“He’s not a brute,” I said sharply. “You’re the one with abrute.” I inclined my head in the direction of his employee.
“Mr. Graves comes everywhere with me,” Mr. Sterling said. “He even carries my guns.”
He smiled dourly in my direction, like a crack of lightning that heralded an approaching storm. Whit had seen Mr. Graves murder that young man in cold blood. I scooted as far from him as I could, clutching the handle of the door so hard my knuckles turned white.
The carriage picked up speed, and my stomach twisted in knots. I had only thought of keeping Whit from dying, but now unease flared as I fully realized my situation. “Where are we going?”
“To my office.”
“Why?” I asked. “Whit won’t stop looking for me. He’ll involve the authorities.”
“No one can touch me in Egypt, Inez. I thought you knew that. And as for your persistent husband, my men will pick him up at the next block.”
I leaned forward, anger blooming in my blood. “If you hurt him, I won’t cooperate. I’ll make your life miserable—I swear.”
Mr. Sterling looked at me passively. “What makes you think you can tell me what to do?”
“Because,” I said, “there’s obviously something you need from me. Why bother with kidnapping if that weren’t the case?”
His lips parted in surprise, then they stretched into a wide grin, his ridiculous mustache twitching. “I got tired of waiting for you to call.”
“I ripped your card in half,” I said, seething.
Mr. Sterling’s eyes flickered to the silent Mr. Graves. A wordless conversation passed between them and then Mr. Graves nodded. A sharp prickle of alarm stabbed the back of my neck. I moved to the door, managing to get it open, but rough hands grabbed me from behind, dragging me backward. I struggled, legs kicking, and I screamed as loud as I could.
Mr. Graves slapped a damp cloth against my mouth and nose.
Three breaths later, my vision dimmed.
And in the next, it went fully black.
I woke slowly, a headache pounded near my temples. Groaning, I sat up, rubbing my brow, swallowing hard. My vision spun as I stumbled to my feet. I was in an elegant room with dark paneled walls and expensive rugs layered on top of one another. A handsome wooden desk faced a leather sofa. I looked at the creased velvet pillow I had been lying on and shuddered, knowing someone had laid me down and covered me with a blanket.
The door opened, and Mr. Sterling strode in, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and two empty cups. He set it down on the desk and said, “I’m glad you’re awake. I trust you had a nice rest?”
“A nice rest,” I repeated, shaking my head, feeling sluggish. “You had medrugged.”
“I couldn’t let you discover the location of my office,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “And you look exhausted, if you’ll permit me to say so. I think the sleep did you good, even if it was forced.”
“I want to go back to the hotel,” I said firmly. “Take me there at once.”
Mr. Sterling carried the chair tucked under the desk closer to the sofa and then sat down. “I’ve made other plans, I’m afraid. Let’s have tea, and we’ll have our discussion. You did tell Mr. Graves you’d cooperate, if you recall.”
I opened and closed my mouth, confused by his almost solicitous manner. “Will you take me back to the hotel once we’re through?”
Mr. Sterling smiled and gestured to the couch. “Have a seat, Miss Olivera.”
“Obviously, you’ve doctored the tea,” I said stiffly as I positioned myself on a cushion. “I will not be drinking or eating anything you offer.”
“It has not been tampered with,” he said. “Watch carefully.”
He poured the tea, filling both cups to the brim. Then he lifted his own and took a long sip.
“I still won’t drink the damn tea,” I said.
“Well, now you’re just being stubborn,” he said. “But suit yourself.”
He took another sip of his tea, set down his cup, and then proceeded to drink from mine. After proving his point, he settled back against the chair and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been up to your usual tricks, searching for clues, getting into scrapes. I have a hard time believing you haven’t made any headway in finding out where Lourdes might be.”
