by Misty Evans
Miles broke the embrace and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Did you ever find the man?”
“No. I had several leads over the years from discreetly talking to my mother’s backroom friends, but they were all dead ends. His name was Orlo Ayres, but that could have been one of many aliases the man had. He was what the Gypsy women called a traveller. No one knew precisely where he came from, who is clan was. He moved around a lot and kept to himself. An outcast. But he was the best plumber and electrician in the community. Like my mother, he was known for his skills and never lacked work. One of the women once told me he worked for the Romanian ambassador, that they were friends, but because of the man’s past, he wasn’t allowed inside the embassy. However, she’d seen him coming and going from there and the Iranian embassy at odd hours of the night. She suspected he was a spy.”
“Did you ever contact the Romanian ambassador?”
“I didn’t learn this until I was seventeen. By then, the man was dead. The Iranians wouldn’t talk to me.”
Miles chuffed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Well.” He stared out at the bright white landscape. “Looks like you and I will have another mission after this one.”
“What?”
He shifted and gave her a grave look. “After we’re done with Bourean, we’re hunting down your mother’s killer.”
He believed her. Just like that.
Holy cow.
Something popped inside her chest like a helium balloon. A warm sensation flooded her heart. “We are?”
He pulled back onto the road and gunned the engine. “We are.”
“WHAT’S THE SILVERWARE for?” Miles asked. They’d been on the road for hours. Traffic had grown heavier as they joined the easterly flow of travelers even though they tried to stay on the back roads as much as possible.
Charlotte had the map laid out in her lap studying it. Her hair had worked itself loose of the braid and a few strands caressed her cheek. Throughout the afternoon, the sun had played tag with clouds in the grey winter sky. When it had shone through, the highlights in her hair had turned a pretty copper. “Bartering.”
“And the ammo you threw in the bag that doesn’t work with our guns?”
“Ditto.”
After she’d told him about her family, she’d asked about his. He’d figured she already knew about his southern upbringing and his parents’ forty-plus year marriage, but told her about them anyway. His mother was a Tennessee Farnwall, heir to the Farnwall whiskey empire. His father, a Texas cattleman who had built a highly successful dude ranch/vacation conglomerate throughout the South. The two had met at one of his father’s first dude ranches when his mother vacationed there. They’d fallen in love during a whirlwind romance and had been going strong ever since. With two older sisters and a younger brother, there was plenty of family drama, but they all got along pretty well.
Didn’t he want to join one of the family businesses, Charlotte had asked. He’d admitted he’d never felt the pull. He’d always wanted to travel, to do some good in the world. He liked a good whiskey but didn’t much care how it was made and had no interest in ranching or catering to vacationers.
The sun was sinking fast in the rearview and traffic had slowed to a crawl. A medieval forest lined both sides of the road. There seemed to be a bottleneck up ahead, but he couldn’t see around the line of cars to tell what it was. “What exactly are we bartering for?” he asked. “We know where the USB is, so we don’t need intel on that. We have transportation, food, clothing…”
“You’ll see,” Charlotte said without looking up.
She’d switched the radio on and was humming along with some guy singing about ‘The World Is Mine’. Even after the progress they’d made opening up to one another, she was still holding out on him. “I don’t like surprises, Charlotte. Just tell me why we need the ammo and silverware.”
She sighed and looked up. “The area we’re traveling through is a bit of a no-man’s land. On any given day, a crime lord may send some of his men to collect a toll, or there may be renegades and outlaws that stop you and go through your things looking for something they want in exchange for your safe passage. Some of them claim to be Gypsies, but the Gypsies here never bother anyone. Not even the tribes who live along the sides of the roads. They get angry about the outlaws and criminals pretending to be them and giving them a bad name, but there’s little they can do about it. People are predisposed to think ill of them.”
Miles’ internal warning system kicked into high gear. “None of these criminals happen to be associated with Bourean, do they?”
“They might,” she said, staring straight ahead. “But it wouldn’t be any of his normal men from the compound who’ve see me before. It’s doubtful they’d recognize me.”
“Why the hell would they want silverware instead of money?”
“Oh, they love money.” She pulled the rubber band from her hair and started finger-combing the long locks, pulling bangs over her forehead. She also donned a pair of sunglasses. “But most travelers through these parts don’t have much and ammo is worth a lot throughout Europe. The renegades and outlaws have plenty of guns, thanks to the fall of the Soviet Union, but never enough ammunition. Silverware, the real stuff like we have, can be bartered for something like ammo, or melted down and sold by the ounce.”
They’d come to a full stop. Charlotte went back to her map and her humming. Miles beat his thumb against the steering wheel, running evade-and-escape scenarios through his mind as they inched forward.
Sure enough, as they rounded a corner, he saw exactly what Charlotte had described. A group of men that put the bikers at the bar the previous night to shame were stopping cars and collecting “tolls”.
“Let me do the talking,” Charlotte said as she calmly folded her map and tucked it away. “I picked you up at the bar last night and we’re having a weekend fling. You Americans are always fascinated with Transylvania and the stories of Dracula, so that’s where I’m taking you. A little sight-seeing and a lot of sex.”
Honestly, it sounded like a sweet combination to him. If only they weren’t, in reality, dodging homicidal crime lords and equally nasty, if more proper, government agents.
She withdrew ammo from the bag behind the seat and hid the rest under it. “They’ll be rude and act inappropriately. Don’t let it get to you.”
Miles ground his teeth for a moment. The car in front of them had ponied up whatever it took to make the men on each side of the road happy and was jetting off. He pulled the car forward, eyeing the M4s and the ratty boots the men wore as they evaluated him and Charlotte through the windshield. “They touch you and they’re all dead.”
Her hand snaked out, fingers intertwining with his on top of the gear shift. She was smiling. “Remember, sex and sight-seeing. Happy, go-lucky. We don’t have a care in the world.”
The song on the radio ended and the news came on. The newscaster spoke in Romanian, his voice too loud for their close quarters. Miles forced himself to smile back at Charlotte as he shook off her hand, cut the radio, and rolled down his window. She did the same with hers, engaging the man on her side in what sounded like a similar dialect to the newscaster. She spoke loud enough for both men to hear, that smile of hers never wavering as she bounced her gaze back and forth and answered for Miles when the asshole on his side started asking questions. She handed each of the outlaws an ammo clip with a few euros strapped to it.
The man on her side leaned down, a lengthy beard combed and braided into two tails complete with colorful beads, dangling from his chin. His eyes were hard, unforgiving. He said something, ran a finger down Charlotte’s cheek. She slapped his hand away, but laughed as if he were joking about something, then let go of a rapid string of words. For a few seconds, the man stared at her, and Miles tensed, foot hovering over the gas pedal.
Shit, shit, shit… He was reaching for his weapon when the man’s laugh cut through the weird silence. Charlotte sighed and handed him
the cross ring from her finger. Beaded Tails eyed it and put it on, then wagged a finger at Charlotte, straightened, and slapped the top of the Land Rover’s hood. The universal signal to drive on.
Miles didn’t breathe again until they were a mile down the road. Charlotte rolled up her window and turned the radio back on. “You did good, Duncan. I thought for sure you were going to open fire when he touched my cheek.”
I was. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing much.”
She started humming again as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it.
“Charlotte…? Tell me.”
A grin split her face as she looked over at him. “I said I was going to dump you after Transylvania and I’d see him when I got back. That I’d take all of your money and have it for him when I returned. But if he touched me again without my consent, his balls would turn black and fall off. He got the message. Sometimes playing the role of Gypsy has its perks.”
“Like back in San Diego with Ted.”
“Yeah, like that.”
The sun sank below the horizon in the rearview. A new song came on the radio. Charlotte sang along softly and, this time when she reached for Miles’ hand on the gearshift, he didn’t shake her off.
Chapter 13
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Romania
THE CABIN WAS shrouded in darkness, difficult to see from this far away, even with their night vision goggles. Nestled into a bend halfway up a mountain, it was hidden from normal view by a grove of trees and overgrown vegetation.
Charlotte had a moment of deja vu. Everything looked exactly the same as when she’d left the old horse trainer’s cabin nearly ten months ago except for a little more overgrown vegetation covering the barn and creeping into the main yard.
The locals didn’t consider the spot where the cabin nestled a true mountain—not compared to the surrounding Carpathians—but it was still a dangerous trek up that winding road to where the cabin sat.
“No lights,” Miles said, his face hidden behind his binoculars. “No tracks up that road that I can see. Looks deserted.”
Hopefully, it had been since the day she’d left. “We should still be careful. If Nico figured out that’s where I was living, he might have set up surveillance or a trap to catch me if I returned. My handler knew the place, too, so MI6 could have planted cameras and or listening devices.”
“We’ll initiate a full sweep when we get closer.”
“I’ll initiate a sweep.” She handed him a handheld radio. “You stay here and keep an eye out for visitors. Warn me if you see anyone. Once I’m sure the place is clean, I’ll let you know.”
“Good idea, except you’re staying here. I’ll sneak up to the cabin and sanitize it if necessary. Then you can join me.”
“Are you going to do this every time?”
He lowered the binoculars. The moon overhead gave her a clear view of his face, the planes and ridges, the light growth of beard along his jaw. “Do what?”
“Argue with me about taking the lead on my mission.”
“I don’t know what the big deal is.”
Of course he didn’t. “You kidnapped me from my motel room, then inserted yourself into my mission. You drove the boat, flew the plane, drove the truck. You insisted I stay behind in the plane last night when I saw Jaxon sneaking around outside.”
His dark brows lowered. “You drove the truck back from the bar. I let you come with me into the forest last night.”
“I got to drive for two whole miles. Yippee. And I only got to go into the forest as your backup after I insisted.”
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you’re calling all the shots about everything. All I wanted was my necklace back. Now I have this full blown…I don’t know what.”
He shrugged. “You’re used to working alone. I get that.”
“It’s not just that, Miles. I can’t…I don’t… Ugh!” Men. How to explain so he would understand? “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but I feel like I have to keep reminding you that this is my mission. I call the shots. I take the risks.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “And I have to keep reminding you that I’m your bodyguard. My job is to keep you safe.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.” She saw flecks of the moon reflected in his eyes. “This isn’t a safe mission, no matter which way we look at it.”
No, it was definitely not safe, not when he was standing so close the heat from his body engulfing her. Not when he was holding onto her and staring down at her under a silvery moon.
And not when the cabin where she’d fallen in love with him was only a few hundred yards away.
It was if he felt it too…that tug to get there, to see it again. “There were nights after I made it back to the States,” he said, “when I wondered if I’d dreamed it. The cabin. If I’d dreamed you up and what happened between us in there.”
His lips lowered and brushed across hers, their breath mingling in the night air. “It was no dream,” she whispered.
He rubbed a thumb along her jawline. “Then let’s do our sweep. The faster we clear the place, the sooner I can get those pants off you.”
She rose on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “It still makes sense for one of us to be lookout while the other sanitizes. You’re the Evasion God from all accounts, so you should be lookout.”
He grinned down at her. “Is this the plan, then? To seduce me into doing things your way?”
“Is it working?”
“Hell, yes. Get your ass up to that cabin, Agent Carstons, before my hard-on makes it impossible for me to walk.”
She laughed and started to take off on foot when he grabbed her and pulled her back. All the joking was gone. “Be careful.”
She planted another kiss on him. “You too. No getting hurt or dying before I get you alone.”
“Don’t worry.” His grin broadened. “I’m allergic to death.”
THE TERRAIN WAS rocky, slippery, and her travel made more difficult because she was staying off the trail that led directly to the cabin’s front door. The night vision goggles helped her see where she was going, but fog had moved in. The woods were so thick, little snow covered the ground. Dead pine needles crunched under foot, releasing their scent into the air as the maze of tree trunks forced her to serpentine her way up the mountainside. At times, the fog was so thick, the trees seemed to pop up out of nowhere, reminding her of the boat ride.
The idea that someone had used a drone to track her kept nagging at her brain. Nico liked his toys, but generally his toys were women. Not that he didn’t enjoy big screen TVs and cell phones, but he was more likely to buy a case of vodka and a rocket launcher than a drone.
The gray market dealt in everything under the sun and so did Nico. Perhaps he’d branched out to drones or ended up with one after a bartering session.
Most likely, however, the drone came from her employer.
Who and how? How did they find her in America when they couldn’t apparently find her in Nico’s compound?
They weren’t looking for you then.
She heard a branch behind her snap and she froze. There are things in these woods besides the occasional human. Bears, who should be hibernating by now, but some wouldn’t until deep winter. Wolves. She didn’t want to use a flashlight or her weapon. Either could give away her position. But if push came to shove, she’d rather give up her position to the bad guys than die from a bear mauling.
Peripheral vision was limited by the goggles. She stayed put, waiting, like she’d patiently waited when she’d been watching Miles. Counting her breaths and keeping her body pinned against a tree, she saw a faint movement off to her right a minute later. She waited, holding her breath, then saw the reflection of a mammalian retina as it checked her out before skittering away. The size and movement suggested a possum.
Hopefully there wasn’t a big, bad bear chasing it.
The concentration of brown bears in these mountains was the largest in the world. Just her luck, she’d run into one. Nico and MI6 would both get cheated.
The crazy irony—or maybe the bone-deep chill spreading in her veins—nearly made her laugh out loud. Instead she took a fortifying, icy breath and continued her journey.
The cabin’s nearly invisible footprint helped whoever was inside stay hidden. Sneaking up on it without being seen wasn’t the easiest, but the overgrowth helped her keep her presence a secret. She scanned the area for trip wires or sensors of any kind. No cameras hanging in the trees, no appearance that any human presence had been there in a long, long time.
Nine months, perhaps?
Still, she took her time, retracing her steps around the place multiple times. When she was sure there were no security hurdles outside, she shimmied up to one of the cabin’s windows, removed her night vision goggles and peered inside.
Squares of moonlight shone on the living room floor. The couple of pieces of furniture were right where she and Miles had left them, logs still stacked next to the fireplace. Because the cabin was little more than two rooms and a bath, the bedroom and living room were one. She could just make out the corner of the bed, the edge of a sheet draping down to the floor.