I wish I’d never learned that information.
Because when I looked up, Tío Ricardo met my eyes and smiled at me, I knew the truth.
No one at this table knew my uncle was a killer.
No one except, perhaps, Whit.
Whit
The brothel was smoky and crowded. I lounged against the bar, and swirled the whiskey in my glass once, twice. Incense wafted in the air, clinging to my clothes. My informant told me Sterling’s agents would be here. They had a fondness for this particular establishment.
I put the glass down without drinking from it. I needed to be clearheaded for this.
Finally, two men parted the velvet curtain to the room’s entrance and I straightened, alert. The pair were exactly as described; pale skinned and light eyed, and English. Their shirts were starchy, their collars were pressed. And they were already inebriated.
Brilliant.
They marched right up to the bar, standing less than a foot away from me. One of them ordered drinks while the other glanced around in an assessing way. Looking for any signs of trouble. The bartender set to work, saying over his shoulder, “No Basil tonight?”
The shorter agent shook his head. “Stuck in Cairo on some nasty business.”
“Blanche will be disappointed,” the bartender said, his voice edged in sarcasm.
I glanced down into my glass. I recognized the name of the famous French dove. Auburn hair and brown eyes the color of whiskey, freckles dusting her shoulders, across her collarbone. I ought to have known Basil was her patron.
“Did you not like it?” the bartender asked in a gruff voice. He was new, a foreigner judging by his accent. German, I’d guess.
I shook my head absently, my attention already on the madame. She stood off to the side, surveying her kingdom with a dispassionate eye. Her silk gown glinted in the pale candlelight, a softness that contrasted to the strong line of her spine.
If I had any chance of seeing Blanche, I’d need to win over the madame.
I pushed the drink across the bar, paid the bartender, and slowly made my way over to her. She spotted me the minute she sensed my intention, tracking my slow movement through the crowd. The madame smiled, sharp and with interest. She was baiting me, luring me closer.
But I wanted to be caught.
“Evening,” I said to her with a careless smile.
“I’ve seen you here before,” she murmured in a throaty voice.
“I need Blanche.”
Her dark brow furrowed. “You’ve had her before?”
“Is she available tonight?” I asked, my expression carefully neutral.
“She is not,” the madame said, her tone contrite. I didn’t believe it for one second. “But if you come back tomorrow, perhaps—”
“It has to be tonight,” I said, and pressed a wad of Egyptian notes into her hand. “I’m willing to make it worth your while.”
The madame stared down at the money, visibly weighing her decision. With obvious reluctance, she handed it back to me. “I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
Her perfume curled around me in a tight fist. Deliberately, I pressed the money back into her palm, and then added more bills. “Half hour.”
The madame glanced around her, lingering on someone in the crowd. Tension gathered across my shoulders as I waited, my hand hovering close to the pocket in my jacket. I’d hand over every note I had to see Blanche. But then she nodded to herself and gestured toward the staircase. “Half hour,” she agreed. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”
“I can work fast when extremely motivated,” I said with a wink, already moving away, dizzy with triumph and thinking of Blanche. When I reached her door, I gave it a sharp rap and it swung open, revealing the slight woman known to bring men to the brothel in droves. Her nightgown slipped low on her shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles dusting her pale skin. For some unaccountable reason, another set of shoulders swam across my vision. Ones that were narrow and straightened in defiance.
I pushed the unwelcome thought away. It had no place in this room.
Blanche opened the door wider, her warm eyes lingering on my face, a smile blossoming. She liked what she saw. With a coquettish smirk, she motioned for me to follow her inside. Anticipation pulsed in my blood, made my head spin. Lavender swirled in her wake, the scent intoxicating, but it made me think of another, something sweeter.
I shut the door behind me, my gaze latching on to Blanche. She stood by the narrow bed, her hip cocked, and she untied the knot of her nightgown, revealing the swell of her breasts. Below, the mood was riotous and consuming. Conversation loud and obnoxious, the music deafening. None of it came through the door. The bedroom was ripe with tension, and quiet and anticipation.
Blanche walked toward me, her robe parted, revealing long legs. She reached up, her small hand curving around the back of my neck. Her chin lifted; she stood close enough I could see every single one of her sooty eyelashes. Slowly, Blanche pulled my face down, her lips inches from my mouth, her blue eyes pinning mine.
The potent hit of desire never came, even as I waited for it. I ought to be drowning in this woman, but instead . . . Frustration curled tight around my edges as I firmly clasped her hands and set them away from my face. “No need to go any further, Mademoiselle.”
She paused, delicate brows pulling together. I stepped away from her and approached the bed, feeling like I could breathe again. I dropped the last of my money onto the bed, and then turned to face her. Deliberately, I swept her robe back over her shoulders, covering every inch of skin, and said, “I need something else from you.”
Part Three
Jewel of the Nile
Capitulo Dieciocho
The water lapped gently against the Elephantine, and I leaned over the railing, staring into the deep green of the Nile. Whit reached forward and clasped a warm hand around my arm, gently pulling me back. I shot him a questioning look. His shoulders were drawn tight, and there were deep hollows under his eyes.
“I’m not in the mood to save you if you fall in,” he said.
I raised my brows at the curt tone. “Are you hungry or just tired? Or perhaps drunk?”
His bemused expression made me laugh. “I am not drunk. If I were, you would know. I am, however, hungry and tired and hot and, generally, annoyed.”
“You are not having a good morning,” I observed.
He gave me a flat look.
I narrowed my gaze. “What were you doing last night?”
“That,” he said softly, “is none of your business.”