by Diana Duncan
She stood in the doorway, naked and beautiful. Anger shadowed her blue eyes. “Leave them alone. They’re private.”
Every cold word from her lips strengthened his doubts.
Watching her, he slowly set down the notebook and iPod. Even through the pain of her deception, his body hardened with wanting her. His heart still ached with loving her. And that infuriated him.
“Get dressed.” He flung her clothes at her and strode toward the back door, gritting his teeth against hurt, bewildered words he would regret forever.
“Dante, wait!” She ran after him, grabbed his arm. “Why are you angry with me?”
He reluctantly turned. Ariana stood in front of him heedless of her nudity. Confused vulnerability shadowed her features. In his profession, a man ruled by his emotions didn’t live long. Though he’d easily mastered his feelings for a decade, he struggled to leash his temper. “Let it drop.”
“No.” She was trembling, but held her ground. Held on to him. “I’ve let too many important things in my life go. We’re going to talk this out.”
He inhaled a deep breath. Her nudity could be calculated. She’d certainly proven her body could sway him. He eased his arm from her grasp. “Tell me, Ariana, is there a goddess of deceit?”
“Yes,” she replied, obviously unsure of his tack. “Her name is Apate. Goddess of guile, fraud and deception. She was one of the spirits inside Pandora’s box.” She frowned. “Why? You think I’ve somehow deceived you?”
“Have you not?”
“Is this about my father’s files on the iPod?” Her teeth worried at her lower lip. “I didn’t mention them before because I wasn’t sure about him or you. It’s a moot point after last night. You know everything.”
“Sì,” he ground out. “Including that you burned the evidence.”
She raised her hands and stared at the bandages over her knuckles. “I was…oh…God.” She gasped. “I was hurt. Furious. I didn’t think about—I just…wanted them gone. For a year, I’ve sacrificed everything in search of the truth. And the truth is so ugly.”
She sank down, buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. “His betrayal hurt more than his death. I just wanted to destroy the words, the way they destroyed our family. The way they destroyed me.”
Dante closed his eyes against the sight of her huddled on the floor. Tried to wall off his heart. Maybe she was playing him, maybe not. He swore. Perhaps he’d pay the ultimate price for being a gullible fool, but his heart wasn’t made of granite. He couldn’t bear to cause her anguish. Not over this.
Not when there was more to come.
He dropped to his knees and gathered her chilled, shaking body into his arms. “Shh. It is all right.”
“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I miss him so much. And I’m so upset. I didn’t consciously decide to destroy evidence.”
If her performance was staged, she was damn good. He didn’t think she was lying to him, yet a bitter taint of doubt remained. He hadn’t survived this long by easily giving away his trust.
Ariana clung to him, and Dante held her and stroked her hair. If they continued in this vein, he’d end up making love to her again. Which could be exactly what she wanted. He might not be the only one hoping their physical union would create a bond…but for very different reasons. He ground his teeth. For the first time, he hated his job. Despised the hard edge that had taught him to second-guess every word, every action.
His pulse pounded in his ears, and he eased away. “Ariana, you must pull yourself together and get dressed. We are leaving in the boat, and have to launch with the tide.”
Her body trembled as she choked back sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually an emotional wreck.”
“No need to apologize, bella. Your father means the world to you. Of course you’re emotional. You’ve been through hell in the past year. As you told me, it is healthier to release your feelings.” He kissed the top of her head. “But we really must go.”
She went silent for long moments, and then breathed a quivering sigh. “I’ll be ready.”
Her quiet bravery was almost his undoing, and he fought the temptation to throw his entire life away and carry her back to bed. He made himself get up and stride from the house.
Dante loped to the cellar, snagged a handful of antique coins and then stuffed the swag into his coat pocket. He’d be back for the rest later.
He ripped the tarp off the rowboat to examine the reinforced hull. Ariana wouldn’t balk over getting into the boat, but she’d be terrified. His stomach tightened. Her life was in his hands, and he would give up the entire treasure for one life jacket. He glanced out to sea to assess the tide.
And saw a yacht bobbing on the horizon.
It wasn’t Megaera’s, and since the woman had kidnapped them from beneath the mob’s nose, the Camorra had no idea where they were. “Ariana!” he yelled. He charged through the back door. “A yacht! Light the signal fires!”
She hit the courtyard on the run, buttoning her shirt. They doused the woodpiles with kerosene and ignited a trio of fires. He finished first, and flashed the mirror at the horizon.
“They see us!” Ariana rose on tiptoe as the yacht turned. Sudden worry creased her brows. “That’s not Megaera’s ship, is it?”
“Her yacht was trimmed in red. This ship is white and green.”
She tossed him an unfathomable look from those forget-me-not blue eyes. Uneasy silence loomed between them as they hurried into the cottage. He killed the fire and snuffed lanterns while she stuffed her iPod and notebook into her pants pocket and yanked on the sport coat.
They rushed back outside to see a small speedboat slide onto the rocky slice of beach.
Four men jumped from the boat. Dante frowned and his heart slammed against his ribs. Four men brandishing pistols.
Men swarmed the hillside, and Dante swore. “I recognize one of them.” Too late to remember his warning to the Greek and Russian on the beach. To realize his impetuous shout that first night had borne poisonous fruit. Word of the bounty on him and Ariana must have traveled. The thugs would have collected a fortune for betraying Megaera and revealing his and Ariana’s location.
Adrenaline blasted through him. He grabbed Ariana’s hand and towed her toward the cottage. “Move! It is a Camorra hit squad!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANTE TORE INTO the cottage and snatched up the ax.
Ariana panted beside him. “They’re blocking the path to the beach!”
He ran back out to the courtyard and scanned the area. “The rear trail is useless, we’d be trapped on the other beach. The island is too small to conceal us for long, but hiding is our only choice.”
As he clasped her hand and bolted toward the woods, her glance flew in the direction of the men boiling up the trail. “Can we buy them off with the loot in the cellar?”
He was torn between love and distress. His librarian was quick in a crisis. And too damn devious. She thought like a criminal. He shook his head. “They’ll take it and kill us, anyway.”
Dante reached the tree line and the only viable conclusion at the same time. He dropped Ariana’s hand and gave her a push. “Run. Hide. I will face them alone. I’ll tell them I killed you to keep the food and artifacts for myself.”
“They’ll kill you.” She whirled on him, face aghast. “I have another idea.”
He could knock her out and hide her, but she would fight him. Assessing the stubborn line of her jaw, he scrapped the idea.
The sound of men’s voices and hurried footsteps scraping on rock grew closer. “Talk fast. We are about to have company.”
Admiration warred with dismay as she explained.
“Risky plan,” he said when she’d finished.
“I used to watch the kids in my neighborhood do it with cardboard boxes.” Though trembling with apprehension, she still managed a credible imitation of his shrug. “Better than hide-and-seek with a firing squad.”
No argument there. Her
shrewd brain could save both their lives. Dante tossed the ax. “Let’s move.”
They tore back to the courtyard, then flipped the rowboat and bulldozed it to the edge of the bluff. Even with their hearts and minds at odds, their teamwork was perfect.
The timing had to be exactly right, and there was still a possibility they would get shot. He’d take the chance over facing down mob hit men. One ax against four semiautomatics was shitty odds.
They waited until the first assassin’s head crested the top of the bluff. Ariana jumped into the bow and Dante shoved the rowboat over the edge.
He gave the boat a running start, pushing with every ounce of strength. He steered toward a trajectory between boulders and leaped in behind Ariana.
Men hollered, and bullets screamed through the air as the rowboat tobogganed down the slope.
“Duck!” Dante yelled. He covered Ariana with his body during the teeth-jarring downhill hurtle.
Shale scraped beneath them and branches flung out skeletal fingers to snag the hull. The shuddering rowboat held together and rocketed toward the bottom. Then the boat careened onto the beach…and skidded in sand.
Shouts and gunshots roared overhead as their scrambling pursuers floundered back down the trail.
Dante didn’t wait for the boat to lurch to a stop before he bailed. He hauled a stumbling Ariana from the bow, and hand in hand they sprinted to the speedboat. A hailstorm of bullets whined past and plowed into the water.
Ariana yanked up the dripping anchor while Dante hot-wired the speedboat’s starter. He grinned fiercely as the powerful motor roared to life. A new personal best. So much for a misspent youth.
He shoved the throttle wide and sped out to sea, swerving wildly to avoid exploding gun shells. Their pursuers were left swearing and stranded on the beach.
Ariana’s face was ghostly pale and she clutched her seat. “That was…interesting.”
Dante didn’t have time to offer solace. He gripped the wheel, fighting to keep the boat from foundering. Since he had no idea where in the Mediterranean they’d been stranded, he attempted to hail help on the radio.
He eventually reached the Hellenic Coast Guard and the dispatcher directed him to the closest port using GPS.
Dante avoided the main dock—too many questions—and slipped into a side cove. Having worked in the region for years, he knew how to bypass customs. He convinced Ariana to stay aboard and lie low with the argument that it would be easier for him to evade detection by the Camorra alone. He kept the speedboat in sight through the window while he made several covert phone calls from a small taverna.
Twenty minutes later, he met his contact and handed over the coins he’d taken from the cottage in trade for a black Lamborghini Diablo, a wad of cash, a cell phone, a Glock 20 concealed in his back waistband, a backup Glock 26 strapped around his left ankle and two hundred rounds of ammo.
Outside, glowering clouds and a leaden sky reflected Dante’s dire mood. The orders he bore were a far heavier burden than the artillery.
Dread weighed his chest like a Kevlar vest as he retrieved Ariana from the boat. “We’re a short distance from Piraeus.”
She gasped. “The port of Athens! What day is this?”
“October thirteenth.”
“Alexandra’s Dream is due to be docked here this week before the Caribbean leg of the voyage!” She smiled. “Is this serendipity or what?”
“Sì. Destino.”
“I meant luck, not destiny.” Worry smothered her smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“When a man says nothing in that tone, it means I don’t want to tell you, for your own good.” She gripped his arm. “Did the Camorra find us?”
“Not yet. I would like you to stay in a safe place until the area is secure.” He steered her toward the taverna’s parking area, already anticipating her answer. But he had to go through the motions. Play his part. Do what she expected of him to squelch her suspicions.
“I’m going back to the ship.” She held up a hand. “There’s no way you can force me to stay, and I know you won’t hurt me.”
“As you wish.” This time she was wrong. Dead wrong. “I confiscated your money, identification and passport when I first kidnapped you in case you attempted escape. They have been safely stored. I will messenger them to you.” He clenched his jaw so tightly it ached as he led her to the car. “Your ship is on the other side of the port.”
“Diablo.” She read the logo emblazoned between the taillights of the Lamborghini. “The name certainly fits.” Her eyes widened. “Is this yours?”
He silently opened the passenger door, and she ducked inside. He slid behind the wheel and fired up the ignition, and her eyes grew larger. “How fast does it go?”
“Three hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.”
“Planning on leaving in a hurry, are you?” Thick silence suffocated her joke. He wheeled the powerful car out of the parking area, and anxiety sharpened her lovely features. “Dante, please talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” It was a short drive. He maneuvered through traffic and bustling tourists, and pulled into a spot fifty yards from the mammoth cruise ship. If he could survive the next few moments, he’d be all right.
Keep lying to yourself. Whatever it takes to get through this.
He forced himself to stride around and open her door. Ariana climbed out and looked up at him, making his heart hammer painfully against his ribs. “Dante?” Her teeth caught her lower lip. “Will you call me?”
Afterward, she wouldn’t want him to. “I don’t know.”
“You can leave a message.” She blinked away the moisture glistening in her eyes. “I just need to be sure you’re all right.”
The sad uncertainty in her tender gaze and the hitch in her voice stole his breath.
He grasped her shoulders, shoved her against the car and captured her mouth in a desperate kiss. Dante battled back despair. He didn’t want to send despair with her. With his kiss, he offered both promise and apology. Hope and regret.
Ariana’s arms slid around his neck, and she pressed against him. She returned his kiss with desire. With love and longing.
Love slammed into him. His hands drifted down her body one last time, memorizing her soft curves. His heart ached to speak the words she wanted to hear. Words he needed to say.
She’d wanted to know his dream. Ariana was his dream.
And he couldn’t have her.
He was panting from the strain when he gently pulled away. She reluctantly released him, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Go in safety.”
He was shaking. She reached up and touched his cheek. So was she. “There’s so much…I wish…” Her lips trembled and she inhaled a quivery breath. “If you need anything…any help, you know where to find me.”
He forced his words through a throat so constricted he could barely talk. “Stay strong, Ariana.”
She spun and stumbled through the throng, and a sharp pang of loss cut into him. His job was his life. He’d lived for his work with no regrets. Until now.
He was giving up everything for his job. Giving up everything for duty. For honor.
He hoped honor would warm him during the cold, lonely nights to come.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Dante watched the woman he loved walk away from him. He had to live the life he’d chosen, rather than the life he wanted. He could not tell Ariana who he was. And he would not, could not, compromise her safety more than he already had. Not to mention the shredded remnants of his integrity.
And it had only cost him his soul.
At the last moment, she turned and looked back at him. He pressed an unsteady hand to his lips and then waved, shoving aside the vision of her hurt face when she learned the truth.
She disappeared from sight, and a tall, lanky Italian separated from the crowd and followed her aboard. Dante closed his eyes and leaned against the car. She was stronger than any woman he’d know
n. But his betrayal would shatter what remained of her faith.
What could have been—what could never happen—between himself and Ariana would haunt him to his last breath.
“Forgive me, tesoro mio,” he whispered. And though he hadn’t cried since he was a boy of twelve, Dante couldn’t stop a tear that silently slid down his cheek.
A SHAKEN ARIANA wiped away hot tears as she trudged aboard ship. The shocked security officer at the crew gangway had recognized her and waved her through. She was free. She should be happy. Instead, sorrow and frustration churned inside her. Along with overwhelming worry for the man she’d left behind. What would become of Dante?
Misery sat like lead in her stomach. Would she ever hear from him again? She glanced up at the huge white smokestack. The circular logo of glittering stars always brought to mind the Roman goddess Fortuna, guiding the wheel of fate. But fate was capricious. Fortune spun her wheel at random, bestowing blessings…and disaster.
Fate had brought her to Dante. Ariana fought to squelch her tears. After her stint on Alexandra’s Dream, maybe she would return to the Mediterranean. She stared at restless waves reflecting a steely sky. And do what? If Dante didn’t want to be found, she would never find him.
She climbed stairs, avoiding the elevators to allow time to collect herself. Dante hadn’t pulled that pricey car out of a hat. Likewise the gun she’d felt beneath his coat when they’d kissed. Her heart gave a sickening lurch. He cared about her, but did he care enough to give all that up?
Or had he already sold his soul?
She wiped the sport coat’s sleeve across her eyes. Though terror for Dante’s safety screamed inside her, there was nothing she could do. Fortune only ruled one half of men’s fates. The other half was their own free will.
If Dante wanted to be with her, he would have to surrender his life in the shadows. He had to come to her, ready to start over.
He had to make the choice.
She walked past the children’s wading pool. A few noisy kid-lets splashed in the heated water. Her hand tenderly covered her abdomen. If she was carrying Dante’s baby, she would cherish the child, whether Dante was with her or not.