for stating the simple truth, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He couldn’t let it go. “I like you. The time we’ve spent together.”
“No happy ending, Thorne.” Her voice, matter-of-fact, challenged him.
“Right, then.” He turned on the engine, cranking up the air, then gestured for her to hand over her glasses. She did, and he cleaned the lenses with the bottom of his shirt. “I never say anything I don’t mean, and never make threats I don’t intend to follow through.” He handed her back her glasses.
“Thanks. I think you may be the one flogging that dead horse. Things over here are crystal clear.”
No crying, no pouting. Digging in his pocket he took out a fifty-piastre coin. “Call where you want to go.”
“What are my choices?” Her brow arched. “Back to bed?”
Expecting a small debate on the virtues of marriage, he was pleased to find her reacting sensibly instead of emotionally. And hell, if sex was still an option, she probably wasn’t too pissed about the matrimony thing.
His views left no room for argument.
Isis enjoyed taking charge of things, so maybe she appreciated having the situation spelled out, with no room for misinterpretation.
“Unfortunately,” he said in a dry tone, “that wasn’t one of the choices. Heads, Valley of the Scorpions. Tails, Abusir to see what Dickhead has really found.”
“Heads.”
Thorne flipped the coin, then slapped it on the back of his hand. “Tails.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I still believe Cleo’s resting in the Valley. There first, then when I see Dylan again, if I’m incarcerated for his murder, I’ll know where she is one way or the other.”
“Valley it is then.” The air-conditioning kicked in, blasting like a furnace inside the already broiling vehicle. “If Brengard’s responsible for all that crap yesterday?” he continued as if they hadn’t paused to make choices. “Bloody right I’ll hurt him.” Just because he wasn’t offering marriage didn’t mean he had no feelings for Isis. And when it came to her protection, he fought to win. “Are you all right, after seeing him?”
“I’m fine…”
He gave her an incredulous look.
“Honestly? Not really.” Isis wriggled in her seat to get more comfortable, her back against her door, her knee curled on the seat. “That encounter left me shaking. Look.” She held out a flat hand, not a shake in sight, but her voice was tight, and after dropping her hand into her lap, she curled her fingers into a fist.
“I’m annoyed. Scared. Incensed. He knew I was here. I know he did. And if so, how? People leave at this time of year. Go where it’s cooler. This is the worst season to dig. I’m suspicious times two.”
“He needs something from you.”
“What? I don’t have anything. If I did, I’d be the one financing a dig. Okay, I wouldn’t be able to do that, but in theory. I’d be the one digging. With my bare hands if I had to.”
So far her father’s “clues” had given then bugger-all. Thorne doubted even the professor’s mind could be jogged with the random items he’d left. A tassel from a minister’s carpet. A broken stick… Not a shitload to go on.
“He claims to have a crew and sponsors,” Isis continued, incensed. “He didn’t put that together yesterday! That takes months to set up. Which means the slimy bastard was working this site while my father was working somewhere else. Thorne, this has to be my father’s find. Dylan wouldn’t have had time to verify a potential dig and get the backing that quickly all on his own.”
The air pouring out of the vents grew cooler. The Range Rover was another souped-up vehicle with bulletproof everything. Fucking annoying as hell that it was a necessity at all, but obliging of the Israelis to be so accommodating, considering his vehicular track record on this trip.
“Has he really found Cleo?” Isis shrugged. “Who knows? I can contact the director of MSA, see where Dylan’s excavating—if he’ll tell me. He and my father never exactly saw eye to eye.” Her voice was dry. “But he might tell me if indeed my father’s permissions were revoked and why…”
“You sure Brengard isn’t just flat-out lying?”
“I believe Dylan—he’s working a site. He probably does have a legitimate claim to excavate wherever the hell he is. Husani and his father are our friends. If Dylan went to them to hire on more men, he’d know they’d check on my father’s behalf to make sure he was on the up-and-up. They worked with him when my father