by Incy Black
“That’s Antila, a Finnish financier. I had hoped he’d invest in Hinterland Heroes, but it turned out our interests didn’t mesh.”
“I’d be shocked if they had. In fact I’d have to arrest you. He heads up one of the smaller drug operations in Finland, but don’t let that fool you—his international operations go far deeper than that. He’s lethal. Connected to the worst elements of the Russian mafia. For God’s sake, Anna, didn’t it occur to you to check him out?”
“No, why would it? I take people on good faith. It was a simple business lunch, arranged months ago, and he came highly recommended.”
“By whom?”
Nausea slammed her. By Adam Western. Her dead gynecologist. How the hell had she not made the connection before? The two men had been scheming against her for months. Antila had said she’d been specially chosen. Western must have set her up. All those tests. All his questions. At the time, she’d found the questions reassuring. She’d even admired the thoroughness of the process. It had given her confidence she was in safe hands.
The guilt and sympathy she’d nursed for Western ebbed away. He had to have known what kind of monster he was visiting upon her. Upon her child. If he hadn’t already been dead, she’d have killed him herself.
“Anna, I asked you a question. By whom?”
“I can’t remember.” If she mentioned Adam Western and Antila in the same sentence, Nick would guess the connection. His mind was too acute, his nature that suspicious. And with Western murdered, he’d go after Antila. She didn’t hold a monopoly on impetuosity. Nick was as bad when he believed something of his was under threat.
“Try.” He jabbed the picture with his forefinger. “Because this man is a killer. I’ve come across some truly scary bastards in my time with the Service, Anna, but not a one of them compares to him.”
“So why is he still walking about free? And how the hell did he get into this country? Why has no one taken him out? I thought that’s what you lot were supposed to do, eliminate threats that are beyond ordinary law.”
“Because that would be illegal, a contravention of international law and justice.”
“Then the law’s an ass, international or otherwise. Why should I have to suffer?”
His deathly silence alerted her to what she’d just said. She bit her lip to stop from revealing any more.
“I don’t know, Anna, why don’t you tell me?” His stare was intent; she forgot how to breathe. She should have hit on him when she had the chance. Distracted him with a bout of hot sex. She’d have hated herself afterward, but she’d take that any day rather than face his relentless probing for the truth she daren’t share.
Flustered, she waved him away with her hands. “Look, just forget it. I’m obviously on edge. Antila and I discussed investment. I wasn’t happy with the terms. He wanted more than I was willing to give. End of story.” Well, at least that wasn’t a complete lie, just a grotesque distortion of the truth.
“You had a lucky escape. Antila is untouchable. It’s one of the reasons he’s so scary and why he’s on the Service’s radar. He has enormous wealth and even greater power and influence. And we’re not the only ones after him. Think, Interpol, think CIA, FBI, MSS, BND, GRU; damn it, even the Mossad want a piece of him.”
He wandered across to the wide bank of windows. His back to her, his hands deep in his pockets, he let the heavy silence hang.
She shifted her weight to her other leg and folded her arms. She was shoulder-deep in lies. If he turned and caught her fiddling with the edges of her hair…
“Anna, earlier this afternoon, the telephone call. Who were you expecting to be on the other end, because it sure wasn’t me?
She tightened her arms then eased her grip fearing she’d crack a rib. “The clinic.”
He turned, his expression mild but his eyes glinted shards of ice. “Bollocks! You were panicking.”
“I was feeling crowded, hemmed in, something I’ve never handled well.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re handling this conversation just fine. But for the bead of sweat I’ve just watched trickle your throat, I’d never guess you were feeling the pressure.”
“You enjoy tearing the wings of insects too, Nick?” She released her arms and flung them wide. “For God’s sake, the clinic rang to confirm the date of my scan, that’s all.”
“So why bring my name into it? Why would they care whether I’d moved in or not?”
Good point, but not one she dared concede. She had to deflect his focus away from the call. The untruths, piling up one upon another, risked tripping her up. “Because I pay them to care, Nick. There, I’ve admitted it. I have to pay people to actually care about me? Happy now?”
He shook his head and started to laugh. “Jesus, Anna. That’s ridiculous, even for you.”
Suddenly, the deadly secret she held, all the lies she was spinning desperately, faded into insignificance as an unassailable truth hit her. “Is it? My staff are loyal, but have you seen my monthly salary bill? Do you really think, but for my wealth, the police would have marked my case a priority? Who noticed me when I was poor, Nick? Who actually gave a damn?”
His laughter died. He walked up close to her, leaned forward, and tugged the untidy hank of hair framing her chin. “I did,” he said softly. “And I don’t recall ever feeling the need to submit an invoice.”
The back of her eyes burned. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, and for the first time in all the years she’d known Nick, it mattered that he shouldn’t see her cry.
“Once upon a time, you’d have let those tears you’re fighting fall without hesitation. Once upon a time, Anna, when you trusted me absolutely.”
Compassion? Heartfelt regret? From him—a man so damaged, any emotion bar anger seemed beyond him? She consciously contracted her ribs. Hearts beat silently, they did not pound with the might of a kettledrum.
His finger brushed her cheek, settled beneath her chin, and with gentle but insistent pressure tilted her head upward. Fascinated, she couldn’t look away. Never before had she seen his eyes quite so unguarded.
“I’m so goddamn sorry, Anna—for everything. For the moods. For making you feel you didn’t matter. And most of all, for not having the courage…and…yes, the humility, to try and apologize before now. That night—despite knowing with every sane fiber of my being that betrayal was beyond you, I accused you of having an affair. Because…because…”
His fingers plowed untidy furrows through his hair.
She held her breath. This was it. An explanation. To what had really being going on in his head that night.
“Because, I loved you, Anna, to the point of pain, and I was petrified. I’d just spent hours imaging all kinds of terrible things—you lying in the dark all alone, in pain, maybe dying, scared—when I should have been there to protect you. Then you turned up and you wouldn’t let me hold you. You stepped back. From me. That hurt, and I wanted to hurt you right back. But I honestly thought you’d come home. You always had before. And when you didn’t, I tried to force your hand by demanding a divorce—fuck, but did that misfire. You signed the papers, and I lost you for good.”
The abrupt silence lengthened. She’d have swallowed if she could. Christ, what good was an apology when accompanied by a dumb-ass explanation like that? If he wasn’t lying to her, he sure as hell was holding something back.
His next move denied the pain lancing her chest the chance to morph into temper. He reached forward and brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Remember when we needed each other, Anna? How we protected each other? How, together, we once stood undefeatable against the world? What happened to those two people? What happened to us?
Us. Such a small word. Yet, for her, it had once been as big as the earth itself with their love, the sun. A sun that had not just been life affirming but life essential—for them both. What if she gave him a chance? What if she gave them both a chance? They’d saved each other before. And maybe, just maybe, wi
th a touch of trust on both sides, they could do so again.
“Niva Antila is the father of my baby,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Nick’s hand dropped to his side. He took a step back. “Fucking hell, Anna. Fucking hell.”
“So now you know.”
He must have read her helplessness in the sudden fall of her shoulders, because next thing she knew, she was wrapped in his arms, barely able to breathe, the thump of his heart, loud against her ear. He seemed incapable of speech. “You can’t go after him, Nick. He’ll kill you if you do.”
No way was she telling him that Antila had promised death for her and the baby if she birthed a girl. Share that hideous little snippet with him, and there would be no holding him back. “You can’t die. I need you. My baby needs you.”
He abruptly set her aside.
“Please, Nick, don’t look at me like that,” she pushed on desperately. “You’re scaring me, and I need to ask you a favor.”
“I’m not exactly predisposed to granting you any favors right now, Anna. I can’t believe some of the situations you get yourself in to. Jesus, what are you, a gravitational force for trouble?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Not intentionally.”
He narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Okay ask. Just be prepared for me to turn you down flat if I don’t like what I hear.”
“My next scan. I want you to come with me, not as a bodyguard but as a friend.”
“We haven’t been friends for a long time, Anna,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you ask Will?”
The build of palpitations threatened to crack her chest. “I don’t want Will to accompany me. I need you.”
He burst out laughing. It wasn’t a happy laugh; it carried too much pain. “Anna, you never needed anyone in your life.”
Wrong. She’d needed him. On more levels than she’d dared admit. But there was no point wanting what you couldn’t have, she’d learned that long ago. “I’m scared.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
Focusing on her goal—protecting her baby—she swallowed and pulled out the big guns. “You owe me. Consider it reparation for not being there for your own child.”
The air turned frigid, the bright accents of color scattered round her kitchen, her bright red kettle, her acid green toaster, the bright yellow of the blinds, faded.
“I would have been there, had you called sooner.”
“I did call. Twice. They told me you were unavailable. They—”
“Who are ‘they’?”
A tight, bitter smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Some nameless, female automaton, no doubt tasked with keeping troublesome wives at bay. You know the Service, Nick. Agents and assignments take priority. Families…? Well, I guess you’d find them listed in a file somewhere, probably under Collateral Damage.”
…
With a savage curse, he followed her as she skirted around him and made her way to the sitting room.
The hours preceding the horrendous row that had finally destroyed their marriage had been the longest of his life. Knowing Anna would never have tried to contact him unless she was in real trouble, out of options, and desperate, he’d panicked when he’d heard about her call. Hitching the first available flight back to London, he’d arrived to find their home deserted, her cell phone turned off. He’d waited and waited for her return, high anxiety giving way to dirty suspicions as he’d driven himself into an angry frenzy.
When she had finally stumbled through the door—wiped out, pale, fragile—he’d already been trapped in a noxious web of fear and anger. Fear that she’d been hurt. Anger that she’d dared scare him. His temper, bequeathed to him by his father, had spewed forth like lava. Liquid hot. Unstoppable. Wholly destructive.
He’d had to do something. Anything, to get her away from him. He was Mad Mickey’s son after all. Violent. Dangerous. So, to protect her, he’d accused her of the one thing he’d known she’d never do—have an affair. And yes, in that moment he’d deliberately hurt her. And hadn’t cared that he’d succeeded. Better that, than risk her dying by his hand.
No. Amputating her from his life had been the right thing to do back then, just as it was now. An act of love on his part. Christ, she said that her baby needed him. How tragic was that? If she knew what was good for her, for the baby, she’d run now and never look back.
His scalp suddenly felt too tight, and he plowed his fingers through his hair. “You should have said something, Anna. Told me the truth.”
“You didn’t deserve the truth. You called me an embarrassment. You listed every occasion I’d made you regret marrying me, so many I lost count. You made it clear you didn’t want me. And then I had nothing else to lose. I loved you, Nick, but that night it turned to hate.” She raised her chin that little bit higher. “Your loss, my gain, because it made me stronger, more determined that one day I’d would have a family of my own—on my terms, no more compromise.”
God, she was magnificent. He loved that she stood brave. Loved that no matter how high the odds stacked against her, she refused to surrender. Bottom line, he just flat-out loved her and always would. But he couldn’t be around her, not now that she was having a child. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be safe. “I thought what we had was enough.”
“You thought wrong. I might not have known it at the time, but I wanted a real family, with kids.”
Yeah, like he’d have let that happen.
“Me being a father was never on the cards.” Bitterness coated his tongue. “The pregnancy shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I wanted your baby.”
No way was he attending her scan. It would kill him.
Acid swirling his gut, he clenched his teeth. “Until I figure out what to do about Antila, I’ll keep my mouth shut about him being the father. If the Service or any other Agency finds out the truth, they’re likely to use you and the baby as bait to reel the bastard in. But me being around you isn’t going to work. We keep tearing chunks out of each other, and it can’t be good for the baby. You’ll be adequately protected—I guarantee it—but I’m out of here.”
Chapter Ten
Ten days later, Anna stepped clear of the innocuous black saloon car, fully resigned to the irritation of having two men flank her. Insisting she had no need of an escort to the clinic had been futile—the men assigned stuck to her like glue. They had their orders, and none dared defy her ex.
She preferred to take refuge in outright denial. Each time her mind wandered in Nick’s direction she slammed doors and poured concrete barriers to keep him at bay.
Only a few minutes after she entered the clinic, the pretty receptionist called her name. She jack-in-the-boxed to attention and with a glare dared her guards to follow her. The glare worked. They sat back down.
This was it. In a few short minutes, she’d learn the gender of her baby. Following the sonographer into a mutely lit room, she hesitated before climbing onto the high bed as instructed. The woman must have seen more than her fair share of nervous expectant mothers because she didn’t remark on the obvious tremor of her hands as she pulled up her T-shirt and unfastened her jeans, pushing them low to reveal the still-small mound barely curving her lower belly.
The smear of gel on her stomach should have been soothing but wasn’t, and when the sonographer pressed the handheld device firmly against her abdomen, she nearly flew off the bed. Probably would have done so had the woman not squeezed her shoulder to reassure.
“I’m sorry,” Anna barely managed to whisper, “I’m not usually such a wimp.”
The squeeze turned into a series of pats and strokes. “Take a few deep breaths, honey, we’re in no hurry here.”
And the kind words might have worked had the door not edged open and a shadow slipped into the cell-like room.
She’d never been shy, but damn it, some things were personal. She jerked upright and hauled her knees to her chest.
“Excuse me, you can’t just barge in here—” the sonographer protested indignantly.
“No, it’s fine, he’s with me,” Anna choked, her throat thickening, relief rolling through her in waves. She’d all but given up hope.
She eased back into a recline and smiled, no longer feeling quite so isolated. Damn the man, but when push came to shove, he was incapable of letting her down. An embarrassing sting misted her eyes. “Hi, Nick. You made it then.”
He shrugged and cocked her a half smile. “Never could resist a little gel-fest.”
“That’s a totally inappropriate comment, but I’m impressed.” She laughed shakily. “Told you irreverence was fun. Have you been taking lessons?”
“Not exactly. Let’s just say I dredged up a few reminders of what it felt like to live a little.”
“Then there might be hope for you yet, Nick Marshall.” She swiveled her head to the side and smiled at the sonographer. “If possible, I’d like to know the gender, please.”
She really did try to keep her eyes fixed on the swirl of black and white that filled the screen and tried even harder to work out what the images meant but within seconds had to turn her face away, her eyes screwed tight shut. She wanted excitement to consume her, wanted to feel thrill and joy firing every one of her nerves, but the threat of death, heavy and ominous, cauterized all emotion but dread.
Blood gushed through her veins and the walls of the small private room folded inward. Had she not already been prone, she’d have been knocked off her feet. Dear God, she couldn’t breathe.
“Anna? Anna!” Nick gripped her by the shoulders and gave her mildest of little shakes. “The heartbeat’s strong, everything’s fine. Damn it, you’re not supposed to be terrified. This is incredible. Come on, open your eyes. Check it out for yourself.”