by Carter Blake
The streets will be a little safer for me having come here.
It sounds narcissistic, and I guess a small part of the whole investigative reporter spiel always will be. But for the vast majority of the time, I do this job because I want to help people and topple those who would harm others.
There’s no denying the thrill of the job, though. It’s what made my time in South Sudan so electric.
But Janus didn’t think I could handle it. And he didn’t know me, not really, so how can I blame him for wanting me to get out of the country before the danger escalated?
I’ll be sure to truly reinforce how important my job is to me when we reunite. And we will reunite—I’ll make damn sure of that.
And I’ll resist that insanely suave British charm of his this time. Business is business, after all, and I need him as a translator and as a bodyguard, just as I did before.
I mean, I speak passable Greek, but I need someone fluent to properly get to the bottom of this. And male. And persuasive.
The Jackal fits all of the above criteria. I definitely do not want to see him again just because I can’t get that one night of reckless abandonment out of my head.
Definitely not.
Realizing that I’ve long since finished my tiny bottle of wine, I head back to the minibar for another. I can’t do anything else until I get in contact with Janus, after all.
So, here’s hoping that happens well within the seventy two hours my editor has given me.
Bringing my second glass of wine over to my bed, I lie against the pillows as I mindlessly browse the internet, looking for photos of my mysterious male companion.
It’s a fruitless task, but it whiles the time away. But eventually, I shut my laptop down and place it on the bedside table. Even an investigative reporter gets bored of looking for something that doesn’t exist.
I sigh, sliding down the sheets to lie motionless on the bed, staring up at the bare, white ceiling, thinking of Janus.
He’s still in my thoughts as I feel myself drifting off to sleep, wondering what we’ll both say when we see each other again.
It’s sure to be awkward, but for the sake of the Greek populace, I’m fairly certain I can put up with a little awkwardness.
And even though I don’t necessarily want to admit it, I’m dying to know if Janus and I still have that same, insane connection.
All the men since him have been boring. So endlessly, endlessly boring. It’s not too much to hope for some excitement in the romance department, as well as in my career, right?
But those thoughts can wait for the morning.
Chapter 5
Janus
It didn’t take me long to get to Athens after finishing up those documents and getting all of the information from Leviathan about who had burned me.
I admit that I’m still having a hard time wrapping around the revelation of who it was.
It was bad enough that I had been thinking about her when it all went down, but then for her to be the one who compromised me?
Damn it, Dani!
I’m back to thinking about that night in South Sudan three years ago and how she’s the only woman who ran out on me before I had a chance to do it to her.
Imagine my surprise when I woke up with the hopes of waking her and talk her out of her damned stupidity—only to see that she was gone.
I’ve tracked her loosely since then—at the time, I just wanted to make sure she’d be okay. I thought she was a soft, vulnerable doll that didn’t know what she was getting into. Turns out, she knew how to handle herself and knew how to get in and out of a dangerous situations with her story—and her cute arse—intact.
Getting into Dani’s room was easy.
I went straight up and knocked. I was ready to unload all of my frustration on her at that point, but when I realized she wasn’t answering, I let myself in. The master key was easy to copy.
I make myself a drink and hang out at her desk, lightly going over a few of her articles by her computer. I’m tempted to open it and see what she’s working on, but really, I don’t need anything from it.
I’m not here to gather Intel or eliminate a target. I’m here to ask her what the fuck I ever did to her to make her call the goddamn GSG9 on me.
It can’t be sour grapes after all this time. Besides, she ran out on me.
I’m sipping my drink when I hear the jostling of movement in the bathroom as the water shuts off.
I sit back and put my feet on the desk next to the computer. My eyes lock onto the bathroom door—waiting impatiently for her to step out.
She’s humming to herself when she steps out, wrapped in a thick white towel. She doesn’t see me immediately as she’s drying her hair with another towel.
She tosses the towel to a nearby chair and shakes her hair out, turning away from me. I clear my throat lightly.
She spins around like she’s been stung, not leaping away or screaming, just turning to face me, feet planted firmly and fists clenched. The towel comes undone at the top and starts to slide.
She grabs it with one hand, raking me over with her eyes.
“Janus?”
“That’s me.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, obviously.”
“I don’t mean here. I mean, why are you in my room?”
She straightens, holding the towel across her breasts.
I take my feet off the table and sit up.
“I like to make personal visits on people that burn me. You might call it a job requirement.”
I stare her down coldly, not a spot of humor on my face. Burning a guy is not a trivial matter. I was lucky I didn’t have any overly sensitive information at the time.
I was foolish enough to trust her once with the location of that safe house in Berlin. I thought she and I could spend time there together.
I’m not taking this breach of trust lightly.
Even if she is standing in front of me in nothing but a towel with her arms crossed over her breasts, hair wet and curly around her face, skin glowing in the late afternoon sun.
It’s quite the sight, but not enough to make me forgive her.
It’s a good start, though.
She huffs slightly. “I needed to get your attention.”
“Seriously? There are better ways of getting a man’s attention.”
“But not better ways of getting yours. I need you.”
That brings an easy smile to my face. “Oh, yeah? This is gonna be good. I’m not doing private body guard work right now.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” She relaxes a bit, eyes going big and pleading. “I have evidence of a human trafficking ring here in Greece. My boss is trying to pull me out, but if I can get a foothold here, then I can stay. I can’t just walk away. Not from this.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“Witness statements. Photos. I’ve been meeting with family members of refugees, talking about how their children have disappeared. Family members. I have ideas and leads that point me toward where they’re operating, but I’m getting stonewalled by the Greek officials. So, I think they must be on the payroll.”
“Interesting.”
I hold my lip under my teeth as she leans over the couch, grabbing a couple of folders that she brings over to the desk.
She leans over me as she opens them and starts pulling out papers and photos. One hand holds the towel at her chest while she flicks through pulling out files. Her scent is warm and hot and sweetly fragrant, the heat of her recent shower dissipating into the air in a heady, floral scent.
I never thought I would see her again. I really thought our paths would never cross again.
Now she’s so close, I can smell her and almost taste her. For an instant, images run through my mind, making my fingertips tingle.
There’s been no one like her before or since Sudan.
The electricity of her touch. The depth of her gaze. Her fierce passion.
I can’t deny I’m having trouble thinking rationally right now—all I want to do is throw her on the table and fuck her.
“Here are some pictures of missing girls. Lots of children. The refugees arrive by truck or boat to several different locations. They are told that they will be moved into camps and workplaces. Usually, they just truck them straight to private buyers. Look at this.”
She places a photo in front of me. There’s a crowd of young children, all dirty and in torn clothes. Most of them don’t have shoes. They’re crying as they are herded into a van.
“Some were orphans when they came here. Some had their parents killed or abducted upon arrival. From what I can tell, they’re all sold to private buyers to be pets or slaves.”
I look over the photos carefully.
Orphans being used as slaves is bad enough. Turning them into orphans to make them slaves is even worse. I can feel myself getting quietly angry—not a good combination with the lust that’s rising as surely as her warm scent.
“So, what do you want me to do?” I ask carefully, looking at the pictures and not at her.
“I need to figure out if the authorities are in the pockets of the traffickers, for starters. But I also need to find out where they’re operating and learn who’s in charge. Even better if you have any contacts around we could use to break the ring. Do you? Could we do that?”
I look up at her. She’s standing over me, almost forgetting to hold the towel up. Her eyes are alight with fire, and her face is intense.
She cares about the people more than she cares about the story. That’s what makes her so good.
The enthusiasm slowly bleeds out of her face as I stare back impassively.
I’ve got a riot of emotions inside me right now, and that’s not a comfortable place for me. I don’t want to help someone who burned me, no fucking way.
But I also don’t want kids being orphaned and used as slaves.
It’s a hell of a thing she’s walked into here. It’s like South Sudan all over again.
“Why did you burn me? Seriously?”
She looks away, face falling. When she looks back up, her eyes are soft and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Janus. Truly, I am. I couldn’t think of any other way to contact you. I honestly didn’t think you would be there.”
“I suppose I have to admire your resourcefulness. Come to think of it, I don’t know a better way to get my attention. But don’t share my private locations with any agencies ever again. Ever. Understand?”
She nods lightly, straightening up and heading back towards the bedroom.
“So, does that mean you’re going to help me?”
I graze my eyes over the photos again.
I look up and nod.
She smiles. “Excellent. Let me get dressed, and I’ll buy you some dinner downstairs. Then we can talk about everything.”
“Sounds good.”
I’m trying to focus on the situation, but all I can think about now is what’s under that towel. Especially since she was close enough to touch only five seconds ago.
Chapter 6
Danielle
I toss the towel onto the bed and pull a loose red dress over my head. I feel flustered and rushed. I run a brush through my damp hair and slip on some flats.
Fucking damn him! Sneaking into my room like that!
He’s still just as hot as I remember.
So serious and hard with those dreamy blue eyes.
I knew he couldn’t resist the orphans. He has a soft spot for them—something I discovered in South Sudan.
I try to focus on what I need to do as I smear on a little lip gloss. I’m here for the story.
I don’t have the whole story yet, so I need to keep digging. And to keep digging, I need Janus.
That’s what I called him for. I need him for the job. Nothing else.
I’m still trying to convince myself of that last part as I grab my purse and head back to the main room. He’s quietly shuffling through photos.
“You have quite a bit of evidence here. You haven’t contacted Amnesty or other humanitarian groups?”
“Everything is circumstantial, and the guys I’ve managed to photograph are ghosts. They don’t exist. I’ve reached out to my contacts all over the world, and none of them have found out anything about these guys.”
He nods slowly, getting up.
“We’ll talk more about it downstairs.”
He seems withdrawn, distracted. I try not to read anything into it. God knows what he’s got going on right now.
It looks like he’s prioritized the case at least. That’s all I care about.
We ride the elevator, and I speak briefly with the concierge, asking if I have any messages. None so far. That means contacts haven’t found anything yet.
We go to the restaurant and sit down. The waiter is at our table quickly to take our orders. I ask for a bottle of wine to be brought over.
Janus taps the table lightly with his finger as he thinks.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to read his thoughts right now.
“What we need to do is get a bit more information. I can’t just call my contacts nearby and have them hit the suspected locations, you understand that.”
“Sure, yeah.”
“This isn’t the kind of my thing that my people get involved in. So, I’ll have to put out some feelers, carefully.”
His face is calm, and his eyes glint in the setting sun, but the tone of his voice hints at something more.
“Okay. I’m a bit relieved your people aren’t the type to get involved in this sort of thing. But hopefully they can still help us get schedules, places, and names.”
He grins as he takes a sip of wine. That mischievous glimmer in his eyes that I fell for years ago returns.
“You always did have that single-minded view. If it gets you to your goal, that’s all that matters. Explains why you didn’t chew me out for having friends in low places back then.”
I take a sip of the wine, too, smiling back at him.
“That’s just how my brain works, I guess. The problem right now is finding out where the people go after they’re picked up at the docks or at a couple of places along the roads. I managed to find those places after talking to some people who had been there. I’ve made a few contacts in the bad end of town...but nothing reliable.”
“I’m guessing that they do tend to move everyone around at night. Even with cops on their payroll, operating in broad daylight is risky.”
“Even with the heat their packing. Which, from what I’ve gathered, looks military grade.”
“Really?”
His eyebrow arches in thought, and I wonder if he plans on calling in his friend, Manticore, for assistance.
“I haven’t looked into that. I’ve been trying to chase down where the stolen people are ending up. I even went to places that people like these often end up just to cover all my bases. I went to the brothels, but I couldn’t get in.
“I tried going down to the industrial area, but I was picked up by a couple of officials. They told me I wasn’t authorized to be there and took me to the station. I tried to convince the police of what was happening, they just kept telling me to stay out of it. Not long after, my boss tells me to leave it alone.”
“Hmm.” Janus rubs his chin, rasping his fingers across a shade of stubble. “Definitely sounds like the brass is dirty. If this is as big as you think, then that likely means they’re making a mint.”
The waiter returns with our food, and I order another bottle of wine—a lovely local drop.
I know I’m not here for personal reasons, but it is nice just being with him. It’s been so long, but there’s no way I could ever forget him. And when my boss said I had to have back up, no one else came to mind.
“My next plan was to hide myself in a group of refugees and see where I end up. I believe...I know...that these people are being privately sold and moved back out of the country. I just
don’t know to whom or where they’re being sent.”
“That’s ballsy, Dani. You could end up anywhere, and in chains. But then, what do you do when you actually end up in a room with someone who’s bought you? How will you get out?”
Janus laughs softly and reaches out for his glass of wine.
I respond to his laughter with my poker face. I’ve grown a lot in the three years since we’ve last seen each other, and I was no fluffy kitten back then either. I wait for the amusement to slowly drain away from his face before I answer.
“I would do whatever it takes. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”
He stares into my eyes, absorbing my expression. He looks amazed and kind of sad.
“I believe you, Dani. I do.”
There’s no humor in his voice now. But I still feel angry, like I need to prove myself somehow. I hate it.
I’m certain that I’m only feeling this way because I fucked him over by blowing the cover on his safe house and then had to ask him for his help on something incredibly dangerous. Sure, it’s not facing armed militia in South Sudan committing genocide, but it’s still a dangerous gig. And right out of the blue at that.
And there’s still more than a bit of guilt at leaving him without so much as a goodbye note.
Despite after all that, he’s here.
He made a nice show of trying to make me feel bad. But I can tell by the looks he’s giving me, he hasn’t forgotten about that night either.
Maybe I should have dropped the towel upstairs. I was tempted to do so.
There’s a lull in our conversation as we seemingly focus on our food. In between bites I look up slyly to see if his expressions change and to guess the direction of his piercing blue gaze. More often than not, our eyes meet as we both look up at exactly the same time.
I let my eyes linger on him for as long as I can. This is just business. It’s all well and good to have a lively fantasy—it keeps you sharp and creative—but the reality is we have work to do here.
Not just getting the story but actually helping these people.
I don’t have time for love games, and he doesn’t either. Once this is over, we’ll head on to separate ways.