Chapter 7
“How's Declan?” Ana snapped out the question the minute she and Gates cleared the waiting room doors. Callahan and Ferguson were already there, taking first watch.
Callahan shook her head as she stood. “It's not looking good. Doc told me they had to shock him twice to get him through. They just don't know.” She shrugged, looking bleak. “They said stuff like he's not getting perfusion or something. If he makes it, he may have some memory loss.”
“I could use a little of that,” Ferguson muttered.
“Shut up, Fergs.”
“We're heading to Agency headquarters.” Gates cut the incipient argument short. “They may have a lead. Let everyone know as they come on watch. I'll call you.” He pointed to Ferguson. “Let you know what we find. You disseminate. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Callahan looked mutinous, but stayed silent.
Having to use the paddles to restart the heart was never a good thing. Memory loss, even some tissue damage could result, depending on how long the heart stayed silent.
Leaving the pair to their now-silent feud, Ana and Gates headed for the nurses' station. Declan's family was flying in, but hadn't arrived yet, so in lieu of family, Gates felt they should be there.
“Will you let us see him?” They went through the usual bullshit about being family. It only took one call to the hospital administration to clear it, however. Dav's name changed all the rules.
Standing by the hospital bed in critical care, Ana searched for her husband's hand. Declan, usually the jokester, the self-proclaimed “Energizer Bunny” of the crew, lay still and silent in the bed. His cheek, chest and hands were bandaged, monitors tracked him constantly, beeping their notices of heart rate, blood pressure and oxygenation. The drip, drip, drip of the blood and plasma infusing his system made a monotonous undertone, barely heard, but vital.
“The round in the upper chest was the worst.” Ana pointed to where the bandages were heaviest. “The lacerations on his cheek, hands and back were from the window glass.”
Gates struggled visibly with his emotions, as grief and worry warred in his face. Ana squeezed the hand she still held in silent support. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, “Did the two waiters and the other guy, the restaurant patron, make it?”
Ana shook her head, delivering the bad news. “DOS.”
Dead on scene.
“Wrong place, wrong time.” Ana heard the pain and anger underlying the clichéd phrase.
They stood for a long time, just holding hands. Ana thought of Declan as his vital, ebullient self. He would hate to be here. When he woke up, she predicted he'd be the worst patient ever. As they were ready to leave, Ana bent down and kissed the young man's cheek.
“I expect to see you dance at more weddings, Declan. And play that stupid saxophone.” Declan had been the life of the party at their wedding. No one had known he could play anything other than the ladies, but he'd whipped out a sax and joined the band.
Then he'd gotten thoroughly drunk, made a play for Callahan. She'd refused, but he'd cajoled a song out of her and together they'd sung old Irish ballads after Callahan had tied on a few more drinks. Ana heard he'd slept it off alone, in one of Dav's best guest rooms, and been mortified the next day. She'd also heard that the team had ragged him unmercifully. “We'll set you up with some voice lessons too. A present for getting better,” she added.
She kissed his cheek again, and straightened, flushing at the surprised look Gates wore. “What?”
“Nothing. But you know he'll take you up on that. Be prepared.”
“Nah,” she said, squeezing Declan's bicep. “You're too chicken, aren't you, Dec? Sing? You? Ha! How about I bet this husband of mine a hundred bucks that you won't take me up on the singing lessons, what do you say?” She didn't look at Gates, but knew he understood. They both knew Declan might be able to hear them. Anything, anything at all, that got Dec to focus on survival would be a good thing, even if it was singing lessons.
“You're on,” Gates said. He patted the young man's leg. “Go for it, Dec. I could use the hundred. Might have to pay some bribes.”
With a last look at their deeply sleeping comrade, they slipped out as quietly as they'd come in.
In the car, heading for the Agency office, Ana fought back tears.
“It's hard. Seeing him like that,” Gates voiced her feelings. She nodded.
She took a deep breath. She had to get it together. As they pulled up to the guard gate at the Agency office, she finally felt composed enough to speak.
Before he rolled down the window to present their credentials, she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“I hope you win the bet.”
He smiled, said, “Me too,” and checked them in.
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“So, you are going down to Belize, Niko? You will be seeing to this personally.” The older man's emphasis on “will,” made it an order rather than a request. “Ransom is a good thing. Seeing your enemy die, that's even better.” Dinner had been brought in as they sat at the desk talking. The older man gestured with his gleaming knife. “You haven't tried the scallops. They're quite good.”
“Thank you.” Niko served himself some, still uncertain of his place, his fit in the organization, or in this man's plans. He'd risen from occasional, distant hireling to having dinner with the head of one of the most powerful, hidden organizations in the world. It was akin to having dinner with a hungry dragon. As long as the dragon liked the other items on the table, you were safe. If not...
“These are good, as is everything else. Thank you for dinner. And yes, I'm going down.” The ransom requests had been sent. He was certain they'd be paid quickly. Once the money was banked, he could finish everything. “Dav is my last loose thread to tie up. My team's good, but the end of this is on me.”
The older man nodded, still methodically cutting and eating steak and scallops. The elegant table service was delicate china, something Niko's mother might have used. There was music in the background, and a tray of froufrou desserts sat on a rolling cart next to the table.
The opulent elegance, the calm pool of comfort, was a contradiction to what he knew of the ruthless, mysterious man who sat opposite him.
“Good. It is good to take on these things yourself. One thing I've made a policy of.” The man leaned back, dabbed at his cheek with a fine linen napkin. “I get my hands dirty. My people know that I won't send them to do something I wouldn't do, nor will I sit on high, letting them fall for something while I keep my hands clean.” He smiled, a crooked, unpleasant smile. “Besides, I like killing. It has such immediacy to it.”
“Yes, it does.” What the hell else did you say to something like that? When his mentor sat silent, Niko added, “No matter what, though, Dav's my deal, so I have to settle that myself.”
The man nodded. “Wise. I have admired the way you run your team. You've done good work for me, all of you. I was glad I could help you with this last little thing. Are you still determined to stay independent?”
“For now, sir,” Niko said, hoping the gleam he saw was approval, not aversion. The earlier thought of the dragon sprang back into his mind. The older man had repeatedly urged Niko to come into “the fold” as he'd put it, and work exclusively on his projects rather than staying freelance. Niko and his team had decided it was too risky to go under someone's banner, especially someone as cloaked as this man was. Their profits for working solo were handsome, and under their control. Being on the payroll might not be.
The other, deciding factor, was that Niko couldn't read the old man. He knew his mentor had an ulterior motive for helping him, but as deeply as he dug, he couldn't figure out what it was or why he, or Dav, were important to the old man.
“Very well. You need to know that your venture has had some unexpected benefits for me. With news breaking of Dav's kidnapping, stock in a number of his companies has dropped, allowing me to buy in where I'd not owned before. Also, several other ventures opened up for me. I've wired a token of my appreciation into the usual account. Clear it through to your other accounts before you leave, however.”
The dismissal was evident, and actually welcome. The longer he sat, the more he felt the menace, the sheer capacity for destruction inherent in his mentor. As hardened as he was, it made him uneasy.
“Will do, sir. Thank you.” Niko rose and started to extend a handshake. The gleam was back, so he didn't.
“I'll be in touch,” the older man said, turning back to his plate, and his wine.
With that threat hanging over him, Niko left the dining room, and within the hour he was headed south. He couldn't wait to get to Belize. He'd been like a caged animal, waiting for hours at the old man's compound in Colorado for word that everything had gone without a hitch. When he reconnected with his team, got to Dav, he'd finish it. Finally, it would be over.
A clean break. Sitting at dinner, he'd made his decision. He'd thought to torture Dav, play some cat and mouse. But he was just going to end it, quickly. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that's what he wanted.
Needed.
He'd have the ransom money, the bonus from the old man, and a clean break with the past.
And then, he was going to stay away from his mentor for a while. A return to distant hireling might not be a bad thing.
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Watching young Niko go, the older man decided it was time to implement some of his other plans. If Niko were what he'd been looking for, the next forty-eight hours would tell it.
“You know what to do?” he said to the silent man waiting by the door. The room was darkening and the dusty mountains of Colorado were gleaming gold and red with the last rays of the fading day's sun. Snow lay on the ground, but spring was coming. Soon.
“Yessir,” the man replied, never moving a muscle until he was so ordered.
“Then go.”
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The morning sun woke them as it crossed the floor and warmed their faces.
“Mmmm,” Carrie murmured, stretching like a cat. She felt better than she had in a long time. Maybe the best she'd ever felt. Odd to think that, since they were trapped in a hole in the ground in some Central American country, naked as the day they were born, with limited food and water and little prospect of rescue. She said as much to Dav. “It should be criminal how good you make me feel.”
“I assure you, I keep all my business aboveboard, including my cell-bound liaisons.” He smiled, running a long finger along her cheek, slipping a strand of hair behind her ear. “No criminal activity whatsoever.”
His smile was slow and sensuous, and just for her. It changed his lean, angular face from shuttered and ascetic to warm and personal. She realized how much she enjoyed the long planes of his jaw, and appreciated his lips when they curved just that way.
Not for the first time she wished to be an artist, a good one, who could capture a moment like this, preserve it for all time. He was like a magnificent Greek statue come to life, right in her arms. His shoulders were broad. She saw scars and wanted to ask about them, but she thought she might know their cause, given what he'd said about his father and brother. Right now, she didn't want that hard look to ice his dark eyes, so she just brushed over them and moved on. His chest was sculpted and strong. She ran her hands over the planes and ripples of it, loving the rumble of pleasure he made. She felt it as much as heard it.
“Mmm. How then, do you explain this?” She ran her hands downward, enjoying the change in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze. His body tensed, his strong, heavily muscled leg hooked over hers, drawing her in. His hands cupped the back of her neck, and he brought her to him, brushing her lips. It was a shimmer of a kiss, a feather of desire that rippled over her whole body. Instantly wet, instantly ready, she needed him with a frightening intensity.
Pushing the swaddling coat aside, she straddled him. This time she would control the pace. She wanted to see him, see his face as they made love.
“Let me,” he began, but she put a shushing finger to his lips. He took it gently in his strong white teeth, nibbled. Delight ran through her, a quicksilver shiver, from their erotic play.
“Shhh, I want to see you,” she explained. “Watch you.” She got her first glimpse of how luscious it was going to be, seeing his eyes droop half closed, with a gleam of a smile playing over his mouth.
“Watch me, my flame? As I do this?” He lifted his hips, rolling them slightly so that he moved within her, setting every nerve afire.
“Ahhhh, that feels...”
“What? How?” he whispered. “Tell me what you like, what pleases you.”