From the backseat of the car, Ginger glanced out the window at the passing streets and buildings of Cairo. Noah had left her with a kiss and a promise to come for her as soon as he had the documents, but none of it made her feel any better. Sitting in a house in Cairo while he was out there, sneaking into a Turkish stronghold, terrified her.
Not that she could have done much to help. Her red hair made her stand out in Egypt.
Jahi didn’t speak from the driver’s seat, and she stared at the back of his head. An Egyptian, he wore the traditional skullcap or taqiyah. She would have preferred Noah drive her. He’d begged her to run away with him in Port Said and go to his friend’s safehouse. Now she was being forced to go.
They turned down a street lined with houses and cafes. The scent of horse manure seeped into the car as it crawled, barely able to pass through the throngs of British soldiers and locals on the streets.
Ginger frowned. Why were there so many soldiers milling about?
On the balcony of a house, three women in flimsy gowns waved down at a group of passing soldiers. Ginger startled. The safehouse was in Wagh el Birket? She’d never visited the famous entertainment district of the Cairo. No respectable woman would.
Jahi turned the car down an alley and stopped. He came around to her door and opened it for her. She stepped onto the street carefully, avoiding the refuse coating the cobblestones. She followed Jahi to a door set into the side of a stone building.
Jahi knocked and stepped back. The door opened.
Stephen stood there.
Her heart hammered, and Ginger whirled around to flee. Jahi shoved her forward. Stephen caught her by the arms, his grip as unrelenting as iron. “Happy to see me, Ginny?”
Jahi slunk back. She stared at his blank expression, his lips unsmiling under a hooked nose. Had Lord Helton done this? Or Victoria?
“You bastard,” Ginger said to Jahi.
Stephen held out a small coin-purse toward Jahi. “This is half. Stay here and wait for us to return. You’ll get the rest of what I promised then.” Stephen yanked her inside.
The door slammed shut behind her. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, remembering what Stephen had done to Khalib. “Let me go.”
Stephen dragged her down a dim hallway. “Walk. Don’t worry, darling, your dear father is waiting for you upstairs.” He pulled a pistol from the holster at his side. “Please.”
Her father was here? She stiffened and walked forward, acutely aware of how simple it would be for Stephen to put a bullet in her back at any moment. “How dare you drag my family into your treachery?”
Stephen’s footsteps followed behind her, echoing in the hallway. “Treachery to whom? Jolly old England? My great-grandfather was German. Over half of my family still lives there. My ridiculous father has done his best to keep that inconvenient fact under cover, but he has no loyalty to our true bloodline.”
For as long as she’d known him, she’d never heard him speak of Germany—but had she ever paid attention? Distant in her memory were conversations with Henry about Stephen visiting family for holidays. She may have assumed it was in South Africa, due to the family mines. Had Henry or her father known about the Fishers’ connection to the Germans?
At the top of the stairs, Stephen reached around her and opened the closed door. Ginger blinked at the bright light.
“Come inside.” Her father’s voice sounded distant and tired.
Ginger moved further into the room. “Father!” She stopped a few yards in. She couldn’t run to him for comfort. He was to blame for this.
Her father sat at a desk, his head bent over a ledger. His face showed the silver-and-brown stubble of a few days shadowing his jawline. A glass of spirits sat beside him on the desk, with the decanter open nearby. The neck of his white shirt hung open, unbuttoned.
Lord Braddock set his pencil down and closed the ledger. “Did you know, Virginia, in the wild, when a wolf chooses to leave its pack, it often has to travel hundreds of miles to eat? Life becomes infinitely more difficult for the creature.”
She stood straighter, clasping her hands in front of her. “Am I the wolf in this scenario?”
“Are you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Mother?”
“She and Lucy are on their way to Luxor. Your mother wanted to wait for you, but I convinced her I’d send you along later.”
Ginger raised her chin. “I’m not going to Luxor.”
Her father came around and grabbed her by the arm. “I don’t care what you think you know, this ends now. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Was his show of loyalty to Stephen a front? “Or what?”
Her father cracked his knuckles as he made a fist. “Don’t underestimate me, Ginger. I’m not incapable of doing what’s necessary to protect this family.”
With Stephen right there, they lacked the ability to speak freely. Her diaphragm dropped low as she took a deep breath. “Old families and estates are failing all over England. There’s no shame in it.”
“Your mother deserves better. She deserves more than I’ve ever been able to give her. I’ve subjected myself to the most humiliating of posts, for her. With all my years of service, I deserved a post somewhere other than the most forgotten corner of the war. Filthy, stinking Egypt.”
His words stunned her. Her father’s various appointments throughout the British colonies had always been a source of pride for her. She’d thought nothing of the assignment to Cairo before the war or that her father had moved the family there from Penmore. He’d never hinted it had been out of necessity. In fact, she’d always believed him fond of the Egyptian people.
“Is that why you care nothing for what the Maslukha does to the people he terrorizes? I saw the damage inflicted by the Maslukha and his revolutionaries. Bedouin women and children, barefoot and bleeding. People who died because of your failure to turn in this traitor.” She pointed to Stephen.
“I told you she knows a great deal.” Henry’s voice stunned her. He stood from an armchair facing the window.
She gasped at the sight of her beloved brother, who looked gaunt and dirty. She remembered what Noah had told her the night before. Henry was here because she’d involved him. “Henry, why are you involved in this? Why are you throwing everything away?”
“I won’t allow the family’s destruction, if I can help it.”
A pang went through her heart. Faced with the same choice, what she’d chosen made her a traitor to her family.
“Whose side are you on, Ginny?” Henry asked.
She couldn’t look at him, her stomach in knots. “Mine.”
“Yours? Or Noah Benson’s?” Stephen smirked as he came forward. He leaned against the desk. “Why not admit the truth?”
Her father and brother did nothing to come to her defense. She squeezed her hands. This was the way it was to be now? She couldn’t accept it. She knew Henry. Henry loved her. She met his gaze, appealing to him. “Henry, you know the truth about Stephen. You know what he is. How could you choose him over me?”
“Ginny, you must understand—”
Her hands clenched as she stormed up to him. “I must understand you’d rather Stephen ruin our family, threaten our mother and sister, and betray England? You want me to accept you know the truth and you’ve done nothing about it? You’re a good man, Henry. Don’t let what Father has done ruin you.”
Henry’s eyes were veined with red. “It’s much more complicated than you believe. Father has done nothing more dishonest than other British officials have. They lie to the French, to the Arabs, to the Zionists, telling each of them what they want to hear to accomplish their goals.”
His justification was nauseating. “Even if the British are less than honest with their allies, how can you justify the murder of innocents? I saw it, Henry. I saw the Bedouin refugees who came to our clearing station, begging for help. Women, old men. Children”—her voice grew raw—“a girl, no older than five years old, burned alive in a lorry in front of my eyes. And an infant. How can you justify that?”
Henry grabbed her by the wrist, and his fingers dug into her skin. “Are you the arbiter of truth now, Ginny? The judge and the jury?”
She lifted her chin. Clearly, Henry was miserable with what he’d chosen. It explained why he’d been drinking, why he appeared not to be eating. Would it take much to bring him to her side? “I know you love England. I can see this is eating you alive. Don’t turn your back on what’s right.”
“What makes you think Noah Benson can offer you salvation? You don’t know him like I do. The man is the furthest thing imaginable from a saint. He’s a cold and ruthless killer. It’s what he’s good at.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “At least he’s not a traitor.”
Henry sneered. “You think everything is so black and white, don’t you? The traitor here is you.”
The rowdy hollering of soldiers on the street filtered through the window. Ginger wished she could call out to them, to anyone, for help. She stared at Henry. “Noah has his flaws, but he’s more honest than any of you.”
Henry’s face reddened. “Consider what he’s doing with you, Ginny. You think he’s never done it before? Never used a woman to get to someone else? Did you tell her about Constantinople?” he asked her father.
Her father gave a mirthless smile. “No. But maybe I should have.”
Henry sneered, his gaze locking with Ginger’s. “His assignment—assassinate a German officer. No one could get to him. But Noah found a way.”
“Stop it, Henry.” She didn’t want to hear the story.
“The German officer had a wife. He had his fun with her—like he’s doing with you, Ginny—even convinced her to let him into the house when her husband was away. All so he could lie in wait for his true target.”
Goose bumps rose on Ginger’s arms.
“And what happened to the woman, Father?” Henry’s eyes darkened.
Her father said nothing. Henry answered for him. “The papers showed her body where he left her, her blood on the sheets of the bed he shared with her.”
She remained calm despite the nausea rising in her throat. “Stop.”
“He used her to betray her husband,” Henry said. “And he’s using you, Ginny. Against your father. And your brother. Your entire family. And when he’s finished, he’ll discard you without a backward glance too.”
Was any of it true? She straightened. It didn’t matter. “You made your choice, Henry, and I’ve made mine.”
“That’s all we need to hear, yes?” Stephen went around to the other side of the desk. He pulled a leather pouch from a drawer. “Have a seat, Ginny.” He motioned toward a chair in front of the desk.
Her eyes shot toward her father, but he didn’t look at her. She wanted to scream at him, demand he not be such a coward. Sinking into the seat, she watched as Stephen removed a series of tools from the pouch: a hammer, a knife, a steel awl, among others. She tore her gaze away, her heart pounding. “What—”
“Don’t worry, they aren’t for you.” Stephen nodded at Henry.
Henry went to a closet and opened the door.
“Would you like to look inside, darling Ginny?” Stephen asked. “Henry brought me a present.”
Ginger stiffened. A present? She didn’t want to see what he had in there.
Stephen grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look.
There, gagged and bound, but eyes open, lay Beatrice.
Her head spun. What—how …?
Henry had gone to Belah …
Ginger cried out and bolted from the chair. Stephen shoved her down again.
“Father—” Ginger appealed to him, her eyes wide. “Father, please. I know you aren’t like this. Don’t let him hurt her.”
Stephen left her side and dragged Beatrice out of the closet. The gag around Beatrice’s mouth muffled her protests. Her uniform was dirty and spotted with dried blood. Tears shone in her eyes as Stephen set her down in a simple wooden chair in the middle of the room. Her gaze locked with Ginger’s, her appeal for help written in her terror.
How could this be happening?
Her telegram to Beatrice. It implied she was involved. And how important she was to Ginger.
Oh, God …
Breathe. She needed to breathe.
“Virginia.” Her father’s voice was low. He stood in front of her. “You must tell us what you know. We have eyes everywhere—we know you were at Lord Helton’s house. Fortunately, Stephen was able to convince Jahi to bring you here to us.”
She could hardly think straight, but his words seemed to absolve Lord Helton of any involvement in her being here.
Stephen nodded to the desk. “Henry, grab me the awl. Speaking of eyes, I think they might be a superb place to start.”
Ginger’s horror grew as Henry lifted a long, sharp-pointed instrument. “No!” She thought of the gun strapped to her leg. But she couldn’t risk using it—not with three men fully capable of stopping her. “Father, Henry … p-please! I know you’re better than this. You can’t allow this man to hurt an innocent woman. I don’t believe you would.”
The corners of Stephen’s eyes crinkled. “You see, gentlemen? You hear? That’s the problem. She doesn’t believe you would.” His hand shot out, grabbing Beatrice by the nape of her neck and hair. He tossed her down and Beatrice hit the floor with a thud. She moaned in pain.
“Stop it!” Ginger bolted toward Beatrice but Henry held her back, his arm gripped tightly across her chest.
Henry’s breath was warm against her ear. “Just tell him what he wants, Ginny. Don’t endanger Mother and Lucy.”
She fought his grip. “Let me go.”
Stephen delivered a fierce kick into Beatrice’s abdomen with the toe of his boot. Beatrice cried out and rolled onto her side, her knees into her chest, her body shaking. Stephen placed his foot against her curled fingertips, withholding his weight. “Tell me or I will hurt her. And I will take my time doing so. This is your last chance.”
Ginger pushed away from Henry. Could she risk telling them something untrue? She couldn’t. Not with Beatrice’s life on the line. If they found out or they discovered Ginger was lying, who knew what they would do? And she had no way of knowing what they already knew.
“Noah …” She drew a breath. Would Noah forgive her for this?
“Yes?” Stephen asked. He put more of his weight against Beatrice’s hand and she whimpered.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to help Beatrice. “Noah knows where Ahmed hid the documents.”
Her father and Stephen exchanged a look. “Damn it, I knew it—” her father started, worry crossing his face. His eyes darted around the room like a caged animal.
“Where?” Stephen demanded to Ginger. “Where are they?”
She couldn’t tell him. If she did, she could endanger Noah’s efforts to retrieve them.
Stephen extended his hand to Henry. “The awl, Henry.”
“No!” Ginger held Henry’s arm, refusing to let him go. “No, Henry, please listen to me. There’s a way out of this still for all of us. If not for me, do it for Angelica. She loves you for the good man that you are. Doing this is the only sure way to lose her for good. Don’t give Stephen any more power over you—”
Beatrice’s scream and a sickening snap of bone filled the space. Stephen’s eyes gleamed, the full weight of his boot against Beatrice’s wrist. “A nurse with a mangled hand won’t be too useful, will she now? What about both wrists?”
Was this what he had done to Khalib? Sickness threatened her. She had to tell him enough to satisfy him. Before he maimed Beatrice for life. “The documents are in Beersheba.” She uttered the words so quietly she hardly heard them herself.
“What’s that?” Stephen raised a brow.
“She said Beersheba, Stephen. Leave the girl be.” Henry’s shoulders bunched with tension.
Stephen straightened and spread his hands. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His face gleamed as he quirked an eyebrow at Henry. “My methods work, dear friend. Now all we need to do is send a message to our friends in Beersheba. Let them know they’ll have an intruder. More than likely dressed as a Bedouin.”
“No—”
Stephen smiled cruelly. “I know our Major Benson. Once he finds out where those documents are, his first move will be retrieve them. He is rather adept at slipping in and out of Turkish camps—but not if the Turks know he’s coming.”
Ginger clutched her hands to her stomach. Noah and Jack were walking into a deadly situation. And it was her fault. “That’s not true. He’s not going for them. You’ve already given him enough rope to hang yourself, he doesn’t need the documents.”
Stephen smirked. “Don’t be pathetic, darling. It’s unbecoming.”
Ginger covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want them to see her cry. But they had won, and she’d likely condemned the man she loved to death.
“Now,” her father growled. “Enough of this. We had a deal, Fisher. She’s done her part. Have your man take her to the boat with her mother and sister.”
“And Beatrice?” Ginger lowered her hands. “Let her go. You can’t hold an innocent woman.” Her eyes darted to her friend, whose breathing remained panicked.
“No. We may yet need her. At a minimum to stop you from thinking you can warn your lover.” Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “She stays.”
Ginger wrangled herself free from Henry and ran to Beatrice’s side. Beatrice’s eyebrows knitted, her body trembling. She moaned through the gag, trying to speak. Ginger reached for her wrist and Beatrice cried out.
Stephen yanked Ginger upright. “Leave her.”
Ginger fought back, clawing against him. “I’m not leaving my friend. You broke her wrist. I need to help her.”
“The bitch stays.” Stephen’s words were a harsh whisper. His fingers dug into her own wrist. Would he break her bone just as easily? Stephen lifted his head toward her father. “Change of plans. I’ll see to it myself that Ginger is left at my house. She’s too much of a risk to be out of my sight.”
“You swore you would keep the women together.” Her father’s face colored.
Sweat ran down Ginger’s back, the heat of the room too intense, the air stifling. She looked for a rubbish bin, but couldn’t get away from Stephen’s grasp before she vomited. Noah had praised her for saving everything. But Victoria had been right. The blame of every misstep lay on her shoulders.
Stephen held out a handkerchief. “Let’s go, my dear.”
She ignored the handkerchief, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her gaze shot to Henry. She wouldn’t have believed her brother capable of abducting an innocent woman, let alone her friend. “Henry, Henry—please. Don’t allow him to hurt Beatrice. Promise me you’ll—” Ginger flinched as Stephen grabbed her arm with a steel grip. He dragged her toward the door. “Please. You have to let her go.”
Stephen shoved her out of the door and it slammed shut, the darkness of the hallway enclosing her. A sour taste permeated her mouth and she wrested her arm away from Stephen as he led her down the stairwell. “Don’t touch me.”
Stephen led her out into the alleyway. The scent of baked dust drifted past and she blinked in the sunlight. “Try not to look so miserable, darling. We’re just taking a short drive.”
Numb and raw, she glanced up at the building where she’d been as they stepped out into the street. The ground floor was a pub. British soldiers gathered both inside and outside, drinking and making a spectacle, even at this early hour. No wonder she’d heard them so close by.
If only Stephen had given her time to treat Beatrice. Somehow, she had to find a way to help Beatrice. She gripped her haversack, desperate to feel grounded to anything. “You have to release my friend. I gave you what you wanted.”
“No.” Stephen glanced at her. “You didn’t. Don’t you see? I gave you so many opportunities to make things right between us. I even promised your father I’d forgive his debts, in exchange for your hand.”
She threw him the most satisfied look she could muster. “It must drive you mad to know you can have all the diamonds and money and power in the world—and I still won’t marry you. You’ll never have me.”
Jahi waited for them in the motorcar he’d brought Ginger in. Stephen pushed her into the backseat and climbed in behind her. “Go. To my residence.”
The motorcar sped out of the alleyway onto the main street. Ginger recoiled as far as she could from Stephen, but he came closer. “You think I won’t have you?” He held her face, his thumb and forefinger taut against her chin so that she couldn’t turn her head away. His mouth descended on hers, with a hard and vicious kiss.
Her back pressed against the door, feeling for the handle. The cool metal slid past her fingertips and out of her grasp as she kicked Stephen to get away. He pushed her hand toward his crotch. “I’ll have you when and how I want you, Ginny. And when I’m through with you, I can promise you even Noah Benson won’t want you.”
She searched his cold eyes, trying to think of a response. She felt for the gun at her leg. If he released her slightly, she might be able to pull it out.
Jahi slammed on the brake and they were forced to catch themselves as the motion propelled them forward.
“You idiot.” Stephen spat at Jahi, the spittle running down the man’s neck.
Jahi mumbled a low apology.
Ginger startled and caught her hand against the door handle. Jahi had been forced to stop because of traffic—in front of the train station.
What if she could catch up to Noah and Jack?
If she fled, Stephen might hurt Beatrice. But if she did nothing, the danger to Noah was assured. Noah was the only one who she knew she could trust. Noah might be her only hope for getting Beatrice back.
And if she stayed, Stephen would rape her.
She had only seconds to act. Kicking Stephen as hard as she could, she threw the door open as Jahi lurched forward once more. Tumbling out of the slow-moving car, she rolled onto the street. Stephen cursed behind her. She didn’t look back as she dodged and wove her way across the street, past tumbling carriages and horses. A motorcar blared its horn and swerved as she escaped its bumper.
She had to find Noah. He would know what to do. Jack had said they planned on taking the number 408 to Ismailia at noon. Hopefully it would still be there.
Ginger fled into the train station. Her legs felt weak, her hands shaky as she passed through the ticket counters and the crowds in the main building and went toward the platforms.
She ran, praying the train hadn’t left. One platform came into view with a sign indicating Ismailia as its destination. She tore through the throng and climbed into the first train car she reached.
She paused at the entrance to the car as passengers stared from their seats.
She hurried through a few train cars, scanning the seats for Noah or Jack. She didn’t see them. A sway caused her to grip the seats as the train started forward.
She could no longer stop the tears. They spilled onto her cheeks as she slowed, blurring the faces of the people she passed.
Upon reaching the end of a train car, Ginger stopped. She lifted her hand to her head and wiped her eyes. Her shoulders shook. Someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed.
“Ginger.” Noah turned her.
Her knees crumpled. He caught her by the shoulders, concern on his face.
The relief she felt at seeing him drained her last drop of energy. As he swept her into his arms, she said, “Stephen knows your plans. And he has Beatrice.”