Page 21 of Deceptive Lies

“She’s my wife’s sister’s daughter,” the other man blurted out.

“And? Why is she chained up in your kitchen?” Cooper didn't believe that. Mahmoud’s wife was also Egyptian, and while yes, her sister could have a Caucasian husband and they could have produced a child with blue eyes, he didn't think that was the case. Hopefully, his brothers were looking into it right now, checking to see if that was true, and if it wasn't then they’d have proof that Mahmoud had a woman held against her will on his premises.

Something they could definitely use as blackmail to make him talk.

Which made Cooper feel uneasy, dirty almost. From what little he’d seen, the woman had been abused, and instead of thinking about how he was going to get her out of there, he was thinking about how he could use her trauma for his own gain.

Not that he’d leave her there.

Yes, he was cold enough to use the intel to make Tarek Mahmoud give up whatever intel he was hiding about what his mother had been doing in Egypt and how it played into everything that had gone down. But he wasn't so cold that he wouldn't do everything in his power to get that woman to safety.

“She … the girl … it’s complicated.” As though realizing his mistake in saying that again, Mahmoud quickly hurried on. “She is unwell. Sick. Mentally. She has Schizophrenia and sometimes she has violent delusions. She is a danger to herself and others, and sometimes we don’t have any choice but to contain her to keep her safe.”

Nope.

He didn't believe that.

Not for a second.

The woman’s gaze had been clear, there was no confusion in her eyes, nothing to indicate that she wasn't in her right mind. There had been pain and fear, but also a determination he couldn’t help but admire. She’d wanted his attention and she’d got it.

“So, you keep her chained up in your kitchen?” he asked, arching a brow to show he didn't believe that at all.

“It’s the safest place for her. She doesn’t like to be alone, so we don’t leave her upstairs in her bedroom. This way she’s close by, we can keep an eye on her, and she has company, but we also know that everyone is safe. Her and us.”

“Why isn’t she with her parents?”

Professor Mahmoud’s gaze did a quick round of the room before settling on him. “They were overwhelmed after caring for her for many years, and we offered to take her for a while to give them a break.”

“Will she be returning with you to the States when you go back for the fall semester?”

“She … she does not like to fly. She could not cope with so many hours sitting in such a small and confined space.”

Lies.

All lies.

There was not a chance in hell that the woman he’d seen dragged out of there was a relative of Professor Mahmoud or was mentally ill. She was there for some other reason. Whatever it was, he needed to get her alone long enough to ask. Then he’d take the steps needed to alert the authorities that a kidnap victim was being held in the home of the world-renowned Egyptologist.

Or do whatever it took to take the woman with him when he left.

As much as it might frustrate his siblings, he couldn’t in good conscience walk away, knowing an innocent woman was in imminent danger, knowing that she likely wouldn't still be alive when authorities investigated. Leaving her there would be as good as signing her death warrant himself.

Not who he was.

Not who his mother would want him to be.

And not what a single one of his brothers—blood or step—would do if they’d been the ones to come to Egypt and discover her.

It absolutely messed with his plans to gather intel, but he didn't see any other choice. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to have to be personally responsible for the woman. He’d take her with him, drop her off at the embassy, and then go back to doing what he’d come there to do.

Just as Cooper was about to demand to speak with the woman, Mahmoud sagged against the wall. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“The kid. Aston Duncan. Ididask him to follow you.”

Stepping closer, he crowded the older man. “Why would you do that?”

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