Double Impact: Never Say DieNo Way Back

by Tess Gerritsen

  She searched his eyes, as if looking for the truth and hoping she would not find it.

  “You hated your father,” he went on, unable to help himself despite knowing how his words would make her feel. “Hadn’t seen him since you were a small girl. You’d lived all those years in the United States with your mother.”

  His fingertips trailed down the smooth expanse of creamy flesh along the length of her slender neck. She shivered. “After your mother died you decided to seek out your father.” Her gaze locked with his, a new kind of heat glimmering there now. He smiled at the knowledge of how his touch affected her. “Apparently you didn’t like what you found.”

  She jerked away from him. “Stop it!” She trembled visibly. He resisted the need to reach out to her…to undo the hurt he’d just wielded to assuage his own ego. Why did he force the issue? He knew she did not want to speak of it…wanted to pretend it never happened. But when she denied herself, she denied what they had once shared.

  “It’s true, Amira. The sooner you come to terms with the truth the better.”

  She shook her head and backed away from him, stopping only when the bed blocked her path. “I can’t take any more of this.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if needing the additional support he so wanted to give her but which she refused to accept.

  He closed the distance between them once more, his need to know the full truth pounding in his brain. “There is someone else, is that the problem?” Rage blinded him for two beats. He wanted to kill the man who had touched her.

  Ami tried to control her reaction to the question, but she was too late. She couldn’t. Recognition flared instantly in Michal’s eyes.

  “This other man,” he demanded savagely, “did he touch you the way I touch you?”

  Ami wanted to lie. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing the truth. The corded muscles of his neck, the rigid set of his broad shoulders and the hard, chiseled features of his darkly handsome face demolished any hope she had of holding her own. The temptation of those sensuous lips and the fire in those deep, dark eyes would not permit her to conceal the truth he wanted.

  “No one has ever touched me the way you do,” she murmured, at once hating her vulnerability to him and loving the instantaneous physical response her words wrought. His nostrils flared and his gaze went straight to her mouth as if he longed to taste her.

  The memory of the secret visit from Tanner poked through the swirling emotions reminding her of what she’d had to promise him. She would help with whatever mission they were orchestrating in exchange for being reunited with her son. Anxiety charged to the front of all else. As easily as Michal read her…

  “I have to get out of here.” She spun away from him, praying she could keep the guilt out of her eyes. How could she do this? This breaking point had been building for four days. She’d held it together pretty well until today and something had finally just snapped inside her. Now she was falling apart. She prayed for the strength to hang on.

  She kept thinking about how long it had been since she’d seen her baby and how very far away he was. What if he got sick while she was away? She had to get back home. Had to find a way. There was only one way.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed back the wail of agony that rose in her throat.

  “Tell me what frightens you so, Ami.”

  She fought back the sobs and hugged herself more tightly at his gesture. This was the first time he’d called her Ami. She knew it was only to mollify her. That he, a man who killed as easily as he took a breath, would go that far to appease her simply didn’t make sense.

  “I just need to get out of here.” Her breath hitched as his arms came around her and anchored her against his powerful body. She felt the steady beat of his heart and the fullness of his loins.

  “I do not believe it is my company you wish to escape,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Ami shivered and bit her lower lip to stave off a moan of need. How could he do this to her? Convert her anxiety and anger into something else altogether.

  “Tell me what I can do,” he urged softly.

  Another thought surfaced abruptly. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. Renewed guilt assaulted her with equal abruptness. She pushed it away, focused her mind on her son. She had to get back to him…whatever it took. “It’s the men,” she said carefully, testing the waters. She felt the tension in him increase. “They watch me constantly, make me feel like an outsider.”

  He turned her slightly in his arms to look directly into her eyes and asked, “Has one of my men done something to make you feel this way?”

  She had to really be cautious here. One wrong word could get someone killed. And though each and every one of his men were sadistic killers, she didn’t want to be responsible for a death. She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I feel like I’m in prison. Why can’t we go somewhere together alone? I’m sick to death of guards and guns.”

  She held her breath and waited for his reaction.

  He turned her around to fully face him and studied her more closely. For one endless second she was certain he’d seen through her ruse, then he said, “If it will make you happy we will take some time together.” He leveled that dark-as-midnight gaze on hers. “Alone.”

  “THIS IS NOT THE WAY we do things!” Carlos argued bitterly as he paced the room.

  Michal relaxed fully in his chair and sipped the whiskey the Spaniard had poured in celebration of their next quest. The order had come this morning. The hit was to be quick; one man and his four bodyguards. Simple. But before he died, the target would be held hostage for twenty-four hours until all his assets were drained. Therein lay the less than desirable part of the assignment.

  Michal suffered not the slightest twinge of guilt for the target since he had made his vast fortune with drugs and the marketing of children he stole from the streets of various cities. His reputation for depravity was known far and wide. He did not deserve to live. But that was not the reason for his selection by the powers that be for execution. This target used his endless funds to support even more notorious terrorist activities. For this, he would die.

  The man was immensely fortunate he had lasted this long in the cutthroat world of kill or be killed in which he appeared to prefer of late. That he had lasted so long was testament to his not having crossed the wrong path or pissed off the wrong organization. At least until now.

  Michal inclined his head and studied the man who could so easily become his most challenging enemy as he continued to pace like a caged animal. This new need to display his self-importance became more blatant with each passing day. He arrogantly tested the limits of Michal’s patience. It was time to bring to an end to what could only result in a bad outcome, perhaps for both of them.

  “You are right, my friend,” Michal confessed with a dash of proper humility.

  Carlos did an about-face and stared at him, surprise clear on every hard contour of his face.

  “However,” Michal continued, “this is the way we shall proceed this time. You and the others will go ahead of me. I will meet you at the rendezvous point in twenty-four hours.” Michal infused all the lethal finality he possessed into his gaze then. “Do you still have questions?”

  The fury flared anew in Carlos’s eyes. “None. I already know the only answer I need.” He pointed in the direction of the bedroom where Amira rested. “This is because of her. I warn you, Michal, she will cost you everything. She betrayed you once before. How long before she betrays you yet again? You might not be so lucky this time.”

  Michal set his whiskey glass aside and stood, facing the challenge Carlos had tossed out. Luck had played no part in his survival the last time. His men, including Carlos, had saved his life. “And if she does,” Michal suggested, his tone as calm as the sea on a summer’s morn, “you will succeed me, will you not?”

  Carlos looked stunned that Michal would say such a thing out loud. “That…that is not the issue. The issue—”

>   “Is,” Michal cut in, “whether or not you intend to follow my orders or face my wrath.”

  AMI BREATHED DEEPLY of the hot, salty air and surveyed the quiet Mediterranean city Michal had brought her to late last evening. At first when he’d told her they were coming to Libya, she balked. She didn’t know a lot about the country but what she did was not good. She remembered flashes of news about how Libya’s ruler openly supported terrorism and, vaguely, something about U.S. sanctions levied. The headdress Michal had insisted she wear reminded her of how they treated their women, as well.

  It seemed odd now to think of this place as a hotbed of evil terrorist activities as she walked the wide avenues. They had arrived too late yesterday to do any sight-seeing. Dinner at the best local restaurant and a night in the finest hotel, which was a far cry from five stars but had a charm of its own, had proved the agenda for the evening. Michal had even abstained from wooing her into sex. He had, however, held her close all night, burrowing deeper still into her heart. If she could not escape him soon he would surely own her heart completely. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the past memories of their time together flicker by like a video on fast forward. Maybe he already owned her, heart and soul.

  But the fate of her son hung in the balance.

  She snapped her eyes open and forced her mind to take note of the details of the city of Tripoli. She’d decided that today would be the day. She would make a run for it today. She wasn’t waiting for Tanner to rescue her. She’d likely be dead before that happened. She was going home one way or another. Whatever they expected her to help them do that somehow involved Michal Arad, they could simply forget it. She was not a spy or an undercover operative. She was just Ami Donovan. The sooner they all realized that, the better off everyone would be.

  She wouldn’t be able to see Robert again. A pang of hurt speared her. He had been good to her and her child. But she and Nicholas would have to disappear completely. It was the only way they would ever be safe. Ami flinched, startled, when Michal slid his arm around her waist. He glanced at her and somehow she managed to produce a convincing smile as they continued to stroll down the avenue.

  Pay attention, she ordered. Details. She had to remember the details. Tripoli wasn’t that large even if it was the capital city. There was a quaint, palm-tree-lined port with boats, that was one option. And the airport they’d arrived at wasn’t that far away. She’d noticed the black-and-white taxis. She had a couple of options. All she needed was the right moment and a clear memory of the city’s myriad lanes that formed a mazelike pattern. It wouldn’t do her any good to escape only to get lost.

  Tiny cafés and open-air workshops lined the wide avenue they traveled, which she presumed to be the main street. Skilled craftsmen worked at their trade. Ami slowed as they passed one who busily fashioned elaborate jewelry. The beat of his hammer kept a steady rhythm amid the voices and sounds of negotiating and conversation she couldn’t understand that carried on the air. The smell of welding mingled with the other more natural scents of the city.

  The architecture fascinated her. Michal had told her that it had been influenced by various worlds over the centuries, Roman, Greek, Italian. Heavy wooden doors topped with rusty ironworks provided the only means of entry into the ancient-looking buildings painted varying shades of blue, yellow and brown. The merciless sun caressed the crumbling structures, highlighting the cracks and patches of time. Drying laundry served as makeshift shutters to the windows high above the street. Electrical wires wove a tangled web from house to house, a not so subtle reminder of the present. Barefoot children played in the streets. A dusty, beat-up car could be found here and there.

  It took scarcely half an hour to travel the length of the city. They encountered numerous workshops and cafés, a disused Jewish school and well-kept mosques along the way. Turning to smile back at her as if he knew some secret, Michal led her into a mosque.

  She felt a little breathless as she took in the expansive, dimly lit interior. Ancient pillars supported the vaulted ceiling of the deserted prayer room. It was so old. Ami was certain she’d never seen architecture this antiquated except for the day Michal had taken her into Marseilles. How could she have been exposed to the likes of this and not remember it?

  Michal stroked a hand over one of the stone pillars, his own awe evident. “If only they could speak,” he said, amusement as well as something resembling wonder in his tone. “Roman mysteries, Byzantine feasts and Muslim prayers.” He sighed deeply. “The deep, dark history we could learn.”

  Why would such a ruthless man care about history? Each day she learned something new from him…some part she hadn’t expected, didn’t want to know. Such as the tender way he’d held her last night with no demands of his own despite the readiness of his male body. She’d felt how much he wanted her…but he had deprived himself for her comfort.

  A paradox, she decided.

  Michal Arad was a paradox she was certain she could spend a lifetime exploring and never know all there was to be learned.

  Just watching him move around the large room, touching the ancient walls and speaking so reverently, made her want to weep. It was as if they’d stepped back into time. Michal fit the part perfectly. The way his dark hair fell over his shoulders, the contrast of his dark skin against the white shirt. He looked as if he’d just stepped off a proud ship, exploring this seemingly desolate land for the first time and finding its hidden treasure. The walls built by human hands. Walls that bore the marks and the whispered echo of centuries of both good and evil.

  As if seeing him for the first time, Ami knew at once that Michal Arad was very much like that. Despite the evil he had seen, had wielded even, something good still existed there. She could almost touch it.

  “Does this place trouble you?”

  His deep, sensual voice tugged her back to the present. He was standing close enough to touch her, smiling down at her as if he’d read her thoughts and was pleased by her conclusion.

  She shook her head, suddenly too breathless to speak.

  “Perhaps you only need nourishment.” He slid his arm around her waist and ushered her toward the exit. “Food would be good about now. I must leave in a few hours. You’ll stay at the hotel with Raoul. I would trust your safety to few others.”

  “Why are you leaving me here?” On the deserted street, she stopped and peered up at him. Her heart picked up its pace for two reasons. She feared what this meant for him. But then, this could be her chance. Only one man would be guarding her. She knew Raoul. He seemed to like her. The hopeful part of her rejoiced…but that other part of her—a part Michal had touched far too deeply—worried that this was not a good thing. Where was he going? A mission? Something dangerous?

  It was then and there that Ami realized just how much he cared for her. He stared deeply into her eyes and, for the first time, allowed her to see the depth of his emotions. He raised his hand and gently tucked an errant strand of hair behind her head covering. Another epiphany struck on the heels of the first one. This man was more dangerous than she first suspected. He held the power to tear her life apart, starting with her most vital organ…her heart.

  “You are not to concern yourself. I will return for you in twenty-four hours. You have my word.”

  Her anxiety crossed a whole new threshold. Before she could demand more answers, his mouth swooped down and captured hers. The heat and insistent pressure of his lips soon banished all other thought. It didn’t matter that they were standing in an empty street in a place where death lurked, especially for a woman, around every corner. There was only him and the way he kissed her, as savagely as a starving barbarian and yet with all the infinite finesse of a masterful lover.

  It had to be the last time.

  Ami knew at that instant that if she didn’t go now—today—she would never be able to leave him without telling him the truth.

  The whole truth.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IN THE HOTEL, Ami relaxed on the bed,
feigning interest in a French magazine. Michal had ordered issues of every fashion and beauty magazine available from the little tourist shop across the street, for the good it did since she didn’t know any of the languages. In their former life together she must have been multilingual, though she couldn’t imagine it now. Somehow, there had to be a mistake. Yes, she dreamed of him…or someone like him. Before Michal had yanked her into his world, she’d only sensed what the man in her dreams looked like. It wasn’t beyond the scope of reason that she might have subconsciously superimposed his image into her dreams after the abduction. In fact, if Robert were here, he would insist that was precisely the answer to her current dilemma.

  She couldn’t possibly be this Amira Peres that Michal believed she was, or Jamie Dalton as the CIA insisted. Everything inside her stilled. The Israelis were wrong, as well. They were all wrong. She wasn’t even a shrink and that sounded foolish to her. How could everyone else be wrong?

  She shuddered and pushed the unpleasant thoughts away. It was almost time. She glanced around the room, noting the serving cart that room service had delivered. Michal had ordered the fruit, cheese and wine for her, as well, before he’d left. He wanted her to lack for nothing during his absence. Raoul had consumed most of it at Ami’s urging.

  She stole a sidelong look at him now. It had taken all of her persuasive powers to talk him into partaking of the wine. He was on duty, he’d told her over and over. But her persistence had won out. No one knew they were here, she’d argued. Michal would never have left her here were it not completely safe. Raoul had nothing to worry about. He should eat, drink and enjoy his day off.

  He had done just that. Now he lit another cigarette causing her nose to wrinkle, drained the bottle into the delicate stemmed glass and then gulped it down just as quickly. She stifled a smile. Why hadn’t he simply turned up the bottle and saved the wear and tear on his wrist pouring the stuff?