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“Where is Kira?” she demanded again.
Mason gave her a nasty smile and raised the bloody knife. He pulled her back to his chest and placed the blade at her throat. “Maybe we should go see her.”
Makram Rafiq was no longer the scariest person in the room. Now that he’d scored his first kill, Mason Gardner had a taste for blood.
The world was upside down. Chris stood in a fake slot canyon, not on an official op, staring at the unequivocal face of the fourth most wanted man by the FBI, while retail heir Mason Gardner held a knife to Diana’s throat.
And Chris had no shot on Mason.
He was back in the real canyon, with Bassam holding the knife.
Could Diana talk her way out of this one?
“Kill me, and Rafiq won’t get his coordinates.”
And there was his answer.
Yes. Yes, she could.
Unlike before, when Kramer had been in the tunnel behind him, Chris was on his own. But this time, there was no escape for the men, and no one knew that everything that happened here was being filmed.
“Where is the site, Dr. Edwards?” Rafiq’s voice was low and soft. Cajoling.
She fixed him with a glare. “Call off the dog.”
Chris smiled. This time, she wasn’t negotiating the knife wielder’s release. But then Bassam deserved more respect than Mason Gardner.
After a long pause, Rafiq said, “Drop the knife.”
“We can’t trust her.” Mason’s voice was petulant.
“She has more loyalty and cunning than you. If you kill her, I will kill you.”
Mason flushed. “We’ve done what you asked. Even brought you here. At great risk to ourselves.”
“You did it for money.”
“That’s why everyone does anything.”
“Not me. Not Dr. Edwards.”
It was weird to hear a terrorist speak about Diana with more respect than the retail heir did. Another upside-down element.
“So what do you do it for?” Mason asked.
“Me? I am a servant of God. She is a fool who believes understanding history will change men like you. She and I, we’re both zealots for our beliefs. The difference between us is I don’t give a damn about the history she’s peddling except for how I can use artifacts to advance my cause.”
As Rafiq talked, Mason slowly relaxed. The knife was no longer tight against Diana’s throat.
Chris still wanted to kill the little prick.
The bloodlust was new. He’d killed before, but he’d never seen himself as a killer.
Hypocrisy, probably, but a SEAL had to find a way to cope.
Rafiq shoved Mason aside. “Tell me, Diana. Give me the coordinates.”
