20 SAM
Connor pounded on the door so hard the second time it seemed like he might knock it down.
“Are you sure he said he’d be here?” Connor asked for the second time.
“Yes. He asked how long it would take me to get here.” Mr. Omar had seemed agitated on the phone when I mentioned the big guy, but he said he’d meet me here at his place to talk in person.
Connor pulled my keychain from his pocket, unhooked one of the trinkets, and used it to pick the lock.
“We can’t break in.” I slapped his shoulder and he shot me a deadly look. A moment later, the door clicked open.
“The bastard asked how long so he’d know if he had time to run.”
“What? No, Mr. Omar isn’t a bad guy.” I bristled at his theory. “He’s a crazy old man. That’s all.”
“Then maybe he had a heart attack in there, and we’re on our way to save his life,” Connor replied, pushing the door open. “You coming?”
I glanced around to see if anyone was watching our little crime before stepping past Connor into the apartment.
Once we were inside, everything seemed normal.
“Maybe he’s still on his way,” I said, following Connor as he searched the place. “Could’ve forgotten to buy milk and run down to get some.”
Connor stopped suddenly, making me bump into him. He didn’t turn around, but his hand reached back, pulling me slowly behind him while his other hand went to the gun at his waist.
Nervous, I grabbed the fabric of his shirt as he crept toward a door where a noise was coming from.
Tension swept through my body as we moved forward. I held my breath when Connor pushed me further into the corner and stopped beside the door.
He looked at me, his eyes a mix of intimidating darkness and reassuring calm.
He signaled for me to stay put, and I nodded as he went through the door.
“Samantha!” I heard him shout, and I ran to see.
“Connor.” I rushed into the room and found Connor pressing his hands against Mr. Omar’s chest, blood seeping through his fingers.
“Get me towels,” he ordered. It took a few seconds for my brain to react. “Now, Sam!”
Finally my legs moved and I ran to the bathroom at the far end of the room. When I returned, Connor was using his shirt to try to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Lynx, Mr. Omar’s kitten, lay beside his head as if comforting him.
“Mr. Omar.” I knelt beside his already pale form. As soon as I knelt, he grabbed my hand. Connor kept pressure on the wound.
I grabbed my phone to call for help, but Mr. Omar pulled me closer. His lips were moving, and I realized he was trying to say something.
“Calm down… you’re going to be okay,” I tried to say, even with Connor’s disbelieving eyes on me. But Mr. Omar kept pulling me closer. “Don’t waste your energy.”
“I think he wants to tell you something,” Connor whispered. “Let him have his last words.”
Connor’s words cut through me. I knew the situation was dire, but I wasn’t ready to accept that we hadn’t arrived in time.
“Mr. Omar,” I said, my voice choked. My eyes flooded with tears. “Tell me.”
I leaned down, bringing my ear close to his lips. Mr. Omar repeated sounds so faint they were nearly impossible to make out. But one of them I could hear.
“H-ha-zel,” he repeated over and over, until I no longer heard his voice or felt his breath against my skin.
“Omar…” I could barely speak. “Connor!”
“I’m sorry, Sam.” Connor released the pressure on his chest. His hands were covered in blood, as were mine.
I stared at the man lying on the floor. Dead. Lynx looked at me, waiting for me to say everything would be okay.
“Come here.” I nestled Lynx in my lap and she whimpered. “I know, Lynx… I’m going to miss him too.”
Mr. Omar had welcomed me from my first day in Cairo. On my first night in the city, I was enchanted by the antique shop window. He appeared beside me out of nowhere. I remember he let me look at some pieces, and before I knew it, I had a room and a job.
He was a stubborn old man, confused and clueless about technology, but he let me stay even when I disappeared for days investigating my parents’ case. In a strange, distant way, he was my only family here.
“I’m so sorry,” Connor whispered. “I’ll give you some time while I look for clues.”
Connor stood up and I stayed there, staring at Mr. Omar, holding his hands in mine.
“Forgive me,” I whispered as tears rolled down my face like summer rain.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Ahmed. He answered on the second ring.
“Sam! I was worried about you. I asked the detective assigned to the Raafat case to update me soon, but—” Ahmed seemed to be on the street. “Where are you?”
“I need you to meet me at Mr. Omar’s.”
“You're crying?” Ahmed nearly shouted from the other end. “What happened?”
“Just come… okay?” I asked. “I'm fine, but I need help.”
I heard the door slam and Ahmed starting the car in the background.
“Stay there. I'll be there in 15 minutes.”
After hanging up, I went to the living room, where I found Connor with a folder under his arm.
“This is all I found on that company. We're going to need time to read through it.” Only then did I notice Connor was shirtless. Of course—he'd used his shirt to cover Omar's wound. I hugged Lynx closer. “What is that weird thing?”
Connor stared at the cat in my arms. Lynx was a Sphynx—an adorable breed, but with a somewhat exotic look.
“Don't talk about her like that.” I stroked her head. “You need to go.”
“Just because I didn't like that thing?”
“Ahmed is coming here. I'm going to try to explain what we found when we got here and that Mr. Omar is dead because of me.”
“What?” Connor set the folder on the counter and walked toward me. “What kind of nonsense is that? You don't think this is your fault, do you?”
I set Lynx on the counter and took a deep breath. I could barely control my breathing.
“I'm the one who upset him.”
“Someone put a hole in his chest, Sam. That's why he's dead.” Connor moved even closer, his hand catching my chin, forcing me to look at him. His voice came out much softer. “Don't do this to yourself.”
“I was the one who pressured him on the phone.”
“You wanted answers and he said he'd give them to you. It's not your fault.” His eyes searched mine. “Sam, promise me you understand that?”
“I want to…” I whispered.
“And as for leaving… forget it.” Connor didn't let go of my face. His fingers stroked my jaw and chin. “We're doing this together.”
“Ahmed won't understand,” I managed to say. But Connor didn't seem the least bit worried.
“I'm not afraid of Ahmed.”
“But I don't want him to be a problem for your investigation…” My voice was heavy. Choked.
“You think I'm worried?”
Connor's eyes lingered on mine before drifting down to my lips. I felt my face flush as his hands moved along my jaw. He cradled my face in his hands.
My eyes traced his features, and I felt that this closeness was the closest I had ever gotten to him—and I wasn't talking about the inches between us.
“Sam… I”
A knock at the door interrupted whatever was happening between us. Connor released my face, and I realized I'd stopped breathing at some point. Now the oxygen hit my lungs like a punch.
“Must be your friend,” Connor growled, dragging the folders out of Ahmed's sight.
Lynx wove between my feet, encouraging me, and I forced my legs to work again.
“Sam!” Ahmed seemed relieved to see me, seconds before noticing I was covered in blood. “Sam? What happened?”
Ahmed's eyes darted from me to Connor, shirtless in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.
“What did you get Sam into?”
Ahmed brushed past me and advanced on Connor, who immediately responded with a shove. The two pushed each other, hurling insults back and forth.
“He didn't do anything!” I pushed Ahmed. “I called you here to help, but I think it was a mistake!”
“Damn it, can't you see he's dragging you down? How many bodies is it going to take before you realize?” Ahmed shouted at me.
He didn't have time to see Connor coming at him full force, landing a solid punch. Ahmed recovered and countered, landing a punch to Connor's ribs.
“What the hell! Stop it, both of you,” I shouted, watching them grapple. “Stop being assholes.”
Ahmed had blood on his lip and Connor was clutching his side.
“If you yell at her one more time, you're a dead man,” Connor spat.
“You're pretty concerned for someone who left her in this state.” Ahmed pointed at the bloodstained clothes.
“This damn blood isn't mine,” I snarled. “Connor and I found Mr. Omar wounded on the bedroom floor.”
“What?” Ahmed looked confused. “Why didn't you call emergency services?”
“It was too late,” Connor replied coldly.
“How did this happen?” Ahmed asked me, wiping the blood from his face with his fist.
“I don't know.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I called to get some information. He asked me to meet him here.”
“Information? About what?”
I stared at Connor, knowing he wanted to handle this on his own. But I couldn't help thinking about the resources we'd have if we brought Ahmed in.
“An old client of his might be connected to my parents' case.”
“Really?” Ahmed stared at me, then at Connor.
“Yes.”
“No.” Connor cut me off. He looked at the ceiling, then at Ahmed. “We got a tip about who might have bought the Khopesh.”
“The weapon used by that New York assassin. The one you're obsessed with.”
“That's right,” I added. “We wanted to find out who commissioned the piece from Raafat.”
“That's why you were there,” Ahmed muttered to himself. “And why are you telling me this now?”
I thought he'd asked me, but he was actually looking at Connor.
“Because this is getting out of control,” Connor replied. “I don't want her to get hurt.”
“You're the one who got her involved in this.”
I looked at the two of them, talking about me as if I weren't in the room.
“And I regret it every day,” Connor replied, and I felt a strange pang in my chest. “I can't let her pay for that mistake.”
“Whatever you're doing… it needs to stop,” Ahmed declared. “Let the police handle this.”
“Honestly, this isn't a local police matter.”
“It is now. This dead man in that room is an Egyptian citizen.”
“You don't want to bring this on yourself. The more people get involved, the more people will die.”
“That's not your problem, Mr. O'Brien. You're a civilian on vacation. Act like one.”
Ahmed shifted his focus to me.
“You stay here. I'll send a squad car to take you home.” Ahmed turned to Connor. “And you're coming with me to the station.”
“You're not arresting him,” I intervened.
“I should. He assaulted a police officer,” Ahmed shot back. “But I'll extend a professional courtesy.” He stared at Connor.
“It's okay, Sam.” Connor touched my shoulder. Ahmed and Connor stared at each other like wolves squaring off over territory.
“It'll just be a conversation.” Ahmed stepped away to call his colleagues.
Connor reached behind him and pulled out a rolled envelope, discreetly passing it to me.
“Keep this,” he whispered.
I nodded, tucking the envelope into the back of my pants.
Connor stepped in front of me. The image of him staring at me minutes earlier flashed through my mind. Then he crouched down, grabbing the hem of my pants and pulling them up.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking around.
“Shh.” He pulled the pants up to the top of my boot, then slipped the gun into my boot.
“Ow, ow, ow.”
“Relax, the safety's on.” He stood up, stopping in front of me. “Keep it with you… and try not to do anything stupid. It's a sentimental piece.”
“I don't think I can even walk,” I whispered, and he smiled.
“You'll manage.” Connor winked at me just as Ahmed returned to the room.
“Sam… the squad car is on its way.” He approached, cutting off the moment between Connor and me.