by Rachel Grant
“When I first found this place,” he continued, “I was sure this would be it, where the Chechen had hidden the AUUV. It wasn’t, but I realized this would be a good base camp for you.” He turned toward the steps. “Follow me.”
She reached for two of the cases.
“Leave them up here. This is your office. Below are the living quarters.”
Bemused and strangely enchanted, she followed. She’d known these caves existed and expected to find more like it with CAM, but she and Ulai hadn’t done an aerial survey of these islands yet. As far as she knew, this particular cave wasn’t on any map or mentioned in any historical account.
The flight of stairs took her into a lower second chamber. Larger than the one above, it had an irregular kidney shape, the whole space being about four hundred square feet, with a ceiling that ranged from four feet high at the edges to ten feet in the middle above a pool of still water.
Light shone through a skylight in the ceiling above the pool, while dim illumination filtered through a hole in the east wall. “Is that a window cut by soldiers?”
“Yes. It’s hidden by vegetation and too small for anyone to climb through.” His voice echoed off the walls as sound did in caves. “I could clear it for more light, but instead I installed these.” He flicked a switch, and a floodlight came on, illuminating even the dark corners.
Supplies were stacked in an alcove she hadn’t seen in the dark. Food. Water. A camping stove. Propane. Sleeping pads and blankets.
Relief flooded her. She’d feared they’d be fishing for every meal and sleeping on rocks, and she’d wondered where they’d find drinking water.
She snapped open the lid of a bottle of water and took a long drink before passing the bottle to Dimitri. The water was cool and refreshing after being stored in the dark, damp cave.
He took a drink, then nodded toward the stairs. “We have everything we need. The latrine is in the jungle to the south of the cave entrance. We can bathe in the pool. Salt water, but better than nothing.” He handed the bottle back to her. “There are chairs if you want to rest while I go up and cover the entrance again.”
She nodded toward meter-tall rolls of paper tucked in with the supplies. “What are those?”
“Charts. Places I’ve searched. All the information I have. We’ll go over them together.”
She gripped his shirt and pulled him to her for a quick, soft kiss. “Yes. Yes, we will. Go hide the entrance while I get started.”
Luke set down the phone, shaken to his core.
Parker was an assassin, an enforcer for the hardest criminal edges of the Russian government, and Luke had let him go.
Luke had told Curt he didn’t believe Parker would hurt Ivy. Did he still believe that, knowing the man was a killer?
Jesus, that night on the ferry, Parker had claimed he’d never fired his gun in the line of duty before. That may well have been true as far as the Coast Guard was concerned, but…the way he said it, he’d been so utterly convincing that only now did Luke accept that likely everything Parker had told him was a lie.
Even the part about not returning to Russia. Or that he hadn’t killed the kind tribal member who worked at the museum.
God. What if Parker had killed Annie?
Dimitri, he corrected himself. Easygoing Parker Reeves didn’t exist. He was Dimitri Veselov and an assassin.
“It’s not your fault, Luke,” Undine said softly.
He met her gaze. His Undine. She’d been livid with him after he’d told Curt that Parker wouldn’t hurt Ivy, and now she offered comfort when she could be saying I told you so.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault. Parker—Dimitri—fooled everyone. You had reason to trust him.”
He closed his eyes as she tucked her head under his chin and held him. “What if…what if he killed Annie?” There. He’d said it aloud. The question that turned his gut and sent cold chills up his spine.
“Parker had an alibi for Annie’s time of death. The tourist boat on the Pacific that got in trouble when the storm rolled in. Parker was in the helicopter that rescued the tourists.”
His eyes burned with relief at the reminder, and he squeezed her tighter. He’d forgotten. Parker Reeves’ last months in Neah Bay had been reconstructed with meticulous detail, to make sure he’d had no connection to Yuri and his crew. Part of that had included clearing him of Annie’s murder.
Knowing Parker—Dimitri—didn’t kill Annie made it possible to breathe again. But the man was still an assassin.
“Why did he send you a card? What does he want from you?” Undine asked.
He’d been asking himself the same thing. He could think of only two possibilities. “Either he’s luring me to Palau because I’m his next assignment, or he wants my help.”
“There’s no reason for Russia to want you dead at this point.”
She had no idea about some of the ops he’d been on when he was a SEAL, but those had been years ago.
“I think…” Undine’s chest rose as she took a long, deep breath. “I think he wants your help. He knows Curt would bring you in the loop. He knows my connection to Ivy. He knows you trusted him.”
“He sent the card before the party. Does that mean he was behind the attack?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But one thing we know about Parker is he can read people, and he knows how to plan. Maybe he saw the storm brewing and sent that card simply because he wanted you alert when the typhoon hit.”
“Ivy’s in the eye of the storm now.”
“She is.” Undine pulled back and gripped his shirt. “I think—God, I hate saying this because it’s the last thing I want you to do—but I think you should go to Palau.”
Relief flooded him as she suggested the thing he’d feared they’d fight over. He’d known he was going to Palau from the moment Curt had said the word assassin.
Chapter Eighteen
Dimitri should have known the way to seduce Ivy would be with maps. He wished he’d forgone the solar-powered lights, because candlelight would only make the scene more beautiful. She’d draped herself over the plastic table as she studied the notes he’d written on the chart. A long tress had slipped from her hairclip and fell over her cheek, draping down to sweep the chart spread across the table.
He could swear he heard her coo when she saw the underwater cave he’d located to the southeast. The soft noise made him wonder about the sounds she’d make if he took her from behind as she bent over the table.
He turned to the supplies he’d placed here over the last several weeks, and found a bottle of red wine and two stemless metal wine cups, purchased on a whim after reading an article she’d written on the infrared signatures of grapevines in drought conditions, and the possibility of using aerial mapping to ensure water was distributed in the right amount to the neediest crops. An offhand remark had given her favorite vintage.
She might find the purchase stalkerish, and yet she already knew he’d studied her like she was the final exam that would decide his fate.
Because, in truth, she was.
He pulled the cork and poured the wine. She smiled when he offered her the cup, then purred after her first sip. “I’ve always loved this wine, and right now, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Second best for me.”
She returned her gaze to the map, still caught in its thrall. “What was the best?” she asked, distracted as she traced a triangle he’d drawn where he’d noted Peleliu wreckage on the seafloor.
“You.”
Her finger paused on the shape, but her body didn’t stiffen. She straightened, lifted her cup, and took a slow sip. “Tell me more.”
He stepped up behind her but didn’t touch her, much as he wanted to. “I could describe you like a fine wine, smooth and tangy with an erotic bouquet, the way your flavor bursts on the tongue. But none of it would capture how sensual you are, how you intoxicate me, or explain my
addiction to you.”
She leaned against him, pressing her ass to his erection. He groaned at the contact. He wanted to cup her breasts and grind against her, but he set his fists on the tabletop, trapping her. He wanted to lick the dried salt on her neck; instead, he breathed in the fresh ocean scent that infused her skin.
“I want to bury myself inside you, but not for a hot, fast fuck. I want slow, sensual, and intense. Methodical. Fucking you was glorious, but I’m thirsty for more than that. I need more.” He couldn’t stop the flow of words, his mouth having been hijacked by an organ far more powerful than his brain. These were his last days on this earth, and if he could have one thing, it would be something real with Ivy to take to the grave. “The next time I’m inside you, I want it to be making love.”
He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and trailed downward. “Believe in me, Ivy. Know that I’m protecting you. First, last, and always.”
She let out a small whimper at the back of her throat, and his erection strained to escape his boxer briefs. Home was so close. The place he wanted to be more than any other.
“Do you trust me, Ivy?”
She lifted her cup and drained it in one long swallow.
“Do you trust me, Ivy?”
“No,” she whispered.
Ivy was so aroused, she wanted to bite his neck. Instead, he stepped back and let her go. She wanted to halt his retreat. To take him deep in her throat and change his mind.
But his words had both seduced and stopped her.
Make love?
That would never happen.
His retreat was logical. He wanted her, she wanted him, but she could never trust him. That equation couldn’t be balanced using any type of known math.
And she had to ask herself, how could she have sex with a man she didn’t trust? This wasn’t stranger sex, like the first time. Now he was a man she knew she couldn’t trust.
And what would it mean for her later? It was one thing to have had sex with him before she’d known what he was, but would Curt Dominick offer her absolution and exoneration if she made the same mistake again, fully aware of his crimes against the US?
She paused at that. How did she know he’d committed crimes against the US? They were in Palau. She knew nothing about his actions as a spy. Maybe he’d done his spying elsewhere.
But there was that perfect American accent. Hardly necessary if he did his spying in other countries. She stepped away from the table, crossed her arms, and turned to face him. “Tell me about your life as a spy. Give me a reason to trust you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where were you? What did you do? Have you killed people?”
“Spy and assassin aren’t the same thing.”
“But if your cover were to be blown, did you—or would you have—killed someone to protect yourself? And I’m not talking about self-defense, like today.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then reached for the bottle of wine. “Let’s get comfortable. I’m going to tell you about Parker Reeves.”
It was strange—and yet felt so right—to be tucked against Dimitri’s side as they sat on thick inflatable sleeping pads and leaned against the cave wall and he told her the outrageous story of everything that happened on a cold night less than a week before Thanksgiving.
Parker Reeves. Dimitri had been the second man on the Osprey, the man she’d believed was a Ukrainian neo-Nazi terrorist who the government had allowed to escape.
First she needed to wrap her head around the fact that he’d been in the US Coast Guard for nearly five years. Then that he knew Undine. She could confirm his story. As could Luke Sevick. One phone call, and she’d know if he told the truth.
But the point that made her heart pick up speed and which had her pulling away from his side to pace the cave as she processed the data was that in the course of events last fall, he’d participated in several phone conference calls with Curt Dominick.
Curt had known exactly who Dimitri was. He said as much in his text. And he’d ordered her to cooperate with him, knowing that. Surely that meant he trusted Parker/Jack/Dimitri at least a little?
But could she trust Dimitri? She felt better knowing this, but still, it raised more questions. Like who was he working for now?
But he would only tell her so much, and his story ended in November.
She frowned at her wineglass. He’d refilled it at the start of the story, but after nearly thirty minutes, it remained half-full. She abandoned it because she needed a clear head.
She turned back to the table with the chart laid across the surface. “I’ve been thinking. I could fly RON out through the large skylight and have him collect data at night. People are less likely to spot it in the dark, especially out here. It will be safer that way.”
“You don’t need daylight?”
“No. The lasers provide their own light.”
“I’ll help you set up the workstation.” He stood and crossed the rock floor to her side. “You won’t be able to upload the data to the military database with the satellite uplink.”
She nodded. “I know. The beacon transmits with every upload. Patrick’s men could find us.” She ran her hand across the surface of the chart on the table. So many beautiful contours and, added to the printed data, markings in Dimitri’s own hand. He’d been at this for months, and he’d been systematic. She could see the pattern in his notation. Insight into his beautiful mind.
“CAM collects a massive amount of data. At some point, I’ll run out of storage on the hard disk.”
“You’ll have to dump it.”
The thought of erasing her baby’s memory caused her to shudder, but she nodded.
“I’m sorry, Ivy.”
And she knew he was apologizing for so much more than the idea of deleting precious data. Because he got her. Probably better than any man she’d ever known. He’d researched her to the nth degree—hell, he even knew her favorite wine and had stashed it in the cave. Her gaze flew to his. “The wine. Did you put it here hoping to seduce me?”
“Not seduce. Just a comfort. I figured you’d be hostile. Afraid. The wine is as much an apology as anything.”
She nodded. His words rang true.
“If I could find the AUUV without involving you, I would.”
She grabbed his shirt with both hands. “And if I could finish what you’ve started without you, I would.”
“If you were to do that, then two people who matter to me very much would die.”
She’d suspected as much. What would happen, in the end, if she had a chance to take the AUUV from Dimitri? Could she make that decision?
She had no answers, only more questions and the uneasy feeling that before this was over, she’d be asked to make more impossible choices.
She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Brief. Chaste. “Thank you, for the apology. And the wine.”
“Do you trust me, Ivy?” His voice held the same pained edge that had infused the question when he’d asked it before, as they stood in this exact same spot, right after he’d seduced her with words.
“No.” She gave him a wry smile. “But I’m willing to consider a heartless screw.”
“No, thanks. Not with you.”
She released him and stepped back. “Well then, time to set up CAM and RON. Bring the maps. I want you to tell me everything you remember about the corals and wreckage and geology you observed on your dives as you searched for the AUUV. I can calibrate CAM using your charts and first-hand knowledge.”
Ian Boyd opened the door of his small house in Maryland and faced his boss, Keith Hatcher, and the ultimate owner of the company he worked for, Alec Ravissant. He didn’t bother to hide his surprise at the unannounced early morning visit.
He’d met Rav many times in the months since he started working for Raptor, but it had always been in a social capacity, outside of Raptor business. Rav, the junior senator from Maryland, had to stay out of Raptor business, which was why he
had Keith.
They most frequently crossed paths at JT Talon’s private gym in the heart of DC, where Ian and his small group of new friends sparred on a regular basis. Cressida had been his ticket into the unofficial club, and he’d been surprised at how much he enjoyed being a member.
That the two men had showed up at his house at eight a.m. without calling first didn’t bode well. Official Raptor business happened at the office. But then, Rav couldn’t be there. So this couldn’t be official.
“Sorry to drop in like this,” Keith said.
Cressida peeked into the entryway, and her mouth formed a surprised O at seeing their guests. “This is about Ivy, isn’t it?” she asked.
Alec gave a sharp nod. Ian had to wonder how the man was holding up, knowing his cousin was in trouble. It had been a tense time all around. Cressida and Ivy had become close, but for Alec, Ivy was family.
To Ian, Keith said, “Alec needs your take on the situation, as a former CIA operative.”
“Can I stay?” Cressida asked. “I don’t have the security clearance…”
“Sorry, Cress,” Keith said. “This is off the books, but still, there are rules we can’t break.”
She nodded. “I understand. There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. I’ll grab a mug, then get out of your way.”
She led everyone into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Ian caught her waist before she left the room. He held her gaze for a long moment, then kissed her forehead. He’d tell her what he could, but she knew he had to respect the limits of the job. He might not work for the CIA anymore, but he still held to the rules, and there were oaths he’d never break.
She smiled and nodded. She understood.
He watched her walk down the hall to their bedroom, enjoying the sway of her ass. Eight months they’d been together, and he still wondered how he’d ever hesitated, why he’d even considered walking away from her. She was the family he’d never known he needed and everything he couldn’t live without.