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desired. I didn’t care if the ladies were stark naked and painted blue. I just wanted to rest and get a little food in my stomach. Running for one’s life tends to make a person hungry.
    I glared at Brig. “Do you mind telling me why you left me to face Mahindra and his thugs—oh, excuse me— business associates , by my little lonesome? Aside from being damn dangerous, I found it extremely rude.”
    Brig’s lashes fluttered. He affected the expression of a choirboy entering the pearly gates with a signed pass from St. Peter.
    â€œI did not leave you. Believe me. Didn’t you hear me yelling about the trapdoor?”
    I blew out a whoosh of air. “That’s what ‘Trap! Trap!’ was all about? I thought you were telling me we were trapped. Which I kind of already knew before I chatted with Mahindra and his close circle of friends.”
    He sighed, “Sorry, Tempe. I knew about the hidden door and ducked down the instant I saw trouble. But you did a superb job of handling Mister Kirk Mahindra and his boys. I watched it all from a large hole downstairs. Your skill at punching? Impressive. And can you tell me the name of that swishy over-the-top-kick thing you did? I don’t remember seein’ that one even in my jujitsu classes.”
    â€œGotta be the fan kick. It’s very theatrical,” I answered. “Thanks for the compliment, I think.”
    He winked. “More than welcome. It was a treat watchin’ those legs in action. Near made me forget how to open the damn trap. With your body distractin’ me so much, I’m amazed we escaped with the statue intact.”
    I glared at him. “Which, I notice, you seem to be hugging to your person. May I remind you that Ray was in the process of buying the damn thing? If he’s still alive, it’s his. I don’t think he’d given Khan the money, but he had a verbal contract. So is it still Khan’s? I gather since everyone seems to want this statue that I was wrong about it being a fake.”
    â€œNo. It’s definitely real. Well, we’ll need to check and see where Ray is holed up now. Assuming he’s not lying in a ditch guarded by Patel or Mahindra’s goons. But in the meantime we need to be about keepin’ the little beauty safe. The bad guys won’t be restin’ till they find her. And us. That’s fer sartin, ’tis.”
    I bit my lip. His fine Irish brogue seemed to rise or fall as each subject warranted.
    â€œAnd I can just see you handing it to its rightful owner as soon as we find either Decore or some authority we can trust, Mr. O’Brien.”
    Brig slapped his hand over his heart. “You wound me. Have ye not heard of trust? Have I, in our brief but enjoyable relationship of this last hour, ever let you down?”
    The man was impossible. And too darned handsome for anyone’s good, including his own. I sighed.
    â€œWhere is that waiter? I could use that drink now. And some food.”
    I stood, glanced around, then sat again. “I don’t see him. Well, while he’s off trying to translate Sangria cooler into Hindi for the bartender, would you please tell me just what is the big deal with this statue? Other than price. I’m well aware of price. A damn big one. That’s why Ray Decore hired me. He wanted to be sure when Mr. Khan rattled off the rate of rupees that I’d be able to translate correctly. Of course, neither Ray nor I knew that every goon in Bombay wanted Miss Saraswati. No offense.”
    â€œNone taken.”
    The waiter brought my wine and an order of a dozen samosas. I tried not to chug the entire glass down in one gulp, but I did devour four of the spicy vegetable pastries in less than thirty seconds. Brig’s eyes popped open.
    â€œDo you realize you just ate four of those things?”
    I scowled at him. “Yes. Excuse me. I am a stress eater. Sitting behind a desk translating contracts