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“If that’s what you really want.”

“It is.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

“By the way,” I said, lifting my chin. “We’re basically even.”

Whit stiffened.

“You’ve said my name twice.”

“That doesn’t make us even. It makes us idiots!” Whit shouted. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, fighting for control. His next words came out measured. “Well, it won’t be happening again, that I can promise you.” He strode away in a huff, his posture rigid, his back ruler straight.

Ugh, ugh,ugh. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to unravel the knots in my mind. But nothing made sense anymore.

What did the gate have to do with my parents’ deaths?

WHIT

Christ, I needed a drink. I missed the burn in my throat, the way it blurred my memories. Why had I stopped? I’d done it without really knowing. But here was another conversation I wanted to forget.

The silly chit knewnothingabout me.

I was tired of her assumptions. Tired of the hurt that bloomed in her changing eyes whenever my voice went sharp. What the hell did I care anyway? I strode quickly, wanting as much distance from her as possible. Ricardo could deal with her for the rest of the day. I signed up for a lot of things when he offered me the job. I was to protect his interests. Putting my life at risk was a given. It meant late nights, and countless hours of waiting and watching in shadowy corners. It meant pulling the trigger of my pistol.

What I didn’t sign up for was his niece.

I was starting to hate the way she saw through me. The military had shaken my faith in humanity, but it gave me a way to protect myself. I learned how to bury my emotions, to never allow myself to feel. I stopped making friends when I began losing them. With my own eyes, I had witnessed the horror that men wasted on the earth. I remembered more than I wished to, remembered, too, the long days afterward, minutes filled with whiskey on my breath and bloody fists and hazy nights. Before Ricardo found me in a Cairo alley, battered and bruised from another senseless bar fight, holding on to a gun that didn’t belong to me.

“You ought to put your brawn to better use,” he’d said. He cleaned me up until my head cleared long enough to realize I had another option available. I had more days spent sober, and with time, I passed Ricardo’s test and became a part of his team.

I didn’t want to ruin my last days in Egypt.

All too soon, I would have to leave if I didn’t find what I was looking for. Funny how my fate came down to a single sheet of paper.

I found Ricardo at headquarters, bent over the map, his index finger pressing hard on the paper as if he wanted to smudge away any imperfections. He glanced up at my approach. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. Frustration still churned in my gut.

“Why aren’t you with Inez?”

“I needed a break,” I muttered.

Ricardo’s expression turned sympathetic. “Understandable.”

He misunderstood, but I didn’t bother correcting him. He wouldn’t appreciate what I really meant, anyway. “I know why Basil Sterling hunts for Cleopatra.”

Ricardo slowly straightened, his shoulders tightening as if bracing himself for the worst.

“Why?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Glory? Money?”

I nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than that.”

“Mierda,” he snarled. “What the fuck else does he need her for?”

I curled my lip, hardly wanting to say the words. “Her body—her mummy. He believes it holds magical properties. Cleopatra is said to have been adept at magic,” I reminded him. “We don’t have concrete proof she cast spells, but it’s an educated guess based on written accounts.”

The blood drained from Ricardo’s face. “And?”