Dammit. Dec must really be losing his edge. His guys joked no one could read his poker face, unless he wanted them to. “His name is Anders. Ian Anders.”
“He’s a thief?”
“He’s a former soldier, British Special Forces. He moved into stealing antiquities to sell on the black market a few years ago. He usually does the job himself, and is damn good at sneaking in and out.” Dec wasn’t sure how much to tell her. He didn’t want to frighten her more than she already was. But staring into her face, he knew Dr. Layne Rush was made of pretty tough stuff. And the more information she had, the better off she’d be. “He usually leaves a few dead bodies behind, as well. In fact, he enjoys it.”
She gasped, her hands tightening, her knuckles white. “He said he wished he had more time to play before he knocked me out.”
Dec wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t like it. He hadn’t heard of Anders working with a team before. Or leaving people alive. All of this sounded off. “He possibly just wanted to keep you quiet.”
“I…” Her voice cracked. “In that moment, I had no idea what would happen. If they’d take me, kill me…”
“Hey.” Dec tipped her chin up and wasn’t surprised to find the skin under her jaw was soft as hell. He had no idea how a woman who spent months on remote digs in harsh conditions had this baby-fine skin. “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She pulled in a breath. “So, this Anders guy stole my artifacts.”
“Yes. But he doesn’t usually work with a team—”
“Or leave people alive,” she added.
“Yeah.” It was a bit of a mystery, and Dec hated mysteries. “I’m working to track him and your artifacts down.” Dec’s phone rang. “Sorry.” He glanced at the screen. “It’s my man, Logan, he’s working this job with me. Logan, what have you got?”
“Dec. Just got a call from Hasan Kelada. Said he has a pretty little piece of gold you might want to take a look at.”
Yes. “Thanks, Logan. I’ll check it out.”
Dec flicked his phone off and looked at Rush. “An antiquities dealer I know here in Cairo thinks he just purchased one of your artifacts.”
Dr. Rush’s eyes widened. “I just spent the morning questioning dealers I know. They said they hadn’t seen or heard anything.”
Dec pressed his tongue to his teeth. “I’m guessing your dealers are all legitimate.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“My guy is…not.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Black market?”
“More gray with a few shades of brown. Come on.” Dec stood. “Let’s go pay him a visit.”
Chapter Three
Layne stepped into the overcrowded shop, trying to fight back her righteous anger.
She was going to visit a black-market dealer. Her stomach was turning circles. Someone who took important, valuable pieces of history and sold them for their own personal gain.
The shop looked like any other one in the Khan el-Khalili. It was crammed full of cheap replicas of Tut’s mask, statues, Bastet cats, and seated scribes. Gaudy papyri covered the walls. One side of the store was filled with shisha pipes. She wondered how the hell the tourists got those home on the plane.
An older Egyptian lady watched them from the back of the shop.
Declan stepped forward and to Layne’s shock, spoke in perfect Arabic. He traded greetings with the woman, even got a smile out of her, then she waved them through a door in the back.
They walked down a dingy hall.
“You speak Arabic?” she asked, studying him.
“Picked it up on the teams.”
Her gaze narrowed. His face would probably be considered handsome by some. But no one would accuse him of being pretty. His features had a hard, sharp edge that matched the intensity of his gunmetal-gray eyes. His nose was slightly crooked and she wondered how he’d broken it.
Well, the man was sure blowing her idea of muscled, macho SEALs who were all brawn and no brains out of the water.
At the end of the hall, a burly man leaned against the wall, watching them get closer. He looked bored, but Layne saw the pistol holstered at his hip, and she tensed.
The man didn’t say anything to them, just opened the door.
Inside was like stepping into a different world. Layne gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.
It was a small gallery—sleek and polished, where the shop at the front was crowded and worn. The floor was glossy tiles, the walls painted a pearl-gray, and rows of glass display cabinets filled the space. Each was illuminated with discreet lights. Some of the cases were empty and some were not.