wait.”
He eyed her, lifting an eyebrow.
“When you live in a country not your own, an undocumented citizen, you had best learn to defend yourself very quickly. Failure to do so can be quite painful. It could get you killed, or worse.”
“How do you survive here?” he asked, as they wended their way through alleys and what seemed to be back yards. “Where do you live? Can’t you take us there until they stop looking?”
Those were questions he’d asked himself more than once. There was no provision in this culture for unmarried women without a family and she was clearly all of that.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned, he could see her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“I live in the whorehouse, although of course they don’t call it such here. It’s a school for bellydancers. They needed protection and some of those who were willing to perform that office demanded service as partial payment for the protection. I protect them instead. I’m better in many ways, especially as there are few men who will speak of being beaten by a woman.”
Hearing a noise ahead, she glanced around the corner and then signaled them to take cover behind some crates, watching through the slats.
Standing in the shadows, he, Ryan and John pressed into the small space and waited, listening.
She looked up.
Ky followed her gaze.
A woman appeared on a balcony, nodded, and then disappeared back inside once again.
“Come,” Raissa said. “It’s clear.”
She gave him a mischievous look.
“In return, they taught me to belly dance,” she said, with an impish smile. “I’m quite good.”
Ky took a sharp breath as that picture filled his head and muttered, “I didn’t need to know that. I really didn’t need to know that.”
From behind him a soft voice, Ryan’s, said avidly, “I did.”
“Shut up, Ryan,” Ky said.
Ahead of them, Raissa laughed, softly, as she led them to the safety of the plaza in front of their hotel.
Chapter Ten
The area around the hotel was quiet. It was a relief to enter the suite and find it undisturbed except for Komi, who paced the room with the cell phone at his ear, explaining in his usual halting fashion what they needed and why―apparently to some official, judging by his patient, long-suffering tone. He was clearly exasperated.
It was almost shockingly normal after the sudden violence in the souk.
There would be repercussions for the events there, of that Ky was certain. It was just a matter of how long it would take to be felt and how severe. A part of him fretted even as he went over it in his mind. There had been nothing he could have done to have changed the way it had turned out.
Ryan and John were relating their adventures of the morning to Komi, who looked mildly shocked and distressed.
As usual, John altered the events somewhat and Ryan let him, rolling his eyes behind John’s back.
To hear John tell it, he’d been protecting Ryan.
Ky made himself let it go. What had happened had happened. It couldn’t be changed. They could only wait to see what happened next.
Turning from them, he smiled.
Raissa had already settled into her chair, this time with her feet up on the wall, to work on the papyrus from their find in the wall of the fort. It was a good thing she was wearing shorts, or both he, John and Ryan were likely to have been very uncomfortable. As it was, those lovely smoothly muscled legs were clearly on display, Raissa oblivious to the effect, propping the clipboard against her thighs to study one of the papyri she’d discovered.
For himself, beyond admiring those legs from time to time to his personal discomfort, he read the transcripts of her translations of the others that had been found. Then he reread them, frowning slightly… If Raissa’s translations were correct… On the computer he pulled up another, older set of translations, studying both the hieroglyphics and the translation.
Ky had always had questions about that
He eyed her, lifting an eyebrow.
“When you live in a country not your own, an undocumented citizen, you had best learn to defend yourself very quickly. Failure to do so can be quite painful. It could get you killed, or worse.”
“How do you survive here?” he asked, as they wended their way through alleys and what seemed to be back yards. “Where do you live? Can’t you take us there until they stop looking?”
Those were questions he’d asked himself more than once. There was no provision in this culture for unmarried women without a family and she was clearly all of that.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned, he could see her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“I live in the whorehouse, although of course they don’t call it such here. It’s a school for bellydancers. They needed protection and some of those who were willing to perform that office demanded service as partial payment for the protection. I protect them instead. I’m better in many ways, especially as there are few men who will speak of being beaten by a woman.”
Hearing a noise ahead, she glanced around the corner and then signaled them to take cover behind some crates, watching through the slats.
Standing in the shadows, he, Ryan and John pressed into the small space and waited, listening.
She looked up.
Ky followed her gaze.
A woman appeared on a balcony, nodded, and then disappeared back inside once again.
“Come,” Raissa said. “It’s clear.”
She gave him a mischievous look.
“In return, they taught me to belly dance,” she said, with an impish smile. “I’m quite good.”
Ky took a sharp breath as that picture filled his head and muttered, “I didn’t need to know that. I really didn’t need to know that.”
From behind him a soft voice, Ryan’s, said avidly, “I did.”
“Shut up, Ryan,” Ky said.
Ahead of them, Raissa laughed, softly, as she led them to the safety of the plaza in front of their hotel.
Chapter Ten
The area around the hotel was quiet. It was a relief to enter the suite and find it undisturbed except for Komi, who paced the room with the cell phone at his ear, explaining in his usual halting fashion what they needed and why―apparently to some official, judging by his patient, long-suffering tone. He was clearly exasperated.
It was almost shockingly normal after the sudden violence in the souk.
There would be repercussions for the events there, of that Ky was certain. It was just a matter of how long it would take to be felt and how severe. A part of him fretted even as he went over it in his mind. There had been nothing he could have done to have changed the way it had turned out.
Ryan and John were relating their adventures of the morning to Komi, who looked mildly shocked and distressed.
As usual, John altered the events somewhat and Ryan let him, rolling his eyes behind John’s back.
To hear John tell it, he’d been protecting Ryan.
Ky made himself let it go. What had happened had happened. It couldn’t be changed. They could only wait to see what happened next.
Turning from them, he smiled.
Raissa had already settled into her chair, this time with her feet up on the wall, to work on the papyrus from their find in the wall of the fort. It was a good thing she was wearing shorts, or both he, John and Ryan were likely to have been very uncomfortable. As it was, those lovely smoothly muscled legs were clearly on display, Raissa oblivious to the effect, propping the clipboard against her thighs to study one of the papyri she’d discovered.
For himself, beyond admiring those legs from time to time to his personal discomfort, he read the transcripts of her translations of the others that had been found. Then he reread them, frowning slightly… If Raissa’s translations were correct… On the computer he pulled up another, older set of translations, studying both the hieroglyphics and the translation.
Ky had always had questions about that
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