by S A Gardner
“Yeah.” Then it hit bottom, and I let it shake me. “God, Rafael. We could have lost big. I’m insane.”
His arms came around me, soothing, absolving. “You just found that out? But who else but a madwoman can do what you do? What else but insane gambles could have worked?”
“It didn’t work, Rafael. I might have played tough, but all I managed was to make them think it was cost effective to pay me and give me the benefit of the doubt till the deadline.”
“But that’s all we need, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
And I didn’t. Everything just had too many volatile factors. Going crazy wondering how Damian was faring was short-circuiting what remained of my logic.
Rafael’s arm tightened, chiding, bolstering. “You do. And don’t forget the hundred million dollars. All I have to do is…”
“Go back to your room.”
The softness of the words tore through my hyperextended nerves like an axe. I jerked around, choking, shaking.
Damian. Here. Safe.
I catapulted up and right into him.
He caught me in the crush I needed, to crack the dam of anxiety, to bruise me with his presence.
He smelled of rain and danger and death. He’d done it. Terminated a monster and set up far more.
Rafael rose, gestured farewell to me as he sauntered to the door. Damian followed him, locked after him and came back to me.
“I saw that!” He looked around at my exclamation, pretended bafflement. “Just—don’t! What did you say to Rafael over there?”
He took off his jacket. “What do you think I said to him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that you’ll rip his arms off and beat him to death with them if you see them around me again?”
He undid his shirt buttons, reached for me. “Oh, so you did hear me.”
I resisted his embrace. “You didn’t actually say this!”
“No, I didn’t.” I breathed relief, sank into the rough demand of his kiss. He added against my lips, “My version was geared towards more—specific male nightmares.”
I spluttered, pushed at him. “Hell, Damian, whatever for?”
He reached for my sweatshirt, had it off me in two moves. “Want a detailed list?” My bra followed and his hands replaced it around my breasts, weighing, stroking, kneading—pinching. I pinched them back. Hard. He cocked his head at me. “How about the highlights, hmm? You’re Rafael’s Holy Grail in women, the daughter of his god. He’s got assets, he’ll probably remain in one piece, he’s connected to you through your life’s strongest bond, he’s patient and long-term and thinks we’ll never last and is willing to stick around until I’m out of the picture.”
“God—where are you getting all these insights?”
“I’m a man.” Could have fooled me! Then he could have given me a stroke engulfing my nipple in deep, long suckles. Stimuli ripped through me. My insides clenched, demanding him. “Testosterone is all it takes to read another user.”
“Don’t you mean another abuser?” I could only moan now, my body heavy and cramping for his. “But I don’t care what you think he thinks. What do you think? You think we’ll never last?”
He rubbed his chest against mine, and it surprised me my nipples didn’t graze him. “Never is a long time, Calista. Or all too short in our case. If I’d died tonight, are you sure you wouldn’t have eventually turned to him for comfort?”
I bit into his shoulder, punishing him for pouring fuel on my ever-present dreads. “If you’d dared die tonight, what would it have mattered to you?”
“I somehow think it would matter, no matter if I’m alive or dead. But I’m not dead. I’m here, and we’re leaving for Argentina in three hours and I’m not wasting another minute talking. I want you.”
He glowed with it, exuded it. The violence firing his eyes, the recklessness, the cruelty lingering from his fresh kill, the need to reaffirm life and passion with me, in me, after he’d dealt death, no matter how deserved.
I understood it all, in my guts, my marrow. I would give him all he needed. Only I could. And I would take all I needed from him.
I slipped out of his arms down to the silk Persian carpet, dragged him down with me. “And I want you—here.” I hauled him over me, my fingers sinking in his back and buttocks. “You might have paid thousands of dollars for this suite, but whomever called the bed king-sized, hadn’t seen any of yours.”
He leapt up from my grasping hands, sprinted to the bedroom. In seconds he was back hauling the thick, coil-laden mattress.
He thew it down beside me, reached for me and dragged me on it then impacted me, mass and intent and ferocity, growling, “A full-body carpet burn or multiple fractures aren’t among the things I’ll be giving you for the next two hours.”
I bit into him, scratched him, needing to shred his restraint, unleash his abandon.
I tore the last of his control right off when I taunted, “Promises.
Twenty-Two
“This promises to be a hell of a mess, people.”
And no, this wasn’t a fate-placating statement. It was the truth. And it was as good an opening as any to get everyone’s attention over the drone of the plane’s engines.
With our alternating sleeping hours during the crisis, it was the first time since we’d taken off that I had them all awake.
Ayesha, Lucia, Matt and Suz had met us in Buenos Aires Airport. We’d switched to a smaller jet. It had the benefits of being capable of landing on and taking off from the tiny made-for-amateur-aviation-sports runway of our destination, as well as doubling as an aeromedical transport in case we needed its facilities. I’d inspected those when we’d come aboard. They topped the best I’d ever seen. But what else was new with Damian in charge?
“I know we agreed on the basics a couple of days back, but while Damian was getting us specifics he regretfully came up with updates. Ex vice-president Federico Almeyda has left his seaside estate in Mar del Plata two days ago and has gone to one of his retreats at the very south tip of Argentina.”
“And you expect the change in location to impact our plans?” That was Ayesha, yawning and stretching.
“What about our roles? Did those change, too?”
“Actually, Damian’s intel changed everything. Contrary to Almeyda’s resort retreat, this retreat is miles away from any sign of life, so the chance of creating a diversion like during Worthington’s hit to get inside is nil.”
Lucia looked sideways at Rafael who was sitting next to her. “Since this is your homeland Rafael, any special homegrown insights you can provide here?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t lived here in almost two decades, so I’m no longer sure I can call Argentina home, or if I can offer any relevant insights. But I did propose a plan and made some arrangements and background checks. It’s up to Cali now to work it through.”
I met Damian’s eyes. He thought Rafael was taking every opportunity to ingratiate himself to me. His eyes told me something else. That his thoughts now ran towards helping Rafael out the nearest emergency exit, without a parachute.
My lips twisted. “Actually Rafael did secure an abandoned ski station near El Chaltén—a small town at the foothills of Monte FitzRoy about twenty miles from our target—where we’ll set up a command post from which to scout the area, try to figure out routes of approach and methods of infiltration. He also proposed striking a deal with the local hired help provider, so we’d enter the estate unnoticed among the dozens needed in the upkeep of such a huge place.”
Lucia gave him an approving shove. “Great idea, amigo.”
I had to point out the not so great part of it.
“Problem is, the provider has a strict rule of employing only people he has a total hold over. This way he ensures perfect security and the best in domestic slavery for his big scum clientele.”
“There’s only one way to deal with people like him. We give him a taste of his medicine.”
That was
Matt. Speaking for the first time since he’d boarded the plane. It was a relief to find out he was still capable of anything besides brooding and smoldering.
Being in his vicinity right now was giving me psychic bruises. Even worse was being caught in the turbulence between him and Suz. Man. Those two’s stormy vibes could crash the jet.
I had a chat with Suz coming up, with a simple advise attached. Charge him. I could tell he was self-consuming with wanting her, but the idiot man was that much of a faithful martyr he was never making a first move in this lifetime. But I bet one good punch followed by jumping his bones would set him free from his self-enforced emotional exile.
I saw Damian’s eyes following my thoughts from Matt to Suz. His lips twisted on wry acknowledgement.
Yeah. Another should-have-been-avoided-at-all-costs passion.
“Down to the bone with the only logical solution as usual, Matt.” Damian exchanged a glance with him, rife with subliminal male understanding. “And I’ve got just the type of dirt on that man that will make him our willing slave for the rest of his life. We’re in, easy.”
And he’d left me feeding my stomach to itself in worry when he had this info all the time? Was he still trying to show me I didn’t need Rafael around? Or that his powers were undiminished? Or was he just maintaining his element of surprise at all costs, at every turn? Or was it something else I would never fathom?
Not important now. Get on with the matter at hand.
I looked anywhere but at him as I said, “OK, since entrance has been miraculously solved, it’s on to step two. We’ll need all the Spanish speakers on the inside, so Lucia, Damian, José and Rafael are drafted. Naturally, I will go in, too. Matt, Suz, Ayesha, Shad and Pierro are the outside team, the cavalry if we need it. As soon as we land, Damian gets on the provider’s case, we set up base, work up disguises, supplies and props.”
Everyone nodded, started murmuring among themselves, then Damian’s team rose, started distributing our meal.
I walked by Damian. I wasn’t sitting next to him. My blood aggravation level was too high at the moment.
Ayesha gave me a pointed look as I threw myself next to her. “Just like that? No asking if it was OK to sit down, or if I’d rather have someone else next to me?”
What the hell was this about now? I squinted at her, gauging her mood, her meaning. Suddenly a recollection expanded in my mind, like a train hurtling towards me in the dark.
Before Colombia she’d told me she was interested in a younger man. I’d been too aggravated then to even allow myself to wonder who. Yeah, aggravation was popular theme with me. But with this comment… Did this mean that man was among our current company? Who could it be?
Curiosity spurted first, buzzed in my blood. Then dismay rose, that he might not reciprocate her interest. Or was it worse if he did? I had no idea…
I couldn’t bear it. “Ayesha, spill!”
“Is this an order, Boss?”
Images of shaking the answer out of her mushroomed in my head. I growled at the force of the compulsion. “I’m in bad shape Ayesh. You’re an inch from getting your smart ass kicked.”
She shrugged. There was no intimidating that woman.
Just when I thought she’d let me develop a frustration-induced coronary, she put me out of my misery.
“It’s Shad.”
Wha…? Huh? Bu…! Shad? I never…! Not even a clue…
So what’s new? According to Damian I was vibe-handicapped.
I only sensed Matt’s and Suz’s because their all-out angst and torment was enough to rouse the dead.
But—Shad? When? How?
“The man is fourteen years my junior but he’s so fine, ain’t he?” She poured unbridled lust over him from head to ass as he bent to place a tray in front of his leader.
I couldn’t argue with that. He might not be Damian level—and who in history was—but he was, as she put it, fine. Just those bodies on Damian’s team would be enough.
Shad was also subtle, in looks, in humor, in effect. Yeah, I could see now how he’d appeal to the demanding depth and darkness in her.
“I took one look at those green-meadow eyes, that burnt-ginger hair, and God—those freckles—and I wanted to rip him outta his clothes. But after his injury in Russia, when we almost lost him, when he was almost paralyzed from the neck down and I was his main caretaker, it took a deeper turn. Then he started talking about Fatima as if she still existed… God, Cali—no one’s ever done this for me. Not even you.”
Spikes grew in my throat, pushed outward. God. Fatima. The daughter she’d lost to an organ-harvesting mafia. The one she still talked about as if she was alive and safe and growing under her loving and proud eyes. We all freaked when she did that, even after she’d made it clear she wasn’t delusional, was just exercising something that defused her eternal anguish. But Shad had understood, hadn’t judged or feared. Had given her what she needed.
He’d indulged her, shared with her. No wonder she was looking at him as if she’d gobble him up.
“I could just gobble him up, body and soul.”
Hey, I’d just thought that! Fe-reaky. Or maybe not.
She always read my mind anyway. But since the mental channel seemed to be one-way, I had to ask. “What’s stopping you?”
“Uh—you have been around the last eight months, haven’t you? First he was out of action, then I was, then he was AWOL then we reunited with his team to divert another catastrophe. It’s almost enough to make me regret joining up with you, all this detrimental influence on my love-life.”
“What love-life? The one you’ve been avoiding having for the past two decades? If I can have one, you have no excuse!”
“You’re talking about the love-life you have only because you somehow landed the planet’s most tolerant man? The same love-life you’re still trying your damnedest to sabotage?” She looked over at Damian, exchanged an I-know-what-you’re-putting-up-with look with him.
The two creeps were ganging up on me!
I erupted to my feet. “Say—why don’t I leave you to your manhunting and Calista-bashing efforts?”
She just raised both finely arched eyebrows at me, slid another “Yeah—that” look towards Damian.
Argh!
I plodded towards the last unoccupied row of seats.
If they both thought me so aggravating, I’d spare them the pain of my company.
I thought I slept. And ate. And slept again. And I dreamt, dreams warped and suffocating, filled with images of Damian receding until he vanished and people dying beneath my fumbling hands. Then heat erupted throughout my system, radiating from a point on my neck. The epicenter of burning was lips. His. And not in the dream.
“I had to wake you up to see this.” Damian’s purr opened my eyes, adjusted my focus on the scene right in front of them. My heart almost fired a hole through my ribs.
We were on a collision course with a mountain!
I recoiled, found myself driven back into him. “You had to wake me up to witness our crash rather than sleep through it?”
He just buried a chuckle into my neck.
It did look like José and Pierro were squabbling again and relinquishing the plane controls. The dramatic, ice-capped summits were getting heart-wrenchingly close—but if Damian wasn’t alarmed…
“That’s Cerro Torre mountain.” His finger brushed my cheek on its way to pointing it out. “Its neighbor over there is Monte FitzRoy, where we’ll land. Did you know they’re part of the Fueguinos Andes that extend like a huge wall forming a natural border with Chile?”
I braced against his hypnotic effect. I could stand my ground for two minutes, couldn’t I? “I’m a doctor, I flunked geography.” I gritted my teeth as his chuckle resonated dark richness in my bones. “And how can you tell which mountains we’re above? They all look the same.”
“You mean you didn’t see the god-sprayed graffiti all over them? Still struggling with your Spanish, amada?”
“T
here are parachutes on this plane, right?”
“Who’ll name mountains for you if you shove me out?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll enjoy the scenery without labels.”
“You probably would.” His nod was all complacency. “Patagonia is how Earth used to be millions of years ago, rolling from the awe-inspiring Andes to the plateau Steppe lands to the Atlantic at its most daunting in the east, and in between the lakes, the glaciers, the rivers, the valleys are no less humbling. Besides Colombia, where I’d love to take you back exploring its real riches and beauty, Patagonia would be my second choice for an adventure worthy of you.”
Had I said before, the man could talk?
I gave up, relaxed against him, let him encompass me, let the sight of some of the world’s most spectacular mountains permeate me with wonder and insignificance.
Just being near them adjusted my perspective, put all the important things front and center, made all the stuff that didn’t matter but kept consuming my mood and focus fade away.
In hours we might die. What was I doing wasting time nursing grievances and aggravations?
I turned in his arms, my hands bunching in thick silk and steel flesh, dragging his still-unfamiliar bearded face down to mine for a fierce nuzzle. I sank in his heat and eagerness, took his lips in mine.
“You make a good guide. You may live.”
Twenty-Three
“Where do you live?”
I stared at the angry woman with the bullfrog eyes.
She was the one cracking the whip over the heads of the domestic help in the estate and I thought she was asking where I lived. My Spanish was quaky, and her accent sounded nothing like Damian’s flowing drawl or Lucia’s precise one.
“I said, where do you live? As in where do you come from? Are you deaf? Just where in hell do they find such scum! And they expect me to get anything done with such ‘help’?”
And that was loosely translated. I recognized some terminally obscene words among her tirade. Even if I hadn’t, the spattering saliva and the popping veins would have said it all.