by Incy Black
She felt like she was teetering helplessly on the edge of a vast body of dark water, its depths unfathomable. Hungry to drag her down. Down and farther down. Water. Drowning. She’d been phobic since a child, when she’d been held beneath the surface of a pond by a foster father looking to teach her a lesson in obedience.
Dots danced before her eyes. Instinctively, she reached for something solid. Bloody Antila was closest.
“You need to sit; there is a place over there.”
With her legs threatening to fold and her world spinning drunk, she had no choice but to let the man she’d never wanted to know, let alone conceive a child with, lead her toward an ornate, wrought iron bench positioned parallel to a gravel path thirty yards away. “I’m not a fan of weakness,” the man chided, “but given your condition—”
Her tone might have been shaky, but the ugly oath Anna muttered could not fail to leave Antila in any doubt of what she thought of him. He eased her onto the bench.
“Tut-tut. Such language. When you are calm, we’ll talk. It might help if you put your head between your knees.”
She’d have sworn at him again but doubted there were words adequate enough to drive her point home. And she hated that he was right; ducking her head to her knees—not that she had any choice the way his hand clasped the back of her neck to hold her down—was helping with the nausea and her balance.
“You have no right—” she started furiously, pushing up into a more dignified position when she was able.
“I alone define my own rights. Take that as a warning.”
“You have got to be insane.”
“That would depend on how you measure sanity, but the child is mine, and I will have him.”
He still held her neck, his thumb tracing circles as if to soothe. Revolted, she threw her arm up to dislodge him. “Over my dead body!”
Faster than she would have believed credible, his hand slid to her throat, his fingers curling inward with enough bite to slow her pulse to a weak throb. “If necessary, but not yet. Not until I have what I want.”
He’d replaced his sunglasses. She saw her own reflection in the darkened lenses. Eyes wide, her lips parted in shock. She didn’t doubt him for a second, especially when four Rottweiler-related thugs appeared at his side, their posture warning her that one word from their boss, and they’d break her neck.
Surrendering, she jerked a nod. Immediately the pressure eased from her throat. She swallowed as best as she was able.
Antila flicked his wrist, and the men retreated. Then he casually straightened his suit cuffs as if she’d imagined the currents of violence, as if brute force and intimidation was a common form of communication. That’s when she knew for sure she was in the presence of stone-dead evil.
“The baby—my son—needs protection, which means so do you. Consider yourself very lucky, Mrs. Marshall.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I do. I’ve got an ex-husband who is into protection. You’d better pray you never meet him.”
A vein in Antila’s temple fattened and pulsed. “Nick Marshall’s interference already irritates me. I suggest you find a way to dissuade his further interest.”
“And if you knew him at all, you’d realize it’s already too late. Once Nick makes up his mind, he’s impossible to shift.”
Antila stretched his legs out in front and draped his arms across the back of the bench as if he ruled the world. “If you care for him at all, I would recommend you try. If he makes a move against me, I will erase him. Please do not blame me later if you ignore this warning. I will allow no one to come between me and my child.”
A tremor coursed her skin. “What about me?” She gulped, not really caring. But if anything happened to Nick? No way she’d survive the loss. They might be estranged, but he was a part of her. She breathed for him. Always had. A truth from which she’d never been able to hide. No doubt some bored deity’s laugh at her expense.
“Until the birth, you are under my full protection. This is why I am less than happy at the violence you have met.”
His knuckles whitened as he cured his fingers tight into the palm of his hand. No he wasn’t happy. This madman took the attacks against her as a personal affront. How ironic. She doubted she’d ever met another human being who simmered violence the way Antila did. Except for Nick, but it had never been directed at her. “Oddly enough, I don’t find that the least reassuring. What happens in five months’ time?” She cursed the uncertainty breaking her voice. She needed to be strong. Confident.
“Present me with a son, and you will find my protection is enduring…as long as you accede to my terms.”
Her mouth dried to the texture of sandpaper. It hurt to get the words out. “Which are?”
“While pregnant you do everything necessary to stay healthy. Safe. No risks, whatsoever. When the time comes, you hand over my son. Simple.”
Simple? It would rip her heart out. “I’m not giving up my baby. Not to you, not to anyone. I’d rather die.”
A nasty smile, perverted amusement, twisted Antila’s lips. “Something easily arranged, but only after the birth, if that is what you wish.”
She no longer cared that he might see the tremors racking her frame. Let him watch what he did to her. Let him see that he made her sick to her stomach. The idea of her son alone with this man speared flaming darts through her lungs. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you bear a most striking resemblance—”
He inhaled sharply, as if he’d caught himself just in time.
“Because there is a past mishap to be corrected,” Antila finished abruptly.
There was a fierce determination behind his words, something she could have respected but for the complete absence of basic humanity. “That’s good to know,” she lied, “but why the threats? If this baby means so much to you, why try to poison me? Why have me pushed under a truck? Why attack me? I could have lost—”
Antila released what she could only describe as a hushed hiss, like a snake warning displeasure at having been disturbed. Come to think of it, there was definitely something reptilian about him, like the way he held his face to the sun as if to warm his blood. “Now you insult me. I am not responsible for the unpleasantness you have recently experienced. I sent you gifts only to have them tossed back in my face. Going to the police was really not very wise.”
Her skin didn’t just creep; it sloughed free and lay in a quivering mess of creases at her feet. Dear God, Nick was right. Two psychos did have her in their sights. One, a raving bastard intent on taking her baby, the other a crazed loon, intent on killing her.
She shook her head, bangs falling across her cheekbones. “It’s what any normal person would do?” she muttered absently, unsure what normal meant anymore.
“But you, Anna, are not normal. You are exceptional. You were meant for me. I knew this the minute I laid eyes upon the photo. Your picture, your face, reached out to me in a way none of the other possible surrogates could.”
“Others?”
He turned his head at her question and nodded. “Yes, my search for a suitable carrier for my son was both thorough and extensive. It also cost me a great deal of money. Information is not cheap. Bribes are expensive. Thankfully, I’m a very rich man… I’m also remarkably persuasive.”
She nearly gagged on the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, my God, are you telling me I’m little more than an incubator?”
His hand shot to her belly, fingers splayed, his palm pressed deep. “Yes, but a most privileged one. My son is inside you.”
She flinched and twisted away. Antila’s laugh was soft.
“I like you, Mrs. Marshall. Maybe I will extend the courtesy of allowing you to be a small part of our son’s life should you decide to retract your desire to die postpartum. That is what you truly want, it is it not? To be there for your child.”
The fire she’d thought he’d stolen ignited deep in her belly, its stinging heat pulsi
ng through her veins. “Abso-bloody-lutely, you bastard. Only a small part is not what I had in mind. You can go to hell! We have laws in this country, and I’ll see you in court.”
She tried to push upright. A fist, knuckles ugly with scarring, wrapped her wrist. She couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain.
“Many have tried that route; none succeeded.” His tone, curiously empty until now, took on a lethal edge. “I may be ruthless, Mrs. Marshall, but I never lie. Defy me, and I will kill everyone you hold important, starting with your ex-husband.”
Not for a second did she doubt him. Her tenuous grip on courage slipped completely. Wrapping her arms across her chest, she leaned forward and rocked to and fro. “Ohmygod…ohmygod…ohmygod.”
Antila removed his dark glasses and patted her back.
Repulsed, she skidded sideways along the bench and would have fallen had he not grasped her arm. One look in his lifeless eyes, and Anna didn’t doubt she faced a killer.
“Stay away from Nick; stay away from my friends.” She hated showing weakness of any kind, but she’d swallow her pride and beg if that’s what it took. “Please. What harm have they ever done to you?”
“None, that’s my point. I will not hesitate to kill innocents should they come between me and what I want—”
“Like the poor nurse,” she interrupted with a whisper.
“An employee of mine who I could no longer trust. She posed a threat. I had her eliminated. That is my way, and how I will deal with anyone who dares compromise me.”
“Jesus. Enough. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just promise me, no more killing.” She hated acquiescing to him, but if it meant saving lives…damn it, she was only four months pregnant, another five before the birth. Surely, time enough for her to plan a way out of this nightmare. And to keep everyone safe, herself and her baby included.
“That is a promise I cannot give. You need protecting from her, as much as she needs protecting from herself. Her family will come, and I must neutralize them. For the sake of my son.”
Her? She? Anna pressed her temple with her thumb and silently questioned whether she’d crashed into yet another parallel universe. Nothing made sense. Maybe she’d wake up soon. “So you do know who is responsible for the attacks against me?”
“I know it is none of your business. The baby, my son, must be your sole focus. Heed the lesson of what happens to those I deem a threat. If you have doubts, recall the photo of your friend, Nurse Abbott. The injuries she sustained before being allowed to die.”
Anna’s stomach heaved. Like she’d ever forget that horrendous image. “You keep saying ‘son,’” she said dully. “What if I’m carrying a girl?”
“That would be most unfortunate. I must have a son.”
She didn’t give a damn why he “must have a son.” It was her own immediate future and that of her baby that scared her. “Yes, but what if he is a she?”
His poisonous twist of a smile had her wanting to douse herself in disinfectant. “Then as the saying goes, Anna—all bets are off. Though you are my preferred choice, there are others who could replace you. When I said you were exceptional, my dear. I did not mean to imply you are not expendable.”
…
Curled tight in her office chair, her legs crossed beneath her, her fingers white against the sharp acid-green upholstery of the arms, Anna’s mind was so far past exhausted, it had ceased to limp and was crawling on battered hands and knees instead.
No matter how many mental doors she’d slammed, deaths skulked whichever way she turned.
She’d never run out of ideas before. Ever. Thinking outside the box, solving the most impossible of puzzles, was supposed to be her forte. And she’d never conceded defeat—well, except for once. Nick had certainly been her Gordian knot. A failure she’d buried deep, too painful to retrieve and examine.
Now he was back, and his life was in danger. Because of her.
There had to be a way to protect him. Herself and her baby, too. No one was culling her daughter. And if it was a son, no way would she share him with a monster like Antila…and no bloody way was anyone touching her ex.
Fine, so she didn’t yet have all the answers, but she’d take on Antila and defeat him the same way she did everything. One step at a time.
She glanced at her watch, did a quick calculation in her head, and then reached for her phone. “Meet me,” she snapped when Nick answered his phone. “One hour from now at Club Nadir, or by God, I’ll call in every favor I’m owed and stage the biggest Freedom of Information demonstration outside the Cube, you won’t have to worry about explaining what goes on it there to the public, because the whole bloody Service will be forced to relocate. Abroad!”
…
In exactly fifty-nine minutes, Nick arrived at the shabby nightclub. Still, she’d beaten him to it, and just to rub in the past, she’d occupied their old table. The one in the corner. Private but affording the best view of the dance floor. Not that he danced—well, maybe once or twice with Anna, but each time it had damn near gotten them chucked out of the club. Some heat was better shared in private—but he’d never regretted spending many a hot hour, hard as rock, watching her gyrate.
He sucked in a breath and stole a moment just to stare at the only woman who’d damn near bought him to his knees. She’d driven him insane most of the time, but fuck, it had been worth every recklessly, dangerous second. And he missed the chaos. The raw tension of never knowing what she’d do next. And most of all, her wicked laugh, impossible to resist. Not that he’d be hearing much of that tonight. He could tell she was sorely pissed from the set of her shoulders, and as he drew nearer, weaving his way through the bodies pulsing to the heavy beat of music, from the dangerous blaze in her eyes.
This was going to be fun. Not.
He plunked two bottles on the table—a soda for Anna, a beer for him—and took a seat opposite her. “Not exactly the easiest place in the world to talk.”
“That’s the point. You’re not here to talk, Nick, you’re here to listen.”
He couldn’t help wondering how, given the din. Rather than respond, he reached for his bottle, saluted her with it, and took a long, cold draw, looking at her the entire time.
Undeterred, she shifted her bottle to the side and leaned in close. “First off, you’re going to withdraw every last member of the security detail you got on me, and then you, and the bloody Service if you’ve involved them, are going to back right off…”
He slow-blinked her, then leaned back against the spine of his chair and tightened his lips. He’d let her continue, uninterrupted for now.
“And then, when you’ve done all that, you can apologize for interfering in my goddamn life without my say so.”
“Have you finished?”
“Depends on whether you’ve listened or not.”
God, and to think he’d almost forgotten that sulky pout of hers. Wiped it from his memory with more bottles of whisky than he cared to count. “I heard you.”
“Good, now if you’ll excuse me.” She was on her feet for a fast escape before he could draw breath.
He snaked out his hand and wrapped it around her wrist like a handcuff. He tugged just hard enough to return her to her seat. “At least have the courtesy of allowing me to respond. No. No. And as for an apology, hell no.”
“I wasn’t giving you a choice, Nick. I don’t want you in my life.”
Too bad. As long as she was in danger, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Can’t say I blame you, but it’s you who is without a choice. I’m going to be all over you like a rash until this little mess of yours is sorted out. Then, trust me, I’ll be only too pleased to get the hell out of your life and to stay out of it this time. Is Hong Kong far enough away for you?” He’d had an offer. Triads had infiltrated the Ministry of State Security out there, and his cleanup skills were in demand.
“I doubt anywhere is far enough away…”
He frowned. He got that she didn’t want him around, but that was rud
e, even for Anna. And why had she suddenly sounded so bleak?
“Look, Nick, either you back off, or I will go to the Commander with a complaint. You used up most of your warnings when we were married, and Will’s already told me you are on your last one. Don’t let them kick you out because of me. You won’t survive without the Service.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence—” And as if sarcasm wasn’t enough, he again toasted her briefly before taking another swig of his beer. “—but if I survived you, baby, I can survive anything. Fortress stays in place, though admittedly, I’ve stood the men down tonight as you’re with me.”
She’d taken to examining her wrist. He hadn’t hurt her when he’d grabbed her. He’d made sure of it. Still, she had to punish him, which again wasn’t like her. Damn it, she was deflecting, hiding something. “’Fess up, Anna. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like being controlled, and I certainly don’t appreciate you trying to do so behind my back.” She reached for her drink, sipped, and grimaced, before continuing. “You remind me of the past, Nick, when it’s something I prefer to forget.”
“There you go with the nastiness again. Must be the pregnancy.”
She actually flinched. He wasn’t sure whether from his accusation of nastiness or his reminder she was pregnant. Either way the color drained from her cheeks. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Damn it, he’d been teasing. “Come on, it’s late. I’d better get you home.”
Home? Jesus. He didn’t need the memory that little word conjured. He hadn’t cared that the apartment they shared had been the size of a shoebox made even smaller by Anna’s untidy clutter. Wanting her safe when he was away, he’d gladly sacrificed space for the smartest neighborhood. She’d been his home. Having her and all her craziness to return to after a dirty assignment had kept him sane—until he’d started fucking up.
“Come on, we’re leaving. I have to get back to work,” he repeated, unable to keep the sharp bite from his tone.” And because he was an asshole and regret was swilling in his gut, he had to go and add, “And just to confirm what I said earlier, get used to having me around, because I am now in charge.”