by L. N. Carson
“No need,” she said. “I’m—I mean, we—are just doing our jobs, aren’t we, Austin?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam quickly steered Kathleen toward the elevators. Once they were inside and the doors had closed on their sad, exhausted faces, he laughed and kissed her. “Pregnant! That was freakin’ brilliant!”
She chuckled. “Well, you’re the one who opened that door for me with my especially traumatic experience. Besides, I never said I was pregnant. Don’t you think you were laying it on a little thick with that bit about writing the president of the company, Roger Grant?”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “I might’ve oversold that, sure enough.”
“Oh, not you. That would’ve only been oversell if you’d have introduced me as Cary Thornhill.”
Sam leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and sighed. “All this, and she’s a fan of North by Northwest too. She just keeps getting better.”
The doors opened, and they were on the fourth floor. They followed the arrows directing them to their room, and Sam unlocked the door.
Kathleen walked into the room and could have wept at the sheer cleanliness of it. She looked longingly at the plush pillows and pristine sheets.
“Be right back.” Sam ducked into the bathroom.
Kathleen took her backpack off her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor. Then she moved over to the desk chair and sat down. She wanted to get some of the grime off her before she got anywhere close to the bed,
She heard Sam running water into the bathtub and groaned. “I need to pee!”
“Be out in a sec!” he called.
When he walked out of the bathroom, he was shirtless. He’d washed his face and there was a towel around his neck. “Your bubble bath should be ready in a minute or two.’
She stood, her jaw slack. “You’re…running a bath…for me?”
“Of course.”
Kathleen cupped his face and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When Kathleen lowered her aching body into the tub, despite the events of the past two days, she felt contented and hopeful. Even if that feeling was an illusion, she embraced it.
Pick up where this book leaves off in Book three!
Chapter One
Miranda and Mark were cuddling in bed when his phone rang.
“Do you have to answer it?” she asked as she kissed his chest.
He took the phone off the nightstand, looked at the screen, and then showed it to his wife. “You tell me.”
It was her mother.
Miranda growled in frustration. “You might as well. She’ll just keep calling if you don’t.” She climbed out of the bed. “I’ll check on Rachel. If she isn’t awake yet, I’ll start dinner.”
“Hello, Irene,” Mark said.
From the doorway, Miranda mouthed, “Sorry.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yep, we finished up only a few minutes ago. These things always drag on forever. I’m walking to my car right now.”
“Cut the crap,” Irene said. “Ed is in bad shape, and he wants to see his family.”
“We want that too. We’re having a tough time with our schedules, that’s all.”
“You’ll be here for lunch tomorrow.” His mother-in-law’s voice had taken on the commanding tone he knew well and despised. When Mark was silent, Irene continued. “It’s important to have family to depend on when you need help. Isn’t. That. Right?”
Mark ground his teeth but managed to say, “Yeah.” He detested the fact that once, unbeknownst to Miranda, Irene had given them a substantial amount of money. The old hag would hold that over his head for the rest of her life. Every birthday he wished for the same thing before blowing out his candles, but Irene Freemont still managed to draw breath.
When he joined his wife and daughter in the living room, Miranda could tell by the closed expression on his face that the conversation hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. But she knew better than almost anyone what a manipulative harpy her mother was.
“Dinner at Grandma’s?” Miranda asked, keeping her voice light for Rachel’s sake.
“Lunch.” He sighed. “Tomorrow.”
* * *
When Sam stepped out of the steamy bathroom after his shower, Kathleen was lying in bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin. As he contemplated the beauty of her face, her eyes fluttered open.
She gave him a lazy smile. “Feel better?”
“Much. You?”
She nodded and sat up, pinning the sheet in place with her arms. Her bare back presented a temptation he couldn’t resist.
“If you don’t want me in that bed with you, you’d better put some clothes on,” he said.
Kathleen let the sheet drop to her waist. “I do want you.”
* * *
Hathor and Montu sat in a fast-food restaurant eating greasy burgers and shoestring fries while their tires were replaced. They avoided the topic neither of them wished to discuss until after they’d finished their meals and Montu had taken a pack of antacids from his jacket pocket. He popped two of the chalky tablets into his mouth and offered the pack to his partner. Hathor took two tablets as well, thanked Montu, and handed back the pack.
“So, what are we gonna do now?” Montu asked. “He’s gonna be calling us soon for an update.”
“We have to think like Atum. Where would he go, and what would he do?”
“Leave the country and start a new life somewhere else?” Montu ran a hand over his wide face.
Hathor shook her head. “He doesn’t think like you or I do.”
He took a sip of his soda. “Then I don’t know what he’ll do. Nothing else makes any sense.”
“I think he plans to do something with his research.” She picked up a napkin and began tearing it to bits. “He can’t destroy it. It’s the only thing he has to bargain with if—I mean when—we capture him.”
“Do you think he only has the one copy?” Montu asked.
“I have no idea. But we have to come up with some plausible story—a lead—to give Amun-Ra.” She swept the pieces of the destroyed napkin onto her tray and fidgeted with another. “Any suggestions?”
Montu shrugged. “Atum was in the military, right? Maybe he’d go to some of his combat buddies for help.”
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About The Author
L. N. Carson
L. N. Carson worked in the legal field prior to embarking upon a career writing thrillers.
