The Echelon (Spy Girl Book 7)

by Jillian Dodd

  “Have you decided where you will live,” Malcolm asks, “what you will do? Are you going back to running your company?”

  “I don’t think so,” Ares replies. “Obviously, I need to find a few new board members, but Charlie is doing a good job as CEO, and I’d like to have more free time.”

  “And where will you live?” Aleksandr asks.

  Ares just smiles.

  “Montrovia?”

  “Yes. Aristotle and Allie have been looking at properties to make this their home base. Apparently, my son is going to be doing some modeling.”

  “How’s that possible?” Malcolm jokes. “He looks just like you.”

  Ares laughs with his friends, but then his eye catches on a beautiful woman across the room.

  “Do you mind?” he asks them.

  They both chuckle and nod in agreement.

  Ares stands up and smooths out his tuxedo jacket. With confident strides, he moves toward her.

  She’s finishing up a conversation, and he waits patiently until she turns to him.

  “Grace,” he says, taking her hand in his. “I was not able to offer you my condolences over the loss of Gio.”

  “And I was never able to offer you condolences over your own death,” she says to him.

  “You look radiant.”

  “Did your daughter tell you of my treachery?”

  Ares narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

  Grace smiles and turns to look at her new daughter-in-law with appreciation. It doesn’t hurt that it’s obvious she makes her son extremely happy.

  “Do you feel old, Ares?” she asks.

  “Just the opposite, Grace. I hope this doesn’t sound disrespectful, but I always got the feeling that being a princess and then queen was—”

  “Too much?” she asks, finishing his sentence.

  Ares nods.

  “Many girls have that fairy tale in their heads. Marry the handsome prince and live happily ever after. My life, by my own hand, has not been a fairy tale.”

  “No one’s is, Grace.”

  “Your daughter though is going to take it all in stride in a way I never could. She has your confidence. Both your children do. And Aristotle, the first time I saw him, it was as if we were all in our twenties again.”

  “And, now, we’re family,” Ares says. “I think you need to dance, Grace.” He holds out his hand, and she takes it. “But, first, we’re going back over there. With our old friends.” He nods toward Malcolm and Aleksandr, whose wives have joined them. “It’s time we both started living again.”

  When he starts to walk that way, Grace pulls him back. He turns around to look at her and sees her eyes filling with tears.

  “Did I upset you?”

  “Just the opposite actually. I feel like, what you just said, it’s something Gio would have told me. Even though I don’t miss him coming home, smelling of cigars and scotch from your poker nights, I do miss him. And I’ve missed you, Ares. While your little group stayed friends, there just wasn’t the same closeness without you. But you should know that I wasn’t always a good wife. I made some big mistakes.”

  “I think Gio would have disagreed with you,” Ares says. “As far as your mistakes go, it’s all water under the bridge now. Montrovia has a new lease on life. And so should you.” He gives her a smirk. “When’s the last time you had a shot of good tequila?”

  Grace laughs. For the first time in years, she really, truly, wholeheartedly laughs.

  “Why, I’d say it was probably about six years ago, on the royal yacht during race week. And, if I recall, Ares, you were pouring.”

  “Mi amore,” Lorenzo whispers in my ear.

  The music has slowed down. It’s still dance music; after all, we have a world-renowned DJ mixing for the after-party. But this song features a beautiful voice singing about love.

  Lorenzo pulls me closer, whispering more romantic thoughts, but he stops mid-sentence and says, “My mother is doing shots.”

  I follow his gaze to see a group of the parents—the queen, my father, Malcolm and his wife, Aleksandr and his wife, and even the Bessemers. There are bottles of top-shelf tequila on the table in front of them, and they are holding glasses into the air, toasting, and then slamming back shots.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “Should we go break it up?” Lorenzo says seriously. “And is your father flirting with my mother?”

  I take in Ares’s body language. “Flirting maybe. But look at his arm, how it’s tossed over her shoulders. That’s what Peter does to me.”

  “Meaning they are friends?”

  “They always were, right?” I ask.

  “Yes, they were. Although I do not remember them doing shots. What if my mother gets drunk?”

  “She has four bodyguards around her at all times, Lorenzo,” I say with a laugh. “And my father will take care of her.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says, looking slightly distressed.

  I take his cheeks in my hands and move his head so that he faces me. “You have your hands full with me,” I say, using my sexiest voice. “Let your mom have some fun.”

  His hands slide down my backside. “Is it time to start our honeymoon yet?”

  I lean in and give him a kiss, deepening it.

  “This is more than just a wedding reception, Lorenzo. For all of us.”

  “A fresh start,” he agrees.

  “If that’s what they want.”

  “Is that not what you want, my sweet?”

  “At one point in our story, I thought we were over,” I tell him.

  “When you gave me back the necklace.”

  “Yes. But, even then, I never stopped loving you. You’ve always been my dream that wouldn’t die.”

  “I thought, being as you were so adamant about Lizzie and myself continuing our charade, that you would know. You were angry with me that I didn’t trust you, but in that moment, you didn’t trust me either.”

  “I guess, if we are keeping track, that makes us even.”

  “If we are keeping track, my darling, I am still fully in your debt. As is my country.”

  “My love for you is what drove me not to give up. So, we are even.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Unless it is your desire to repay me in our bedroom.”

  Lorenzo gives me an easy grin. “I am amenable to that. Can we please go now?”

  I look around the room. While the ceremony and reception were small by Montrovian standards, the after-party is all about those closest to us. There’s no press, no pictures allowed, just the celebration of friendship.

  “I was told by Dr. Kate that I’m supposed to change into my going-away outfit,” I tell him. “And, as we make our getaway, there are going to be sparklers and fireworks.”

  “Yes, I know. The fireworks will go off as planned, just before dawn, but I’d like to watch them with you from a different location.”

  “Oh, the turret would be a wonderful—”

  “We’re leaving on our honeymoon now,” Lorenzo says.

  “How will we—”

  He puts his fingers to my lips. “Come, my beautiful bride, and you will see.”

  The small ballroom opens to a terrace that overlooks the harbor, and we manage to sneak out without notice. We stop for a moment to take in the view of the lights and then work our way through the grounds, back to the main wing of the palace, and then into the war room.

  “Our honeymoon is going to be here, at the palace?” I ask him. “Dr. Kate led me to believe that she had packed clothing for a trip.”

  “Our destination is a secret.”

  “Did you forget that I was trained to extract the truth, using many different means?”

  Lorenzo raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “While I would very much like to discover those means, I’m afraid we don’t have time.”

  “It’s officially the start of our honeymoon. We have time for whatever we want,” I say in a sultry voice.
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  “Oh, my darling,” Lorenzo says, seemingly having second thoughts. “Why don’t you wag the spotted dog’s tail, and once we get to our destination, you can show me these special skills?”

  I do as he asked and wag the dog’s tail, causing the secret passageway to the docks to open.

  “This all feels so clandestine,” I say, wondering about his plan.

  “It most certainly is. And for good reason. The press will be actively trying to discover the details of our honeymoon. And I, personally, would like complete privacy.”

  He squeezes my hand as he leads me into the tunnel.

  But I stop, realizing something. “It’s fitting really,” I say, “that we are in this tunnel tonight.”

  “It’s where we first consummated our love,” Lorenzo says, pushing me against the wall and following it with a steamy kiss.

  And I know the time is right.

  “It’s also the time we were so overcome with emotion that we did not use protection,” I add.

  Lorenzo stands motionless in front of me. While his body is still, I can tell that his mind is not.

  His face runs through a gamut of emotion, his mouth looking like it’s going to move to speak, but every time he decides what to say, he seems to reconsider.

  “I’ve rendered you speechless,” I tease, placing my hand on his cheek. “The thoughts you are considering, what are they?”

  He places his hand across my belly, and tears fill his eyes. “When you were searching for the cure, when you fought with the men who wanted to kill Sophie, when you jumped out of a helicopter—”

  “I slid down a rope,” I interject.

  “Did you know then?” he asks.

  “I suspected so, yes.”

  “Huntley,” he exclaims, “you could have—you both could have—I can’t even imagine …”

  “That’s why I’ve been waiting to tell you. I wanted to make sure it was a viable pregnancy. My pregnancy hormones are all testing normal. Lizzie is a few weeks further along than I am, and she’s been doing well. No one knows for sure if being exposed to the poison and the virus and then taking the antidote will have an effect on our babies. I even called Sophie and had her dig deeper into her father’s research, and she found that he’d specifically said the antidote was safe for pregnant women. While your white blood count was accelerated due to the fact that you had taken the vaccine, Lizzie and I both had lower levels than Daniel and the others affected. And neither of us ever developed the rash. Both Sophie and the royal doctor surmise that being pregnant might have actually helped us fight it naturally. At least, enough to slow it down. What I can tell you is that our baby is alive and has a heartbeat.”

  “A heartbeat? Already? And you have heard it without me?”

  “I didn’t hear it. The doctor did a special ultrasound that allowed me to see it.” I look down. “I just didn’t want to tell you unless it was real, you know?” I say, getting choked up. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  Lorenzo wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “You have made all my dreams come true, Huntley. A baby, the heir to the Montrovian throne, will only add to our joy.”

  We kiss, full of emotion, and then he says, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He glances at his watch. “We are late. We must hurry.”

  He takes my hand, and we run through the tunnel, making our escape from reality. When we get to the docks, we are met by Admiral Philipe Lamonte, still in his tuxedo, who takes us to his personal deep-sea fishing boat.

  “What’s all that for?” I ask, upon seeing the scuba gear lined up.

  Lorenzo just grins and starts unbuttoning the back of my dress.

  After changing out of our reception attire, we slip on wetsuits and are taken out to the sea.

  It’s nearly three in the morning, and the dark sky is full of stars when the boat stops a few nautical miles off the coast.

  The admiral speaks to someone on his radio and then tells us it’s time.

  “Um,” Lorenzo says to him, “I just realized that we are going to have to change our plans.”

  “What kind of change?” the admiral asks.

  “Huntley can’t scuba dive.”

  “Sure, she can,” he counters. “She was well-trained. Her father told me.”

  “I didn’t mean, she’s not capable.” Lorenzo stutters slightly, “I mean, she can’t, um, in her condition.”

  The admiral’s eyes get big in understanding. A smile crosses his face, and he embraces Lorenzo. “Your father would be so pleased. Congratulations.”

  After giving me a hug, too, he says, “Huntley, this is amazing news. But it does mess up our well-coordinated escape.”

  “I’m good at coming up with solutions on the fly,” I tell him. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

  “Well, you were supposed to scuba dive from this boat and rendezvous underwater with a team of our amphibious commandos, who were to take you to another boat, which would then transfer you to your honeymoon destination.”

  “Do you think we were followed?” I ask, looking around and not seeing a single moving boat in sight.

  “No, everyone was told that you would watch the fireworks with your guests at the after-party. They won’t expect you to leave until later. But many assume you will honeymoon on the royal yacht, so we know the harbor is being watched.”

  “Why don’t you just drive us from here to where we need to go then?”

  “I’m supposed to be back in time to watch the fireworks with my wife,” he says with a shrug.

  “Can we just swim?” I ask.

  Lorenzo looks at me like I’m nuts as the admiral says, “I have a better idea.”

  A few minutes later, a boat is next to ours.

  And the crazy thing is that I didn’t even hear it coming.

  “What is that?” I ask, taking in the unusual craft. It looks like a large drag boat but is much wider and seems to almost glide on top of the water.

  “Special Forces vessel. We call her the Junket.”

  “She doesn’t look like junk,” I say, admiring it.

  “A junket,” Lorenzo explains, “is a system in which a high roller receives lavish compensation from a casino. In the gambling industry, junket operators set up tour packages for VIPs to receive these comps. In return, the high roller must play at the casino for a certain amount of time. And will hopefully leave some money behind.”

  Admiral Lamonte continues, “Our naval special operations teams are the best of the best—our high rollers, if you will. This is their lavish compensation.”

  “Aww, that’s kind of cute actually,” I say. “The boat, on the other hand …”

  “She’s beautiful if you understand her shape. You’re looking at stealth technology on the water,” the admiral says proudly. “The form of the hull means minimal wake and acoustic signature. And its rear ramp allows for the launching of a rigid-hull inflatable boat, the kind our small teams often use on covert missions.”

  I look at Lorenzo. “Do you really think all this is necessary?” I ask as I watch the back of the vessel slide open.

  Lorenzo wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. “For our privacy on our honeymoon? Absolutely.”

  “Let’s go then!” I say, excited to ride in it.

  We’re transferred from the admiral’s fishing boat into an inflatable boat and then taken aboard the Junket, where we are whisked at a very high speed over the ocean.

  Although I want to be read into the plan and to know everything that should happen, the grin on Lorenzo’s face stops me. It’s really sweet that he made plans to make this day incredible—for our honeymoon and our life beyond.

  About thirty minutes later, we have traveled much farther than we could have swum.

  Lorenzo wraps his arm around my neck and points to the lights in the distance. “That is our destination,” he says.

  “A cruise ship?” I ask, trying to count a
ll the levels of lights to determine how big the boat is.

  “If we had taken my yacht, the press would have followed us.”

  “Whose boat is this?” I wonder.

  “Your father’s.”

  “My father has a yacht and didn’t tell us?”

  “As we get closer, I think you will recognize the yacht as Zayn Kipling’s. Your father purchased it from his widow a few days ago for a steal. Apparently, she hated the boat and all the parties he’d had on it.”

  “I didn’t even know he had a wife. He never wore a ring, and he was often in the presence of beautiful young women.”

  “Probably why she was happy to let it go,” he says. “I’m sure you recall how luxurious it was.”

  “Yes, it was amazing.”

  “Just over one hundred and sixty meters long, it takes a crew of seventy. For our excursion, Admiral Lamonte chose a select few from our maritime forces to both run the boat and protect us.”

  “If I recall, it also featured two swimming pools, two helipads, three launch boats, and a mini-escape submarine.”

  “It is also decked out with its own missile detection systems as well as numerous other security systems. The master bedroom is armor-plated with bulletproof glass. In other words, a secure and beautiful place for us to spend our honeymoon in bliss.”

  “Where are we headed to?” I ask.

  “Anywhere you want, my darling,” he says as we step on board.

  MISSION COMPLETE:DAY TWENTY

  Lorenzo and I are luxuriating on the yacht’s sun deck, soaking up a few rays as our honeymoon nears its end. We’ve had an incredibly relaxing time and managed to completely avoid the press, even when we snuck into adorable little Spanish coastal towns to sightsee and shop.

  My phone buzzes with a text. Something it hasn’t done for nine whole days.

  Lorenzo pretty much threatened to throw people in the castle’s dungeon if they interrupted our time.

  I grab my phone, worried there’s some kind of emergency.

  Gallagher: I need your help.

  Me: It’s my honeymoon.