Unholy Promises

by Roxy Harte

  Liam rubs his stubble-roughened cheek over the side of my shoulder and laughs when my body spasms with a chill of repulsion.

  “Since you are unable to run, your adrenaline surge is going to make your body very, very accommodating.” He rubs his hands from my bound wrists to my waist in a long smooth stroke, rounding over breasts and rib cage with a known intimacy. “Your body begs for my domination, Eva. It’s just too bad that you never let me know your preference for…” He pauses, bringing his mouth over mine, whispering each word as its own sentence over my mouth, “Pain. Bondage. Humiliation. While we were dating.”

  Unwisely, I spit in his face.

  His laugh is icy just before he hits me, hard, across the jaw.

  The right side of my face is numb. I’m almost certain that is not a good sign, I can’t even tell if my jaw is open or shut and the room seems oddly tilted to the side.

  “It is going to be so easy to make you come—before you die.” Liam strokes my cheek but I don’t really feel his touch until he grabs my face in vise-grip fingers. “Shade, zoom in. Hell, yeah, get this on close-up!”

  “Shit, I think you dislocated her jaw, man. Killer visual effect.”

  “Close-up on the drool, Shade.” Liam presses his forehead against mine. “Are you afraid yet, Eva? Because I do want you afraid, it makes the film so much more interesting when our subjects show fear.”

  “Then must you strive to be worthy of her love. Be brave and pure, fearless to the strong and humble to the weak; and so, whether this love prosper or no, you will have fitted yourself to be honored by a maiden’s love, which is, in sooth, the highest guerdon which a true knight can hope for.”

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The White Company

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thomas

  I am pissed as hell and sitting in stony discomfort. My four guards are well aware of the fact. Plastic fasteners loop around my wrists, immobilizing my hands behind my back. I was so close, and yet at this turn of events, I couldn’t be farther from Eva. The industrial caged clock high on the institutional green wall reports the time as two minutes before Eva’s ETA. I have no doubt that she is arriving at the warehouse. She is always punctual. Usually, I am punctual. At least when I’m not handcuffed and guarded. I watch the ticking second hand as time drags, each click agony.

  Henri is supposedly en route and I hope he arrives soon. I need one last favor.

  He enters with my thought and I turn toward the door, standing and demanding, “It took an armed unit to bring me in? You could have just called.”

  Henri jerks, seeming stunned awake from some deep daydream, and replies, “I want you on the next plane to the United States.” He looks at me, his lips tightly pressed together, and I wonder what urgency is so damning that he is this stressed out. Henri is always the cool, immobile rock. My internal systems all go on alert and, for the first time since my arrival, I really want my wrists free.

  An ashen-faced intern pops his face around the edge of the door, insisting in French, “Sir? A moment?”

  My heart stops in my chest, knowing that whatever has happened involves Eva. I should have never allowed her to leave the church with him. I should have…

  Frantic whispering pulls my attention fully to the doorway. Henri dismisses his assistant and turns back into the room, a full shade paler. I prepare myself for the news that Eva is dead.

  “Thomas, perhaps you should sit down.”

  It is a command I don’t take well, refusing to sit. Henri shrugs and walks to his desk. Retrieving a universal remote, he presses a sequence of buttons, lights dim, a wall-size plasma screen descends from the ceiling, and then a frozen image on the screen. Eva.

  I sit.

  Eva’s face in close-up consumes most of the wall, mascara-stained tears dripping over her cheeks—no sound, but her gagged mouth wide, as if she is screaming, or trying to. Her left eye is swollen shut.

  “She’s alive?”

  “It’s a live feed. You’ll see it as it happens, as will we all.”

  My understanding is immediate and devastating. She is the star of King Cobra’s latest snuff film. Normally, with a WODC agent as his victim, he guarantees a huge viewing audience and, at over fifty thousand pounds per internet hit, it doesn’t take him long to secure a small fortune. With his headline reading Eva Lindquist, Swedish Heiress, Exposed WODC Agent, the counter box in the corner already registers in the six digits. I close my eyes, swallowing the vomit in the back of my throat, outraged that the wealthy choose death as their latest sex fix.

  “Sound?” I ask, though I’m not sure why, knowing hearing the action really isn’t necessary, but am glad I can hear what is being said when a man’s voice fills the room. “Your boyfriend isn’t coming to save you. Luka, wasn’t it? Did you know that he used to be an agent? Whatever happened to him? Burnout? Fear? Is that why he let you believe he was dead?”

  I try to deny the doubt I see building in her eyes. “How close is the team?”

  “We haven’t deployed a team.”

  Henri’s answer stuns me until he adds, “We have no idea where this feed is coming from. They could be anywhere in the world.”

  “What?” Seeing red, I bellow, then I am out of my seat—pacing, heart pounding. I look at the screen knowing how this film was staged to end. Eva is going to die.

  “We’re tracking the feed. However, they’re routing and rerouting.” He shrugs. “It could be hours…”

  “Eva doesn’t have hours,” I seethe. No one has to tell me the level of King Cobra’s depravity. I’ve witnessed his handiwork up close, being the first on the scene ten years ago, his victims, all agents, were bound, gagged, mutilated and begging for death. Review of the videotape revealed just how sick a mind we were dealing with. The man, King Cobra, granted their wish mid-rape, finding his own pleasure at the moment of their last breath. Bastard! Sick, fucking bastard!

  My eyes go to the screen. She is alive.

  “Do you want to know what really happened to Luka, beautiful Eva?” The voice is just a voice, there is no face to go with the voice, just a close-up of her face. A man’s lips enter the shot and I watch as he kisses her temple and am gladdened when she jerks her head away, but in the end, that action lands her a hard slap across her face. The unseen man, who I know must be King Cobra, continues talking, stroking her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, as he speaks. “He used you. He planned the whole thing, dying in an alley…you were there for that though, weren’t you? And then, when you were sobbing over his grave, he was flying into anonymity—safe from his enemies. It was your belief in the love you shared that made it real enough for his enemies to believe the lie.”

  Eva’s eyes fill with emotion, she believes him.

  Blinking, I recognize the leather wrist cuffs restraining her because I created them. Fuck, I summoned her. She walked into this at my bidding. This time he doesn’t win. “I know where she is.”

  * * * * *

  Watching the flickering screen will be my death. This is killing me, watching, waiting for her to be rescued, wanting to be the one who is there, not because my ego needs to be the knight in shining armor but because of what I want to do to Cobra. Ripping his larynx out with my bare hands is a visual image that occupies my mind. A secondary feed plays on a second screen. Controlled by the rescue team, it reveals the uppermost windows of the warehouse as a glaring blur. The feed controlled by Cobra’s people shows a lull in the action, Eva sagging, but alive. He splashes a glass of clear liquid in her face. She swings her head in a wild arc, sending a water spray across the room. Something is being said, but it is too soft, barely a whisper.

  “Turn up the volume!” I demand, feeling like I recognize that voice.

  Liam’s voice suddenly fills the room as my request is granted. “I want you to meet someone, darling.”

  “Fuck! That bastard you tried to marry her to is King Cobra?” I turn on Henri. “You knew this?”

  “It was the reason for the wedding. If we cou
ld just get her tied to him closely enough so that she could tell us his every move—we’ve had no proof. Not until now.”

  “If she dies—” I leave the threat unfinished.

  “The team leader just called five minutes to intercept,” Henri tries to reassure me with the announcement, but there is no relief for the level of guilt I feel. I sent calla lilies instead of going for her in person. I allowed her to leave me at the bridge, instead of fighting for her then and there.

  “Join us? Don’t be shy, love.” The man still has no face, at least not one on camera. General chatter concedes it is the agent known as Liam Dubh. The voice speaks to someone off camera before whispering to Eva, “He’s a bit camera shy.”

  I watch the screen with a sinking stomach and disbelief as a man comes into the shot. Liam calls him Daniel, but I wouldn’t have recognized him…at least not until the close-up of his eyes. Dear God, Nikos.

  “I know you won’t mind if I leave you in Daniel’s care for a moment? I think you will find him rather…entertaining. I like to think of him as my…executioner.” Liam lifts his hand to the man’s face, the man I still cannot believe is my brother, and strokes his cheek lovingly. “The inquisitors of the Middle Ages were genius. Did you know that they could keep a man, or a woman for that matter, alive and conscious while they were completely disemboweled, Eva?”

  “Daniel?” she gasps.

  Nikos moves to a small table and picks up a scalpel. The camera moves to a close-up of just the scalpel, following the path of the sharp blade as it moves over the pale skin just above her bellybutton. No blood surfaces and I breathe a sigh of relief. I have no doubt he would disembowel her.

  The camera moves to her face.

  She is ashen, barely alive, but strong enough to shake her head. Seeing her condition, my concern level rises exponentially. I pray the team will move in before she takes her last breath. I feel so fucking helpless. Recognition fills her eyes and she begs, “Daniel. Please. Don’t do this.”

  “Tsk, tsk, my dear. Did you really believe the two of you were friends? He’s known all along that you were an agent bent on trapping King Cobra. Imagine the humor he found in learning you were already sleeping with the enemy quite unaware.”

  The camera zooms out, revealing a full body shot of Eva and King Cobra.

  Nikos isn’t in sight as King Cobra explains, “They could completely remove the heart of the accused, and he would live long enough to watch it beating in the inquisitor’s hand. Would you like to live that particular horror, Eva?”

  The camera zooms in for a close-up of her face as she screams. Eva’s scream fills the room, so loud after turning up the volume to hear the whispers. I close my eyes, listening, thankful for her screams, because as long as she is screaming, she is alive.

  Her screams stop and I jerk my head up, fearing the worst, but see her eyes wide and terrified on the screen. She is panting with fear and I pray for the camera to zoom back out to see what new terror she faces. “Where in the fuck is that team?”

  The monitor reveals my brother, a bloodied blade, and a track of red where the scalpel sliced her open from sternum to mid-abdomen.

  “Two minutes,” Henri answers, but his answer is a gasp as the screen suddenly shows us what Eva is facing—a handheld circular saw.

  A tear sliding down her cheek, she shakes her head. The look in her eyes is now acceptance. She has accepted that she is going to die.

  “Executioners of the past had such a messy job. Sawing bones wasn’t as neat and tidy. They didn’t have nice shiny tools like the chest separator on the table. It’s a wonder that they were able to keep someone alive long enough to see their heart ripped from their chest.” Liam moves into the shot but still doesn’t give us a positive identification because he is wearing a leather hood. He kisses Eva on the mouth. She doesn’t react, doesn’t struggle. She just hangs there at his mercy.

  “This isn’t going to kill you, Eva. No, seeing your own heart beating in your chest is just going to be the foreplay.”

  The team is close…the team is close.

  “Why aren’t they moving in?” I scream at everyone in the room, and then I realize that they are waiting for Henri’s command to go. I turn on him with feral intensity. “Give the command, Henri.”

  Henri watches the screen like a man mesmerized and I know that he is waiting for her death before moving in. He’d as much as said that her next mission would be her last. I turn to see the rotary saw inches away from her chest, knowing that my brother is at the other side of that saw and my only thought is, you aren’t dying today!

  Jerking the headset from Henri, I speak into the mike, giving the command to move in, impersonating Henri’s calm voice, trying very hard not to scream into the mic.

  Mass confusion erupts on both screens as the team moves in. The Agency feed focuses on a bare wall, the cameraman down. Cobra’s satellite feed scrambles.

  I hold my breath and wait for the voice of the team leader. The Agency-fed audio fills the office space with the sounds of human scuffle, grunts, screams and furniture crashes, before finally the team leader gives the all-clear. As a delayed reaction, Henri jerks the mic back away from me, screaming, “You knew the plan.”

  I give him my blink of innocence look and a shrug. “I never agreed to your plan.”

  * * * * *

  Lying in a hospital bed, she is barely conscious, but she is alive. I hold her hand and stroke her face. I tell her how much I love her, but the doubt put into her mind by Liam holds firm. I see it in her eyes.

  “Henri said you’re leaving for San Francisco tonight,” she says softly, a statement, but I know in her heart it is a question. She wants it to be a lie as she stares at the ceiling, not looking at me.

  “I know you won’t understand, Eva, but I have made a home there, and being there keeps me out of the way. You know as well as I that few retire completely from this business.” I try to explain it, but even I am having a problem with Henri’s insistence that I be on a government plane tonight. I lift her hand and am kissing the top when Henri opens the door to her room, insisting, “It’s time to go.”

  “Stay with me,” she whispers, though I know she knows in her heart that what she asks is impossible.

  Compared to her everyday suicidal assignments, I’m sure my post in San Francisco seems lame, but in the eyes of The Agency it is every bit as crucial to international security. I kiss her on the cheek, whispering, “Join me there. You’ve earned some time off.”

  Her eyelids flutter and her eyes focus on mine. Whatever thought travels through her mind, I’m unable to read it. Turning her head to focus back on the ceiling, she dismisses me. “You have a plane to catch.”

  When she closes her eyes, I feel her trying to shut me out of her life, but she’s stuck with me. I haven’t figured out how I’ll make it happen, but when she leaves the hospital, she’ll be coming home to me.

  My thoughts immediately turn to the two I left in San Francisco.

  Our threesome is still so new. We’re barely used to each other and how it all works. How will they feel about my adding another to our group? How will Eva react to them? I touch her face and leave a kiss on her cheek. “This isn’t over, Eva.”

  * * * * *

  In the hallway, Henri waits with two guards. I close the distance between us. “She’s still alive, no thanks to you, and I intend to make certain she stays that way.”

  I am handcuffed before I realize what is happening. I try to keep a grip on my voice to not allow the panic in my chest to show. “So this is it?”

  Not answering, Henri manages to look calm, cool and collected while I struggle with the men holding me. “Are you sending me back to the US?”

  “In due time, Thomas,” Henri answers before nodding at the guards. Their signal to take me to wherever they plan to take me, which to my surprise is a physician’s conference room two floors higher.

  I’d considered breaking free while in the elevator, actually my best bet of an
escape, but my curiosity got the best of me. When I am forced into the room and find myself with a conference table being all that stands between me and my brother, I wish I had escaped when I’d had the chance. I fight the guards, seeing red, wanting to inflict the same pain on Nikos that he inflicted on Eva.

  The guards hold tight, though conference chairs end up turned on their sides and I end up a little black and blue for my efforts.

  “I’m going to kill you!” I promise him.

  “Boys, boys,” Nikos says in our native tongue. “Would you cut off your own right arm just so your brother would feel the pain for a lifetime?” he challenges me in a strong, firm voice, a voice from a time long ago. He recites the chastisement our uncle used so many times as we were growing up, each of us always trying to cause the other great harm. “You are each other’s blood forever. No one will ever love you or know you as well as your other.”

  That is what Uncle called us… Other. He was mine and I was his other. The times when we rolled around as children in the tall grasses behind our house seem so far away, so remote, but there is still truth in our uncle’s words. Though that truth brings both gladness and pain.

  I shrug off two of the guards, facing him squarely. “Would you have killed her?”

  “I had no idea she was the one you loved. I promise you that.” He walks around the table, coming closer to me. “You know as well as I do I could not have blown almost a decade’s work by this Agency to save one operative.” He pauses when he gets near enough to put one hand on each of my shoulders. “But if I had known that she was yours, I would have made sure she lived. I’m sorry.”

  It is then that I notice his eyes reflect the truth of every word. He also thinks she is dead.

  “Cobra didn’t kill her. She lives,” I tell him and am surprised when he grabs me, squeezing me hard, saying, “Thank God then.” He pulls back from me, searching my eyes. “But still your heart breaks?”