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who that is.”
    “She is the Light of Zaran, miss. She is your sister.”
    The Light of Zaran. Dear God, Emily, what have you gotten yourself into?
    Victoria was desperate to see her sister—but she wasn’t stupid. “How do I know you intend to take me to her?”
    His smile wasn’t precisely comforting. “You do not. But you must choose. Come with me now and see your sister—or stay here because you are fearful.”
    Victoria’s mind raced. “Describe her to me.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed. But he painted a verbal picture of Emily that was accurate. It was the best she could do under the circumstances, so Victoria rose and took some money from her purse to leave on the table. Then she began to walk with the man, her stomach churning the farther they got from the cafe.
    The streets were so normal, but the white sands of the beach were mostly empty. A few women watched children playing, and a man walked out of the sea wearing scuba gear. Here and there, towels dotted the beach and foreign tourists lay in the sun. Europeans, mostly, since Americans wouldn’t come to Qu’rim these days.
    Victoria kept an eye on her surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When they rounded a corner, a car sat at the curb. A door opened and a man stepped out. She didn’t recognize him. Her stomach tightened with fear, and she ground to a halt.
    The man who’d been walking with her stopped and turned to look at her. “You must get in the car, miss.”
    She clutched her purse in front of her like a shield. She had a pistol in it because she was incapable of going anywhere unarmed these days.
    “Not until you let me speak with my sister.”
    He frowned. “This is not permitted. We will drive you to her. Then you may speak as much as you wish.”
    A bad feeling swirled in Victoria’s gut. “What’s the difference? Call her now and let me verify this is what she wants me to do. If so, I’ll go with you without complaint.”
    The man’s face grew dark with anger. “You do not give orders to me, woman. I say what you will do, and you will do it. That is the plan.”
    Victoria took a step backward. She wanted to see Emily very badly, but this didn’t feel right. And she’d spent too much time working for Ian Black not to follow her instincts.
    “Then I won’t see her today. I’ve changed my mind.”
    The man took a step toward her, but the sound of a pistol cocking drew her attention to the one who’d stepped out of the car. The black barrel of a Russian Makarov PM pointed at her heart.
    “Get in the car, Miss Royal,” the man said. “But first, throw your purse on the ground.”
    *   *   *
    Victoria was wedged between the two men in the back of the car. After she’d dropped her purse, they’d shoved her into the car and taken off. She was still trying to figure out how to disarm the one with the pistol pressed to her ribs when the car screeched to a stop.
    The man who’d collected her from the cafe let out a stream of angry Arabic. Victoria didn’t speak the language, but she’d picked up a few words here and there after being in the country for the past few months.
    Her captors seemed to want to know why they’d stopped. Definitely not a good sign. But then they took off again, and the tension in the car dropped. No one spoke, and then the man she thought of as Cafe Man got a phone call.
    He answered in clipped tones. A few seconds later, he tucked the phone into a pocket and said something to the driver. The car veered left and then sped along a highway with very little traffic. After a few more minutes, they whipped off the highway and down a road, toward the sea. Victoria’s heart pounded, but she told herself to remain alert. If there was a chance to get the gun—or get away—she would take it.
    The car drove beneath a bridge and halted. The men got out and dragged her with them. The big man with the gun shoved her and she stumbled forward. When she turned, he was pointing the gun at