Page 107 of Dangerous

Jibril nodded and pushed past him. “Follow me, Stepfather.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mia thought her heart would explode. Who would have believed rowing such a small boat would be so agonizing? Even more agonizing was the sound of men gaining on her.

She was almost jolted off the seat when the boat struck the sandy bottom. She staggered over the side, dropping into knee-deep water and clutching her bag in one hand and shoes in the other.

Bouchard’s boat was no more than twenty feet away.

Mia found a burst of energy and ran through the shallow water, not bothering to secure the boat. She made it almost to the stunted trees clustered at the cliff base before an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to a sudden stop.

“What the hell do you think you are you doing?” Bouchard gasped, releasing her just long enough to grab her wrist and then doubling over and struggling to catch his breath.

Mia tried to shake off his hand but it was like trying to shake off her own arm.

“I’m saving my husband and son.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know the palace—better than any of them. I escaped from the harem, the most highly guarded part of the palace. If my son and husband are trapped inside, I am their best hope for freedom.”

Bouchard’s yellow-gold eyes were narrow and hostile. He didn’t say a word before pulling her back toward the shore, where two of his men had caught the other rowboat and secured it.

Mia fished the knife from her bag and poked him in the hand, hard enough to draw blood.

“Merde!” he swore, snatching his hand away. He gave her a reproachful glare, shaking his hand. “Do you think you will stop me by threatening me with that knife?”

Mia positioned the knife over her stomach. “No, but I think you will not want to face either my husband or Ramsay if I am dead.”

His jaw dropped in a way that would have made her laugh if she were not so desperate.

“You wouldn’t.”

He was right, she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t let him see that.

“How badly do you want to find out?” she asked grimly.

His eyes stared blankly through her, as though he were imagining the aftermath of her act. As if he were imagining explaining things to Ramsay. His face hardened and his full lips thinned until they were as narrow as the blade of her knife.

“I hope to God you know what you are doing.”

So do I, she thought.

* * *

The journey from the beach to the palace had been almost suspiciously easy. Nowhere along the way did they encounter any sign of fighting or men—either Assad’s or any others.

Bouchard said they must be all engaged in the fight by the wharf. Even from this far away, the sound of cannon fire had been audible. It was clear the French captain was more than a little agitated by the sound and nervous for his mentor, Ramsay.

They were at the back garden wall. Mia was glad Bouchard had listened to her and sent Beauville back to the ship, leaving Jacques with their boat. The passageway was narrow and they would need to move fast once they were inside. If Jibril was trapped in the palace, she was pretty sure of where he would go.

Mia turned to Bouchard. “The stone we are looking for has five ankhs carved in it. We must push the stone to release the latch.” They were outside the part of the palace where each of the sultan’s wives had her private quarters.

Mia pressed hard on a series of stones and a gritty noise interrupted her thoughts.

“I think this might be it.” The sound of stone grinding on stone disturbed the near darkness until she saw the gap.

“Don’t open it all the way. We will need to get past the door.”