by Wendy Rosnau
When she settled around him on his lap, he arched his hips and moved deeper. It clearly told her that fast or slow, he was up to playing whatever game she had in mind.
"This afternoon, in the tower," she whispered, "I was afraid you wouldn't come looking for me, and then when you did, I…"
"Shh…"
"I don't want to need anyone, Sly. Needing is dangerous." She kissed him again, then leaned her forehead against his as she slid forward, then rocked back, working him slowly in and out of her.
He settled his hands on her hips. "Get rid of the top," he said, then watched as she slid the tight pink tank upward along her rib cage and off over her head.
Her beautiful breasts spilled forward, filling his vision. He leaned forward to rub his cheek over the sweet fullness of her. He loved the smell of her, and the taste. He captured a ripe nipple and suckled it, savoring her and the sound of her sighs of pleasure. He gave the other nipple the same attention, and on a moan, she arched her back and began to move on him with more urgency.
The music became distant, their rapid breathing finding a companionable rhythm with their bodies. He slid his hands under her skirt and cupped her butt, encouraging her to move faster.
"That's it," he groaned, then he closed his eyes and let her take him on a ride that filled him up and drained him at the same time.
They made love on the floor and against the wall in the companionway before they found the bed. At midnight, he woke her and loved her again.
She snuggled against him after that, and just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered again, "We could sail away like vagabonds."
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
Eva woke to the sound of the Hector's engine turning over. She sat up, then slipped out of bed. She found one of Sly's shirts in the closet and pulled it on, then went looking for her underwear.
She had just found them when the door opened and Sly stepped into the room. Feeling self-conscious, she had no idea why—he had seen her naked more than dressed over the past twenty-four hours—she said, "I hope you don't mind if I borrow one of your shirts."
His eyes drifted over the white shirt, then to the black thong in her hand. "You're not going to need either this morning."
Eva angled her head and studied him. His hair was wet, and he wore a pair of black diving pants.
"And why would that be?"
"I found a coral reef I want to show you. We'll suit up and take the tanks down."
"What's the matter, tired of sharing your air?"
His smile was generous. It was perhaps the most relaxed smile he had ever offered her. He crossed the room and snagged her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. Pulling her against him, he kissed her, then said, "Mornin', Evy."
"Good morning … Slayton."
He arched a black eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"
She shrugged, ran her fingers through his short black hair. "You're wet."
"That's a fact. You sleep all right?"
"You know I slept like a slug. I didn't even know you had gotten up until I rolled over and…"
"And what?"
He was searching her eyes. She'd hoped he would want to make love to her again. Maybe they wouldn't get out of bed until noon.
She asked, "Any messages?"
"No."
"I heard the engine start up."
"Just turning it over. Making sure everything is working all right. Come on. Let's take a swim."
They explored the coral reef together, and Eva vowed she would remember this day forever. She loved the underworld, the marine life and the mystery of the deep, but today it was twice as enjoyable seeing it with Sly. At times she found herself more enchanted and distracted watching him, and marveling at how powerful and graceful he was in the water.
His diving equipment was high-tech, and his knowledge seemed endless. He had given her a crash course in the science of diving, essential equipment, and let her drive one of his aqua gliders. She had been surprised to know that he had two on board, that she'd had the means to escape him all along. But today she had no wish to escape him. The past two days had been the happiest of her life, and she hated to think of it ending. Yet she knew it would. Must.
She prayed for one more day. One more day to discover all that she had been missing over the years.
It was strange, but at times she felt like an innocent just discovering what it felt like to be a real human being, to feel like a real woman.
It was late morning when they surfaced. While Sly stowed the equipment, she went to take a shower. She had just left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her when Sly entered. She looked up, prepared to flash him and knew immediately that something was wrong.
"What is it?"
He walked past her and retrieved a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt from a drawer beneath the berth. With his back to her he said, "A message came in."
He stripped and dressed quickly while she stood frozen in the middle of the room, knowing this was what he'd been waiting for, knowing that her prayer for one more day wasn't going to happen. He was on his way to the door, when she reached out and touched his arm. It was enough to at least stop him. He turned around and finally looked at her. Really looked.
"What?"
His voice was anxious. She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Get dressed, Eva. I want to set sail as soon as possible."
Eva. Not Evy. She dropped her hand, sensing the change in him already. His beautiful blue eyes were now distant, and she knew why. He was again Sly McEwen, a man on a mission—one of Onyxx's elite—and she was the Chameleon's daughter. The woman who stood between him and the success of his mission.
She raised her chin, went into survival mode. Forced a smile. "Who made contact?"
"Merrick. He's in Paros at a place called Christos. He wants to meet."
Christos was a dockside bar with rooms to rent upstairs by the hour or the week, or any combination in between if you had the money. Sly entered the seedy taverna with Eva on his arm, wishing he'd taken the time to buy her some decent clothes first. Or better yet, a nun's robe. The men covering the barstools were a crusty lot. Some were fishermen, but most appeared to be independents looking for a piece of action, or a piece of ass.
Sly was in no mood for a confrontation. He wished he could have trusted Eva enough to leave her on the Hector, but then trusting her hadn't been the only reason he had elected to take her with him. He'd spied the Ventura in port. That meant Simon Parish was also in Paros. A coincidence? He didn't believe in them.
He nodded to a waiter as he steered Eva toward a table along a back wall. As she moved ahead of him, he could feel the men at the bar shift to watch her.
It wasn't her fault she had a beautiful body, or that the clothes she wore fit a little too well. But dammit, a little less attention would have suited him better.
He put her in the chair that wouldn't allow anyone but him to ogle her cleavage, then took the seat next to her.
"Are we going to eat? I'm hungry," she said.
"We're not going to be here that long." He flagged a waiter, and when he arrived, Sly said, "The lady will have a glass of wine. What do you have?"
"Lagaria."
Sly eyed the waiter who was tapping his foot to the disco music and grinning at Eva. He shifted, brought his leg a bit forward from beneath the table and covered the waiter's sandaled foot with his boot. The waiter's grin died as he sucked in his breath.
Sly said, "Lagaria, then, and for me a mia bira."
"Right away," the waiter said, then quickly hobbled away the minute Sly removed his boot from his foot.
"Wine? My stomach is empty and you order me wine?"
Sly narrowed his eyes. He knew she hadn't appreciated his ill mood since Merrick's message had arrived. As a result, she had countered his mood with one of her own, picking a fight with him every chance she got since they'd left the cove.
He wanted to explain to her w
hy he was feeling the way he was, but he didn't know how to tell her the news. It wasn't good news, and he'd been looking for the right time to tell her, knowing damn well there was no right time.
"When is Merrick going to get here? I'm hungry. If you weren't going to feed me you should have at least let me fix something on the Hector. If you remember, I suggested it, but you—"
"Enough, Eva. I don't like Merrick's taste in bars any more than you do."
A different waiter brought them the Lagari and beer.
As Sly scanned the dingy room, he noted a table of five men playing cards. They had been there awhile. Beer bottles littered the table, and they were laughing and enjoying the game, and … watching Eva. He worked on the beer, tried to keep himself relaxed. Eva leaned back in her chair, and his eyes went straight to her chest
"Do you have to do that?" He grumbled.
"Do what?" She followed his gaze. Attempted to adjust the top.
It made things worse by Sly's estimation. "That helped a lot."
"You didn't seem to mind how little it covered last night," she reminded. "You know, Slayton, if I wasn't sure you didn't own a jealous bone, I'd say that you were letting yourself get worked up over nothing. Those men over there are just being men."
Before he could tell her she was right, that he didn't own a jealous bone, just a permanent hard-on where she was concerned, he saw Merrick enter the bar.
He had to look twice to be sure, but it was Merrick all right underneath a beat-up hat and ragged clothes he must have stolen off a drunk.
He crossed the room and headed for the stairway. Sly, watched him disappear, then flagged the waiter who had taken their drink order. The man slowly limped back to the table, a wary look on his face.
"I'd like a room," Sly said.
"A room … upstairs?"
"That's right. How much?"
The waiter glanced down at the floor, then took a step back. "Twenty dollars an hour."
Sly pulled two twenties and laid then on the table, and in return the waiter pulled a key from his pocket, handed it to Sly, then curled his fingers around the money. "Anything else, amerikano?"
"That'll do."
When the waiter left, Eva said, "Why do we need n room? I thought we weren't staying here long?"
"We're not, but I need you out of the way while I speak to Merrick."
"Out of the way? Why can't I go with you?"
"Because you can't," he said, not wanting to gel into it. He finished his beer, then stood. "Come on."
They climbed the stairs. Sly glanced at the number on the key, stopped in front of room eight and unlocked the door. Ushering Eva inside, he noted that the room wasn't clean, but it was better than he had expected.
"You're leaving me here?" She turned around, then around again. "You're kidding, right?"
"It's just for an hour."
"You paid him forty dollars. That's two hours."
"It's not going to take that long. Come on, just take a seat, and I'll be back as quick as I can. Maybe Merrick brought the file on your father."
That brought her turning quickly to face him.
"Do you think so?"
He didn't. He had only mentioned it hoping it would be enough to keep her in the room anxiously awaiting his return. He warned, "Don't leave the room, especially dressed like that. Those men downstairs aren't used to hearing the word no. Lock the door when I leave. I'll keep the key and let myself in. I'll be back as quick as I can."
He waited outside the door until he heard her lock up, then walked down the hall to number eleven. He tried the door and found it unlocked. He pulled a knife, then slipped inside the dark room. Closing the door behind him, he stood with his back to it ready for anything unexpected that might come his way.
A small light came on, and he saw Adolf Merrick seated at a small wooden desk. "They call this the executive suite," he said. "You weren't followed, were you?"
"No."
"I hoped you'd be able to decipher my code. Find this place and the room. Left the same message for Bjorn, but I haven't heard from him."
"He was taking Holic Reznik apart at Cupata when one of the balconies collapsed. I don't know if he made it," Sly admitted, sliding his knife into the sheath at the small of his back.
Merrick pulled off his hat. "Where have you been?"
"Laying low, trying to get a message to you and Bjorn. You?"
"On the Ventura. I missed the Chameleon. He got away on a yacht named the Pearl."
"And for two days you've been on the Ventura?"
"Yes, I have. I kept myself out of sight. You beat the hell out of me pretty good. Took me a day to get my strength back."
"In your message you said you watched Simon Parish beat a guard to death. You sure the guard was Nemo?"
"It was. The Ventura left Santorini thirty minutes after the Pearl. When I saw Simon and his sister, Melita, board, I slipped over the side and hid. The yacht set sail and didn't stop until just before dawn. I understood why when I saw the Pearl. They were having a little rendezvous at sea. By the way, the Chameleon is Paavo Creon. I watched him board the Ventura. Parish and his sister met him on the upper deck where I was hiding in an air vent. I couldn't hear what was said. I was too far away."
Merrick uncorked the bottle of whiskey and motioned to the sofa. "Sit down, McEwen. A drink?"
"No, thanks. So Simon and his sister work for the Chameleon."
"That's what it looks like."
Sly took a seat. "You set me up. All of us weeks ago."
Merrick rubbed the back of his neck. "I had started to give up hope of ever finding the Chameleon. The Agency suspected Paavo Creon after they investigated the fire at his home. It was all hush-hush, but there was an evaluation, and a possible explanation—Paavo hadn't died. I went over the data on the Chameleon. The Agency suspected he was restoring Greek monasteries and turning them into compounds to aid his illegal activities. When Eva called and told me about Castle Rock I had to check it out. Of course, I now have the proof I need. I've seen Paavo with my own eyes. He is the Chameleon. It's been fourteen years and he's aged, but it's him."
"You should have told me. Told someone. The mission to Castle Rock never smelled right from the beginning. You offered me that crap job afterward, knowing I wouldn't accept it."
"I needed you out of Onyxx. To be my eyes and ears. I didn't plan on Sully dying, but after he did, I knew who I could depend on to go after the Chameleon. You're a predictable son of a bitch, McEwen."
"So you sent me that information on Eva, put me on her scent, and waited for me to call."
"Only you didn't call, so I hopped a plane, and that's when Simon Parish picked me up. I'm sorry about Sully. Truly sorry, McEwen. And if Bjorn is a casualty, I take full responsibility for that, too." Merrick took a sip of his whiskey, his silver hair almost white in the lamplight. "The birth of Onyxx was supposed to solve the world's problems, not create more debauchery. The NSA poured billions into the project. The agents hand-picked from an elite few. Five years later one of those elite goes rogue. Do you know what that did to the project, and to those of us who were caught in the middle? We had everything at our disposal. Nothing was off-limits to the agents at Onyxx. We had access to the darkest secrets on the continent. International clearance on every level. We collaborated with the CIA and the NIA, and every organization in between. We even had men who worked in the underworld."
Merrick took another sip of whiskey. "I'd been a government assassin for three years before I was inducted into the Onyxx program. Paavo Creon was recruited because he was a mastermind strategist for the military. Both our records were spotless. Both married. Both happy with our lives. At least I was until hell came knocking and blew up my world. Today Onyxx inductees are required to be single. That was brought forth after Johanna was killed. How much has Eva told you?"
"She doesn't remember the details of the night her mother died. She says someone else was there in the house, but she doesn't know who."
"Do you believe her?"
"Yes. Was it you? Were you in the house that night?"
"Me?" Merrick stood and shrugged off his tattered shirt, revealing the bruises Sly had inflicted on him at Cupata. "Why would I have been there?"
"You said you and Paavo were friends. Eva says you used to bring her suckers when you visited."
"I was nowhere near that house when it burned to the ground. Actually I think I was at my country home with Johanna when I got the call that it had happened."
"So your wife wasn't killed until later that year."
"Three months later."
Sly studied Merrick, searching for the truth, but like before, his commander's face was masked by his facial hair and cold gray eyes.
"I'd like to talk to Eva and ask her some questions," Merrick said. "You brought her with you, didn't you?"
"No," Sly lied, not willing to hand her over to Merrick until he was sure he could trust his boss, and his motive.
"She's our bait, McEwen. Paavo will want what is his. I know how she's lived, and I don't understand why Creon has treated her the way he has, but he'll still want her back."
"Maybe not."
"It sounds to me like you've let your emotions affect this mission, McEwen."
"I don't work for you or Onyxx anymore, Merrick. My reason for being here is personal, that means I don't have to follow Onyxx procedures or policy."
"You're sleeping with her, aren't you?" When Sly didn't answer, Merrick swore. "It's worse than that, isn't it? You've let yourself care about her. That's stupid, McEwen. If you think I'm going to back away now, after I'm this close, you're mistaken. I want to talk to Eva Creon, tonight."
"You're the one who's stupid, Merrick, if you think I'm going to let you sacrifice her to ease your conscience over a tragedy that happened fourteen years ago. You can't bring your wife back."
"Sully, either. So why are you here?"
"We both want the Chameleon. That isn't up for debate. But I'm not going to jeopardize Eva so you can put another notch on that legendary belt of yours."
Sly stepped to the window. It was dark outside, and the sound of violin music in the street mingled with rowdy laughter coming from downstairs. Anxious to get back to Eva, he said, "Are there any other members of your team still alive? Any of the original six?"