Page 89 of The Phoenix

Indigo spread out a map. She tapped each location they would visit, ending with her finger on a nearby excavation.

Roark took over. “That’s Taposiris Magna, our first stop. Archaeologists have excavated ten mummies there along with pinpointing twenty-seven tombs of Egyptian royalty. A lawyer-turned-archaeologist speculates Antony and Cleopatra are buried at the site. Given her informal training, though, she’s not considered credible. Nonetheless, she has uncovered tunnels and chambers.”

“To date,” said Indigo, “none of the mummies unearthed are believed to be our couple. We need you to scan for tombs beneath the surface. If the lovers are buried there, maybe you’ll see Blood’s Kiss with them.”

“Here’s the rub.” Miller crossed his legs at the knee, smoothing his trousers as if they had a wrinkle. “Some arsehole put an explosive device in my head. It could go off at any second. Tit for tat, so to speak. If said arsehole shuts it off, I will enthusiastically take on this task. What do you say, Roark?”

Indigo turned a withering glare on the shifter.

Galena nearly planted her spear between the Englishman’s legs. “What? Why didn’t you tell me he’s responsible?”

Miller shifted her weapon to the side. “Didn’t want to worry you, luv.”

A corner of Roark’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You Brits can’t take a joke.”

“Having my brains splattered all over is funny? I fail to see the humor,” said Miller.

“Because you’re too close to the situation. From my perspective, it’s hysterical.”

Indigo’s brows tightened. “You’ll get rid of whatever you planted right now, Roark, or I’ll shrivel your balls with a spell which’ll knock your socks off.”

He patted her leg. “Indy, darling, what a colorful metaphor. But you love my balls.”

Indeed. Too much.

“You get the drift. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”

While Miller and Galena followed the conversation, their gaze pinging from witch to shifter, Roark said, “Whatever makes you think I want to do the right thing?”

Indigo tilted her chin to glower into his gray eyes.

“Fuck. Nobody here has a sense of humor. I never activated the fucking device. So getting your boxers in a twist was a waste of time.”

Miller jumped up. “You buggering arse. You bloody wanger.” He swung a fist at Roark, who side-stepped it with ease.

The shifter smirked. “Do you think we can go look for the sword and knock off all the English drama?”

****

Roark drove a rental SUV west toward Taposiris Magna with Indigo in the passenger seat while Miller and Galena played in the back like two horny teens.

Indy read aloud from a slick brochure she’d picked up at their hotel. “This place is one of the most important temples built in the New Kingdom. ‘It has been suggested by some that Cleopatra, the world’s first celebrity, could rest at the site of the ancient temple of Taposiris Magna, built by her Ptolemaic ancestors. The lover of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, who found herself on the losing end of a war, killed herself in 30 BC after being captured by Roman Emperor Octavian.’”

“Yeah?” Roark blocked moans drifting over his shoulder from Miller, Galena, or both.

“Blah. Blah. Blah. ‘Since 1998, various archaeologists have excavated the necropolis where they discovered a headless granite statue of a Ptolemaic king, the original gate to a temple dedicated to the god Osiris, a bust of Cleopatra, and twenty-two coins bearing her image.’”

“Just a minute.” Roark twisted to look behind him. “Knock it off, you two. I’m trying to drive. Go on, Indy.”

A breathless Miller said, “Sorry, mate. Just a little grab-and-tickle. She can’t keep her hands off me.”

Indy snorted before she continued reading from the travel brochure. “‘One notable Egyptian archaeologist to explore Taposiris Magna was Zahi Hawass. Later, an amateur Kathleen Martinez, a criminal lawyer from the Dominican Republic, excavated the site, claiming she was onto something. In a 2015 television documentary she said she was sure they were close to finding the tomb there.’”

Roark glanced in his rearview mirror, not at the two lovers but at the traffic. Other cars were behind him, but they passed when he slowed. Still, he was on full alert, his crotch itching like a bad case of crabs, warning they weren’t alone. Though he didn’t see any trackers, he would be vigilant.

After about forty-five minutes of Indy reading silently or staring out the window, unaware of his unproven concerns and his confirmation of no tail, Roark pulled off to the side of the road as close to the temple as he could get. “As we enter, stay within five or six feet of me. Since Friday and Saturday are typical weekends with no workers, the only thing we have to worry about are tourists. Right now, it looks deserted.” He pointed toward a tall opening in a standing wall at the edge of the dig. “If someone comes along, though, cluster together so I can cloak us.”

Galena and Miller nodded. Indy gimlet-eyed him, probably wondering how he could pull off a cloaking spell.

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