Page 73 of Ex Marks the Spot

“We don’t have time to slow down,” I say.

We can assume the Bombshells and the A Team are already onto the next clue, but we haven’t seen Old Bay since we left the airport. If they beat us to the box, that means we’re in the back of the pack with the Wise Guys and Kick Asspen.

Not a great place to be, especially with an injury.

“We also don’t have time to make your ankle worse,” she continues. “Maybe we should have the medic look at you.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“You’re annoyingly stubborn.”

I smile, despite the throbbing in my ankle. “Pretty sure those are synonyms.”

“Pretty sure?—”

“There’s the box.” Boyd points to where the Wise Asses have stopped long enough to toss something on the ground, snag a clue, and take off again.

Treva frowns when she picks up a wad of paper a few seconds later. “I guess not littering in a foreign country is too much to ask.”

“Assholes,” Hartley mutters. “What is it?”

Treva unfurls the paper, revealing a crudely drawn clue box and somethingwritten in Arabic at the top. “They must’ve been asking locals if they’d seen it.”

“I hate having to admit that’s not a bad idea,” Boyd says.

“All that matters is it worked in our favor.” I open the clue box and exhale my relief when I see three envelopes inside. Boyd and I each take one and we move off to the side to read them.

Travel on foot to Bab al-Futuh to find your next clue.

Shit. I guess Ol’ Isaac isn’t quite done with my ankle yet.

CHAPTER 15

HARTLEY

Day 13—Egypt

There is an eighty-four percent chance I’m going to murder the Wise Asses before we leave Egypt.

It’s one thing for me to talk about maiming Court. I earned that right as part of the Standard Exit Clause that comes with a breakup. (It’s in section 2.A., afterThe Breakup-er hereby sacrifices any belongings in the Breakup-ee’s possession at the time of the breakup.)

But after barreling into us and injuring Court, the only right the Wise Asses have earned is to sit on a cactus. A huge one with spiny ribs and thorns and cute little flowers on the tips. I’d even volunteer my hairbrush at this point.

Needless to say, Operation: Elimination is still in full swing.

Also, Court never asked for a medic.

Shocking, I know.

Our clue at Bab al-Futuh instructed us to take an overnight train to Luxor. We still had one team behind us when we got to the station, but waiting for a medic would’ve meant missing the next departing train and Court didn’t want to lose our buffer. It was hard to argue with that logic, especially considering he’d be off his foot for the next nine hours.

Oddly, our room in the sleeper car is taller than it is wide. Two beds are anchored to the left wall and there’s a tiny sink and vanity on the right. Thelast thing we need is Court on a bunk ladder, so I sling my backpack onto the upper bunk and say, “You get bottom.”

With a smile as quick as it is mischievous, he drops his bag somewhere behind him and tugs me to his chest. “You like it when I’m on bottom.” One hand goes around my neck and the other on my jaw. “And on top.” He swipes his thumb across my lower lip. “And from behind, if I remember correctly.”

Sweet mother of Pablo Picasso.

“You have an excellent memory.”

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