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AVA WHIMPERED FROM the corner of the large room, her wrists and ankles bound with rope, her mouth gagged. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her throat raw from screaming earlier. The men who’d broken in to her apartment had subdued her after she’d tried to run. She’d woken up alone, seemingly unhurt, but scared out of her mind. Had they drugged her? Knocked her out? She didn’t remember anything after they’d tackled her to the ground, holding her in place as they tied her up. One of the men had covered her mouth as she’d screamed, and then...nothing.
Sneezing, she looked around, realizing this was the same building where she’d worked on the sculptures. She recognized the metal walls and faint chemical scent in the air. She sniffled again, her eyes watering. She was allergic to something in this damn building. Why had they brought her here? And who were the men who’d burst into her apartment?
She pulled at the restraints on her wrists, frustrated. If they were going to hurt her, to rape or kill her, she couldn’t sit around and do nothing. She needed to free herself in order to fight them.
And Sam?
Her eyes filled with tears again. He’d been on the phone with her. He’d know something had happened and come looking for her. But would he get here in time? Damn it. She hadn’t even given him her address yet. Wren had it. Thank God. This whole thing had been so close to being over. Sam was supposed to fly over and help her safely leave, keeping the men who’d been watching her away.
She shifted, wiping her tears with her bound hands.
Loud voices in the hallway caused her to stiffen. Ava cowered back as the door suddenly opened, Mohammad himself coming into the room. A shadow crossed his face, and he looked irritated to even be here at this late hour. She tried not to let him see her trembling but couldn’t stop her body from shuddering as the door closed behind him, leaving them both alone.
“Ms. Kincaid. It seems we meet again.” He strode toward her, his eyes flicking over her clothing. She’d had on jeans and loose, flowing tunics the other times they’d met. Her workout clothes were skintight. And she hadn’t even worked out, doing her usual yoga in the evening. She’d fallen asleep as soon as she’d changed into the camisole and stretchy pants.
Ava trembled as he moved closer. “I’m going to remove the gag from your mouth,” he said, his expensive loafers echoing on the hard floor. “Screaming will do you no good. As you are already aware, this building is soundproof. We wouldn’t want to disturb anyone while you complete the sculptures,” he added with a chuckle. He knelt down in front of her, and she leaned back, the strong scent of his cologne overpowering. He reached around her head, roughly untying the knot of her gag. It fell from her face, but Mohammad didn’t move away. He lifted a section of her strawberry-blonde hair, rubbing a strand between his fingers as she cringed.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, pulling away. She could hardly fight him with her arms and legs bound, but maybe she could stall whatever he had planned.
“I can see why my men are so intrigued by you. You’re a beautiful woman, Ms. Kincaid.”
“Why did you bring me here?” Ava asked, hating the way her voice shook.
He chuckled as he let go of her hair and stood, pacing in front of her. “You have observed more than you should. That is my fault, perhaps, but an issue we now need to remedy, nonetheless.” He reached into his pocket, and she realized he had both of her cell phones in one hand. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked. “Suddenly you have two phones?”
“One’s personal, one’s for business.”
He threw them both to the ground, and she cringed as the screens shattered. “My men tracked your contacts. You have connections to many members of the U.S. military. Why is that?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. “Are you working for them?”
“Of course not. I’m an artist.”
“My men confiscated your phones and looked into your last incoming calls. The man you were last speaking with is former Army, as are several other of the contacts you have saved. It seems like no mere coincidence.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she protested. “Lots of people serve in the military.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” he said, smirking. “Either way, you’ve seen too many of my men and too much of what is going on. You will finish the sculptures you’ve started for me. We’ve had enough delays as it is, and I need them completed. After you finish them? Well, my men can fight over you if they want, but you won’t ever see your country again.”
“No!” she said stubbornly.
He raised his eyebrows. “I have all the control here. You were brought in tonight because you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.”
“The box they had earlier,” she murmured. “The chemicals.” Shock washed over her. What were these men really doing in this industrial space? And how the hell did it involve the sculptures she was making?
“Ah, now you’re remembering more. I’m a prominent businessman in this country, but I work with all types of people. I can’t have you asking questions, especially given your connections back in the States. You will remain here and finish the job.”
“No. I won’t do it.”
“No?” he asked, amused. He was a predator toying with his prey, and she hated feeling weak and helpless, bound before him.
“People will be looking for me. I signed a contract to work here for the summer. The embassy knows that I’m here. You won’t get away with this.”
He smiled, moving close to her again. “It was a shame, the invasion at your apartment earlier. What are the chances? A single, American woman alone in a foreign country. You had no chance against the armed intruders that broke in. I was kind enough to send you dinner, and late that same night someone came and attacked you. People will ask questions, but it’s already been taken care of. You were targeted and robbed. Killed.” He glared at her. “No one will be looking for you. You will work on the sculptures for me tonight and stop wasting my time.”
She stared at him, stubbornly refusing to answer.
“Would you prefer I turn you over to my men now?”
Mohammad barked out an order in Arabic, and several men came into the room. “Who shall I hand you over to first?” he asked.
“I’ll help you,” she quickly said, and he flashed her a knowing look. “That’s what I thought. I will have my men untie you, but they’re not to touch you without my authorization. If you refuse to cooperate? Well, that is your choice. You’ll have to deal with the consequences for your disobedience.” He began talking rapidly in Arabic again, and she wished she could understand what he was saying. He wasn’t a businessman interested in art. It was a cover for something. Drugs? Weapons? The chemical smell was odd, but they could’ve been cleaning up, covering their tracks. What was he hiding?
Mohammad finished talking, and one of the men walked over, roughly yanking her to her feet as she gasped. Ava fell against him, still bound, and he pulled out a knife, cutting the ropes free from her wrists. Ava rubbed her raw skin as the man knelt down, his hand gripping her calve tightly as he cut the rope from her ankles.
“Get to work,” Mohammad ordered. “I need these sculptures done and shipped off. You were to have brought them back to the States yourself, but you’re off the hook now. It will make my job harder but is one less thing for you to do. You will remain here, working for me in Cairo, Ms. Kincaid. You are never leaving Egypt.”
