Consummate Betrayal

by Yungeberg. Mary

  Chad grasped the knob and pulled the door open. “We each did our part. And right now, I know you want to get some sleep. Catch you in the morning, or maybe the afternoon.”

  Michael waved at him and headed down the hallway to the wing where he and Gabriel had their suite of rooms. “Give my best to Bettina. See you sometime tomorrow.”

  Lifting a hand in a weary wave, he headed toward the section of the house Bettina had claimed for the two of them. Now that the nightmare was over and Rowan was safe, he could relax for a few hours before he and Michael started the next phase of their plan. He heard a door slam and light footsteps running. Bettina flew around the corner and gasped when she saw him, hands at her cheeks. “Chad, you’re here. You’re finally here.”

  Bracing himself, he waited, staggering back a step when she flung herself into his arms. Bending down, he kissed her, losing his hands first in her hair and then reveling in the firmness of her body. After a few minutes, it dawned on him that they were still standing in the hallway. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her. “It’s so good to be here – to see you.”

  Bettina reached up and stroked the side of his face, lips quivering, eyes filling with tears. “We were all so worried. How’s Rowan? Can we see him tomorrow?” She smiled while the tears spilled down her cheeks. “Hey, I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniel’s for you.” She stopped and looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

  Wiping the tears from her face with gentle thumbs, he sighed. “Rowan’s had a rough time, but he’s with Danielle and he’s going to be OK. We’ll talk more later about when everyone can see him, because he needs some time to recover.” A huge yawn overtook him. Looking down at Bettina, he smiled. “I’m all right, now. Take me home, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Saturday Morning

  Rowan woke with a start. Gazing at the unfamiliar ceiling, panic invaded his mind. Had they transported him? Taking a quick breath, he winced. His chest and his entire body hurt like hell. Awareness dawned. No leather straps held him down and no leg irons clanked coldly above his ankles. Cascading relief left him shaking. Lying with his eyes closed, he tried to remember what had happened. Gabriel and Michael had led him from the brig. The gleaming black jet had been waiting. He shuddered – Sal Capello had wanted that jet back in the worst way.

  Another layer of fog shimmered away and he felt cool sheets, realized he was naked between them. Did he smell coffee? Turning his head, he squinted at dazzling sunlight pouring through big windows. Could he sit up? The pain wracked his body, but he needed to find a bathroom. Grunting with each tortured movement, he managed to inch his way up until he was sitting. Sweat ran down his chest and sides, and he wiped at the trickle making its way along his jaw. Goddamn it. Gasping in agony with each shallow breath, he wondered how he’d gotten to this room. Who had placed the IV in his hand, and who had taken off his clothes?

  The door to the bedroom opened and he watched, heart pounding. Expecting hard-faced guards or Sal Capello, he saw Gabriel instead, carrying a syringe and flasks of clear fluids. Behind Gabriel came Danielle, hair pulled back in a pony tail, wearing a tank top and shorts that stirred the embers of desire, deep inside. Thinking hard, trying to sort out what had happened, he frowned at her. She’d been on the jet and then…she’d undressed him and helped him into bed. Now she carried a steaming cup of coffee and he wanted some.

  Gabriel scowled at him. “Amigo, it’s good to see you’re awake, but you look like hell. What have you been doing, trying to crawl out of bed?” His friend tut-tutted like a querulous mother hen. “I’ve got more meds for you. I think you’re trying to get pneumonia again. What did you do, sleep out in the rain? Are you hungry?”

  Danielle clutched the cup of coffee and stared at him, eyes wide. Voice raspy and weak, he replied. “Gabriel, I need to get to the bathroom. Hey, Danielle, can I have a sip of coffee?”

  Danielle’s face broke into a huge grin as she stepped to the bed and sat down next to him. Her hands shook and he thought she might spill. “The coffee is fresh and it’s Starbucks Italian Roast. I made it just for you.”

  When she leaned toward him, he forgot about the coffee. Staring down the front of the tank top, he wished he had the strength to lift his hands. The cup touched his torn lips and he grimaced, sipping through the pain. How long had it been since he’d had Starbucks? With a pang of sadness, he remembered. The day he’d told Danielle good-bye, she’d sat and held the coffee for him because of the casts on his arms. He hoped to God he never had to tell her good-bye again. But most of all, he wanted to be alone with her, and then he wanted to make love to her, over and over, for a long, long time.

  * * *

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Two Weeks Later –Second Week In August

  Chad leaned back, put his hands behind his head and sent Gabriel, Michael and Ralph a satisfied smile. The motley group slouching comfortably on chaise loungers had orchestrated and successfully executed what FOX News called the Epitome of Treason. He’d laughed out loud when CNN’s anchor dubbed their tour de force the Escape of the Century. In his opinion, the fact that their rescue of Rowan had dominated cable news for over a week called for a celebration.

  The FBI and CIA made dire predictions of recapture and prosecution, but the powers that be in both agencies were befuddled and enraged. The disappearance, without a trace – of the country’s most wanted homegrown terrorist and his family and associates, for the second time, had given the media endless fodder. The reputations of both agencies were in tatters. That the CIA’s G650 remained missing, tucked away inside Jerry and Bryan’s hangar at Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport made their coup all the more sweet.

  The four of them had agreed to meet on the beach for drinks and an update on the tasks they’d assigned each other, germane to the welfare of the small group of people at the estate. Exile in paradise was how he described it to Bettina. Taking a long swallow of a potent Jack and Coke, he gazed out across the rolling waves. The sun beat down, but the breeze off the Pacific cooled nicely. All things considered, he thought there were worse places to be exiled.

  The only thing that saddened him was the conspicuous absence of the man who’d brought them all together in the first place. So far, Rowan had shown no interest in anything or anyone, except Danielle. But he planned to drag Rowan to the beach as soon as this meeting was over. Whatever it took, his reclusive friend was going to sit and drink with him.

  Glancing at the other three men, he smiled. Downing a Red Stripe and belching into his fist, Ralph already looked like a local in his battered fishing hat, faded t-shirt, dungarees that had seen better days and ancient tennis shoes that used to be white with – surprise – no socks. As far as he could tell, the older man hadn’t shaved since arriving at the estate.

  Gabriel had a ball cap pulled low over his face and wore mirrored sunglasses. Sans shirt and wearing swimming trunks, he looked brown and fit. After gulping a couple shots of tequila, he slid down in the chair and hadn’t moved. Michael’s wavy black hair scraped the collar of the Hawaiian shirt he wore unbuttoned above cutoffs. The man he’d come to trust and depend on sipped a Budweiser and eyed him placidly. There was no doubt in his mind that Michael had nerves and balls of solid steel.

  In his FBI t-shirt, khaki shorts and tennis shoes with socks, Chad felt overdressed and geeky. It figured. Somehow, he never got it quite right. Rowan had always called him quirky, or goofy…not that he minded. Fully invested in the slower pace of island living and the welcomed respite from frantic activity, he yawned and supposed he should get started. “Gentlemen, I’m pleased to inform you that neither the FBI nor CIA has a clue where we are. Their search parameters don’t even include the Hawaiian Islands. They’ve focused so far on the D. C. metropolitan area, Sioux Falls, Chicago and a fifty mile radius of Santa Barbara. The tenor of communication between Ainsley, Capello, and Shemal is bleak at best. The three of them remain committed to the search, of course
.”

  He paused. “Shemal is my major concern. He has global contacts, so I watch his communications closely, especially with the Muslim Brotherhood. The Islamic world is seriously pissed off because, unlike our Intelligence agencies, they know the truth about what Rowan was up to. They want him just as badly if not worse than our own government.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued. “Capello is like a rabid dog. His pride took a severe beating in his dealing with Rowan and he can’t seem to get past it. Ainsley remains an incompetent idiot.” He shrugged. “Nothing new there. At any rate, I monitor the communications of all three, multiple times daily.”

  Gazing expectantly at the other three men, he waited for one of them to speak. Michael twisted in the white chaise lounge and stretched. “Thanks, Chad. Your work is much appreciated. Now let me see… To date, I’ve set up electronic surveillance of the entire estate property, including a state-of-the-art alarm system installed in the house, which was no mean feat. The sucker is monstrous, but you all know that.”

  Smiling lazily, obviously enjoying himself, Michael carried on. “I’ve appropriated satellite phones for everyone except Derek, of course. We’ve all got ATM cards for multiple accounts that you set up, Chad. The accompanying identity documents have been handled and I’ve secured a stash of small arms that I hope we never have to use. And by the way, Rowan’s two Glocks – the 36 and the full-auto 18 he likes so much are included in that stash. Of course, he’ll never see the 22 again.” Michael stopped and grinned. “But hell, at least the CIA has something to remember him by.”

  Returning Michael’s grin and making a mental note to share the security arrangements with Rowan, Chad focused his attention on his former boss. “I’d be curious to know what you think about Derek’s state of mind, Ralph. How’s the mentoring set-up working out?”

  Ralph cleared his throat. “Derek’s a good man, but he’s having a hard time. He and Marion hit it off, and she’s a wonderful confidant. Derek has a lot of hostility toward Rowan, for obvious reasons. Marion says he still feels very protective toward Danielle. The best thing would be for Derek to find another career in different location.”

  The older man chuckled. “Believe it or not, Jerry and Bryan need a mechanic. I’ve set Derek up to talk to them about moving to Atlanta and working on their fleet of aircraft. They’re willing to enroll him in classes and get him up to speed. The issue is one of identity, and whether he can keep his mouth shut.”

  Ralph tilted his head back and scratched his neck. “I’m not convinced yet that he can handle this transition, but he told Marion he’d never do anything to endanger Dani, as he calls Danielle.”

  Chad watched as Gabriel came to life, snorting over Ralph’s last comment. “Holy Mother of God, that gringo had better stay far away from Danielle. You know, someone needs to make it clear to this loco chicken bastard that he doesn’t have a choice about keeping his mouth shut. Hey Chad, does Derek have internet access?”

  Slanting a quick smile at Michael, who sat snickering into his beer, he answered Gabriel. “I’ve allowed Derek to use a computer, but I route everything he receives or sends to my computer first. So far, he hasn’t done anything he shouldn’t, but that reminds me. A woman at the airport in Sioux Falls has been a major pain in the ass. I’ve been monitoring her emails to Shemal since last spring. I finally had a chance to catch up, and she is the reason Ralph and I are wanted. She also contacted the FBI about Danielle. So in essence, she’s responsible for Rowan’s incarceration at Quantico.”

  Taking a deep breath, angered at the havoc created by the sleazy bitch and what it had cost all of them, but especially Rowan, he continued. “Her name is Marta. She emails Shemal regularly and sends Derek emails asking him all kinds of questions. She’s quite brazen about her activities.”

  Gabriel scowled. “Give me time to think about it and I’ll come up with a solution for la puta. And I still think you should let me talk to Derek. But anyway, Rowan’s progressing well physically. We nipped a bout with pneumonia in the bud, which is a good thing because he seems susceptible to that. His cracked ribs are healing, but still painful.” The stocky Hispanic massaged the back of his neck and smirked. “I’d be willing to wager that he hasn’t had sex with Danielle quite yet.”

  Gabriel paused and a frown replaced the smirk. “But amigos…I’m most concerned about his mental health. Danielle came to me a couple days ago, telling me how every night he has nightmares and then can’t sleep. She loves him so much, you know? But she’s worried sick over him. Bottom line – in my opinion, Rowan needs professional help. He exhibited symptoms of post traumatic stress after those CIA bastards worked him over last spring. The days he spent in the brig can’t have helped. Michael’s mom – Georgia – knows a psychiatrist who works with veterans. The guy’s got a talent for tough cases. I’d like to have Georgia contact him about Rowan.”

  Ralph spoke up. “When I picked Rowan up at that Chamberlain rest stop and had to cuff him, he damn near fell apart. And then, when the S.W.A.T. boys got too close at the airport, he lost it. Scared the shit out of me, I can tell you that. If we can get this psychiatrist out here, that’d be great. My only concern is adding another person to the list of people who know where we are.”

  Looking at the three men, Chad didn’t know what to say. Michael leaned forward and swung his bare feet to the sand. “Let me tell you all something. Rowan will snap out of this. Granted, it may take him some time. But when he does, our biggest problem will be containment. Because Rowan is going to be interested in one thing and one thing only, and that’s retribution for what’s been done to him and everyone he cares about. When that happens, we’ll play hell keeping him here.”

  Michael stood up and crushed the beer can. “I’ll give my mother a call. And I’ll make it clear to her that the only way we can bring her psychiatrist friend out here is if he understands that he’ll be making a permanent commitment to relocate without knowing any details. My mother can feel him out regarding Rowan. It’s iffy whether he’ll be interested, but we can’t do it any other way. It’s too damned dangerous – for all of us.”

  Gabriel slid out of the chaise and stood up. “Agreed, amigo. Keep us informed. I’m going for a swim before I check on Rowan.”

  After watching the two men amble off, Chad gave Ralph a grim smile. “You know boss…oh hell, Ralph, I’m all for helping Rowan with retribution, especially when I think about that bitch Marta, from the airport.”

  Ralph gave him a sour look. “Let’s get Rowan thinking straight first. But then, I’m with you. I’d gladly help find the two jerks that left him hanging in that warehouse office. He’s fairly screwed up, thanks to those two. I’m tellin’ ya – the look in his eyes that day at the airport…”

  His colleague paused and whistled softly. “If he hadn’t been restrained, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d have taken me on, and then made for the closest S.W.A.T. guy. And now, I can’t imagine delving into his mind. It’s my guess that if – and it’s a big if – that psychiatrist decides to come out here, he’ll be biting off more than he ever dreamed about when he tackles Rowan.”

  Chad nodded. “What’s happened to Rowan is a crime, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Maybe someday we’ll have that opportunity. Right now, I’m going to find him and make him sit out here for a while. I’m going to give him his own private update on what we talked about, and I’ve got some good news for him.”

  * * *

  Rowan stepped out of the shower and paused. He heard Danielle talking to someone. She sounded upset. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked to the bathroom door and cracked it open. The influx of cool air into the steamy warmth raised goose bumps on his arms. Water dripped down his neck and into the outcropping of hair on his chest. Who was she talking to? When he heard the other voice, instant anger fired in his mind. Fuming, he hurried through the connecting hallway from the bathroom into the bedroom, pulled on shorts
and not bothering with a shirt, flung the door open and strode into the living room.

  Danielle sat on the sectional sofa with her arms crossed. Derek stood in front of her and swung around to glower at him, resentment etched on his face. “This is all because of you. You swept her off her feet and brainwashed her, ruined her career, and her life. You ruined my life too. I wish you’d never stepped foot in South Dakota.”

  Shaking with deepening anger, he came face to face with the frustrated man and caught the glimmer of fear in his eyes. Grabbing Derek’s arm, he spun him around and slammed him against the wall, ignoring the pain in his ribs and shoulders. Damn, he hadn’t lost his touch.

  But now the other man squirmed and grunted. “Screw you, Milani. I hate your guts. Too bad you’re not still in jail somewhere.”

  Smoldering rage overtook the anger, and he twisted Derek’s arm up, until the moron grunted again. Clamping his other hand on Derek’s neck, he applied pressure and listened to him gag. “If Michael hadn’t rescued your sorry ass, you’d be in the hands of the CIA right now. Believe me, it’s not as much fun as being here.”

  Leaning close, he whispered in the other man’s ear. “You can be glad I don’t have my knife dumb fuck, because I’d love to slit your throat.” He tightened his grip and watched Derek’s eyes bulge in terror. “But I might break your neck instead.”

  Someone knocked on the door, then opened it, and he heard cursing, in Spanish. A firm hand gripped his shoulder. “Let him go, Rowan, so I don’t have to treat him for a broken arm, or worse. Come on, let the stupid gringo live another day.”

  Gabriel’s hand squeezed his shoulder in unmistakable warning. The last thing his ribs needed was for his burly colleague to insert himself into the quarrel. Taking a ragged breath, he dropped Derek’s arm, let go of his neck and stepped back. Gabriel nodded at him, eyes wide. “Thanks, Rowan. You had me worried for a minute.”