“Dammit, George, I said—”
“And I said, no!” he shouted, cutting her off. Zahra had never heard her dad yell at her mom like that before. “I won’t let them harm you.”
So, it’s not Dad that they’re after, she thought.
Zahra was about to inquire as to who would want to hurt her saint of a mother. Hanan was, in every way, the perfect woman. Stunning and kind, but also tough as nails when she had to be. As far as Zahra knew, she had never wronged a single person in her life. But her mother’s past was an enigma to her and Baahir.
Their SUV was suddenly rammed from behind. It took George everything he had in him to keep control of it. Everyone screamed as they were hit again. This time, they slid across the road and hit the safety railing. To her left, Zahra witnessed a massive black Suburban slam into the driver’s side of their vehicle and pin them in place against the barrier. The cry of shrieking metal was agonizing, as was the sound of her mother’s cries. She reached back and gripped both of her weeping children’s hands.
Zahra hadn’t even realized that she had been crying. They all were — except for George. He was an emotional man, but was currently too focused on keeping them on the road to be bothered with such things.
“Daddy!” Zahra shouted. The driver behind them yanked on the wheel, sped up, and hit them again.
George tried to brake, but they were then hit by a second vehicle. It had come out of nowhere.
This one sent them careening through the guardrail and over the edge.
Zahra felt her stomach turn as their car flipped over on its side.
…and then kept rolling.
She held on to her seatbelt strap and the handle above her window as the Kanes’ vehicle barrel-rolled down the steep grade of earth.
Zahra didn’t know how many times they had rolled by the time they stopped. She shook her head, hearing a high-pitched whine emanating from somewhere inside her brain, shocked that she was still conscious.
And now she wished she wasn’t.
She could hear her father’s wails, even over the sound of the ringing in her head.
“Hanan!” he shouted, bleeding from a cut to his forehead. From her vantage point, all Zahra could see was her dad’s face. He was turned toward her mother. He shook her. “Hanan. Wake up. We need to—”
The tears in George’s eyes started to fall. “Hanan?” He shook her again.
Zahra watched as her mom’s head flopped to the side. She wasn’t moving. Zahra tried to unbuckle her seatbelt and help her father but couldn’t. It had jammed during the wreck.
She leaned around her mom’s headrest but still couldn’t see much of anything… except blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
Chapter 1
Zahra
Zahra was working late at the museum. She was new to the job, and wanted to make a good impression on those around her — mainly a young Brit named Dina, a woman Zahra knew would become a close friend. She waited outside the museum lobby’s door for Zahra now that their shift had ended.
Though the two women were polar opposites of one another, they had hit it off the first time they’d shared a shift. Zahra enjoyed getting her hands dirty, rarely ever dressing up to attract the attention of the opposite sex.
Dina, on the other hand, loved doing anything that would attract the opposite sex. Actually, Zahra couldn’t be sure it was just the opposite sex Dina was trying to attract.
“I’m just living my best life,” she’d told her once.
The blonde with the short, styled pink haircut savored the feeling of people ogling her from afar. That same sort of attention made Zahra, a naturally beautiful woman in her own right, uncomfortable. Even now, with no makeup on, and sporting a thick, winter coat, Zahra was a head-turner.
“Goodnight, Bernie!” Dina called, waving back toward the front doors as they closed. A slight, gray-haired man in his sixties returned the gesture, then speedily flicked the deadbolt. Zahra was about to wave goodbye, but Bernie had already stepped away from the door.
No doubt, returning to his desk to finish his movie, Zahra thought. She had caught the man watching the 1968 Steve McQueen classic, The Thomas Crown Affair. She personally preferred Pierce Brosnan’s 1999 portrayal.
Zahra smiled. “Do you find it funny that Bernie is watching a movie about an elaborate museum heist while he’s working in a museum?”
Dina snorted, smiling wide. “Who wouldn’t find that funny?”
The midwinter evening was brisk and the air wet. Not cold enough to snow, it teased with sporadic rain. Zahra preferred the heat — humid or not. For whatever reason, she had never developed a positive rapport with the cold. The temperature didn’t seem to bother Dina, though. She had grown up here — a true Englishwoman, through and through. Zahra had spent a large percentage of her childhood in the milder climates of the U.S., as well as the blistering heat of Egypt.
The pair descended the steps down the front entrance, stopping on the sidewalk outside the museum.
“See you in the morning?” Zahra asked.
Dina yawned. “Unfortunately, yes. Which means I’ll actually have to go to bed at a decent time.”
“Tell me about it.” Zahra gave her a tired smile. She checked her watch and cringed.
“Share a cab?” Dina had asked.
Zahra didn’t answer right away. She liked Dina, but she wasn’t one to have too many close friendships. She was a loner outside of work, and always had been. She would have kept their relationship purely professional if it were up to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Dina. It was just… the way she was.
“Come on, Z. You live out near me, right? Plus,” she pulled out a black, flat object from her purse, “I have something to keep us warm.”
Dina’s nickname for her — ‘Z’ — amused Zahra since she had only recently started digging into the history of The Lost City of Z. An expedition was already in the works, though Zahra had no idea when — or if — she’d receive the approval from the museum. It would be an expensive undertaking, but her new bosses were excited about the possibilities, and it looked like it might go ahead.
Let’s hope for the best.
“Is that a flask?” Zahra asked, eyeing the object.
Dina unscrewed the top and grinned. “Sure is. Got some nice stuff in it too.”
Zahra sighed and shrugged, holding out her hand out. “What is it?”
“Bourbon. Something called Eagle Rare, I think. My uncle brought it back from America for me.”
Dina unscrewed the cap as the two headed out, turning down Great Russell Street. They walked and talked for a few minutes, sipping on the warming, high-octane booze. For good measure, Dina had slipped the flask back into her purse as they approached the intersection at Bloomsbury Street. They quickly crossed under the flashing signal.
Once safely across the road, Dina redrew the flask. The streets were utterly empty. It being late on a Tuesday night probably had something to do with it. There was no one around to reprimand them for drinking in public. It was just Zahra and Dina.
“Well, ’ello,” a voice called out from the shadows.
And them.
The two women stopped and spun toward the Cockney voice.
A pair of large men had somehow snuck up right behind them. Zahra guessed they had more than likely come down Bloomsbury Street just as she and Dina had hurried across the road. The two women hadn’t seen them coming, apparently too lost in their conversation… and their bourbon.