Ethan. Everything okay over there? How are Mom and Dad? Love, C..Wade

I went back to the apartment to grab my gun and some more cash. I’d need to rent a car.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sam asked, pen clenched between her teeth. The large round glasses on her face revealed a side of her I hadn’t seen before.

“Nice glasses,” I teased, and she glared at me. “I’m going to check out this Raafat guy. Gretta got an address, but it might be nothing.”

Sam hopped up from where she was and handed me her glasses, then went for her boots near the bed.

“Just let me put these boots on...”

“Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “You’re not going.”

She ignored me and kept tying her laces.

“Did you hear what I said?” I pushed the glasses toward her.

“Yes. And I completely ignored you,” she said with a smile.

“You stay here. Your patrol buddies are circling down there.” I walked toward the door. “Lock everything and don’t you dare leave.”

Before my hand reached the doorknob, hers intercepted it, and suddenly we were holding hands.

She quickly pulled her hand back, static crackling between our fingers.

“I already told you th—”

“How many leather wraps are on the handle of that khopesh?”

“What?”

“Describe the handle to me in detail,” she said, smiling victoriously as she watched my brain short-circuit. “That’s what I thought. You wouldn’t know how to describe it to the artist.”

“I don’t need to describe it... I have a photo, smartass,” I scoffed, patting the envelope in my pocket.

“Do you really?” Her smile shifted from victorious to something darker.

My eyes darted to the board she’d been working on minutes before.

“I wouldn’t be so foolish,” she hinted.

“Wherever you’ve stashed it, hand it over now,” I growled.

“Not gonna happen, White Head.” Now it was her turn to gloat.

“Samantha… where did you put the damn photo?”

She smiled and pulled a small piece of photo paper from her pocket.

“Give me that.” I lunged toward her, but she was faster, spinning so I couldn’t grab the edge of the paper. Her backside pressed against me as I tried to reach around her without hurting her—I had almost twice her weight.

“You’re making this difficult.” I wrapped my arms around her waist to spin her back around, lifting her off the floor. When I set her down facing me, there was nothing in her hand. “Where is it?”

“Inside my bra.”

Her defiant posture and sudden revelation caught me off guard. I stepped back to collect myself, and she made a face.

“If you won’t hand it over willingly, you’ll hand it over by force,” I growled, closing the space between us again, trying to intimidate her.

But she wasn’t just being stubborn… she was enjoying herself, so she didn’t back down.

Quite the opposite. She fixed those beautiful golden eyes on mine as if I were nothing.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Samantha…”

“Detective…”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground, girl.” The words came out in a tone I hadn’t planned.

And once again I saw her eyes darken. A flame of boldness and amusement I’d only seen when she danced at the Azur.

“Are you going to get it, or are you just going to stand there staring?”

My impulse was to go for it. Unbutton her blouse and immediately be strangled by my own insanity. But I backed down.

“That’s what I thought.” Samantha opened the door and headed for the stairs, leaving me there with unprintable thoughts clouding my judgment.

The place was quite far from the city, in a more modern district. The scenery here was much more contemporary—more like what I’d expect from a metropolis. Less preserved, but inevitably more sterile than all the color and warmth of Old Cairo.

“Which way?” Samantha grabbed the phone from my hand without warning.

“Give me that.” I took it back and started walking in the direction the map showed. One thing they don’t tell you when you leave the America-Europe axis is that Google Maps isn’t as universal as we think. So I was doing the best I could with what I had—or didn’t have.

“How long are you going to keep that angry armadillo face?” Samantha caught up with me, walking fast. Her boots, always so noisy on the streets of Old Cairo, were silent here. Which couldn’t be said for the jangling jewelry she’d chosen for her ears. “It was just a little joke.”

“Your earrings are getting on my nerves,” I grumbled.

“Grump,” she muttered to herself.

“Here.” I put my arm out in front of her, making her bump into it.

“Ouch.” She winced, and I felt bad for hurting her, but her dramatic expression quickly returned to normal.

We entered the clearly run-down building, and if it weren’t for the sounds coming from a few doors on the first floor, you’d think it was abandoned. When we reached the number Gretta had given us, I studied the old door with an equally old sign bearing the initials MR.

“So what do we do? Kick down the door and yell ‘Freeze, it’s the police’?”

She struck a pose with her imaginary gun, and I almost couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Or we could do it like the English.” I gave three polite knocks on the door.

“If no one answers, we kick down the door?!” She flashed me a mischievous smile that made my knees weak.

“Ladies first,” I said, letting her have her wish.

She took a deep breath and stepped back a few paces. Then she ran full speed and kicked the door with such force that it flew open, hit the wall, and swung back.

“Wow!” She jumped for joy. “I was so badass just now!”

My previously stern expression cracked, making her stop short.

“Wait… that was easier than I thought.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

I shrugged, expression cynical.

“It was already open, wasn’t it?”

I walked past her and opened the door again, calm and composed. “The door moved when I knocked the first time.”

“I can’t believe you let me think I had titanium legs.” She threw a punch at my chest, but I caught her hand before impact.

“Consider us even now,” I whispered, slowly releasing her hand. “For that little show before we left.”

Samantha walked past me with a huff, and I finally felt victorious. It wasn’t so bad when I annoyed her on purpose.

The place seemed abandoned and smelled pretty bad too. Some furniture was overturned, and other pieces looked unfinished.

“He definitely left here in a hurry,” I said, watching Samantha move toward a collection of items in the corner of the room.

“This place reeks,” she said, and I realized her nose was definitely more sensitive than mine. If I were paying attention, I'd recognize that smell anywhere, but when distracted, it almost slips by unnoticed.

“Stay here,” I ordered Samantha, pulling my gun from its holster.

“There's not much left to look at.” She moved toward a table with yellowed papers scattered across it.

I continued down a narrow, dimly lit hallway toward the back of the building.

“Hey.”

Samantha suddenly appeared behind me.

“You always ignore my orders,” I grumbled as she shrugged.

At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. I moved forward carefully, keeping Samantha behind me. When I opened it, a dozen flies flew toward us, and the stench hit us like a punch to the face.

“M-my G-eurg,” Samantha groaned, gagging. “That's a—uurgh.”

“I think we found Raafat,” I said, staring at the contorted, desiccated body on the floor. The pests had already devoured him… at least most of him.

Samantha ran back to the front room, probably to redecorate it with her lunch. I crouched down to look for anything that might indicate the cause of death. In that state of decay, it would be hard to tell.

I scanned the room—nothing but a huge mess and filth everywhere. Every kind of animal had already been through here.

I returned to the front room and found Samantha leaning against a wall, clutching a medieval metal helmet to her chest.

“I'm never closing my eyes again,” she said before another wave of vomit poured into the helmet.

“After a while you get used to it, partner.” I patted her shoulder twice and turned my attention back to the table. “Whatever killed this man, it doesn't look like he was the one who tore this place apart.”

“Could have been a grave robber.”

“If a thief had come in here, they definitely would have taken that beauty in your hands.” I sifted through the papers, careful not to leave my fingerprints.

“How long do you think he's been in there?”

“It happened before I got here,” I explained. “But not by much.”

I slid a piece of mail toward her, dated a few days before my arrival.

“And all this time nobody came looking for him?” Samantha opened one of the drawers beneath the tabletop and rummaged through the papers without the same care I was trying to maintain. “Looks like an appointment book.”

One thing I hadn't noticed about Samantha before was how fast she read. Her eyes practically scanned the page.

“Zenaide.” She pointed at one of the pages. “This name must have appeared here about two hundred times. Could be some kind of secretary or something.”

“Is there any other information?”

“No.” She flipped through the last pages. “But here it says something about her daughter's school.”

“We can't just approach a kid and ask about her mother. We wouldn't even be able to get near her at school.”

Samantha looked up from the paper, and that mischievous gleam I knew all too well twinkled in her eyes.

“You really want to try, don't you?”

“I mean… we don't have many options.”

I hated the idea, but still, the way she looked at me was enough to convince me—like all her wild ideas.

“Okay, but I'm taking the lead.” I extended my hand toward her to seal the deal. “Right?”

Samantha smiled and squeezed my hand hard. Her fingers weren't delicate. In fact, she had calluses on her palms, probably from all the adventures she'd thrown herself into searching for information about her parents.

She was a girl utterly dedicated to her quest. So much so that she'd forgotten to live other parts of her life. Like her own youth—and that would exact its price.

Time is relentless, and no matter how hard we cling to the past, we'll be swept along like stones and branches carried by a waterfall.