by Rebecca York
“God, no.”
“The archaeological community did its best to bury the disgrace, which is why you probably don’t remember the incident. My mother came back to the U.S. right after the trial. She was given immunity in exchange for testifying against him. She wanted us to live together like nothing had happened. But I couldn’t do that. I—” His voice hitched. “I didn’t like her much…or feel comfortable with her. I went to live with Uncle Henry.”
Elizabeth’s arms tightened around him. “Oh, Zeke.”
“So I’ve got some firsthand experience on why it might not work out to have a kid live with someone he barely knows,” he muttered. “Henry did his duty by me. He even left me enough of his money to make my life very comfortable. But he was never very loving. I guess that’s a family trait.”
“Well, you didn’t inherit it,” she whispered. “Every time you hold me, every time you kiss me, I know you’re struggling with deep feelings you don’t know how to handle.”
Zeke winced, and Elizabeth wondered if she’d said too much. Relief flooded through her when he clasped her more tightly. She closed her eyes and held on to him, trying to tell him without words how much she valued him, how much she loved him. Lord, she’d thought she had a rough start in life. But she’d ended up in a good home. Zeke sounded as if he would have been better off if his mother and father had put him up for adoption. She’d known from her job at Birth Data that some people simply shouldn’t have had kids. She hadn’t dreamed Zeke’s parents were in that group. She clenched her teeth, then made an effort to let go of the tension—in case he misinterpreted her reaction. She’d known all along that he was a man with a past. She simply hadn’t had a clue how far back it went. She felt a shudder go through him as he started to speak again.
“I guess there’s some special CIA unit that recruits U.S. citizens who might have personal reasons to take on dangerous assignments. They approached me in graduate school and asked if I wanted to make amends for my father’s illegal acts by working for them in foreign countries, using my linguistic specialty as a cover. I accepted and took a quick course in spying—with additional training on an as-needed basis. Sometimes I worked for the CIA, sometimes for other agencies like the State Department. That’s how I met Thorn, by the way.”
“You still work for the government?” she asked, trying to absorb everything that he was saying.
He shook his head. “I almost got killed about a year and a half ago in Bosnia.”
Her hold on him tightened. “You mean when you were away for a couple of months?”
“Yeah. While I was lying in my hospital bed, I decided I didn’t have to give my life for my father’s sins. So I quit.”
“Good.”
“The joke is that the training they gave me may make the difference in getting Ariadne out of Mythos.”
She nodded against his chest, her mind reeling as she tried to process the information he’d given her. She was so absorbed that for several seconds she lost the thread of what he was saying. Then a sentence caught her attention.
“Sebastian said Aristotle wasn’t my only enemy. Then he offered to tell me where I could find Ariadne, in exchange for information about the location of the artifacts my father stole. I thought they’d been recovered. Now I’m wondering if the knife is one of them and if some of the pieces are still hidden. They could be worth a great deal of money.”
“Or maybe Sebastian did some research on you and found out how to jerk your chain. If he knew about your background, he could figure out you’d find any connection between your father and Sophia’s death disturbing.”
Zeke went very still. Then for the first time the tension around his mouth eased a little. “I didn’t think of that. But you’re right, it would make sense.”
“Sebastian’s dead. It doesn’t matter what he discovered about you.”
“I wish that were true. Unfortunately, we still have to worry about whoever killed him—and why.”
“Not right now. Let’s not waste any more precious time on him.”
Elizabeth felt Zeke sigh out a long breath as she stroked her fingers though his hair. She’d been afraid to take the risk of telling him she loved him, and afraid that the knowledge of her love would only be a burden to him. Yet everything had changed in this bed when he’d made love to her—and when he’d told her things about himself that he hid from everyone else.
“You’re ashamed of your family,” she murmured.
He went very still.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of!” she added quickly. “Your parents left you with scars. You’ve proved they didn’t crush your spirit or destroy your sense of what’s right and what’s wrong.”
“I’m damaged,” he muttered.
“No. You fought against the damage and won. Nobody can understand that better than I can. I must have sensed it from the beginning, and it made me love you.”
Lifting her head, she sought his troubled eyes. “Zeke, I love you,” she said again in a strong, clear voice.
The breath froze in Zeke’s lungs. His whole body went rigid. “Don’t say that.”
“I can’t hide it any longer, from myself or from you,” she told him. “It’s been true for a long time. That’s why it hurt so much when you asked me to marry you and then said in the next breath that you knew I didn’t want to get emotionally involved.”
She heard him swallow, saw his features contort. “I shouldn’t have hurt you like that. I’m not very good at relationships.”
“It takes practice. You’re getting better,” she encouraged. “And I’m not putting any conditions on my love. It’s part of me. Whatever happens.”
“I may let you down.”
“I don’t think so.” Cupping her hands around the back of his head, she brought his lips down to hers. He made a noise deep in his throat when she began to kiss him. The meeting of their mouths was as urgent and greedy as if they hadn’t made love just a few hours before. She returned his passion. It was time to stop talking, time to show this man who had been through so much how deeply she cared for him.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Irena’s fingers froze on the small white dress she was folding. Making an effort to compose her face, she turned toward the little girl who was sitting up in bed. “I thought you were sleeping, my little lamb.”
“I woke up,” Ariadne answered, rubbing her eyes and glancing toward the window where dawn was just beginning to light the sky. “Do we have to get up yet?”
“No. Go back to sleep.”
The little girl crawled out from under the covers, so she could get a better look at her aunt where she knelt on the marble floor. “What are you doing?” she repeated.
“I washed and ironed some of your clothes. I’m putting them away.”
The child’s head turned toward the old-fashioned wardrobe that stood between the room’s two double-hung windows. The doors stood open. Half the interior was fitted with drawers, the other side had a rod for hangers. “I thought my clothes were going to stay in there for a long, long time. Why are you putting them into that black bag?”
Irena’s mind scrambled for an explanation, even as she glanced guiltily toward the door. It was firmly closed, and no one else was up at this early hour of the morning, she told herself. “There are too many things for the wardrobe. Your clothes will get wrinkled, if they’re all wadded together.”
“Are we leaving this place?” the child suddenly asked.
“Of course not!” Irena delivered the lie with great conviction.
“Good. Because I’m tired of living in so many different houses,” the small voice answered with conviction. “Zeke Chambers is coming here to live with us. And we’ll be like a family.”
“Zeke Chambers is our secret,” Irena answered quickly.
“I remember that.”
“Good.” Irena hesitated. She hated telling more lies to the little girl. Yet in this case, she knew it was imperative. She’d thought they would be s
afe here. This morning, she’d discovered evidence that she was wrong. They had to leave as quickly as possible. But not until she was sure they could slip away without being detected. If they were caught, that would be the most dangerous thing of all.
“This will be another secret. Don’t tell anyone that I’m keeping our clothing in a bag. They’ll think I’m a strange old woman,” Irena said.
The little girl climbed off the bed and threw her arms around her aunt. “I don’t think you’re strange. I love you, Theitsa Irena.”
“I love you, too, little lamb.”
“I’m good about keeping secrets. I won’t tell. I promise.”
As she kissed Ariadne’s sweetly scented cheek, Irena offered a silent prayer to the Virgin Mother that it was true.
Chapter Ten
While Zeke conferred with Steve and Jed, Elizabeth did the best she could to freshen up in the little bathroom, trying to make it seem as if she and Zeke had simply spent the night sleeping in their private stateroom. Still, as she dabbed on a little makeup and inspected herself in the mirror, she felt as if she had the word ex-virgin written across her forehead in blazing letters. Not that she was ashamed of her change of status, but she preferred to keep such matters private.
Back in the stateroom, as she began to straighten up the bed, a sudden thought made her hand go still. Stopping in her attempt to smooth the covers, she pulled them aside. Her breath clogged in her throat as she saw the telltale red stain in the middle of the bottom sheet. How embarrassing.
She had just stripped the incriminating evidence off the bed, when Zeke stepped back through the cabin door. Her fingers clenched around the sheets, wadding them into a ball.
There was a long moment of silence, as they stood facing each other across the expanse of the mattress.
“Are you sorry about last night?” she managed.
He kept his gaze steady. “Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?” she whispered, her hand tightening on the sheet.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
He gave her a long unreadable look, and she knew that their talk had only partially reassured him.
“Last night was the best night of my life,” she confessed in a steady voice.
His face softened, “Mine, too.”
“Zeke!” She reached toward him, but he remained where he was.
“I want—” He stopped and swallowed hard, then began again. “I’m not used to asking for what I want.”
“I know. But I’m used to giving.”
“Lizbeth,” Her name was a hoarse sound that welled up from deep inside him. His hands clenched, then he gestured toward the door. “We have to go up front and buckle in.”
“As soon as I finish straightening up,” she managed.
He turned quickly, and she watched the tightness across his shoulders until the door closed. If they only had a few more minutes alone, she knew she could break through to him again. But she didn’t have the luxury of time.
The sheets were still in her hands. Rolling the top one around the bottom, she pushed them both into the corner. If she was lucky, they’d stay that way until they got to the laundry.
Zeke was already buckled in and staring out the window when Elizabeth reached the main cabin. Taking the seat in back of him, she strapped herself in before swinging around toward the fascinating view—which turned out to be no more than a thick layer of cloud. She wanted to lean forward and touch him somewhere—his arm, his shoulder, but some invisible force prevented her from moving.
The jet broke through the clouds, and Elizabeth saw blue water and a mountainous, rocky shoreline. The landscape changed suddenly from rural to urban sprawl. It was startling, even though she’d heard Athens was one of the world’s largest cities.
They landed on a modern field hemmed in by low white buildings, some with gardens of brightly flowering vines and other tropical foliage. When the plane finished taxiing to a stop, Steve pushed open the door at the front of the cabin. Elizabeth felt herself flush as his eyes flicked toward her.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine.” She was braced for newlywed jokes, but he didn’t look in much of a joking mood, she decided.
Coming into the cabin, he turned to Zeke. “Jed’s still on the radio with Mythos customs,” he explained. “We got a call an hour ago from Jason. The pilot who agreed to fly you into Kalana has been arrested for smuggling. His plane has been confiscated.”
Zeke uttered a vehement curse.
“Can’t we get somebody else?” Elizabeth asked.
Steve shook his head. “There’s not a lot of air traffic in and out of Mythos. Anyone who flies there needs a special permit.”
“And you’re not cleared for that?” she clarified.
He looked apologetic. “It would take a couple of days.”
Jed appeared in the doorway. “I’ve started checking around. There are a lot more boats going back and forth than licensed planes. I think your best bet is to go in by water.”
Zeke made a low noise, and Elizabeth looked at him questioningly. “I don’t travel well by boat,” be muttered.
“We could try to locate another pilot who’s cleared,” Steve suggested.
Zeke shook his head. “I know how that works. It takes time to find someone. Then the deal can fall through at the last minute.”
“Jason put me in touch with a local contact en route. He gave me the names of a couple of skippers willing to take passengers who want to slip quietly into Mythos,” Jed told him, handing over a piece of paper.
“Then I guess we’d better check them out,” Zeke said with a sigh.
“The guys you want aren’t right in Piraeus,” Jed informed him. “There are a couple of little harbors outside of town, but they shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Good.”
They exited the plane and walked rapidly toward the two-story terminal. First came passport control, where Zeke informed the inquiring official that they were on vacation and gave their address in Greece as an Athens hotel. Then he led Elizabeth briskly though the green customs line, the one for arriving passengers with nothing to declare. Did that mean he’d left the gun in Maryland, she wondered but didn’t ask.
OUTSIDE THE CUSTOMS AREA, a man checked his watch and glanced casually toward the exit door before bending again to the newspaper story he had been pretending to read for the past forty-five minutes. He was a very ordinary man. Medium build. Dark hair and eyes like many of his countrymen. Clean shaven. Wearing a sports coat, white shirt and conservative tie over dark slacks.
No one would look twice at him, he told himself, although they might wonder why he was staring at the same story for so long. Turning the page, he tried to focus on a new column of print.
His face was impassive. Yet his stomach was beginning to knot. His contact in the States had taken care of Sebastian Pappas. This morning the next part of the plan was swinging into operation, and he knew what would happen to him if there were any screwups. That was why he’d arrived early—so there would be no chance of missing Chambers and the woman. Where in the hell were they? Mother of God, what if they’d changed their plans and landed at a different airport?
He could feel sweat trickling down the inside of his collar. Then finally the door opened, and he glanced up in time to see the face he’d memorized from the photographs—Chambers. And the woman. It was his first glimpse of her. Very striking. Too bad she didn’t have long to live.
He gave a curt nod, and the boy he’d hired came scurrying up to them and tried to sell them a map of the city-delaying their exit for a few moments. It had better be long enough. Walking quickly, he made for the door to the ground transportation area and signaled to the driver waiting to slip into the front of the line of yellow taxis. The cabbies here were aggressive. Arranging to let a taxi into the front of the queue had taken a hefty payoff. But it wasn’t his money.
ELIZABETH STUCK CLOSE TO
Zeke as he led the way to the street, with the assurance of a man who had traveled this territory before. “I appreciate what you’ve done for us,” he told Jed and Steve. “We can take it from here.”
“You’re sure you don’t want any company?” Steve asked.
“You’ve just finished a ten-hour flight. Get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
The two men each gave Elizabeth a quick hug.
“Thanks, and take care,” Zeke said, before stepping into the direction of the taxis. A man in a sports coat and dark slacks waved him toward the first one in line, a Mercedes, as were many of the others, Elizabeth noted. Probably they were cheaper on this side of the Atlantic.
“Right here. Take the first one, please,” he said in English, opening the door.
Elizabeth glanced inside. The seats were leather and the interior was spotless. Much plusher than what she’d expect in the States. After waiting until the luggage was stowed in the trunk, Zeke slipped into the back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked in barely understandable English.
Zeke pulled out the piece of paper he’d gotten from Jed and began to give directions—in Greek. Elizabeth sat tensely beside him, wishing they could finish the conversation they’d started in the plane. But it was obvious, as Zeke continued to speak to the driver, that any personal exchange would still have to wait.
She could sit and stew. Or she could use the time constructively, she told herself, as she tried to get her bearings in this bustling foreign city. It was more modern than she’d expected, and to her surprise, about a third of the advertising signs were in English. With the ones in Greek, she practiced sounding out the words. She’d studied the language, but this was different from reading a textbook and doing exercises in class. It was also different from the rapid-fire conversation of the men.
The morning rush hour should be over, she mused, as she checked the watch she’d reset for a seven-hour time difference. But there was still plenty of traffic. The coast was on their left, and they passed several marinas full of pleasure craft.