Pirate

Sam forced himself to remain still when he saw Remi stumble past the door, landing against the table of artifacts. As much as he wanted to blast his fist through Ivan’s face, then break his neck, he knew their best bet was to wait. Ivan might only have two shots in that small-caliber handgun that he’d managed to smuggle into the museum, but that was two shots too many.

“What’s this?” Fisk said, watching Ivan take hold of Remi.

“Visitor.”

The older man took a frustrated breath. “Does no one listen around here?” Then, realizing Miss Walsh was distracted from her search, he turned back to her. “Keep looking.”

She nodded, hurriedly searching through stacks of folders and papers.

Remi leaned over the table, reaching for one of her shoes that had slid across the tabletop when she fell.

Ivan grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

“Leave my wife alone.”

“Or what?”

Sam started to rise from his chair until Marlowe rushed over and shoved him back in his seat. “Stay there or I’ll slit your throat.”

Remi, clutching her shoes and her purse to her chest, turned a stern eye on Sam. “I’m fine.”

If there was one thing that he and Remi excelled at, it was coming up with alternative plans. They were definitely going to need one now, he thought, watching as Ivan led Remi to Sam’s side.

“Sit,” he ordered, shoving Remi into a chair next to Sam.

She stole a glance Sam’s way. “Come here often?”

“Shut up, you two,” Ivan said, then crossed the room, standing where he could keep an eye on them.

Miss Walsh, who was currently dumping the contents of yet another box on top of the table, looked over at the dagger in Marlowe’s hand. “Must you stand so close with that thing?”

He said nothing, just stared at her. She turned back to the box, her hands shaking as she sorted through the papers.

Fisk glanced at his watch, then at Miss Walsh. “You’re sure you don’t remember seeing anything like that in the artifacts?”

“If there was, I’d know. There wasn’t.”

Fisk narrowed his gaze, stepping in closer to her. “Then what are you digging around for? Because those don’t look like artifacts in that envelope.”

“You said it was round, with symbols? I remember a drawing of something similar.” She shoved the box toward him. “You’re certainly welcome to look yourself.”

He picked up a stack of papers from the box, then nodded at Ivan and Marlowe. “Keep an eye on those two.”

Sam turned his attention to his wife. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

“I was worried. The ambulance that was supposed to be filled with explosives never showed.”

“A needed ruse,” Fisk said without looking up from the papers he was shuffling through. “It worked.”

“So,” Remi said, ignoring the man, her gaze moving to Sam’s wrists and the zip tie around them, “I was a tad worried about your safety.”

Sam smiled at her, then glanced at Miss Walsh, who was going through the papers, but with a bit more care than Fisk, undoubtedly because she was more worried about preserving history. Or maybe she realized once this item was found, their lives were forfeit.

Fisk held up a yellowed document, then took a step back. “This is it.”

Miss Walsh froze.

Sam had been trying to loosen the plastic tie around his wrists as he kept his eye on Ivan, who was watching Fisk for further instructions. Fisk, though, seemed in awe of his discovery, almost forgetting the others were there. Then, suddenly, he looked up. His gaze met Ivan’s, then Marlowe’s. “Meet me upstairs when you’re done. I’ll send Jak down to help.”

He walked out.

Not good, Sam thought. “You only have two bullets in that gun,” he told Ivan.

“No worries. Got more in my pocket. And Marlowe’s itching to try out his new dagger.”

Marlowe held up the gleaming blade and smiled at Miss Walsh.

She took a step back, her face paling.

Remi took a frustrated breath. “For heaven’s sake, if you’re going to kill us, at least let me put my shoes on and die with dignity. Here,” she said to Sam, holding her clutch almost to his chest so that he had no choice but to reach up with his bound hands and take it from her. She bent over, making a show of putting her high heels on her feet.

Ivan sneered at her as if he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to worry about her appearance at a moment like this. Sam gripped the purse, only then realizing what was hidden under the flap. The brass star. And here he’d been hoping for a knife to cut the zip tie.

Suddenly, Marlowe grabbed Miss Walsh, pushing the dagger against her carotid.