Read Online Must Have Been The Moonlight by Melody Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Melody Thomas
Ads: Link
for days, Omar. Do you want to know why I haven’t slept?”
“You do not want to kill me, Major.”
“Oh, but there you are mistaken. Donally may be willing to overlook certain iniquities to do his job, but I am not.”
“He is not above compromise. Have you not noticed? The railroad went through here two years ago. There is no peace for him unless he makes peace with the men upon whose lands he builds upon. My men guard the tracks and the telegraph. Down the river it is someone else.”
“Yet, he thinks that you had something to do with the attacks on a particular caravan some weeks ago. Why would he think that, Omar? Why would he ride alone seven days across the desert to reach you?”
Michael spoke over his shoulder. “I want every man present checked for a tattoo. A scarab on the wrist.” Omar tried to rise, but Michael trapped him with a boot. “Three men ambushed me on my way here. Unfortunately, two didn’tsurvive. But the one who did brought me straight to you. He had a tattoo.” Michael checked both Omar’s arms. “A scarab—an insect resembling a cockroach.”
“I swear you’ll pay for this insult, Fallon.”
“Why would Donally think you’re involved?”
“He assumed that I knew about the gold because I’ve occasionally handled stolen goods taken in raids. But that was years ago. Go ask him. He is down the corridor.”
“Then who did know about the gold Pritchards was carrying?”
“I don’t know. I swear, I am a man of honor.”
Michael eased off the revolver hammer. “You feed opium to children, Omar. Where is the honor in that?” He turned to the two men standing behind him. “Stay with him until I return.”
“You said that you had a witness…the attack on you—”
“I lied. No one survived.” Michael shoved the gun into his sash. “My men are very proficient at what they do, Omar.”
“Bastard!” Omar spat at Michael’s legs.
“Consider us even for the beating your men gave me in El-Kharga last month. Next time I may just accidentally shoot you.”
“Laugh, Fallon. I swear it will be your last time. You will pay for this outrage.”
The hallway opened to the breeze. Doors were thrown wide to the veranda. It was early morning, and a girl was watering the hanging baskets of bougainvillea. The fragrance stirred the air, mixing with heavy perfume. Ducking beneath the archway at the end of the hall, Michael entered a room. His gaze went to the massive English-style bed. A woman’s slim form clearly visible beneath a sheet moved slightly. Michael stripped the cover from her. She shot up with a startled squeal, her body barely hidden beneath a curtain of jet hair. She was naked, her dusky skin unblemished. Glass beads jangled on her ankles.
Michael dropped the coverlet. She looked all of fourteen. “I was told Donally Pasha was here.” He spoke in Arabic.
Her head shook. “My sheikh would whip me if he knew that the effendi did not sleep here, for all that he knew I existed.” Murmuring, she lifted dark liquid eyes to his. “Please say nothing.”
Bloody Christ, Omar was low-brow refuse, Michael thought. Having the greatest respect for Donally’s self-control, he wondered how the Irishman had not put a bullet into Omar’s head. The sheikhdoms were a medieval frontier answering to no constabulary, or a government that had little ability to enforce its own laws. And Michael had his bloody hands tied. How many young girls had he brought back from the markets to families that ended up selling them into sexual slavery or killing them?
“Where is Donally Pasha now?”
“He comes here last night and threatens to kill my master. It takes many men to pull him away.” The girl shrugged toward the veranda. “I think he is going after slavers in Kharga.”
Michael left through the veranda. His gaze went over the stone courtyard below where a donkey was pulling a cart of manure. He dropped to the courtyard below and crossed the grounds to the stables.
The man
“You do not want to kill me, Major.”
“Oh, but there you are mistaken. Donally may be willing to overlook certain iniquities to do his job, but I am not.”
“He is not above compromise. Have you not noticed? The railroad went through here two years ago. There is no peace for him unless he makes peace with the men upon whose lands he builds upon. My men guard the tracks and the telegraph. Down the river it is someone else.”
“Yet, he thinks that you had something to do with the attacks on a particular caravan some weeks ago. Why would he think that, Omar? Why would he ride alone seven days across the desert to reach you?”
Michael spoke over his shoulder. “I want every man present checked for a tattoo. A scarab on the wrist.” Omar tried to rise, but Michael trapped him with a boot. “Three men ambushed me on my way here. Unfortunately, two didn’tsurvive. But the one who did brought me straight to you. He had a tattoo.” Michael checked both Omar’s arms. “A scarab—an insect resembling a cockroach.”
“I swear you’ll pay for this insult, Fallon.”
“Why would Donally think you’re involved?”
“He assumed that I knew about the gold because I’ve occasionally handled stolen goods taken in raids. But that was years ago. Go ask him. He is down the corridor.”
“Then who did know about the gold Pritchards was carrying?”
“I don’t know. I swear, I am a man of honor.”
Michael eased off the revolver hammer. “You feed opium to children, Omar. Where is the honor in that?” He turned to the two men standing behind him. “Stay with him until I return.”
“You said that you had a witness…the attack on you—”
“I lied. No one survived.” Michael shoved the gun into his sash. “My men are very proficient at what they do, Omar.”
“Bastard!” Omar spat at Michael’s legs.
“Consider us even for the beating your men gave me in El-Kharga last month. Next time I may just accidentally shoot you.”
“Laugh, Fallon. I swear it will be your last time. You will pay for this outrage.”
The hallway opened to the breeze. Doors were thrown wide to the veranda. It was early morning, and a girl was watering the hanging baskets of bougainvillea. The fragrance stirred the air, mixing with heavy perfume. Ducking beneath the archway at the end of the hall, Michael entered a room. His gaze went to the massive English-style bed. A woman’s slim form clearly visible beneath a sheet moved slightly. Michael stripped the cover from her. She shot up with a startled squeal, her body barely hidden beneath a curtain of jet hair. She was naked, her dusky skin unblemished. Glass beads jangled on her ankles.
Michael dropped the coverlet. She looked all of fourteen. “I was told Donally Pasha was here.” He spoke in Arabic.
Her head shook. “My sheikh would whip me if he knew that the effendi did not sleep here, for all that he knew I existed.” Murmuring, she lifted dark liquid eyes to his. “Please say nothing.”
Bloody Christ, Omar was low-brow refuse, Michael thought. Having the greatest respect for Donally’s self-control, he wondered how the Irishman had not put a bullet into Omar’s head. The sheikhdoms were a medieval frontier answering to no constabulary, or a government that had little ability to enforce its own laws. And Michael had his bloody hands tied. How many young girls had he brought back from the markets to families that ended up selling them into sexual slavery or killing them?
“Where is Donally Pasha now?”
“He comes here last night and threatens to kill my master. It takes many men to pull him away.” The girl shrugged toward the veranda. “I think he is going after slavers in Kharga.”
Michael left through the veranda. His gaze went over the stone courtyard below where a donkey was pulling a cart of manure. He dropped to the courtyard below and crossed the grounds to the stables.
The man
Similar Books
