Assassin's Heart

by Monica Burns

  “Yes, it does,” she said with a flash of triumph in her brown eyes. “Because in the last dream I had, I saw Maximus and Cassiopeia’s son, Demetri. So tell me why our dreams mean nothing if we both know they had a son called Demetri?”

  Okay, he hadn’t seen that one coming. He immediately backpedaled and tried to come up with a response. Il Christi omnipotentia, the woman was relentless in her determination to make him admit a connection between the two of them and the ancient Roman couple. A small voice in the back of his head challenged him to listen to her. He squashed the idea just like he would an irritating gnat.

  The ramification of believing he was Maximus to her Cassiopeia was the one place he didn’t want to go. It was one thing to think reincarnation plausible, but it was something entirely different to believe his dreams were an instant replay of a past life. Dreams where he relived another life’s joys, sorrows … mistakes.

  “They’re dreams, Phaedra, nothing more.”

  “Then how can we be dreaming about moments that aren’t included in all the stories about Maximus and Cassiopeia we’ve heard since we were kids?”

  “Such as?” he grounded out.

  “Such as the fact that they had a child named Demetri.”

  “That’s stretching it a bit thin, don’t you think, carissima?” He released a harsh breath of exasperation. “Why are you so dead set on these dreams meaning something?”

  “Because if we are Maximus and Cassiopeia, I don’t want us to wind up the same way they did—one of us … dead and the other one left alone.” Her words sent a chill down his back.

  He remembered the despair Maximus had felt in his dream. Had her dreams created similar emotions in her? It would explain the fear he’d heard just now in her voice. What if he bought into her idea that they had once lived together as husband and wife in ancient Rome? It would mean he’d have to accept the possibility that he’d once lived as Maximus Caecilius Atellus. A man revered by the Sicari.

  That reason right there was why he couldn’t believe. Maximus’s blood had been pure-untouched by the madness and the hate that flowed in the veins of the Praetorians. By the circumstance of his birth, Lysander’s blood was tainted, and he wasn’t even worthy of thinking he could have been Maximus. He reached out to caress her cheek.

  “You’re worrying about nothing, inamorato,” he said. She turned her face into his hand, her lips grazing his palm.

  “Am I? I wish I could believe that,” she whispered as she met his gaze. “It’s kind of hard not to worry when you hide things from me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His heart skidded to a halt before it kicked into high gear. Did she know about his plan to visit the Circus Maxentius tonight with Ares and Pasquale? No, he’d been careful not to let anything slip. He studied her face closely. What he saw in her eyes scared the hell out of him. She shook her head.

  “You shut me out for more than a year after that night in the warehouse. You’re still shutting me out about what happened.” Her whisper resounded with a pain and sorrow that ate away at his heart. But she’d just helped him figure out one of the ground rules.

  “Ground rule number one. We aren’t going to discuss that night. Ever,” he bit out.

  “Deus, you’re a stubborn devil. You’ll talk to Atia about it, but not me.” Again the note of hurt in her voice. He forced himself to ignore it.

  “It’s over, Phaedra. It’s in the past.”

  “No.” she exclaimed in a low, fierce voice. “It’s not over. You’re still paying the price for what they did to you, and so am I. It doesn’t matter that you’ve talked to Atia. It’s a wall between us, and it says you don’t trust me.”

  “Il Christi omnipotentia, that’s not true.”

  “Yes it is,” she snapped as she rolled away from him to stare up at the ceiling. “I hate those Praetorian bastardi for what they did to you. I hate them for killing my parents. Every single one of them deserves to die. No quarter given. I want all of them dead.”

  He turned toward her to see tears of pain and anger well up in her eyes. The sight sent ice sluicing through his veins. How in the hell could he ever tell her the truth? He’d made the right decision to reject her a year ago. And he’d made a grievous error to let himself believe they might have a chance now.

  She was right. His secret was standing between them. It always would. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Praetorians. There wasn’t a chance in Tartarus that she’d be able to love a half-breed like him. She rolled into him, her warmth heating his skin as her lips brushed against his chest.

  “I lost you that night in Englewood, Lysander. And now that I have you back, I don’t think I can bear losing you again.”

  The heartfelt words flayed at his conscience like a whip. If she ever found out the truth … Christus, their relationship was based on nothing but lies. Except one. He loved her. That was the truth.

  The alarm on his watch pierced the quiet between them, and he turned his head toward the timepiece sitting on the nightstand. He needed to meet Ares. The relief sailing through him at the thought of escaping was followed by guilt. He was running, and he wasn’t proud of himself for it. But leaving her right now would give him time to try to find a solution to the problem. The minute the notion slipped into his head, he immediately knew there was only one answer. Telling her the truth. Something that would destroy them both.

  In a quick move, he rolled her onto her back and kissed her. She sighed beneath him, and he lifted his head to look into her beautiful brown eyes. Instinctively he knew this happiness wouldn’t last, but at this moment in time, he was the luckiest man alive. He kissed her again, then got out of bed and proceeded to dress.

  “Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t had my way with you yet tonight,” she teased lightly as her fingertips trailed their way across his bare shoulder and down his back. It was a tempting touch that appealed not only to his base needs, but the inner piece

  of him that adored her. He resisted the urge.

  “I told Ares I’d meet him in the library.”

  “At this hour?”

  “It’s not that late.” He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Take a nap.”

  “I’m not sleepy. When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure. That depends on Ares. But I’ll be sure to wake you.” He forced himself to keep his voice lighthearted, satisfied that he’d kept his answer vague enough not to arouse her curiosity.

  He didn’t want her figuring out that he and Ares were going to the Circus Maxentius tonight without her or Emma. Her gaze narrowed suspiciously on him, but she didn’t question him as he finished dressing. With one last kiss, he left the bedroom and headed out of the small suite. The house was quiet as he made his way down to the library, which was opposite the installation’s main conference room. That room was dark in contrast to the muted lighting inside the library. One light illuminated the room, and it was on the library table.

  Seated at the table the Prima Consul generally used, Ares was bent over a book. Opposite him, Luciano Pasquale stood leaning against one of the room’s bookcases. Ares looked up with a slight frown.

  “Any problems?”

  “No. She didn’t suspect a thing,” Lysander replied.

  “Good. Take a look at this.”

  Ares gestured for him and Pasquale to join him at the library table. As they reached the table, he turned the book in front of him around so the two men could read it.

  “What am I missing?” Pasquale frowned as he studied the book.

  “When Angelo reported finding the four Sicari symbols out at the Circus Maxentius, it seemed odd there were so many in one place when we’ve only found one at each of the other locations. The fact that the first Sicari Lord was one of Maxentius’s generals makes the four icons seem like a blind alley. But tell me what you make of this.”

  Ares tapped at the left page of the open book in front of them. Frowning, Lysander stared at the d
iagram his friend had pointed to. He traced his finger over the drawing of the monument’s exterior walls.

  “According to Angelo, the Sicari symbols were found at the two front towers,” Ares said as he pointed to different locations on the diagram. “And in between the rear of the circus and the imperial box, here and here.”

  “If you draw lines from point to point, it forms a square,” Pasquale said quietly.

  “Right, and if we draw diagonal lines from point to point—” Ares arched his eyebrow as the other man interrupted him.

  “X marks the spot,” Pasquale said with excitement.

  “Christus, it’s more than that,” Lysander exclaimed with quiet exhilaration as he looked up from the drawing to meet Ares’s triumphant gaze. “That X is centered directly over the spina, right where the obelisk would have been.”

  “Spina? Obelisk?” Pasquale looked at the two of them with a puzzled frown.

  “The spina is the barrier that the chariots had to race around.” Lysander pointed toward the stone construction that divided the center of the circus. “There were all types of ornaments sitting on top of it, but the tallest one was the obelisk at the end of the spina.”

  “An obelisk, my beautiful wife pointed out earlier, that was dedicated to the goddess Isis.” Ares grinned with elation. Struggling to restrain his own excitement, Lysander grinned back at his friend.

  “I take it this means we’re doing some excavation work tonight,” Pasquale said. Slapping the other fighter’s back with his hand, Lysander nodded.

  “Absolutely.” He turned back to face Ares. “Emma’s going to have your head if we find something.”

  “Don’t remind me.” His friend grimaced. “But we both know it’s too dangerous for her or Phaedra to go with us to the circus. We’ll make them see that when we get back.”

  Beside him, Pasquale tensed and cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re going to have to do your explaining now.”

  He looked at the Sicari fighter to see him nodding toward the library door. Whirling around, he saw Emma walking into the room followed by Phaedra. His heart dropped like a stone. Both women were dressed for a night mission, and while Emma didn’t carry a sword, Phaedra wore her weapon in a scabbard on her back. The anger on their faces was evident as Emma headed straight for her husband.

  “You must think I’m a half-wit,” she snapped as she stopped in front of Ares. “I told you the obelisk was the center point of those four icons, and you casually brushed it off. But you knew I was right, and you planned this little trip out to the Circus Maxentius without

  me. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out what you were up to?”

  “Not until it was over,” Ares bit out as he glared at his wife.

  “And you thought you could just sweet-talk me into not being angry afterward?”

  “No,” his friend exclaimed before he grimaced. “All right, yes. But, Christus, Emma, it’s too dangerous. Do you remember the last nighttime mission I took you on? If something happened—”

  Ares didn’t get a chance to finish before he landed hard on the floor with a loud thud, his feet kicked out from under him by a strong, invisible force. “Damn it, Emma.”

  “How many times do I have to show you that I can take care of myself, at least well enough so I can run away if I need to? You need me now, just like you did in Chicago, and you know it.”

  As his friend was picking himself up from the floor, Phaedra tapped Lysander on the shoulder. He immediately assumed a stoic expression as he turned to face her. Her brown-eyed gaze met his with about as much warmth as an ice storm. Great, it was his turn.

  “So what’s your excuse, Condellaire? And it had better be good,” she said in a calm manner that belied the anger he saw flashing in her eyes.

  A quick glance in Ares’s direction showed his friend rubbing the top of his head in a plain effort to figure out a way to placate his wife for not inviting her along for the ride. Caught up in the same quandary as his friend, he reached for the first thing that came into his head.

  “As Legatus, it’s my job to select the best-qualified team members for specific assignments. I didn’t choose you for this particular task.” He winced at her expression. Not a good choice of words, particularly when he wasn’t even sure he was worthy of his title.

  “And what makes you better qualified than me to go to the Circus Maxentius in the middle of the night?” That serene note in her voice was beginning to make him uneasy. It didn’t matter. As Legatus, he was well within his right to select who went on what missions.

  “My fighting skills are superior to yours, and you know it, Phaedra.”

  “So my fighting skills aren’t good enough for you to include me on a reconnaissance that happens to be pretty much in the heart of Praetorian territory, correct?”

  It was easy to tell by the sound of her voice that she wasn’t going to forgive him easily for

  his decision. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t Chicago where the Praetorians had a minor presence. This was Rome. Home base for the bastardi and in a deserted ruin no less—it was a hell of a lot more dangerous.

  The last thing he wanted was to see something happen to her. He knew Ares felt the same way about Emma’s safety. It’s why his friend had agreed they wouldn’t tell either of the women what they were planning.

  “Yes,” he said firmly as he answered her question. He knew he was right. Her fighting skills weren’t even half as strong as her healing ability. The second the thought shot into his head, he knew he was doomed and he suppressed a groan.

  “Right.” She stepped around him to stare at first Pasquale and then Ares. “Tell me, which one of you is the healer on this mission?”

  Christus, he was an idiot. He’d walked right into that one. Phaedra slowly turned back to him, her indignant expression making him feel like an ass. Hell, he’d known she’d be pissed, but like Ares, he’d figured she wouldn’t find out until after the fact. He winced at her expression. Pissed was an understatement.

  “Emma, let’s leave the boys to their little soiree out to the Circus Maxentius. That is where you’re going, isn’t it?” Her fiery gaze seared its way into him.

  It was a statement, not a question because both women knew exactly where they were going. She headed for the door. Her back straight and rigid with anger. The next words out of her mouth horrified him.

  “Emma, I think we should follow up on that Colosseum idea you had. I’m sure Cleo and Violetta wouldn’t mind some fun tonight.”

  “I think you’re right,” Emma said fiercely as she made to follow her sister-in-law.

  Ares didn’t let his wife get far, and he heard Emma utter an oath behind him as he watched Phaedra heading toward the exit. Furious at the way Phaedra was trying to manipulate him, he waved his hand and the library door slammed shut. In the next instant, he envisioned his hand on her arm and dragged her back to him. When she was close enough, his hands bit into soft flesh as he forced her to face him.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me,” he rasped.

  “I’m glad to hear you’ve come to your senses about taking Emma and me with you to the circus,” she purred.

  “You’re not—”

  “Of course, we could always go rogue for a few hours.” She sent him a defiant look.

  “Damn it, Phaedra,” Ares snapped. “Use your head.”

  “I am using my head, Ares. The problem is the two of you aren’t using yours.” She continued to glare at Lysander as she answered her brother. “You need a healer on this mission. You need Emma’s archeological expertise in case you come across something you can’t figure out, brother dear. So what’s it going to be? Do we go with you or should the two of us girls plan our own little party?”

  “Goddamn it, woman,” Lysander growled.