23 SAM
“Hey.” Connor whispered the word against my lips. “If we don't get out of here now, we'll be arrested for indecent exposure and trespassing.”
The scent of morning dew filled my nose, and I stretched lazily. Eyes still closed, I felt his lips trail down from my chin toward my neck.
“You're not helping,” I moaned, sinking my fingers into his hair.
“I wasn't trying to,” he murmured, his lips barely leaving my skin as they traveled to my nipple, taking it into his mouth.
A bite on the tip sent heat radiating through my body.
I pushed him over, switching positions and settling onto his lap.
We were half-naked, waiting for the last of our clothes to dry.
Connor propped himself up on his arms and gazed at me. His expression was relaxed. Ours both were, actually. Of all the nights I'd spent in this city since arriving, this might have been the most comfortable—despite the challenges of sleeping half-naked in a park.
“Detective Silver Fox… who would've thought…” I was perched right on his morning wood.
“No one could have predicted…” he replied, pulling me down on top of him, “that I'd hear you moan while saying my name.”
“You always have to ruin everything, don't you?” I rolled my eyes, and he squeezed my ass, pressing me against him. “Almost everything.”
I bit my lip, feeling him throb beneath me.
“Now let's go.” I tried to push myself up, but all that did was encourage him to hold me tighter. “Do you really want a citation for—what did you call it?—indecent exposure on your record?”
He grumbled before letting me go, and we hurried out before the park security could spot us as they prepared to open the gates.
A while later, we reached a surprisingly busy street for what couldn't have been past seven in the morning. We grabbed coffee and kept walking toward home.
We'd stopped at a crosswalk when I felt Connor's hand cover mine. A chill ran down my spine and settled low in my stomach. I glanced at him, but he was focused on the street, guiding us through the cars and motorcycles zipping across the intersection.
We strolled along like a couple of tourists, taking in the sights and sipping our coffees. Acting like this was just an ordinary Tuesday. Every now and then I'd catch him looking at me, but he'd quickly turn his eyes back to the road.
At one point, I caught him staring at me openly.
“What?”
“You're looking at that building like it's a precious jewel,” he said.
“Oh.” I blushed. “It's the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization. It's been a while since I've been here.”
“Come on.” He pulled me toward the entrance.
“No, Connor!” I stopped short. “We need to get back to the investigation.”
Connor pulled me into his arms, pressing my body against his. One hand held mine, keeping me close, while the other cupped the back of my neck. His lips met mine in a deep kiss—nothing like the ones we'd shared while having sex the night before.
His mouth explored mine tenderly. My heart warmed almost instantly.
“Seriously… we don't have to…” I said as he pressed his forehead to mine.
“Be a good girl… and stop arguing.” He gave me another quick kiss before tugging me toward the entrance.
We were inside the museum before long. It had been ages since I'd last visited. The more frustrated I got with the investigation into my parents' disappearance, the deeper I buried myself in the search—and the more I neglected the things I loved most, like visiting museums and exploring ruins.
“You look like a kid at an amusement park,” Connor said from behind me.
“Because I'm so much younger than you?” I grumbled.
He stepped up behind me, pressing his body against mine. His mouth hovered at my ear.
“Because you're driven by this,” he whispered. “Your pupils dilate over these pieces of old clay like you're witnessing a miracle right before your eyes.”
His hand settled on my waist.
“It's charming, seeing a woman who'd trade any overpriced designer bag for a set of jars she'd use as coffee cups.”
I smiled, remembering our first morning together in the apartment.
“Don't be fooled—I'd love a designer bag,” I teased.
“This duality of yours…” He leaned in closer to my neck. “…is the world's greatest mystery.”
I closed my eyes, feeling his nose brush against my neck. I didn't notice the security guard approaching—only heard his voice scolding us for standing too close to the exhibits. Connor didn't understand a word, but I managed to convince the guard we were on our way out.
We rushed through the rest of the tour and left the museum. At the exit, Connor bought me a tourist-trap souvenir—an Eye of Horus balloon that said “I love Cairo.”
From there, we walked back home. I felt refreshed, ready to dive back into our work. I could barely explain how I actually felt. Last night had been a moment of complete abandon.
I'd started this without knowing we'd go so far, but now I simply didn't know how to move forward without remembering his touches, his taste. This whole lovesick-couple vibe we'd been giving off all morning.
We reached the alley that led to the antique shop, and I recognized Ahmed's car parked out front. Connor's expression, which had been light, suddenly shifted back to his usual sullen mood, and he let go of my hand as we approached.
“Ahmed?” He turned and seemed surprised to see us so close. His eyes went immediately to the balloon in my hand, then to me.
“Where were you?” Ahmed asked.
“Is that any of your business?” Connor snapped.
“Connor.” I touched his arm. “Ahmed, did something happen?”
“I thought you'd like an update on Omar's case,” he replied without taking his eyes off Connor. “I tried calling you, but it went to voicemail.”
“I forgot to charge my phone before bed.” Because I was fucking your archrival.
“Can we go upstairs?” he asked.
“We can talk in the antique shop,” I replied. I didn't want him to see the state of the apartment and draw the wrong conclusions about what had happened there.
Ahmed looked confused but didn't voice his concerns. He just followed me when I unlocked the shop to let them in.
They seemed to repel each other like two positive magnetic poles. It would've been funny if they both weren't armed.
“You said you had updates.” I flipped on the lights inside the shop.
“Yes. We got some footage showing Abdal's possible killer.”
“What? Seriously? Do you know who he is?”
“We don't have an ID yet,” Ahmed replied, turning to Connor. “But we've ruled out any connection to your friend's case.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Ahmed pulled out his phone and showed us the screen. “Looks like a burglary that went wrong.”
On the screen, the video appeared to be from a security camera across the street. Two people in black could be seen entering the building. Then Omar arrived, talking on the phone, looking agitated. He was probably talking to me.
The video cut to another camera showing the back of the building. One of the intruders was in a car while the other loaded two boxes into the trunk, and then they drove off.
A few minutes later in the footage, Connor and I appeared, entering Omar's apartment.
“The M.O. doesn't match the other deaths,” Ahmed stated. “Omar kept some valuable items at home. We found his personal safe empty and some gold pieces scattered on the floor. Omar must have come home and surprised the intruders. They reacted and used some kind of sharp weapon on him.”
“But that doesn't make any—”
“Must have been that,” Connor interrupted.
“We still need to go through a few more steps before handing it off to the robbery division. They might be able to identify these guys' pattern and link them to other cases.”
“It's possible,” Connor agreed, and I was confused. It was obvious the story wasn't that simple. It would be too much of a coincidence for Omar to die right before being confronted about his involvement in Connor's case.
His eyes signaled me not to push it, so I let it go.
“Any news on Bob's death?” I asked.
“Still nothing. This case feels like a bunch of loose pieces. I'm sorry.” Ahmed seemed genuinely frustrated.
“And this Mohamed guy?”
“The body was badly decomposed. A medical examiner from Alexandria is coming to examine it and determine the cause of death. All we know is that he died about ten days ago, based on the state of decomposition.”
My stomach churned as I remembered the scene and the smell of that place.
“Thank you for keeping your word,” Connor said through gritted teeth.
“As long as you keep yours.”
I looked at the two of them, confused. What the hell were they talking about? What kind of deal could two people who clearly hated each other make?
Well, I'd slept with my unwanted houseguest.
The thought invaded my mind, and I quickly pushed it away.
Ahmed's phone rang.
“I need to go.” Ahmed looked at both of us. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sam.”
“I'll be fine,” I replied.
Ahmed nodded and gave Connor one last hard look before leaving. As soon as he was gone, I turned to Connor.
“Did you believe that?”
“Coincidences happen,” he said, looking at me. “But in this case, they seem to be piling up.”
He headed toward the exit, frustration evident in every word. It had been a long, frustrating journey for him since he'd arrived in Cairo.
I went up to the apartment and found Connor sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, opening and closing his pocketknife.
“I'm going to try to write down what I remember,” I said. He didn't say a word. “We can go over everything.”
“It won't help.”
“Why? We can try.”
“No.”
“So you're just going to sit there growling and making that annoying noise?”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it to me.” I sat down in front of him and placed my hands on his thighs, pressing my fingers into them to draw his attention back to me. “Tell me what words you're chewing on.”
He took a deep breath and folded the knife. I thought he was ready to talk, but he just stood up.
“I need to talk to Gretta.”
The air crushed my chest. He was pushing me out again. After everything we'd been through in the last few hours, whenever Ammit came up, it was like I wasn't allowed to sit at the adults' table—even though I'd already proven my worth.
Connor grabbed my phone and dialed his boss. I got up slowly and carried the weight of humiliation out of the apartment. I needed air.