Page 3 of Soulmate of the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #8)

PAIGE

I jostled into the man on my left, then the one on my right, and back again. Fucking shitty SUV. Fucking desert. I could’ve lived the rest of my life without feeling the particular cold of a desert at night again.

“All set back there?” Sam called from the driver’s seat.

“More like game, set, match,” I grumbled as another dune sent me rattling.

He chuckled. “We’re almost to the city, I swear. Tom said there’s a better vehicle there, too.”

I grimaced and focused on keeping from banging my nose on the seat in front of me.

The car Sam promised was indeed better than the shitty SUV in that it actually gave me a chance to look at the men I’d spent an hour driving through the desert with under some kind of light.

And I got to sit in the passenger’s seat.

Sam was new to me, which set me on edge, but I’d seen the other three around the house, I thought.

The one named Harry had a tendency to ghost around the place not really saying anything.

The second was named Rico. I only recognized him because one time I’d caught him fixing his hair in the downstairs bathroom.

Scared the shit out of me, but he apologized so much that I was laughing before too long.

I didn’t know the third one’s name, but I knew I’d seen him around.

It didn’t escape my notice that I hadn’t seen any of these men at the house more than four or five months ago.

Sam rolled down the window, and my stomach churned as the thick diesel smell of Cairo leaked in. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

He glanced at me and rolled it back up. “Sorry about that. I was hoping for a little fresh air, but, well…” He smiled.

I couldn’t smile back at him. I was in a bastard’s house, in a bastard’s cage, in a million places I’d been promised I’d never be again.

Tom was supposed to be here with me.

“He mentioned you had a sensitive stomach,” Sam said over the noise of my thoughts.

That jarred me out of my reverie. I had whatever the opposite of a sensitive stomach was. I met Sam’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and he winked at me. He was covering for my reaction to the memories.

“My wife’s the same way,” he said conversationally.

“Oh yeah?” I silently thanked my lucky stars. Knowing at least one of these men had someone at home—and someone they’d bring up in the casual way Sam did—soothed one or two of my jangled nerves.

He hummed in agreement. “The worst part is, she’s an absolute fiend for weird food. Every summer, we drive deep into Amish country to go to all the tiny little farmer’s markets we can find, and every time she hasn’t heard of something, she insists on buying it.”

A small smile curved my lips as I imagined a longsuffering Sam being led around by his excitable wife.

“Every time, I say to her, ‘baby, that’s gonna make you sick.’ And every time, she says to me, ‘it’s my body to make sick how I choose.’” He shook his head with a fond smile. “She doesn’t like it when I tell her it’s our toilet!”

I laughed, though the sound was bitten-off and strange. The rest of the guys chuckled. Sam grinned proudly.

“Now, you can’t tell her I said that.” He glanced at me. “If she ever finds out, she’ll kill me.”

I smiled. “Then I guess you have to tell me a good one to make up for it.”

That was a challenge Sam rose to with gusto. The streets of Cairo disappeared under glowing tales of his wife, Amalia, who was a librarian for a small town outside of Philly and, according to Sam, the smartest woman who ever lived. I barely noticed the time passing somehow.

“Ah! This is us.” Sam spun the wheel suddenly toward a closed garage door outside of the city center where Tom and I had stayed last time.

I blinked. Part of me really expected the same hotel.

Sam buzzed the intercom and gave a reservation number. The gate rattled open as smoothly as I’d ever seen a gate like that move, and we pulled inside. Following the signs, we ended up at a small bank of elevators with a brightly smiling attendant and a scowling guard nearby.

“Sorry,” Sam leaned across me to address the attendant. “We haven’t found anywhere to park yet. Should we just come back?”

“Certainly not, sir!” the attendant chirped. “I am to park your car. You are to go inside.”

Sam shrugged at me. “You heard the man.”

I certainly had. And I didn’t like his wide smile or the creepy underground entrance.

What the hell had Tom been thinking? But I didn’t seem to have another choice, so I climbed out with the rest of them.

The scowling guard took our reservation number again, and we all piled into one elevator.

At least the smell of five people who’d spent over half a day on a plane blocked out the Cairo smell.

When the doors opened, I barely resisted the urge to check the elevator to make sure we hadn’t taken some sci-fi bullshit into an airship.

Everything was smooth, perfect marble, with a quartet of musicians playing live on a stage between the lobby and the bar.

No one spoke above a murmur, and the whole place smelled faintly of fresh flowers I couldn’t place, and nothing else.

It was like stepping into a different world, a million times nicer than the last hotel.

Sam led us through the check-in process, and we were pointed to another elevator. The whole time, I just kept looking for doors. I found bathrooms, gyms, conference rooms, but no door out on this floor. Hell, it didn’t even seem like it had any windows.

Which meant the only way in was that closed parking garage. A little of the tension drained out of my shoulders.

More left when we arrived in our room. We had a suite, one bedroom for my security detail to sleep in shifts, and another for Tom and me. Every detail of the room was expensively understated.

Sam rapped on the window, then listened for a second. “Bulletproof.”

I smiled at him. Exhaustion from my long hours on the plane crept over me.

“Do you mind if I…?” I gestured to the bedroom.

“By all means.” Sam clapped Rico on the shoulder. “We’ve got first watch. Rest up.”

I nodded and headed into an equally luxe bedroom that I barely noticed as I changed into pajamas, leaving my bra on, before getting into the bed to try to sleep.

After a few minutes, it was clear. There would be no sleep in Cairo for me without Tom.