What the River Knows (Secrets of the Nile, #1)

“I’m sure that you do,” he growled. “I haven’t hidden them from you.” He released me in frustration, and threaded his hand through his tousled hair. “We need to involve your uncle. He has to know about this.”

“Fine,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Go and leave a note for him at the front desk.”

Relief loosened the fear etched across his face. He nodded and took my hand. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to get her back.”

I forced a smile. “I believe you.”

Whit squeezed my hand and left, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. I counted to ten, and then followed him out, careful to keep my distance. My uncle would no doubt try to help my cousin, but it was me my mother’s associates wanted. There was no way around that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Whit stride to the front desk. I quickly darted across the lobby and then raced down the front terrace steps, my hand already high up in the air, summoning a cab.

Whit was wrong. My mother had bought me tickets to help me out of the country. She wouldn’t want me to die, and no amount of money would change that. In my heart, I knew she cared enough about me to be a liability against her enemies.

I would bet my life on it.





Capítulo Treinta Y Tres


I arrived at the docks, the outline of the pyramids a dark smudge against the blackening sky. The hundreds of feluccas and dahabeeyahs gently swayed with the rhythm of the river. Behind me stood a stone-fronted building with a painted sign that had faded years before. Rats scrambled across our path as I drew closer to the lapping water. Locals chatted with tourists, advertising their services as pilots and navigators of the Nile.

I looked around uneasily. The warehouses lined the docks, a familiar stretch of buildings I remembered seeing from the last time I was in Bulaq. I had no way of knowing which one held my cousin. All of them appeared to be abandoned. Some even had broken windows. I walked toward the first in the line, nibbling on my lower lip. Because of the crowd, I felt relatively safe. Who was going to hurt me in front of all these people?

I tried not to imagine what Whit would say to that.

The door in front of the first warehouse was locked. I looked to the next entrance, and that one, too, had a long chain barring entry. I walked past three more entrances, rounding the corner and searching for a hint that my cousin might be hidden inside. Large stacks of empty crates and barrels littered my path, towering over me. The noise of the crowd by the docks fell to a soft hush as I drew farther away from the water. Each door I passed didn’t permit entry.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. There were two men dressed in trousers and double-breasted jackets roaming a stretch of ground in front of one of the buildings. They were brawny, and talking quietly, standing several feet away from me, but routinely looking around.

I was about to call out to them when a stranger’s hand clapped over my mouth. A strong hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me backward against a hard surface. I struggled, and aimed a kick backward. It connected to the man’s shin.

“For fuck’s sake, Inez,” Whit hissed in my ear.

I immediately stopped struggling as he ducked us both behind a large stack of shipping crates.

“You are the most annoying human being I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet,” Whit snarled. “I could strangle you myself.”

“I have to do this,” I said fiercely. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“The hell I couldn’t.” Whit took my hand, and attempted to drag me back the way I came, but I resisted.

“I’m not going!”

“What if I can’t save you?” Whit asked, his eyes wild and in full-blown panic. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I can’t leave—”

“Let’s go before they see us. They have men patrolling—”

The click of a loaded pistol sounded like a cannon blast.

“Whit!”

An assailant had crept behind us and aimed the barrel of a gun at the back of Whit’s head. He smiled, blue eyes blazing, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Whit released me, and crouched, swinging his leg wide. The man tumbled to the ground and his gun went off, the sound reverberating in my ear. From far away, people screamed.

Whit leapt onto the man and threw a punch. The gun flew out of his hand, skittering against the floor. It landed with a loud clatter by my feet. I instinctively dropped to the soiled ground and grabbed it.

“Inez, run!” Whit yelled as the two men I’d seen earlier encircled him, their fists raised high. Whit ducked beneath the first jab, and blocked another with his forearm. He swung hard, hitting the side of one man’s head, rattling teeth. “Inez,” he shouted as he landed a kick at the second man, “I thought I told you”—Whit narrowly avoided the third man’s right hook—“to run!”

“Watch out!” I yelled in terror, and without thinking, I swung up my arm and fired the pistol straight into the air. Whit didn’t flinch but the other attacker did and he took advantage of the distraction by throwing another punch.

The third man jumped to his feet and pulled out a dagger and flung it at Whit, who narrowly stepped aside. The momentum sent the knife somersaulting through the air, sinking into one of the barrels.

Whit whipped his gun from out of the holster and shot at the third man, who narrowly missed a shot to his stomach. The sound of a loaded pistol echoed in my ear. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a tiny hole and the sharp glint of silver metal aimed at my temple.

“Drop it,” a man growled.

I dropped the weapon.

“Kick it away from you.”

I did as he demanded.

Then, in a louder voice, my attacker yelled, “Stand up and stop fighting my men or your lady dies.”

Whit stood, his face pale, chest heaving. Two of the men he’d fought were unconscious by his feet. “Take me instead.”

“Whit! No.”

But he ignored me, staring fiercely at my attacker.

“Toss your gun to me,” my attacker said.

Whit didn’t hesitate. He tossed it, and it cluttered at our feet, initials facing up. Tears burned in my eyes. He never told me who that gun belonged to, but I knew how much it meant to him.

“I’m here for Elvira. Please release her,” I said quickly. “I’ll come quietly but don’t hurt her or my friend.”

From behind me, a voice cut the air, sharp and familiar. “Bring them both on board.”

The man holding the gun lunged at me, covering my nose and mouth with a dirty rag. The chemical scent made me gag, and my eyes watered. Dimly, I heard Whit let out a furious roar. I struggled against the viselike bands across my ribs but the edges of my vision blurred.

I blinked, and the world turned darker.

I shut my eyes and saw no more.

*

They had put me in a tomb.

The walls were jagged, the color of a tawny mountain cliff. The space was narrow and crowded by crates and barrels. A single candle illuminated a small stretch of space. I struggled, but my hands wouldn’t move; something rough scraped the delicate skin around my wrists. My arms were pulled behind me, tight and uncomfortable.

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