“Egypt.” Riley sat back and bridged his fingers together. “I’m assuming you guys have developed some sort of sand fetish and have decided to stalk me, looking for a private sandboarding show.”
Gavin chuckled. “Duh. That’s a given. We can work out terms later.” He tapped the electronic tablet again, then spun it so Riley could see the picture. “This is Andre Barton and his cousin Josh. Americans, both twenty-one. We believe both are currently being held by Sayed El Kadi—an international businessman, suspected terrorist, and local Egyptian tyrant—at his big-ass house-slash-compound about fifty miles outside of Cairo. Dude is a real bastard.”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand across his face. “Normally, we’d go the usual kidnap and rescue—K and R—route, see if Sayed made ransom demands, and work from there. But Andre is the son of a US ambassador. Went into the country despite being told not to. Relations between the US and Egypt are tenuous at best. We are being brought in to see if this can be handled off the record.”
“Are you sure the kid and his cousin are still alive?”
Wyatt nodded. “My best sources say yes. But a snatch and grab isn’t an option. Sayed’s huge property is walled, well-guarded, and fortified. Basically impossible to get into without help from the inside or a full military assault. So we need you.”
This was good. Maybe it would take his mind off the fact that yesterday, Wildfire—a.k.a. Girl Riley to the people of Oak Creek, love of his life to him—had canceled their scheduled video chat for tomorrow.
Long distance had been part of their relationship from the beginning—his profession required a lot of travel. But they’d both been committed to making it work, and it had worked very successfully for three years. Audio calls, video calls, text, chats, letters, visits—whatever either of them needed, they did it.
But for the past couple of weeks, Wildfire had been…distant. Their chats had been sporadic, her text responses shorter and shorter. And tomorrow, the first day he was going to be in a location with strong enough Wi-Fi for a video chat, she’d canceled, saying she had to work.
Yeah.
He wasn’t calling her a liar, but he wasn’t calling her a truther either.
So whatever crazy stunt Wyatt and Gavin needed him for to help Andre and Josh—Riley still wasn’t sure what sandboarding had to do with it—he was in. At the very least it would take his mind off what was happening, or not happening, seven thousand miles away.
“Okay, how can I help?”
“Kendrick worked his computer voodoo in Oak Creek and was able to hack some of Sayed’s files.” Wyatt typed something into the tablet again. “Nothing exceptionally useful, but when we saw that he was into some adventure sports, we immediately thought of you.”
“Let me guess, sandboarding?”
Gavin nodded. “Yes. But mostly FMX is his thing. He has his own FMX course inside his compound.”
Freestyle motocross. It wasn’t Riley’s specialty, but he could hold his own. He didn’t compete, but he’d done some stunts on his bike over the years. They were some of his most popular online videos.
“We’re hoping you could put the word out on social media that you’re making a last-minute trip into Cairo and hoping to do some sandboarding,” Wyatt said. “That usually draws your fanboys, and according to his internet search history, Sayed is one.”
“Even if he comes out to join me, he’s not going to bring his prisoners.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Your presence in Cairo will be a big deal to him. We think if you make it known you’d like to do some FMX while you’re in town, Sayed will issue an invitation. We’ll tag along as part of your crew and bust Andre and Josh out while you’re wowing Sayed with your FMX sills.”
“Doesn’t sound too difficult.”
Gavin glanced at Wyatt, then leaned onto the table with his forearms. “Phoenix, listen. We’re not kidding about the government wanting to keep this quiet. We’re here without backup. If we get caught, things will get ugly pretty damn quick. Sayed is known for being old-school brutal on his enemies.”
Wyatt nodded. “As in, ancient Egyptian old-school brutal. The locals are terrified of him.”
“So you’re asking me to get invited into a known psychopath’s house and distract him with my wit and good looks while you break out two kids who should’ve never been in the country to begin with, knowing we have no backup and are going to die horribly if we’re caught.”
Wyatt and Gavin glanced at each other, then both nodded. “Pretty much,” Wyatt said.
“This is the worst plan ever.” Riley leaned back in his chair and stretched his tattoo-covered arms up over his head. “When’s our flight?”
Chapter 2
Riley and his team had traveled to Egypt several times over the past eight years. He and Damon had gone hang gliding over the pyramids of Giza and scuba diving in the Red Sea. Damon had even attempted a crazy Jet Ski stunt in the Nile River—which had ended with him crashing into the riverbed and breaking his collarbone.
Denied by De Nile. They’d teased him about it for weeks.
Damon and Michelle hadn’t come to Egypt this time. They’d have a couple days off, then Riley would meet them in Sri Lanka.
Hopefully.
The sandboarding plan was both working and not working. Working, because his social media call had been answered in droves. Dozens of sandboarders, mostly teenage boys, and probably a hundred spectators had joined Riley at the posted time and location. Sayed’s name had already been mentioned more than once. It was only a matter of time until he showed up.
Where the plan wasn’t working was in how it was supposed to stop him from thinking about Girl Riley. He was supposed to be video chatting with her right about now, rather than getting desert sand in places he’d rather not think about. A couple of weeks ago she’d been messaging him about what color she was about to dye her hair this time—blue currently leading the race—and then something had changed.
Everything had changed.
And hell if Riley knew what or why.
He swerved to the left and pulled up into an unintentional half-cab 180-degree spin as some teenage kid cut into his path.
Riley wasn’t sure if the cutoff had been an accident or on purpose. Both happened, sometimes because someone didn’t know what they were doing, or sometimes because someone wanted to show off in front of the big dogs. Riley tried to take it all in stride.
The natives out here with him weren’t so kind, yelling at the kid in Arabic, obviously upset with what he’d done. That was what usually happened if Riley just let it go. The sports world, even the extreme sports world, policed itself.
Riley added a mule kick near the bottom of the dune, a more basic stunt derived from skateboarding, then slid to a stop near a group waiting to catch a dune buggy back up the sand dune. Someone handed him a water bottle, which he opened and gulped.
“You going to yell at me too?”
Riley glanced to the side to find the boy who’d cut him off. Probably fifteen or sixteen years old. At least he was speaking in English so Riley could understand him.
“No. You either did it by accident or you did it on purpose.”