Seducing the Accomplice

by Jennifer Morey

  “Because there is always something wrong with them,” she answered. “Look at this situation. I need to stop getting tangled with men like you. I keep making bad decisions.”

  “I’m not the one who abandoned you.”

  “No, this is much worse.” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. Yes, she was in danger because of him, but he hadn’t meant to cause any of this. And this wasn’t worse than Adam leaving her in Albania. Strange, how her life could be in danger with Calan and she’d rather be with him than Adam.

  Calan caught her looking at him before she realized she was doing that. The tightness above his brow eased and a small smile teased her.

  A bump in the road jarred her and a car whizzed past them as Calan drove into a turn. Around the bend, the car had to swerve to miss another approaching from the other direction. That was the third time a driver had done that on their way here. And she thought drivers in the States were bad…

  “What’s your name?” Calan asked.

  “What?” It took her a moment to catch up to him. He meant her fake name. For a moment she was back in that hotel bar. “Oh. Mary Calhoun.”

  “Good girl.”

  Just as she was about to ask why, she saw the border station ahead. It was busy with activity. A line of vehicles waited to cross. People walked in front of the customs building.

  “Oh, God.” She’d never used illegal identification before. What if this didn’t work?

  He glanced over at her and must have seen her condition. Her heart hammered and her palms were sweaty and she couldn’t breathe.

  “It’ll be fine. Just don’t panic and make them suspicious,” he said.

  “It wasn’t fine at the airport.”

  “Let me do the talking. Give me the rental papers.”

  With shaky hands, she removed the documents from the glove box and handed them to him.

  Taking them and laying them on his thigh, he pulled behind a line of other vehicles. After a long wait, it was finally their turn. Calan handed their passports and car rental papers to a man in a glass-windowed booth, who studied them for what seemed an excruciatingly long amount of time. Then he peered into the car at Sadie, who held her breath so it wouldn’t look like she was breathing like a rabbit.

  “Pull over there,” he told Calan.

  Sadie got dizzy. As soon as Calan pulled away from the booth she let her held breath go and sucked in a deeper one. When Calan drove in front of the customs office and parked, she thought she was going to hyperventilate.

  “Calm down,” Calan ordered.

  “Oh, my God.” Sadie couldn’t catch her breath. She watched the door to the customs office for someone to come out and descend upon them. So far no one had.

  “They’re just bored. They aren’t going to keep us from crossing. We don’t have anything.”

  “They know we have fake passports.” Why else would they tell them to pull over?

  “No, they don’t.”

  “What about your gun?”

  “It’s in a safe place.”

  Was there such a thing? He probably still had it tucked in his pants. “They’re going to see where the helicopter shot at us.”

  “One little ding. Stop worrying.”

  Amazing. He was completely unruffled by this, confident that they’d be on their way in a few minutes. “Why are you so sure?”

  “Did you see the way that man looked at you? They just want to have some fun looking.”

  “What?”

  “Look at your legs in that dress. How often do you think they see that around here?”

  She glanced down at her knees exposed below the hemline of her dress. Really? That couldn’t be it. She looked around the rocky landscape beyond the customs building and then at the busy activity of the border station. The cars not parked near them waited to cross among cyclists with bags of groceries or other items packed in baskets or hanging from their handle bars.

  An officer approached their vehicle.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  “Stay calm,” Calan said.

  As if…

  “Open the back,” the man said in barely discernible English, leaning low to peer into the car at Sadie.

  Oh, God. She saw his gun in a hip holster and swallowed.

  Calan got out of the car and went to the back, opening it. Sadie twisted in her seat. She could barely see Calan and the officer. The uniformed man searched the now-empty trunk and then Calan closed it.

  The officer peered into the car again and saw the duffel on the back seat. He opened the door and eyed Sadie. His gaze went from her face down to what he could see of her legs past the two front seats. She wondered if he’d be able to see her erratic pulse. He returned his attention to the duffel bag.

  Unzipping the bag, the man looked inside. He didn’t dig into it, just peered inside and then zipped it shut again. Closing the door, he said, “Wait here,” to Calan.

  Calan got back into the car and waited with her. A few minutes later, the officer returned with their papers and handed them to Calan through the open window, once again ogling Sadie’s legs.

  “You free to go,” the officer said to Calan and then grinned at her.

  While Sadie felt like gagging, Calan thanked the man and backed away from the building, turned and drove down the road into Montenegro.

  “That was gross,” she said.

  Calan laughed. “Thanks for the diversion.”

  Fingering the soft cloth of a purple T-shirt on a crowded table, Sadie looked over the rest of the Afrodita Boutique’s wares. There was so much in the small space that it was hard to register everything. They’d gone to two other shops in Budva, Montenegro, and Calan held the bags from those. He stood behind her, watching as he had at the other shops.

  She plucked the shirt from a heaping pile and slung it over her arm. Next, she found a white skirt that would look good with that. Checking the size, she rummaged through the rack until she found one that would fit her. Slinging that over the T-shirt, she found some sandals and a pair of shorts. She didn’t need much to get her by. Shoes, underwear, a few clothing items and minimal accessories.

  Calan took the clothes and sandals from her when she handed them over. At first she’d worried he’d use the money he’d stolen to buy her some things to get her by, but instead, he’d used a credit card. The name on the card, she was sure, wasn’t his, but it showed a modicum of integrity that he hadn’t used dirty money.

  “You don’t like shopping, do you?”

  Startled, she looked over at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “We started this adventure a little over an hour ago and you’re almost finished.”

  “Not almost. We are finished. I don’t need anything else.” She was tired and ready to find a place to sleep.

  He took the items to the small counter near the back and gave them to the older man with a barrel chest and bushy white eyebrows.

  “I would have expected something else,” Calan said.

  The boutique owner’s eyes followed their conversation as he rang up the purchase.

  Sadie angled her head as she contemplated Calan. “Why? Just because my father is rich?” The truth was, tired or not, she never spent much time shopping. It warmed her that he’d noticed. He made her feel normal, unlike so many she’d been with before.

  “I wouldn’t put it so crassly, but yes. Why wouldn’t you like shopping if you have the money for it?”

  “I do like shopping.”

  “In a tornado sort of way.”

  She laughed a little at that. “I don’t make a fuss. I know what I like and what I don’t.”

  “You haven’t even tried anything on. How do you know everything’s going to fit?”

  “I can just tell.” She’d done a lot of shopping. She knew by the look and size of the clothes if they’d fit or not.

  “I have nice sweater for these,” the shop owner smiled along with his heavily-accented English. “For cool nights…?” His eyes
coaxed as they looked from her purchases to her.

  “This is enough, but thanks.” Sadie smiled.

  “You are from the United States, no?” the boutique owner asked.

  “Yes,” Sadie smiled again at the nice man.

  “What brings you to Montenegro? Honeymoon?”

  Sadie’s jaw froze open and for a stunned moment she didn’t know what to say. “Ah…no.”

  “You are American couple.” He nodded his approval. “Look nice together.”

  Sadie looked over at Calan, who looked at her. He recovered first.

  “Thank you.” He took the clear plastic bag with no markings on it and guided her out of the shop.

  It took her a few moments to stop thinking about how they looked together. Was it obvious even to strangers how well they hit it off? And then their situation entered her thoughts and ruined the fanciful speculation.

  Her stomach growled. And she was so tired. “Let’s go get something to eat and find a place to stay for the night.”

  “Already done. The place to stay anyway.”

  He’d called that woman again. Odie or whatever her name was. She seemed to have access to an endless bounty of resources, hinting that there was much more to Calan’s shady background than met the eye. He was part of some kind of organization that had deep pockets. The yacht he’d chartered, the private plane and now a place to stay in Montenegro. All were proof that money was not an issue.

  The only thing she wanted to know was what kind of organization did he work for? What was its purpose? If his character was any indication, she’d lean toward the good rather than the bad, but hey, she’d been known to be wrong before…

  He’d stolen money. He had a passport delicatessen in his duffel bag. He had a gun. And he didn’t answer all her questions. Not because her questions annoyed him, but because he had secrets. These glaring signs didn’t paint him a glossy picture. And yet, it was hard to think of him as anything other than an upstanding kind of man.

  They walked side by side along the narrow stone path. Stone buildings with white mortar windows and wood trim lined the walkway. Such a romantic setting. She covertly looked at Calan. He was big but he moved with smooth, sure strides, and his big hands held most of her bags.

  “Do you think we look like husband and wife?” she asked.

  “He was just trying to make a bigger sale.”

  “That’s a typical guy answer.”

  “All he had to do was look at your ring finger.”

  She crowded him as other people passed coming the opposite direction. “Just because a girl doesn’t wear a ring doesn’t mean she isn’t married.”

  She had to move closer to him again as a man rode by on his bicycle. “I think he really thought we looked married.”

  “Well, we aren’t.”

  She caught the tense set of his mouth and realized he wasn’t bored. He just didn’t want to talk about it. What was it with him?

  The cluster of old, white stone buildings complimented the city’s twenty-five hundred year history and diverted her attention for a while. They emerged from the passageway and she caught a glimpse of the shimmering waters of the Adriatic Sea in the distance, and above the roofline of the other buildings, she could see the historic bell tower from here. If only this were a vacation instead of the colossal mess it was.

  At the rental car, Calan opened the door for her. She slid onto the seat and put the bag in the back with the others. What had caused that change in him? He didn’t like talking about marriage. Maybe he was in a relationship gone sour? Was that related to his disenchantment with the military? She dared not to ask. Not now.

  Rummaging through the shopping bags on the bed, Sadie dug out something comfortable to wear to bed. She’d just taken a shower and felt like a new woman. Earlier, they’d eaten an Italian seafood dish Calan had gotten from a restaurant on the way here. She’d devoured everything on her plate. She probably should just go to bed now, but everything that had occurred since yesterday was a jumbled knot in her head. She needed more relaxation.

  Finding a long T-shirt that Calan had eyed in the clothing shop as if he preferred something sheer, she slipped it on and headed for the door of the room. With her hand on the door handle, she hesitated. What if he was still awake?

  She was so at odds with her teetering emotions about him. The nagging inclination that she stayed with him by choice wouldn’t leave her alone. Was she repeating the same mistake and making bad decisions? If she really wanted to get away from him, she could. She could at least try, anyway. She hadn’t even done that. Not with any great determination. It was he who kept her at his side, and that was disconcerting to say the least.

  Opening the door, she listened. It was quiet. Leaving the room, she walked down the hall from the master bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. Instead of a ramshackle place to hide for God only knew how long, Odie had found them a cozy, newly constructed villa. Comfortable. Nice. She could almost pretend they were on vacation.

  She passed the room Calan had claimed, hoping he was in it and she could have some alone time. Emerging into the living room, she spotted him sitting on the couch. He’d just put his cell phone on the coffee table and now looked at her.

  True to her torn heart, she walked over pale red floor tiles that stretched to a wall of windows adjacent to the kitchen as if a magnet drew her to him. Her bare feet sank into a contemporary and colorful rug that accented the white leather sectional where he sat.

  He watched her approach. An increasingly familiar warm glow expanded the closer she came to him. Sitting on the couch, she caught his pleased but questioning gaze.

  “Not tired?”

  “Oh, I’m tired. Just too wound up for sleep.”

  “Me, too.”

  While he turned on the television and began surfing the channels, she checked the windows. Off the blue, yellow and red dining area, a door led to a sprawling balcony and windows covered most the wall. All the blinds were closed.

  Earlier, she’d seen a pathway that wound its way between their villa and the one next to it and wondered if it led to the coast. Calan had told her the villa had a view of the sea. She’d love to take a long walk in the morning but doubted they’d have time. She didn’t want the wrong people to see them, either.

  Leaning back against the couch, she watched the channels change with each press of Calan’s thumb. Tourist channel, weather, an old movie in a foreign language.

  “What if Murati doesn’t return?”

  “He will.”

  “What if someone gets to him first?”

  “They won’t.”

  Rolling her head against the back of the couch, she looked at him. “Do you think he’s involved with whomever is after you?”

  He stopped surfing to return her look. Yeah, yeah, she was asking questions again.

  “Is there a ferry that leaves from somewhere near here?” she asked just to be annoying.

  He resumed surfing.

  “I’m sure we could find one,” she said.

  “I’m sure we could.” He sounded sarcastic.

  “I don’t understand why you think someone would follow me home.” The only thing she was sure of was that he had a deeply personal reason for not wanting her to go home.

  He stopped surfing to look over at her again. “You’re staying, so don’t argue about it anymore.”

  “I’m not arguing. I’m just saying, no one would follow me home if I took a ferry to Italy and went home.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Neither do you,” she countered.

  “You’d travel home with a fake passport?”

  She looked away, unable to keep her uncertainty from showing. “I don’t want to but I will.”

  “You want to get away from me that bad?”

  She lifted her head off the back of the couch and didn’t know what to say. She wanted to be with him, but not like this.

  Leaving the TV on a travel channel, Calan leaned
forward and put the remote down on the coffee table. “You’re staying.”

  “Why are you so worried?” Somehow she’d get him to talk.

  “They’re going to assume you know about the money.”

  She decided to go along with his reasoning for a little longer. Maybe something would compel him to tell her the truth. “So? If I leave without it, they have no reason to come after me.”

  “Even if they knew you didn’t take it with you, they’ll assume you know how to find me. And when they can’t find me, where do you think they’ll go for answers?”

  “You’re that sure they won’t find you?”

  He looked back at her from his slightly forward position on the couch in silent answer.

  Did he think he was that good? “They found out you were at the embassy with me.”

  That reminder cleared some of his overconfidence. He didn’t know who he was dealing with and until he did he had no way of knowing what they were capable of.

  No more tap dancing. It was time to get to the point. “Why is it so important to you that I stay?”

  After meeting her eyes for several seconds, he sighed and she saw him relent to something, some thought or knowledge that he’d kept from her until now.

  “There has to be a reason,” she persisted, leaning forward like him to bring her face closer to his. “You’re concerned for my safety, but more than that is driving you.”

  As he blinked, a shield vanished to reveal resignation filled with sorrow. He was going to tell her.

  She dared not move or say anything, just let him take his time to form thoughts into words, thoughts she could feel were deeply rooted and painful to bring to the surface.

  “I’ve been after a man for a long time,” he finally said. “For years.”

  “Who?”

  “A terrorist.”

  Given all that had happened, his revelation came as no great surprise. “Why were you after him?”