And there were also several of her local contacts who traded in antiquities.
She’d already visited them. Her jaw clenched. No one had seen her stolen artifacts. They’d all promised her that if any of them came up on the market, they’d contact her.
But Layne wasn’t planning on holding her breath.
She scowled, anger flooding her like a shot of lava to the veins. She couldn’t believe someone had been brazen enough to just waltz into her dig and steal valuable pieces of history like they were the tourist trinkets surrounding her.
Layne reached up and touched her cheek. It was now a spectacular black and green from the bruising. And a constant reminder of her failure.
Her bosses back at the university had been incensed and horrified to find out about the theft. They’d been sympathetic, but she could read between the lines of the carefully crafted responses.
This was a black mark on her record.
She breathed in a long breath. She wanted her dig to be a success, but more than that, she wanted to ensure everything they found could be studied and find a home in museums where anyone could go and see it.
She remembered her mother holding her hand, wandering their local museum. It had been one of the things that had ignited Layne’s love of history. She’d been too young then to understand the museum was free, and the only place her mother could afford to take her.
Anyway, now the university was on edge, and in response to the theft and attack on her, they’d hired a specialized security firm.
Layne’s scowl deepened, making her bruise throb. It was all she needed. Untrained people trampling her dig, issuing orders in the name of security, and getting in her way.
Still, if it helped safeguard the artifacts and keep her team safe, she wasn’t going to argue.
She kept walking. The university’s Cairo office and lab were a few blocks away. She’d spend the rest of the day there, another night in the city waiting for the security team to arrive, then head back to the dig.
Already she was itching to be back there.
She paused as a group of men in local jellabiya robes cut across in front of her.
It was then she felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck.
Someone was watching her.
She stood frozen for a second. This had to just be a bad reaction to being attacked.
Still, she slowly turned her head. Like she was looking at the nearby store and its wall of colored scarves and jewelry.
Then she spotted him.
She looked away, but the short glimpse was enough for her to catalogue the dark, intense man. Tan cargo pants, and a navy-blue T-shirt that stretched over a lean, muscled chest and toned biceps. Dark glasses and dark hair cut short.
He was definitely watching her.
Layne picked up speed. She knew these streets better than she knew her own neighborhood around the university. Hell, she spent more time here than her barely used apartment.
Her heart was beating hard, reminding her starkly of lying facedown in the sand while those men took her artifacts.
But she shoved the memory aside. If this man knew where her artifacts were, she was going to find out.
She ducked down an alley. It was lined with tiny, overcrowded stalls. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the man was following. She smiled.
Layne followed a twisting path through the market. Then she quickly doubled back.
She ducked through a shortcut covered by a stall selling bad reproductions of Tutankhamun’s mask and Nefertiti’s bust. She ducked out into the neighboring alley and came back around.
She spied the man ahead of her now, hands on his lean hips, looking around. His lips were moving and she got the distinct impression he was cursing.
She reached into the small courier bag she had draped over her body. She pulled out her tube of lip gloss and held it in her hand. She came up behind him and jabbed it in his lower back.
“Don’t move,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I do want to know why you’re following me.”
When he shifted his weight, like he was going to spin around, she jabbed him harder.
“I’ve already had someone punch me in the face and knock me out this week, so I’m not in a particularly good mood. You don’t want to test me.”
She’d gotten the drop on him. Damn.
Dec couldn’t believe it. Taken in by an archeologist. If Logan ever found out, Dec would never live it down.
He weighed his options. Despite whatever weapon she was carrying—and despite the firm determination in her voice—he was fairly certain Dr. Rush wasn’t going to shoot him in the middle of a crowded Cairo market.
Dec spun. He grabbed her wrist and heard her gasp. As he snatched the weapon, he got a glimpse of wide, green-gold eyes under blunt bangs. Then the little spitfire moved, bringing her knee up and aiming for his crotch.