Jess began sneezing violently, emphatically, but he no longer looked at her, concentrating on rearranging the pieces of the puzzle in his mind.
Two hostages, neither one restrained. A man with a gun. Things were the opposite of what they seemed. The hostages were in charge? They were the tomb robbers?
In a rush, the pieces fell into place, creating a clear picture. It was a perfect cover. Discover an unimaginable treasure, the find of a lifetime, and pretend to be held hostage while you sell it off for a sizable fortune. A pharaoh’s fortune. Then manage to “free” yourself and enjoy a life of wealth and luxury.
It took a mere second to see it. Jess still sneezed frantically. Alicia pleaded, crying and jabbering as she moved between Donovan and the gunman. Blocking his view, and his shot.
But not Avery’s or Mitch’s, whichever one of them had that second light. As Alicia came closer, the light left her and focused on the gunman’s torso. He might not even realize it. He was in their sights. Kyle and the others might have figured out Jess’s signal, but even if they hadn’t, he trusted them to know what to do when he gave the signal. They would shoot whatever or whoever he told them to.
Or if it was Mitch, and he really was a traitor, he’d shoot Donovan.
There was no time to figure it out. He had to trust his team, and his gut.
“Gun! Now!” he yelled. Then, without hesitating, he transferred his aim to Alicia. And he shot her.
Gunfire echoed from the stone walls of the ancient chamber, two gunshots fired at the same time, followed immediately by Alicia’s scream. He felt the vibration of the echo in his skull and deep inside his ears. With a flicker of surprise, he realized he was still alive. He hadn’t been sure he would be.
The gunshots were followed by two seconds of deafening silence. Alicia crumpled to the floor, staring in horror at the blood on her thigh.
Jeffery closed his eyes, a look of defeat settling in painful furrows across his brow even as Kyle scrambled toward him through the small opening.
The gunman grimaced and cradled his arm, his shattered gun having flown out of his hand into the depths of the tomb. Donovan watched with a flicker of surprise as his other shooter rushed forward, zip cuffs at the ready. Mitch. He hadn’t shot Donovan, and despite a perfect opportunity, he hadn’t taken out a man who could identify him as their informer. Why not?
The question would have to wait. At the far end of the sarcophagus, Jess sagged against the granite resting place of Ramesses VIII, late pharaoh of Egypt and god for all eternity. Donovan ran to her side, slipping his gun into his waistband as he bent over her. Behind him, Kyle and Mitch shouted orders as they took control of the wounded and stunned tomb robbers.
“Sweetheart, lean forward.” Jess turned her head to give him access to the knot behind her as he pulled out a knife, slitting the cloth gag. The material fell from her mouth, aided by her tongue pushing it out. She didn’t try to talk, just moved her jaw slowly as he applied the knife to the duct tape at her wrists and ankles.
She sighed with relief and moved her arms, then immediately whimpered in pain. Her cry hurt him more than if the pinched nerves and tortured muscles had been his own. He lifted her into his lap and hugged her to his chest, careful not to hurt her strained shoulders but needing to reassure himself that she was okay. She groaned and laid her head on his shoulder as he rocked her. He cradled her gently, thinking it would be fine with him if they sat here like this for an hour. Slowly her arms came up to his shoulders as she worked through the pain and stiffness, hugging him back. They rocked together through the sounds of Kyle and Mitch tying off Alicia’s wound, then hustling the student robbers toward to the lighted rooms.
“Idiot,” Alicia hissed to Jeffery as he stumbled by under Kyle’s control. “I told you Shikovski recognized me.”
Donovan looked up as it finally registered. Academic recognition. Wally had tried to tell them that one of the students had recognized him, but they’d been stuck on the idea of the students as victims and didn’t get it.
But she hadn’t said it for his benefit. With a vicious glare at Jeffery, she growled, “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”
“We did kill him—”
“Shut up,” she ordered, then switched abruptly to “Ow. Goddammit.” The cry ended on a sob as Mitch none too gently hauled her upright. At her words, he stopped suddenly, letting her wobble on her one good leg. Even in the dimness of the tomb Donovan noticed the muscles pull tight in Mitch’s jaw and imagined he could feel the crackle of added tension in the air.
“What did you say?” Mitch asked her, his low growl eerily emotionless.