“Dead?” Ramose drew himself to his full height. “How?”
“Come, come!” the little man motioned with his old, arthritic hands. “He is back here. He was to come and take away your plates, but the dancer was performing, so I told him to wait just out of sight, and I gave him a chair. But when I went to check on him…” The man’s voice trailed in agitation.
Ramose followed the man, but stopped and suddenly blocked the way, dragging Tamara behind him. Tamara ducked from his grasp and peeked around him. The young Egyptian boy’s head lolled back against the wall, his knees splayed as though resting. But it was his eyes which were the most frightening. Pure terror stared back at them. Eyes which screamed there was something more terrifying than the path to the other world. Death itself.
“Wait here,” Ramose growled to Tamara.
“But—”
“Wait.”
She pushed to his side, her shoulders squared. “I don’t need your protection, Ramose.”
There were no wounds, defensive or otherwise. It was as though the boy had died from terror. A shudder rushed through her body, and she forced herself to look away, catching a glimpse of Ramse checking for a pulse.
She could tell by the stone silence from him there was nothing.
A sound rumbled from Ramose’s throat. It was then she heard his whisper. “Amunkha.”
This time, when she shuddered, she didn’t try to still it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tamara waited while Julie was loaded into the ambulance, her heart stuck in her throat. Jeff climbed in behind his wife, and the doors closed. Ramose shot her a quick, reassuring smile. Warmth rushed through her blood, and she gave a nervous smile of her own. She was trusting this man to protect her family. Ramose patted the door once and then moved beside her.
“She’ll be fine. Come. We’ll meet her there.”
She followed beside him as they moved to the car. Maybe she’d go through her mental list of questions she had for him to distract herself.
“Ramose, how did you learn Ancient Egyptian? You asked me how I understood it, but what about you, and Jakkar?”
He shrugged. “I learned it when I was a child.”
“And Jakkar? I didn’t think Ancient Egyptian was taught in schools today.”
He stared straight ahead. He was just about to lie to her. How she knew that she couldn’t say. “Seriously, answer me. You never answer me with a direct answer when I ask stuff like that, and I want to know.” She was starting to feel like a petulant child, and maybe she was. But he was so good at sidestepping her questions.
He sighed and moved close to her. The chill in the air disappeared. “Both of our families thought it important for us to learn, so we did. I have known Jakkar for a great many years, so we tend to lapse into Egyptian when we wish to keep our words private.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said, satisfied he’d finally answered a question with the truth. “Jakkar, does he take good care of you? I know he’s always busy, and he runs you around as if you’re his personal slave.”
“I am fine, miss,” he said. She’d forgotten how cultured the driver’s voice was. Not rough like Ramose’s, not smooth like Darius’ from last night. No, his was cultured, as though educated. “Ramose and I have an understanding. I will drive him for the next year, and, after that, we will rethink things. He may decide he likes to drive.”
She whirled on Ramose. “You know how to drive?”
“Of course I know how to drive,” he said, a grimace on his face. “What do you take me for?”
She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen you behind the wheel, and I know things are different in this part of the world. For all I knew, Jakkar was your driver because you didn’t know how.”
“Well, I know how. And one day I shall show you. Until then, sit back and relax. We will be at Selket’s soon.”
The secretive Selket. “Tell me about her.”
“There is not much to tell.”
“Really? Then why when you mention her, it’s with respect? There’s no grins, or grimaces, just pure respect. When you mention Jakkar or Darius, you always laugh.”
“I do believe, Ramose,” Jakkar interjected into the conversation, “your lady is jealous.”
Ramose chuckled beneath his breath. His expression softened as he gazed at Tamara. “I think you’re right.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’ll show you jealous. Now, tell me about this woman I keep hearing about.”
This time, when he laughed, it burst from his lungs, lighting his entire face. “She is a scientist, thus the reason for the respect. She lives alone, spending her time researching DNA.”
“Huh,” mumbled Tamara and crossed her arms. Smart. Ramose respects smart, no doubt about it. “Is she pretty?”
“Of course. She is… One of our people.”
He’d started to say something else. She could see it. Sense it. Damn, why couldn’t he just be honest? “What people? And if you say our one more time, I’m going to smack you again.”
He didn’t respond. The car pulled to the side, and he opened the door. “Come, let’s get your cousin secure, and you can meet Selket yourself.”
“I swear, one day, you’re going to be honest with me.” She slid out of the car. One day soon.
The men hurried to the rear of the ambulance and opened the doors, lifting Julie out with care. A woman opened the front door of the home and stood waiting. The illustrious Selket.
Oh, yes, she was beautiful. Just like Ramose had said. It was like looking at Elizabeth Taylor in the flesh. As Cleopatra. A shiver ran down Tamara’s spine. Damn. Smart and beautiful. Her shiny black hair hung to her shoulders, smooth as silk, her creamy white skin was flawless, and her eyes. Such large, dark eyes. Everything about her bespoke regality.
The twist of jealousy in her gut built, until a strong arm wrapped about her waist.
“Selket, allow me to introduce Tamara Kimbell.”
Tamara squared her shoulders. She was not going to let this woman intimidate her. After all, Tamara already knew something they didn’t. Ramose was hers, and there was no way she was letting him lose. “How do you do? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she lied. What was it about this woman that bugged her? She didn’t even know her.
Selket eyed her with open curiosity and a smile as Julie was trudged through the door then wheeled inside. “And you. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
“Wish I could say the same,” said Tamara. Damn. That tongue of hers was going to get her in real trouble one day.
Selket merely laughed. “I know. Ramose is closed-lipped at times. But that’s okay. We’ll just have to get to know one another. Come, let’s make sure your cousin is settled.”
Tamara blushed and glanced at Ramose from the corner of her eye, who arched a brow at her. Sorry, she mouthed. She wasn’t really, but he didn’t need to know that. He only nodded. She really wished she could see his aura still. She missed knowing what he was feeling.
They moved inside the house. Ramose had called it a bungalow. Some bungalow. It was huge. At least, there were no stairs.
Inside, the men had already situated Julie in a bedroom close to the main part of the house. Thank heaven she wouldn’t be relegated to the dark corners.
Stop it. Tamara didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she was edgy. Selket had been kind enough to allow Julie to stay with her and to care for her. She’s a doctor for Pete’s sake. Maybe she didn’t normally see a lot of patients, but there was no need for this weird animosity that flowed through her at the mention of the woman’s name.
Tamara joined Julie and helped settle her into her room. When they finished, her cousin looked tired, so she left her in Jeff’s capable hands. It was as though her entire world was changing. Julie’s marriage was a time for celebration, yet a small part of Tamara had felt this odd twinge inside. Maybe Jakkar was right.
Maybe she was jealous. Just not about Selket. Tamara had spe
nt her life with Julie, in one form or another. Since the day Tamara’s parents had died, they’d been inseparable. Maybe even closer than her own sisters. It was nice to see her happy, yet some small part of her was hurt. Jeff would be with her now, not Tamara.
All Tamara had were her dreams. And if they were to be believed, a man more powerful and more dominant than she was ready to accept as her own despite her earlier thoughts. Something inside her knew he wasn’t the descendant of the man in her dreams. And, in some ways, it was hard to believe he was the man’s reincarnation. It was more like they were the same person, the same man.
“Come, Tamara,” Ramose said, holding out his hand. “Let’s go get you and your cousin’s things packed and loaded up. You can stay here with her.”
Tamara gave him a weak smile and put her hand in his. The cool flesh heated, sending a wave of warmth through her. Then, again, maybe being with Ramose wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
* * * *
Tamara dragged her last suitcase from the closet and tossed it on the bed. It landed with a bounce. Here she was, in Egypt, where she’d wanted to come for years, and, instead of enjoying its beauty, she was playing maid for her cousin, packing both of their things to move to another home.
And then there was Ramose. The man emitted enough strength, power, and magnetism for her to wonder who was positive and who was negative. And, to top it all off, she could still see everyone’s aura except Ramose’s.
Worry over Julie and confusion over Ramose were like an emotional tug of war in her heart. Julie needed her, and she knew next to nothing about Ramose. And when he’d kissed her. Damn. Just thinking about that kiss made her weak in the knees. Yet he’d not touched her today. Not that way.
Yesterday, in the temporary hotel room at the hospital, he’d been remote and distant. Almost as though the dream of the woman had been his past, not the past of a former life. Almost as though she’d hurt his feelings by awakening with the word “demon” on her lips. Like she could control her dreams. It wasn’t her fault she dreamed about his past life.
Just the night before, he’d kissed her like he was ready to lay her out on the table, damn the consequences.
Tamara sighed and turned on the television. She needed music. Any music. The sounds always soothed her soul. She clicked the remote until she found a music channel. Thank goodness for cable television. Rock music filled the small space in her room. Tamara closed her eyes and let it wash over her. Like a drug, it moved in her blood, filling her mind with its beat. A soft, relieved smile curved on her lips. Yes. It never mattered the type of music. As long as there was a rhythm.
Able to focus again, she yanked open the dresser drawer and piled clothes into the suitcase.
Last night had been pure bliss. Until the murder. Why did something bad always have to happen to stir things up? The look in his eyes when she’d danced for him, combined with the heat of his kiss, had shaken the foundation of whom and what she was.
She was the one who always stood on her own, teaching her siblings the meaning of independence. Yet, now, all she could think of was Ramose and her need to feel his arms around her.
Maybe it would be good to get out of the hotel. Even though they were moving to Selket’s place, and not Ramose’s.
The woman’s name still ground in the back of Tamara’s mind for some reason. What was it about that woman that made her so angry? Tamara shoved another handful of clothes into the suitcase.
Selket had been nothing but nice. She was allowing three strangers to take over her bungalow at the request of a friend. Hell, she was even interrupting her daily routine to spend time with Julie.
Maybe that was it. Tamara tossed a pair of shoes in the direction of the bed. Maybe it was because of that friendship. Ramose. Selket knew all his little secrets. She didn’t even try to hide it, just commented how Ramose was tight-lipped about sharing that life. Selket probably knew how old he was, what his favorite food was, even what kind of music he liked. All the things Tamara wanted to know.
Slamming the now empty drawers shut, Tamara stalked into the bathroom, her feet keeping time with the hard rock and roll music from the television. Maybe she should search for a softer sound, help ease the temper in her blood. She tossed her toiletries into her bag, remembering to yank her shampoo from within the shower stall. The same shower stall Ramose had held her in after she’d nearly caught the room on fire.
She fingered the shower curtain, and a soft smile stole over her lips. He’d been so shocked at the fire she’d created. Yet so understanding. In all her life, no one, not even family, had taken her talent in such stride.
She turned the corner toward her bed and slammed straight into a hard body. Bouncing back, she stared into the black eyes of Amunkha. She caught the soft scream before it got past her lips and stiffened her spine. She couldn’t help remembering Ramose’s words as they’d stared into the terrified eyes of a very dead man.
“What are you doing here?” she asked icily.
“I have come for you, my dear.”
His silky voice sent shivers down her spine. Evil personified, his dark eyes swirled with deadly malice. Whatever he wanted would not be good.
She swung her bag at him, striking him in the shoulder, the contents spilling out onto the floor. He snarled, swatting at her bag, knocking it from her hand, then spinning her about by her shoulders.
Strong arms grabbed her about the waist as she pushed away to run. Like steel bands, his arms held her in place, pinning her flat against his body.
Her senses reeled as the cold icy claw of his presence washed over her. Her body refused to obey, unable to react. Even her fire smoldered too deep for her to reach it. A cloth slammed over her face, and the sickly smell of drugs shoved into her lungs, the sweet taste playing across her tongue. She tried to hold her breath, fought for release, but he was too strong. She shook her head, her fingers clawing at his hand, fighting to dislodge the cloth over her mouth and nose. Pinpricks of light burst behind her eyes. Pain shot through her lungs, like a band tightening in her chest, demanding she give in and breathe.
She slammed her head backward, her skull contacting Amunkha’s nose. He growled in fury, though his fingers only tightened on her body. Black spots flitted behind her eyes. Darkness settled, and her muscles, despite everything her mind screamed, relaxed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ramose slammed his fist against Tamara’s hotel room door. He already knew the answer. Where the spark of her soul seemed to reside inside him was now empty. The darkness echoed as clearly as the long empty hotel hall.
A maid exited a room at the far end of the hallway, and he caught her attention. “Open this door,” he demanded.
“But, sir—”
“I’ll take full responsibility.” He yanked a card from his shirt pocket and tossed it at her. “Something’s wrong. I need to get in there. Now.”
The card did what it always did: It brought action. Through the years, he and his people had made sure their presence held the right weight, to ensure they could protect themselves. This was one of those times.
The maid blanched as she glanced down at the card then back to his face. The president’s seal. Her eyes were large, and her skin turned as pale as the white trim on her black dress. She dragged a key from the pocket of her crisp white apron and unlocked the door.
Ramose shoved past her, barreling into the room without another word.
The television was on, the sounds of music filling the otherwise empty space. A quick scan showed Tamara’s luggage, open on the bed, clothes piled inside. The closet was open, and, beside it, on the floor was her makeup bag, its contents spilled over the carpet. There was no sign of his Kha-Ib.
He laid a hand on the closet door. Energy. A dark, evil presence had stood behind its doors. Perhaps hiding, waiting for her arrival. A presence he couldn’t ignore. Amunkha.
Anger and fear punched in his gut, like one huge fist, they slammed the breath from his body. His hand s
crambled in his pocket for his cell. This wasn’t happening. She was right here. Yet she was gone.
At last, his fingers closed over his phone. Ramose left the room at a jog, pressing speed dial while he charged toward the stairs. He bounded through emergency doors and down the steps, two at a time, already half way to the ground floor before the other end picked up.
“Mereruka, Amunkha’s taken her.”
“Taken who?”
“Tamara,” Ramose bit back the frustration curling in his gut. If Amunkha hurt her... He couldn’t say the words. He wouldn’t believe she would be hurt. Not because of him.
“How do you know?”
“How the hell do you think I know? I felt him. His presence is everywhere in her room,” he snapped. “He’s been dogging my steps since the first night I met her.”
“Where are you?”
“At her hotel. Her bags are there, but she’s gone, and there’s signs of a struggle.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“No, damn it. She’s gone. Stock up on weapons and be ready. I’ll find her.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
He was about to say he didn’t know when it struck him. The man who’d bumped into them at the museum had been familiar. He should have recognized him, but he’d been too enamored with Tamara to notice. The man had been with Amunkha the first night Ramose had met Tamara. “I saw a familiar face downstairs.”
Ramose snapped the phone shut and hit the door at the bottom of the stairs at a full run. Heart in his throat, he stormed toward the bar. Amunkha was a dead man walking. Nothing would save him now. Already, his fingers itched to choke the life out of the man.
He’d known Amunkha was out there, dogging his steps, but had thought, no, he’d foolishly hoped, it was him the man was stalking. He should have known better. He’d seen the dark eyes light with evil the instant Amunkha had looked at Tamara, had felt the way she’d trembled when he’d touched her hand.
Ramose halted near the entrance, his eyes narrowed. He scanned the patrons, taking in each man, one at a time. He found his prey, dressed in touristy clothes, ball cap on his head pulled low. The man sat alone, eyeing a pretty girl from a nearby table.
Visions of Fire and Ice (The Petiri) Page 16
