Page 106 of Dangerous

Christ.

“I am jesting, Stepfather. If we can’t find it, we will go and find the others and take our chances. Does that suit you?”

Adam rotated his arm and winced at the stinging pain. He could fight, but he didn’t know how well. He might be wounded, but Mia’s son was weak and thin from weeks of harsh treatment and in no condition to fight.

“Very well.”

Jibril thrust a wad of cloth toward him. “Put on this guard uniform.”

Adam took a gray robe that had a large bloody hole in the front. He cocked an eyebrow at Jibril, who shrugged.

Once he was dressed with a turban wrapped around his head, Muhammed took the lead, followed by Jibril, and Adam at the rear.

They found the guard quarters empty of everyone other than a few frightened women and children.

“Won’t they tell?” Adam whispered.

Jibril shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. What other choice do we have? Besides, all they are seeing are three men in guard uniforms.”

Once they’d left the series of connected barracks, Muhammed led them down a long dark hall without doors. There would be nowhere to hide if anyone came from the other direction.

“Just how far is this bloody bolt-hole of yours?” Adam hissed.

“Not far. We just need to get into the main storage room in the kitchens. Those connect to the women’s side of the palace.”

“The harem?” Adam tried to keep his voice expressionless but he must have missed the mark.

Jibril snorted. “You English are all the same.”

“What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

“You think we are savages because of our way of life, our customs.”

Adam opened his mouth to deny it and then paused. He did think it savage to have more than one spouse. At least at the same time. Even so, he had been perfectly willing to entertain the notion of keeping a mistress when he married Mia. Did that make him a hypocrite? Not that keeping a mistress was anything like keeping dozens—even hundreds—of women for one man’s pleasure. Before he could come up with an answer Muhammed turned around.

“There is a small hole from which to watch. They are bringing through barrels right now. We will wait.” He turned back to the spy hole.

The moments ticked past and the only thing he could hear was the sound of men breathing.

“You left my mother on a ship with Bouchard?”

“What the devil are you getting at, boy?”

“The man is a dog. What do you suppose I mean?”

Muhammed said something in Arabic and Jibril translated. “There is no time to argue. We are going in.”

Adam bit back several choice responses. “We can continue this conversation later, Stepson.”

“I look forward to it, Stepfather.”

Adam gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to take the younger man to task for his insolent chiding. There would be plenty of time on board Bouchard’s ship—or, God forbid—once the boy was living under his damned roof.

The door opened onto an even narrower corridor and they turned to the left. At the end was a scarred wooden door.

“This is it,” Jibril whispered over his shoulder, opening the door. The room beyond was dark and smelled of exotic spices that made Adam’s mouth water. The only light streamed through the cracks beneath another door at the far end of the pantry. A door that must connect to the kitchen beyond.

Muhammed stopped and turned. “You must take it from here, my brother.”