by Rebecca York
Elizabeth looked at him questioningly.
“We don’t want to make anybody angry by taking their mooring, so I’ll drop anchor out here and row us in.”
She hadn’t thought about their luggage. He’d already brought their bags from the cabin. Unlike the crew, they exited decorously down a ladder to the lowered boat. As the rowboat pulled away, she shaded her eyes and looked back at the Amphitrite.
“A boat that large is going to attract some notice,” Zeke said. “It won’t take Iong for word to get back to Icarus where we landed. Hopefully, by that time we’ll be out of here.” He drew up along the beach. Taking off his shoes, he waded through the clear, shallow water to the sand, then pulled the boat up, so she could step onto dry land.
Zeke turned and regarded the damaged ship. “Commit me to a mental institution, if I ever talk about getting on a boat again.”
Before she could answer, he hurried her toward the spot where the ferry was unloading passengers. Some of the people getting off looked like local residents returning from a visit to a neighboring island. Others were clearly tourists taking advantage of the waning good weather and probably the reduced prices at the end of the season.
Zeke and Elizabeth were able to mingle with the crowd and follow along up the hill to an open plaza, where several cafés were serving drinks and afternoon snacks.
Men and small boys dispatched to meet the ferry jogged beside the tourists, hawking postcards or trying to steer the crowd toward various restaurants and shops. Zeke spoke to them in Greek, turning them away with ease. Skirting the tourist places, he stopped at a small grocery store where he bought flat loaves of bread, feta cheese, salty black olives and bottled water.
Elizabeth watched the woman behind the counter warm up to him, smiling as she provided him with information. The old charming Zeke Chambers, she thought. The one I fell for in the beginning. She knew now that he could turn on the magnetism at will, but the knowledge only made her appreciate the performance all the more. The man had been through more in the past eight hours than a character in a Greek tragedy, but you wouldn’t know he had a care in the world beyond getting something to eat and finding an inexpensive place to stay.
As they emerged from the shop, he stowed the groceries in his duffel bag and pointed toward one of the narrow streets that wound its way up the hill. “There’s a small bed-and-breakfast around the bend. We can get a room for the night.”
The pension did indeed have a room—with a private bath, a luxury for which the proprietress demanded quite a bit extra, Elizabeth gathered. Zeke made a show of negotiating the price, probably because he knew it was expected.
Half an hour after they’d arrived in port, they locked the door to the room, which boasted a private flight of stairs leading to the stone-paved street. Elizabeth longingly eyed the comfortable-looking bed.
Zeke pulled out the groceries and set them on the old wooden table by the double-hung window. At home, it would probably be a valuable antique; here it was part of the room’s ancient furnishings.
“Eat first. Then sleep.”
She joined him at the table, trying to match his hunger, but after their ordeal, she was too tired to hold her eyes open. After a few bites, she crawled into the bed.
It was hours later when she woke. The room was dark, except for a narrow shaft of light coming from the bathroom. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She quickly decided that didn’t matter. The only thing of real importance was the hard male body pressed along the length of her back and the arms that curved around her body.
Zeke, hot and aroused.
She’d fallen asleep in her bra and panties. He’d unhooked the bra and pushed it out of the way. His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers playing back and forth across her nipples, already tight with desire. She’d never imagined awakening like this with the man she loved beside her, silently telling her how much he wanted her.
“You’re awake,” he whispered thickly, his teeth nibbling at her ear.
She tried to answer. All she managed was a little moan, as he used his thumbs and fingers to drive her wild. She longed to face him, kiss him, touch him. He held her where she was, using his tongue and teeth on her ear and his hands on the front of her body, searching out her most sensitive flesh and making her incandescent with need.
“Zeke…please…” she begged, her body writhing and pitching in his arms. He had shown her pleasure last night, but she hadn’t known it could be this sharp, this urgent.
“Lizbeth. Ah, Lizbeth.” He turned her then, pulling her against him, his mouth seeking and finding hers in a long, deep kiss that felt like the merging of two souls. It ended when they were both gasping for air.
“I need you,” he grated. “I need you now.” His body shifted over hers and she opened her legs, bringing him to her.
He surged into her, claimed her, stroked inside her with quick, rapid movements. On their wedding night, he had been a gentle lover. This time there was no room for tenderness—only the sharp edge of urgency driving him. It was the same for her. She needed this man. Needed to know that he was hers and that she could give him what he craved.
The wild, seeking thrusts of her hips matched his. And when he stiffened in her arms and shouted out his climax, he took her with him over the edge.
His breath came in rapid gasps as he said, “Lizbeth, I’m sorry.” Shifting off her, he wrapped her in his arms and buried his face against her neck.
“For what?”
“That was too fast. Too rough.”
She laughed. “I think I’m up to speed.”
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and full of self-reproach.
She smiled in the darkness and moved her cheek against his shoulder. “Hardly.”
He gave a deep, shuddering sigh and held her more tightly. She turned to wedge herself against him. All she wanted was a few minutes of happiness in his arms, yet she was beginning to know him too well to relax. He still hadn’t allowed her to engage him in a meaningful conversation about their future. Yet he’d been communicating on quite a different level—and what she’d sensed was an element of desperation, even loss. He’d made love to her like a man getting ready to leave on a long journey—alone.
WHEN ZEKE STIRRED, Elizabeth opened her eyes.
“I have to go out. Go back to sleep,” he whispered.
“I’m not asleep.” Her fingers tightened on his arm. Gently, he detached them.
Trying not to show her panic, she sat up and thrust the covers back. “I’ll go with you.”
He shook his head. “The less we’re seen in town, the better.”
“That goes for you, too,” she protested.
“I have to call Jason and see what he found out, then arrange transportation and take care of some things. It’s safer now, after dark. But it’s better for both of us, if you stay here.”
She watched him dress in trousers and a dark shirt that looked like the native attire. “When will you be back?”
“As soon as I can,” he answered patiently. “You didn’t eat much before, so finish the food I brought, if you like. We can go out to one of the restaurants after I get back.”
She relaxed a little, when he left his luggage on the floor with hers. The gun was in his duffel. Surely he’d take the weapon if he was planning to make a run for it now. So she still had a little time to figure out what to do. “I’ll take a shower while you’re gone,” she said, watching his face carefully.
“It’s not very hot.”
“I’ll manage.”
HE KEPT HIS GAZE on her until the last possible moment, wanting to store up every precious impression. Then with a sigh he turned and headed for the street, already planning the lies he was going to tell her when he got back.
His first stop was at the public phone booth along the side of the town’s main square. He didn’t love the exposed location, but there wasn’t much choice. Looking at his watch, he calculated that it was pretty early in the morning back home. S
till, Jason answered the priority line on the first ring.
“I’m real glad you called,” he said. “Where are you?”
“A little town on the coast.”
“I thought you were landing in Kalana.”
“We had to do some improvising.” Zeke described the difficulties they’d encountered with Captain Icarus and his crew.
“Why didn’t you call as soon as you got to town?” Jason demanded.
“I needed some food and some sleep before I could hold a coherent conversation.” He didn’t say how much he’d also needed to make love with Elizabeth.
“Well, as long as you’re holed up somewhere safe, it probably doesn’t matter,” Jason told him. “But there’s something you need to know. You were assuming it was Sophia’s husband, Aristotle, causing problems. There’s another guy who’s surfaced—Cyril Agnapopolis.”
Zeke swore.
“You know who he is?”
“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath, and let it out before answering. “Do you?”
He could hear Jason hesitating on the other end of the line. “He and your father were involved in a smuggling operation. Agnapopolis did about twenty years in prison.”
“Right,” Zeke conceded. Apparently in his spare time, Jason had checked into the Chamberses’ family background.
“He’s out now and looking for revenge—from what I heard,” Jason continued.
Zeke closed his eyes, as he tried to wrap his mind around this new angle. He hadn’t thought about his father’s business partner in years. “Do you think he’d want to…uh…take out his anger on me?” he asked.
“Your father’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re all that’s left.”
Cyril Agnapopolis had been little more than a name to him. Now he conjured up the image of a man rotting in prison, living for the day he could get even with the foreign professor who had put him there. But when he got out he was faced with the crushing disappointment of learning his old enemy was dead.
“Do you think he’s angry enough to involve your daughter in his scheme?” Jason asked.
“He could be.”
“He may be responsible for sending Sebastian.”
“And responsible for killing him?” Zeke asked.
“Maybe. Or the rival factions could have been fighting it out—deciding who gets you.”
“What an honor,” Zeke growled.
“So you’d better watch your back,” Jason advised.
From his phone booth on Mythos, Zeke silently agreed. After thanking Jason for the disturbing information, he hung up and stood staring with unseeing eyes toward a shop selling T-shirts and pottery. Since Sebastian had shown up, he’d had the sense that things were slipping out of his control. Worse, he’d broken one of the cardinal rules of undercover operations. He was acting with too little information, like a blind man in a minefield. He kept stepping on the mines, somehow miraculously managing not to get blown up. Shaking himself, he looked around, as the scene before him snapped back into focus. He couldn’t stand here brooding. He had things to do, and he’d better get them done.
As his footsteps echoed down the medieval streets of the old town, he thought about what had almost happened to Elizabeth on the Amphitrite. As soon as they’d set foot on Mythos, he’d thanked God that she was unharmed and had started planning how to get her out of the danger zone before it was too late. Then he’d begun to waver, because he couldn’t stand the idea of being parted from her. But his conversation with Jason had put things back in perspective. He’d been dragging her through the minefield with him, but she wasn’t coming any farther.
Chapter Thirteen
When Zeke came back, Elizabeth was sitting in bed, wearing a T-shirt and studying a guidebook about Mythos that their hostess had supplied for the room. He could see that she was trying to look at ease, although the attempt wasn’t entirely successful.
“I was starting to worry,” she admitted as her body uncoiled. “What took so long?”
“I went shopping.” He handed her one of the packages he’d brought, anxious to watch her face as she unfolded the locally made dress he’d picked out. It was of fine cotton, decorated with several bands of embroidery. The top had a V neck and long bell-shaped sleeves.
He’d never bought a dress for a woman before, so he’d taken a long time over the choice, thinking about how the color would look next to her skin and how the material would drape over her curves. Anxiously, he waited for her reaction. When she smiled, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“It’s…it’s beautiful,” she whispered, fingering the soft fabric and delicate embroidery.
His grin was only a little forced. “So get dressed, and we’ll go out to eat.”
She climbed out of bed and gave him a quick glance, before retreating into the bathroom. He’d have liked the pleasure of seeing her take off the T-shirt, but it seemed she was still too modest for that. Below the modesty, though, was a heated sensuality he’d always suspected he’d find. He’d have to—
He cut off the thought before it could fully form, realizing he was making plans for a future that probably didn’t exist. A choking surge of melancholy swept over him. Clenching his fists, he forced it from his mind. For years he’d survived by controlling his emotions. Now Elizabeth was making him lose that control. But he couldn’t afford the risk. Not now.
When she opened the door again, he’d schooled any hint of sorrow out of his face. He’d wanted very much to see her dressed up tonight, not in the practical travel clothes she’d brought along, and he wasn’t going to spoil the evening with her.
She glanced at him shyly, then stood on tiptoes to see herself in the mirror over the chest of drawers. “How do I look?” she asked.
“Beautiful,” he replied, trying to speak normally around the constriction in his throat. She had put on a little makeup. The effect took his breath away, and he gave her a warm smile.
“I wanted to blend in with the crowd. But everybody’s going to be looking at you,” he said in a thick voice.
She blushed becomingly. “Don’t be silly.”
“Stop arguing. I’m starving.”
He gave her the sandals he’d also purchased. While she sat down to put them on, he reached into his pocket and touched the letter he’d written her. His detailed instructions for getting out of Mythos were going to make her angry. But he couldn’t help that. Anyway, he wasn’t going to be around for the explosion.
They held hands as they strolled down to the plaza, stopping to look at windows full of tableware, cloths and classical statues. When they came to restaurants, they inspected the menus posted outside.
“Not much variety in the food,” Elizabeth observed, after they’d looked at several similar offerings.
“So let’s go for ambience.” He pointed toward a tavern where outdoor tables with decorative tile tops were arranged under a wooden arbor flowering with bougainvillea vines. Traditional bouzouki music spilled through the restaurant doorway into the cool evening air. He could relax with his wife for one evening at this place, Zeke told himself. No one had figured out they were in this town—yet.
Still, he made a quick inventory of the other patrons. Some were obviously tourists. Others looked like local residents—a good sign, he decided as he began to speak to the maitre d’. His fluent Greek earned them a table at the back of the arbor, where they could watch the action but still be private.
Zeke ordered lamb souvlaki and Elizabeth decided on moussaka. As Zeke ate his salad, he kept glancing at Elizabeth, wanting to fix this evening and her loveliness in his memory.
“So how are we getting to the town where Irena’s staying?” she asked, reaching across the table to touch his hand.
He managed to coolly finish chewing and swallowing a piece of green pepper. “I’ve arranged to drive a shipment of olive oil and olives to a dealer up there.”
She tipped her head a little to one side. �
�Why would they hire you instead of a local driver?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “They’re not paying me. I’m paying them. They think I need to transport some cargo of my own to Delvina.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you bribed them?”
“Yeah. With Icarus’s money.”
She grinned. “Glad to hear you’re putting it to good use.”
Their main course arrived, and he dug into the grilled meat and vegetables with enthusiasm.
Elizabeth watched him eat. “That looks good.”
“We can share.”
He enjoyed the intimacy of transferring some of his dinner to her plate and taking some of hers.
“I guess you know the roads,” she said after a few bites of his grilled lamb.
He laughed. “There aren’t many on the island, once you get out of town. You’ll like the mountain scenery,” he added, knowing that he had no intention of exposing her to the scenery or anything else on Mythos besides their room.
The silent observation made him realize that a slightly uneasy feeling had been tickling the edge of his awareness.
“Is something wrong?” Elizabeth asked, setting down her fork.
“I…don’t know,” he said, sorry that she had picked up on his mood. Casually, he looked around. The scene hadn’t changed, except that another couple had taken a table several yards away. He gave them a quick inspection. They didn’t look like a threat, so he went back to his food. But as he worked his way through the dinner, he kept feeling like a column of ants was climbing the back of his neck.
His hand tightened on his fork. Glancing up quickly, he caught sight of a narrow-eyed man standing at the edge of a nearby building. Zeke didn’t recognize him. But as soon as the watcher realized he’d been spotted, he faded casually back into the shadows. He could simply be enjoying the plaza, Zeke supposed, although he wouldn’t bet on it.
He got out a wad of drachmas—more than the bill, and put them on the table.
Elizabeth looked at him questioningly.
“We’re leaving.”