Whispered Lies

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “How long has that been going on?” Gabrielle asked.

  Gotthard gave her a date from ten years ago.

  “That was a week after I stopped by to ask them about Linette and they told me she was dead,” Gabrielle whispered with the shock of that news.

  “I’m still working on it,” Gotthard said, reading something in front of him. “Joe wants to know if”-he glanced up-“Gabrielle still has electronic contact with her people in South America. Retter could use more local intel.”

  Gabrielle stood upright, then turned to Carlos. “Reaching them by Internet is a problem, because I included a poison pill in the last post I made about needing information on Mandy. I told them to close the IP server as soon as they posted and lie low since we were taking a big risk to communicate.”

  “How were you going to hook up again?” Carlos asked.

  “They would watch for me to post an IT article under a specific pseudonym on a board, and the first letter of each sentence would spell the new site for them to post on again in code. It takes a week normally to set that up.”

  “Bloody hell,” Rae muttered. “So that’s a dead end.”

  “Not necessarily,” Gabrielle corrected, frowning at the top of Rae’s head.

  Carlos touched Gabrielle’s chin, drawing her gaze. “What are you saying?”

  Gabrielle hesitated. “I know the identities and addresses of my contacts, but I’m not telling Retter.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  VESTAVIA LIFTED A file from his desk for the first phase of the Renaissance.

  No one country could be a superpower. Not forever.

  The only way the United States would ever become manageable was by cracking the infrastructure first to determine the strongest areas within the country, then undermining each of those.

  What better way to bait a trap than their insatiable thirst for crude oil?

  “You’re sure all four of them are prepared?” he asked Josie, who was lounging on the oversize sofa he’d had the decorator put in his Miami office for late nights.

  She stopped thumbing the touch-tone screen on her iPhone and brushed a length of deep-chestnut brown hair behind her shoulder when she lifted her head. Of all the exquisite international art in his south-Florida office, she was by far his finest acquisition.

  “The teenagers are a little shaky, but we only need one for sure,” she answered him, tapping her index finger against the iPhone case. “Since the other two are just backup and won’t have to actually do anything, I think we’re fine. And Kathryn still thinks she’s working undercover to protect Evelyn, so she isn’t going to give us any problem.”

  “Go on.” Vestavia came around the desk and leaned against the front edge with his arms crossed. He drank in every inch of Josie in her red skirt suit and white, low-cut silk blouse.

  “All the teens believe the story we’ve given them. And this”-she lifted a cell phone into view that matched her personal iPhone-“is programmed to send out three different transmissions at the same time.”

  Well aware of what made this electronic gadget special, Vestavia smiled. “You’ve done an excellent job, Josephine.”

  She preened under his compliment. This woman kicked in doors with a weapon drawn, but she was liquid sugar in his hand.

  “This will solidify my position as the one to listen to within the North American Fratelli,” he said. “No one should vote against the next plan I propose after this. It’s annoying to be handcuffed by this ridiculous decision-by-committee the Fratelli use, but we can maneuver around them.”

  “We are all so fortunate to have you,” she said in a voice bursting with admiration.

  “What did you get out of Turga’s pilot?”

  A frown disturbed the smooth lines of her classic beauty. “Everything possible before his heart gave out. The pilot was midtwenties and looked very fit. The medic’s examination prior to interrogation did not pick up a heart murmur. As a side note, the medic has been relieved of duty.” Her gaze hardened. “Permanently. But the pilot did give us the name of the man Turga had captured once he stopped blubbering about his wife and new baby needing him and the baby was sick and on and on. I reminded him that if his wife and baby ended up living under an overpass, they would still be better off than him…unless I ran out of patience and brought them in. That loosened him up. That and a method of skin removal I find very persuasive.” Josie beamed a proud smile. “He said the man Turga captured was Carlos, but never heard a last name or a name for the woman that was Carlos’s girlfriend.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. That and some very good sketches of Carlos and the woman I’ve inputted into our imaging program. The woman’s sketch is unremarkable, but we’ll know soon if there is a hit on their faces.” She tapped a scarlet fingernail on her lip. “I interrogated him myself.”

  No question Turga’s pilot gave up everything.

  “I’ll be watching the national news tomorrow morning.” Vestavia opened his arms to her when Josie stood. She glowed, flush with excitement, when she stepped into his embrace. He kissed her deeply. “Too bad you have to catch a plane or I’d lock the office door for a couple hours.”

  Her lips curled with a wicked thought. She stretched around him to hit the remote on his desk that locked the door to his office, then reached down to unzip him. “I’ll use the helicopter instead of a cab…if you approve?” The whispered words followed her as she dropped down on her knees.

  “Granted.”

  This was a woman worthy of an Angeli.

  If she wasn’t so competent in the field, he’d bring her inside permanently. Maybe in a couple years. The only time she allowed her feelings to show was around him, such as now, when she raised love-filled eyes to his.

  He brushed his hand over her soft hair.

  She lowered her head, putting that amazing mouth to immediate use. He gripped the desk behind him.

  Truly an angel of mercy.

  CARLOS ENDED THE call with Joe and closed his phone. He wiped hair damp from humidity off his forehead and guided Gabrielle along the tree-lined street in Caracas. In another hour it would be dark and they’d have to take off their shades. They’d both opted for short-sleeved T-shirts and jeans to blend in, but he’d rather not have her in Venezuela at all.

  She refused to tell anyone else how to locate the informants, which he understood. Joe hadn’t fooled her with his easy agreement. Gabrielle was using every stall tactic she could find to avoid Joe and Interpol, plus she’d made a valid point about her being the only one capable of convincing Ferdinand to talk once they found him. The time line from Linette’s last missive was the “end of this week,” which Joe was taking as Friday, tomorrow-the reason he agreed to let Gabrielle go to Venezuela.

  Time was the one nonnegotiable part of this mission.

  And this trip was turning into another dead end, which might be literal if they were recognized.

  “What did Joe say?” Gabrielle asked in a low voice, eyes moving back and forth nervously.

  People were too close to her for Carlos’s comfort, and dark was creeping over the end of another business day here.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” He led her to a fountain near Plaza Bolivar, where the water would allow them to talk and misting cool air offered a reprieve from the heat.

  “Sounds like he guessed right,” Carlos answered once they stood with their back to the fountain so he could watch the streets crowded with rush-hour traffic. “Retter’s last message confirmed the secret meeting in Columbia Friday afternoon will be at the Fuentes estate. Joe is starting to think this meeting might have been orchestrated by a third, unknown party who has plans to do something, like launch an attack on the meeting. If so, that would mean someone is trying to pull the U.S. and South American into a conflict.”

  “Who is representing the U.S. at the meeting?”

  Carlos kept his eyes peeled for any threat and answered, “Joe was able to confirm both the president and vice president woul
d remain in the U.S. The cabinet is still deciding who to send, but once they do, Joe will know. Retter has a dossier on Amelia so he’s on the lookout for her in case she doesn’t go to the U.S., plus in addition to the heavy security his team will cover the Fuentes home during the meeting to watch for anything unusual.”

  “This whole thing is too bizarre,” Gabrielle marveled. “What could be happening with the teenagers? Brainwashing to commit some kind of crime?”

  “I don’t know, but experience has taught me to be prepared for the unexpected.”

  She released a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. “I’m worried about not finding Ferdinand and his son.”

  They should have found the men by now. The ever-resourceful Jake had confiscated an even better jet while he was grounded in Milano. This was a hybrid Lear that flew Mach speeds, getting them to Venezuela in record time, but three hours of searching for her contacts today had been fruitless.

  She shook her head at some silent thought. “I spent a year tracking them and setting traps to prove to myself that they were trustworthy and to be able to locate them if necessary. I hate to think what may have happened to them. I can’t find Ferdinand, Linette could be anywhere in the world if she’s with this Fratelli group…I’m so tired of losing people.”

  Carlos reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers. “I won’t tell you we can definitely find Linette, but our people are the best. As for your contacts, maybe there’s a good reason they’re missing.” Man, what a liar. Ferdinand and his son were likely dead, but Carlos wanted to erase the misery eating at her for a while until they knew for sure.

  “Someone should know where they are,” she muttered, thinking out loud. “Why would Ferdinand’s son close his pawnshop for several days during the week?” She shook her head. “This is a small community. People working in the neighboring stores were surprised he wasn’t there. I don’t like this.”

  Carlos didn’t either, especially since they were only an hour’s ride from Durand’s compound. Something felt wrong.

  But he wanted Gabrielle out of this country. Now.

  “I agree.” Carlos shifted to a more productive topic. “Joe said Korbin and Rae found the clinic in Zurich, but the entire place is full of teenagers.”

  “Wonder why?”

  “Physical therapy. All the teens are physically challenged. Rae thinks she recognized one from her file photos that favors Evelyn. She and Korbin are searching for a way to get inside for a closer look.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Gabrielle asked that with all the enthusiasm of someone on death row. She’d run out of options and knew it.

  “I told Joe we’d wrap up here and head to Zurich to help them identify the teens.” That had caused a heated discussion, but Joe had finally agreed, reminding Carlos that Gabrielle had to come back to the States at some point.

  Her quick intake of breath confirmed she hadn’t expected a chance to dodge Joe again. “Good idea.” Gabrielle frowned next. “But I don’t want to leave without finding Ferdinand, to make sure he’s safe.”

  “The longer we spend here asking about him, the more suspicion we’ll arouse. Retter and his team will search for them without drawing attention. Ferdinand might have heard about you asking for him and is hiding.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” When she didn’t continue, he could see she was accepting the decision to leave.

  Carlos took her hand and walked in the direction of where their car was parked two blocks away. They hadn’t eaten since landing. He’d find a restaurant, then call Jake on the way to the car to give him a thirty-minute notice to prepare to leave.

  “We’re missing something significant and I feel like it’s right under our noses,” Gabrielle complained. “Why can’t your people put this together faster?”

  Carlos ignored her surly tone. He was just as frustrated as her. “My people are doing everything humanly possible right now. Let’s grab something to eat before we get back.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “Trying to appease me? I can think of more interesting ways to put me in a better mood.”

  “Insatiable wench.” Carlos smiled to hide the sick feeling in his gut over what she’d told him last night.

  How could he possibly make love to her again with what he now knew? To do so without revealing his true identity would be using her. Never.

  She laughed and gave him an exaggerated sigh, content to walk quietly alongside him.

  He’d forgotten how intimate holding hands could feel. Such a simple gesture, but one he hadn’t shared since losing Helena.

  His and Gabrielle’s destinies were never meant to cross. Now that his had intersected hers, they could not continue without causing harm to those he cared for.

  Which included Gabrielle.

  She’d shaken loose feelings he’d kept locked away for years out of survival instincts.

  Gabrielle was sunshine warming his cold existence. He wanted to hold her in his arms for the rest of his life and wake up to her scent every morning.

  But most important, she was the woman he had to find a way to shield forever from Durand and the Fratelli, then walk away from to protect. Hard to miss the irony in all this. Gabrielle had worked as hard to find Alejandro Anguis and bring him to justice as Carlos had worked to keep family secrets such as Alejandro’s identity buried.

  Losing Gabrielle would rip his soul into pieces and leave a heartless bastard not even Joe could save.

  “How about this place?” Gabrielle stopped in front of a sports bar.

  “Works for me.” Carlos led her inside, where a short, black-haired girl in a rainbow-colored skirt and peasant top led them through a smoky room where several televisions dangled from the ceiling. He asked for a table in the corner so he could keep an eye on the entire room. A waiter brought two bottles of cola and took their order.

  Gabrielle pretended everything was fine while she polished off her quesadilla before Carlos finished his last bite. She kept stealing glimpses of him. He was as solicitous as always, but she sensed a distance forming between them for some reason since they’d left Italy. What was he holding back from her? Something about the mission?

  Carlos leaned back, eyes taking in everything.

  But her.

  Patrons spoke, ate their meals and eyed the televisions currently set on an American twenty-four-hour news station with a Spanish translation feed across the bottom. Her Spanish was rough, but she could glean the general information.

  While Gabrielle had been racing across the world with Carlos, little had changed back in the States. The fuel crisis was churning political adversaries into a fever pitch. Candidates were battling fiercely for votes with the presidential election coming up next week.

  Fuel issues lay between the two political parties, an intangible gauntlet with the power to drive even the most apathetic U.S. citizen to cast a vote on Tuesday.

  When the images on the television screen changed to teenagers being interviewed, Gabrielle leaned close to Carlos and whispered, “Look.”

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and raised his eyes to the monitor. She read silently to herself.

  The gist of the report was that teens of every income level from all over the world were traveling to speak to different countries as a unified group to ask nations to provide relief for physically challenged individuals. Starting in America, they were addressing how the fuel crisis impacted their lives.

  The teens being interviewed said few people realized the burden placed on those with physical impairments who had a limited choice of vehicles, such as vans large enough to carry wheelchairs. They were imploring all the countries to offer aid in the form of gas credits and a list of other suggestions.

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Gabrielle’s eyes bulged when the camera panned over three familiar teens and an adult-Amelia with curly black hair, walking unevenly on her prosthetic leg; the blond Kathryn Collupy, pushing Evelyn in her wheelchair; and the redheaded Joshua, who shifted his prosthetic arm as
though to protect it…or to avoid having to use it.

  The dialogue scrolling below noted these were three of ten students who would make a presentation this afternoon to members of Congress on how the fuel crisis is an additional hardship on the physically challenged.

  “Now I know what bothered me about Joshua,” Gabrielle said under her breath.

  “What?”

  “The last report Gotthard sent included information on their injuries. Joshua lost his arm six years ago in a car accident where his arm was crushed.” Her heart pounded as she realized what she was saying. “Children adapt quickly. He should be proficient with the prosthetic by now…or at least comfortable, but he acts awkward, as though it’s very new. Amelia lost her leg from cancer eight years ago and walks as though she’s just getting used to it.”

  Understanding dawned immediately in his face. Carlos stood, threw way too much money on the table, and took her arm. “Let’s go.”

  “What do you think is going on?” she asked between breaths.

  “You saw what the rest of us missed. We’ve got it all wrong.” He gave that quiet answer as he walked them calmly outside, then briskly toward the parking lot where he’d left their rental car. “I’ll call Joe in the car.”

  He barely slowed at the cross street, let several cars pass, then took off again. The gravel parking lot was crowded with vehicles and a few scooters. Their rental car was parked in a corner at the back of the lot, next to a building.

  A van was parked on the driver’s side and a sport utility with dark windows on the passenger side.

  Carlos stopped and swung around, dragging her with him.

  Three rugged-looking Hispanic men wearing jeans and boots strolled toward them. Carlos had more muscle and an inch on two of them, but the third was a brute. They all wore a mix of sleeveless shirts left unbuttoned with the tails hanging loose. They stepped from the shadow of the three-story building bordering one side of the lot. The wind whipped the left side of one unbuttoned shirt, exposing a weapon shoved between the man’s barrel gut and the waist of his jeans.