Sin and Sacrifice (5 page)

“
Let me get us somewhere
safe, and I'll explain.”

Whoever he was, he had a
pleasant, sandpapery voice and an efficient, no nonsense manner
that made her want to trust him. Like he could handle anything and
everything that came their way. Evelyn wasn't used to trusting
anyone but her sisters and cautioned herself against her own
instinct.

He set the gun on the
console between them, started the engine, and reached over to
fasten her seat belt. A moment later he pulled a knife from under
his seat. It flashed sharp and silver and scared her half to death.
Even as she twitched in shock he sliced through her binds and
retreated. The blade disappeared with a sleight of hand move too
fast to follow. He gave her a look that seemed to chide her for
thinking he meant her harm after saving her.

Then he pulled the car into
traffic. Black and sleek, the vehicle smelled new, a little like
pine, and handled like a dream. When he took the corners too fast
it hugged the road, growling like a panther after its
prey.

Assaulted by his presence
and the distinct, masculine scent that clung to his skin, she
peeled the ropes off her red wrists and let them fall to the
floor.

“
How did you know where to
find me?” She couldn't help herself. The questions came
unbidden.

“
Can you just...give me a
minute? You'll get your answers soon enough.” He glanced at her
with mild impatience and took the next curve with a screech of
tires, seeming to know his way through the streets of Athens
without needing to consult a map. “You look like hell.”

His blunt assessment would
have struck her funny any other time. Just then, her warm, fuzzy
feeling of safety and assurance was overridden by waspish
irritation. “I was kidnapped and tortured. I'm pretty sure I have
the right to look like hell.”

“
Do you have any
idea
why
they
kidnapped you?”

“
I thought you couldn't
answer questions right now?”

His sudden smile was all
teeth. Checking the rearview and side mirrors with obsessive
repetition, he said, “I'm not answering. I'm asking.”

Evelyn exhaled
loudly.
“I have no
idea--”

“
Wait.”

“
I just thought you said
you--”

“
Hold on.”

Evelyn saw that he wasn't
referring to the awkward question and non-answer session but the
light that had just turned red ahead. She pressed back in the seat
in reaction, feet jamming down to the floorboards, hands flying out
to the door and his arm. It was the first thing in reach to her
left. Pain shot in several directions from the sudden contact with
her damaged fingers.

He shot into the
intersection doing about fifty.

Evelyn saw a flare of
headlights coming from his side and was sure they were about to be
broadsided. Probably flipped. She tried to scream and couldn't.
Tires screeched, horns blared. By some miracle the two cars
hurtling into the intersection at the same time missed them,
spinning wild circles in the red wash of their
taillights.

Evelyn glared at
him.

“
Are you trying to get us
killed?”

“
We're being followed. I
had to push it. Will you let go of my arm?”

She snatched her hand away
from his biceps and twisted around in the seat. Behind them, a
tangle of cars blocked the thoroughfare. “How do you know for sure
we're being followed?”

“
Just trust me. They're
back there.” He stomped the gas coming out of another turn and sped
through a residential area.

“
I think you should take
me to the U.S. Embassy. They can help me.” She put her hands in her
lap and faced forward. Bringing herself under the direct scrutiny
of the officials there wasn't ideal, but it was better than being
hunted for the rest of the night.

“
Lady, I
am
the government. We'll
be at the safe house in ten minutes.”

Shocked, Evelyn glanced at
him. He didn't look like any government official she'd ever seen.
His hair was too long and his clothes were wrong. Didn't they wear
suits? And how had he known about her down in the Templar's lair?
Just what
was
a
US government agent doing working in Athens?

A plethora of silent
questions kept her busy until he swerved them them into a short
drive that led to the back of a white-washed building. Two story,
with dark windows and open shutters, the house looked like an
upscale residence in a long row of them.

Using a remote attached to
the visor, he opened the garage door. After it rolled up, he pulled
the car inside. With a low drone and clink of chain, it closed once
more.

He came around to open her
door before she even had the seat belt off. It was a struggle with
her abused, sore fingertips to undo the buckle. She needed a phone
to try and get in touch with her sisters. Or a computer to check
their private email account. Maybe there was a message
waiting.

“
Thanks.” Repulsed by the
fetid stench of her own clothes, she winced and got out of the car.
She'd probably ruined his seats. Evelyn felt like a homeless
person, shoeless and grimy, hair a tangled mess. The concrete was
cold under her bare feet.

“
Don't worry about it.” He
led her across the spacious garage to a door that he unlocked with
a key he took from over the frame and went in first.

“
Stay here until I secure
both floors.”

“
I thought you said this
was a 'safe house'?” she whispered.

After a quelling, silent
look over his shoulder, he paced away into the shadows. Gun drawn,
he kept the muzzle pointed toward the ceiling. He disappeared
around a corner, gone from sight.

Evelyn waited there, too
wary to defy him and go marching through the residence to find a
restroom. From the small niche near the open door, she could see
the edge of the kitchen and half of a dining room. Distant
nightlights penetrated the gloom, casting vague circles of light
over the tiled floor. Evelyn couldn't hear the agent moving around
no matter how hard she listened. It was eerie. He loomed out of the
shadows a few seconds later, startling her.

“
It's clear. Why don't you
go clean up. I know there are extra clothes in the closets upstairs
so help yourself.” He reached past her to close the door and
snapped the bolt home.

Evelyn had her first uneasy
moment. Government agent or not, they were alone in a strange
place, on a strange night, with her fresh from kidnapping and
torture. That he'd rescued her from it made little difference.
Earlier in the car they'd been on the move with several options at
their disposal. Now there was a silent, empty house
and...him.

He arched a brow at the
delay, silently asking her if there was a problem. This close, she
could see the small scar at the edge of his left eyebrow and the
beginning shadow of whiskers on his jaw.

“
I don't even know your
name. Can I see your credentials?” She felt a little ridiculous.
What woman wouldn't at least ask to see them after what she'd been
through, she argued with herself.

“
Rhett.” From the back
pocket of his black jeans, he pulled a wallet and flipped it open.
On one side was a gold badge with
CIA
Special Agent
stamped on the front. A card
decorated the other.
Rhett Nichols,
Central Intelligence Agency.

“
Rh-ett?”
She broke the syllable in half with an astonished
laugh and examined the proof of his employment.

“
Is there something wrong
with it?” A stern frown creased his forehead. Closing the wallet
with a snap, he pushed it back into his pocket.

“
I—no. You just don't look
like a Rhett.”

“
What do Rhetts look
like?” He shifted his stance, putting more weight onto one leg than
the other, gun pointed down against the outside of his
thigh.

“
It just doesn't fit you.
Not really.”

“
Yes, because you've
figured out everything about me after the whole twenty minutes
we've known each other,” he said with a caustic snort.

“
You remind me of a Jeremy
or a John or something.” She couldn't explain why Rhett didn't seem
to fit him. It just didn't.

“
Well it's Rhett. Or
Mister Nichols, if you prefer to stand on ceremony. What's
yours?”

“
Evelyn.”

“
Evelyn what?”

“
Evelyn Grant.”

“
Nice. A grandmother's
name.”

All her ill subdued humor
fled in favor of an inglorious, indignant snort. She drew her
posture straighter though it cost her in pain. “It's not a
grandmother's name. It's...”

“
Dated. Overused. Brings
to
mind
gray
helmet hair and--”

“
I do not have helmet
hair!”

“
No, you have a rat's
nest,” he said, staring at her hair.

Self conscious, she lifted
a hand and smoothed a palm over the disheveled mess. Dry, matted
blood covered the tender lump where the Knight had pistol whipped
her. If she was honest, helmet hair would have been an improvement.
Combined with her wrecked dress, grimy skin and multitude of
bruises, she knew she looked a fright.

“
Ugh.” Using Alexandra's
inelegant grunt as dismissal of the subject, she stepped around him
and stalked deeper into the house. Evelyn knew,
knew
that if she turned around,
she'd find him grinning. He'd effectively turned the tables and
given her a taste of her own medicine.

The hallway broke open into
a large, airy kitchen connected to an equally airy living room.
Enormous floor to ceiling windows lined the whole front wall;
beyond, the Mediterranean glittered where moonlight reflected off
the surface. She thought the view must be spectacular during the
daytime. Furniture, in shades of cocoa, cream and deep red, looked
new and clean.

A broad staircase led up to
the second floor and, suddenly weary, she trudged up them. Each of
the four bedrooms had its own bathroom, large beds and simplistic
décor that complimented the classic design.

Picking one with a baby
blue and cream theme, she examined the clothes in the closet,
finding a surprisingly large selection of sizes and styles. She
guessed they never knew whether they were bringing in men or women
or whole families and tried to supply something for everyone. There
were even two board games on the top shelf next to a doll and a
Nerf football.

Something soft and gauzy in
a shade of barely-there pink drew her fingers to the hanger. The
dress reminded her of something Galiana might wear. Hot tears
spilled down her cheeks while she let the material slide over her
knuckles. Grief took up residence in her chest, a great monster of
emotion she was forced to subdue. If she allowed it to overwhelm
her, she wouldn't be able to function.

Too nervous to linger long
in the shower, she washed away the grime of captivity with
strawberry scented soap and stepped out four minutes later feeling
like a new person. Considering her injuries and wounds, that was an
achievement.

Finding an extra
wastebasket liner under the sink, she put the wad of ruined clothes
inside and tied off the top to keep the smell contained. Drawing on
a pair of jeans that
almost
fit and a cap sleeved shirt the color of plums,
she faced the foggy mirror and used the side of her hand to smudge
a swath to see by.

Her face was an atrocious
mess. One side looked lumpy and purple. A split that felt as wide
as the grand canyon in her lower lip bled off and on around a scab.
She tongued it and winced. The ends of her fingers looked like raw
meat and burned even when she wasn't touching them. Red rings
circled her wrists from the scratchy rope and hand-print bruises
marched up her arms.

Tomorrow there would be
notable improvements. She wondered how to hide them from Rhett.
Maybe she wouldn't be in his company then, and it wouldn't
matter.

Drawing on a pair of tennis
shoes that were a little snug for her liking, she left the bedroom
and went downstairs.

Rhett stood in front of the
tall windows, hand on his hip, a phone at his ear.

What a strange situation
Evelyn found herself in. Did she stay? Go? It wasn't like he was
keeping her prisoner here. On the other hand, government agents
usually had connections and he might be able to get her and her
sisters—if they were still alive—out of the country faster if they
thought they were in danger. It didn't hurt to have an extra pair
of eyes and ears working on her behalf for the night,
either.

“
Just find out what you
can. All right.” He snapped the phone closed and turned to face
her. “Feeling better? There's coffee or tea if you want
some.”

Evelyn stood at the counter
separating the kitchen from the living room. The addition of a
shoulder holster and another gun kept her attention on his torso
even after he asked his question. He looked ready for action. She
wasn't sure whether to be relieved or unnerved. At least her mood
had improved and she replied without sounding annoyed.