Chapter 11
Where the hell was the phone? In a fit of panic, Olivia groped around in the drawer. She pulled out the drawer and turned it upside down. Wine stoppers, corkscrews, and cheese knives fell onto the marble counter with a loud clatter, some rolling off the edge and hitting the floor. Even as her eyes told her the phone wasn’t there, her brain refused to register the fact.
“No, no, no.”
Going down on her knees, she combed through the items on the tiles. Finally, she had to admit it. The phone was gone.
She sat back on her heels and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Who had taken it? A sick feeling churned her stomach. Godfrey had found it. It was the only plausible explanation. Would he figure out to who the phone belonged? Could he use the phone to track Cain? She didn’t know enough about electronics to be sure. How was she going to warn Cain now?
Pushing to her feet, she gripped the counter for support while trying to figure out a plan. In the distance, a drum started beating out the rhythm of a samba, announcing the start of the annual carnival. The music was fast, resonating with the thumping of her heart, but the usual sensual undertone now sounded menacing to her ears. The drums and whistles imposed on the quiet of the morning, washing away the sounds of the sea. The volume grew louder, carrying a promise of something dark and forbidden as it crawled closer to the house. Moving to the window, she stared at the neighborhood splashed at the bottom of the hill. From her vantage point up high, she had a view of the farther roads. Like a beating heart, the suburb pumped streams of red-cladded participants through the network of veins that made up its streets. People in psychedelic costumes and fanciful masks followed behind the musicians. The drummers beat out their tune of seduction, the surrender a sin but the temptation irresistible. Their trance was palpable, even from the distance. An idea hit her.
She scurried away from the window and grabbed her phone from the counter. Ensuring that the boy wasn’t anywhere in sight, she pressed in a number she knew by heart, one that wasn’t saved on her phone.
Letítia answered with a merry greeting.
Olivia didn’t beat around the bush. “Are you still going to the carnival?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I need that costume you mentioned.”
“You changed your mind?” the younger woman asked with a tinge of disbelief.
“I’ll come with you after all, if it’s still okay.”
“Of course,” she replied enthusiastically. “You’re doing the right thing. Letting down your hair is exactly what you need.”
“Tell me where and when.”
“Meet us at the restaurant after lunch. We’re having drinks before getting ready at my place.”
“I have one more favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“I have a guest. A boy. If I’m going out this afternoon, I’ll need somewhere to leave him.”
“How old is he?”
“Eleven.”
“Bring him along. We can drop him at the orphanage before we go. The supervising team is organizing a games afternoon with pizza. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“It’s about time you pull your head out of that hole in the sand you’ve got it stuck in. Go get pretty. See you later.”
She hung up with her nerves frayed. All she had to do was leave the house through the front door. One of Cain’s team members would undoubtedly follow. As long as Godfrey was busy during the day, they had until nightfall. The carnival was the perfect place for a secret meeting.
The ringtone of Cain’s wrist pad woke him. He’d passed out on the sofa with Clara in his arms. There was only one person to whom he’d allocated that ringtone. Josselin. Silencing the ringing, he carefully lowered the baby in her carrycot before walking to the kitchen and answering in a hushed tone.
“It’s Olivia,” Josselin said. “She’s on the move.”
“Where to?”
“She’s heading toward town.”
“Who’s shadowing her?”
“Lann and Sara.”
“Good. Keep me updated.”
“I’m calling because she’s not alone.”
His heart turned several degrees colder. “Who’s with her?”
“A child. We don’t have an ID on him yet, but I’m working on a sat pic as we speak. I’ll send it to your wrist pad shortly. The thing is…” He hesitated. “Lann and Sara didn’t see a child enter her house.”
“We have no idea where he came from?”
The team leader’s voice was tight. “None whatsoever.”
Cain rubbed his brow. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Lann and Sara’s shift is coming to an end shortly. I’m heading in with Clelia to take over.”
“Stay at the base. Send me Olivia’s whereabouts. I’ll go.”
“You sure? You must be knackered from little sleep.”
“I had a nap at the safe house. Just get the coordinates to me asap. I’ll take over the shift.”
“You do realize you have a perfectly capable team, right?”
“I need you at the base, working on solving those murders.”
He hung up with a feeling of unwelcome foreboding. What was Olivia up to? Although he felt refreshed after the thirty-minute nap, he needed caffeine to help keep him alert. The brew was just about done when Clara woke.
“Hey there, my sweet little girl.” Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the kitchen and balanced her on one hip while pouring his coffee.
“The look suits you, you know,” Alice said from the door.
He turned toward his daughter. She had a healthy glow about her. Motherhood suited her. He offered her a smile. “What look?”
“The baby on the hip.”
“She adores me.” He kissed the top of Clara’s head. “Don’t you, sweet girl?” He lowered her into the high chair and secured the safety belt so she wouldn’t slip down. He liked having her in his arms, but he didn’t want to risk it with a cup of boiling hot coffee. He lifted the pot to Alice. “Want some? Or maybe you prefer herbal tea. I suppose you’re not drinking caffeine while breastfeeding.”
“Caffeine makes Clara a bit bouncy,” she said with a grin.
“Let me fix you a cup.”
“I’m okay, Dad.” She crossed the floor and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But thanks.”
He blew on the coffee and regarded her from over the rim. “I’m heading out, but I’ll come around again as soon as I can. Call me if you or Clara need anything before.”
“You’re sweet, but we’ve got Ivan.”
“Yes, you do. Still, call me.”
The ping on his wrist pad warned him of an incoming message. It was an encrypted photo with a message from Josselin.
You’re not going to like this.
Leaving the cup on the counter, he turned his back on Alice and accessed the photo. Good God. The face staring at him was a mini version of the human being whose destruction was his objective. The child could only be one man’s. Godfrey’s. Who was the mother? Could it be Olivia? Unless… He froze as the thought hit. Unless the child was a clone. If that was true, Godfrey had set the ball rolling earlier than he’d expected. The implication made his insides twist together.
Turning slowly, he settled his gaze on his family. Clara was playing with plastic blocks while Alice was preparing her meal. It was such a mundane activity, but suddenly the privilege of leading a peaceful, normal life made it seem like a huge deal.
Tearing himself away from the serene moment, he gave Alice a kiss on the cheek. “I have to go.”
Alice straightened from peeling an apple. “Is everything all right?”
She was too in tune with his moods.
“It will be,” he said. “Is Ivan up?”
“I’m here,” Ivan said from the door, crossing the floor and wrapping his arms around Alice.
“Take care of them,” Cain said, an unspoken message in the
words.
The look Ivan gave him told him his son-in-law understood. He’d protect them at all costs.
With a last look at the precious family scene in front of him, Cain returned to the base where he searched out Josselin. He found him at work in the meeting room.
“Godfrey was at the house,” Cain said, making his way toward the team leader with long strides.
Josselin’s silver eyes were broody. “I came to the same conclusion. He must’ve brought the child. I get that our sat doesn’t pick him up. He must have fucking good diverters in place, controlling the data we see. What I don’t get is how he escaped Lann’s watch. No one is sharper than Lann. He would’ve noticed if someone entered the house. On top of that, the sensors on the doors and windows didn’t pick up anything, either.”
“Could he have compromised them?”
“Maya just tested them. They’re all working fine.”
Cain clenched his fists. “I want to know how he managed. I want you to train everything we’ve got from infrared to motion detectors on that house.”
“Got it. I’ve just sent you the latest on Mrs. Reid’s whereabouts.”
Cain checked his wrist pad. Olivia was at a beach restaurant with the women from the orphanage she donated money to. “I’m heading out to town.”
“Cain,” Josselin said with a frown, “we won’t be in Brazil forever.”
He knew what his team leader was saying. He wouldn’t be around Olivia forever. That was true. The fact that he’d have to leave at some point in the future bothered him more than it should. Walking away from Olivia wasn’t supposed to affect him. When the mission was done, so was he. Even as he told himself that, he didn’t believe it. His life had been inexplicably linked to hers. He just didn’t know what to make of it, yet. What was he going to do when his time in Rio was up, when he could no longer watch Olivia from up close? Would he be satisfied looking at her from a distance? Would seeing her on a satellite image ever be enough? It was a question he couldn’t afford to examine now.
“You’ve been up all night,” Cain said. “Get some rest.”
Oily bodies writhed together. Olivia followed her friends through the crowd. The carnival goers oozed sensuality and something deeper. They’d given free rein to the animalistic instinct normally tamed to stay hidden under the barrier of human skin. Masked, it was too easy to lose oneself and one’s values. It was too easy to sink into the sea of seduction and drown in sinful pleasure. Fornication happened openly. Here, in the throng of slick bodies strung together like a string of salty, plump pearls, the art of touching was considered nature, not sin.
Looking away from the gyrating hips, she made her way through the dense river of lust, searching for a man dressed in pristine, untouchable white. Perspiration beaded at the back of neck where she could feel the tracker as if it was burning a hole in her skin. While the dancers around her became anonymous in their costumes, she felt like she was standing out like a beacon, a flashing red dot on her husband’s software app. If he came after her, she’d lead Cain into a trap. All she needed were a few seconds, a brush of fingertips.
Her height counting in her favor, she swept her gaze over the people in the front and on the sidelines. He was here. She could feel him. He’d come, as she knew he would. Her eyes darted left and right. Rainbows of peacock plumes painted a sky of feathers in which the shuttered expressions of ethereal masks were suspended. And then she spotted him. He stood to the side a few yards ahead, wearing a white suit and a simple black mask, and looking straight at her. Her heart jolted. There was no mistaking. He’d been watching her. His gaze was focused in quiet and uncompromised concentration, as if he saw nothing but her and everything inside of her. The corner of his lips lifted in an acknowledging smile, a hint that he knew she’d found what she’d been looking for.
For a few drumbeats, she couldn’t move. The sea of bodies opened around her, boas brushing her arms and legs as the tide closed and the current continued ahead. In an ocean where everyone floated but they stood still, she internalized the energy that radiated from him. Dominance. Possessiveness. Hunger. In his hand, he carried a cane with a big diamond head. The birthmark visible from under the mask was a dead giveaway, but even without the visual clues she would’ve recognized that proud and indestructible stance.
She pulled herself from the spell that kept their bodies pulled tight like strings. It was a dangerous situation. Immersed in a circumstance of unprohibited lust, they were stripped of their usual defenses. With right and wrong removed from the equation, she risked too much. It was like taking a sip of alcohol when you knew it was going to make you drunk. Only, she didn’t have a choice. It was either taking that sip or letting Cain die.
Forcing her legs to move, she took a breath to clear her head and snaked her way through the people. He stood dead still until she stopped a step away from him. His eyes darkened with possessiveness of an intensity she’d never seen in his gaze before, not even when he’d brought her to climax. It was a landmark moment she couldn’t put a name to, but it was huge. It was there in the breath trapped between them and in the way he stared at her with conflicting light of wanton longing and cautious scrutiny. Neither of them moved. It was as if they were both afraid to break the moment, uncertain if the riptide would drag them under or spit them out above the surf.
“Come here,” he finally said, keeping so still he didn’t blink an eye.
An emotion she was intimately acquainted with flickered across his face. Fear. He was afraid of her decision. Would she turn to him or walk away? The knowledge came to her instinctively and clearly. There was no doubt in her mind if she ran he’d chase, but for some reason it was important to him that she took the step herself. Taking it was crossing a line. She was acutely aware of the magnitude of that step, but not what it personified. Despite the warning that enveloped her and quickened her breath, she was unable to disobey.
His eyes flared when she lifted her foot, and when she stepped over the invisible line that marked the beginning of something epic, a battle lost but the surrender making every second worth it, his pupils dilated.
Idle words had no place in the unspoken turmoil of their situation. She didn’t want to spoil the moment with frivolous chitchat. She wanted to guard it in a secret place in her heart, knowing it was a turning point of sorts. He was still watching her, his pose more at ease, but a new kind of tenseness had invaded his body. This, too, she recognized at once. Sexual intent. As she’d feared, the walls of their carefully constructed constraints fell around them, exposing them to their rawest cores. If she lingered, they were going to do something they’d both regret, and she’d have only herself to blame. She’d taken that step willingly, against her better judgment. The instinct to flee kicked in.
Going on tiptoes, their bodies so close that the heat of his skin burned her through his clothes, she whispered, “Godfrey knows. He’s setting a trap for you tonight, maybe even as we speak.” It broke her heart to say it, but not as much as it would be broken if something happened to him. “You have to leave.” She touched her cheek to his, giving in to her weakness for just a moment. “I’ll take care of Godfrey.” Pressing a kiss to his temple, she steeled herself for her last request. “When you go, never look back.”
She intended to do the same, not for herself, but for the child. Before he could get his bearings, she turned and fled into the crowd, doing what she’d asked of him––not looking back.
Just like that, Olivia slipped from him. Cain felt her flow away like water running through his fingers. Something born from worry rose in his chest, but it was the possessiveness sparked by the fear of losing her in a bigger way than in a crowded street that set him chasing after her like a madman. He kept her in his vision until the feathers of her headdress disappeared around a corner. Pushing people out of his way, he sprinted to the crossroad and stopped to survey the surroundings. The street was crowded with a colorful procession of masked people. A samba drum called out an ancient rhythm o
f nature, the beat exuding sex. The whoosh of a flame from a flame-blower blew past his head.
Music. Drums. Whistles. Flames. Feathers. The rattle of necklaces. Half-naked bodies draped in beads. Cain fought his way through the crowd until he once more spotted the yellow feathers just before its bearer escaped deeper into the jungle of glistening skins. Someone brushed up against him. He didn’t even spare a second to stop and check if his wallet was intact. Closer and closer he came to his target until he was within arm’s reach. About to snatch the wrist of the woman with the yellow beads, he noticed three others dressed similarly. The woman he’d almost grabbed was shorter than Olivia. With practiced skill, his gaze darted over the crowd, eliminating one after the other woman until he once more recognized Olivia’s distinct shape and build. If she was relying on getting lost between a bunch of females wearing the same costume, she had no hope. Olivia was not the same. She was unlike anyone else. He’d recognize her by her smell, alone. The distance between them shrunk as he put the human obstacles in his path aside. All the while, he kept his gaze locked on her back. A hand caressed the globe of her ass as she moved past. Glowing coals burned in his chest. Another man’s hand on her hurt him more than one of those red-hot flame-sticks on a naked palm would. He increased his pace, chasing harder. The beat of his shoes on the concrete vibrated in his chest, a feral tempo that echoed in his heart. She rounded a corner and entered an alley. A few yards farther and she’d run into a main street, an even bigger artery of faceless people to get lost in.
With a shove, he freed himself from the dancers that swept everything in their way along and exited into the alley. At the other end, she stopped. She sensed him without turning. He could see it in the way her body froze, as if she was holding her breath. She knew she couldn’t outrun him. They were alone, just the two of them standing at the beginning and end of an obscure little street in the middle of a horny chaos. Like an agile cat, she balanced on the balls of her feet. Another second’s hesitation passed before she finally dared a glance over her shoulder. Her tanzanite-colored eyes pleaded with him. A small shake of her head begged him not to pursue.
Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9) Page 17