Trust No One

by Velvet Vaughn

  "Mama," Dorian chastised, glancing at Kendall. Her cheeks had stained a pretty color of pink. "Ms. Buckley is a client, nothing else. You're embarrassing her."

  His mother ignored the reprimand, continuing to fuss over Kendall, filling her plate with fragrant gyros. Dorian sighed. There was no derailing his mother when she was in matchmaking mode.

  The lunch crowd was in full swing. The restaurant was packed with hungry patrons sampling the best Greek food this side of Athens. Maybe he was biased, but he had reason to be…his mother was an outstanding cook and she demanded the best from the chefs she hired to duplicate her recipes.

  Utensils clanging against china warred with the din of conversation and the upbeat Greek tunes wafting from speakers placed strategically around the room. His mother included a mix of classical, folk and contemporary music, giving the restaurant the feel of an upscale Greek festival. Towering plants placed throughout the room gave a lush tropical feel, candles added a touch of romance and the smells that filled the air could only be described as sinful.

  His mother had seated them in what she called her "Love Booth". Situated so that it was secluded from other patrons by a wall of plants, the half-round bench seat allowed a couple to sit side by side while sampling each other’s plates. The lighting was dim, candlelight making it even more intimate and cozy. That, added to the way Kendall looked with her smoky blue eyes and raven hair made the room close in on him.

  Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

  "If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to talk to Costa." Dante would make sure Hillary, his mom and sister made it safely to the airport this evening for their flight to Greece. Daphne had been all excited to go…until she found out Costa wouldn't be accompanying them on the trip. Now she wanted to stay behind. Currently she was glued to his side like Velcro.

  Costa glanced up with a bemused expression as he approached. Daphne looked equal parts pissed and frightened as he slid into the booth across from them.

  "Nice look," he said, meaning it. Daphne glared at him like he’d just spilled all her secrets. Gone were the purple streaks, nose and eyebrow rings and Goth clothing. Even though he knew the facial piercings were fake, he was glad to see them gone. She looked like a normal teenager in a sweater and jeans. She might have on a bit too much makeup, especially around her eyes, but she looked too damn beautiful for her own good.

  "Daph, leave Dante alone. Let him eat in peace." He pointedly eyed the half-eaten gyro on Costa’s plate.

  "I'm making his job easier," she ground out mutinously.

  "Yeah, and how’s that?"

  "He’s my bodyguard. With my body close, it’s easier to guard." She enunciated each word clearly as if talking to an idiot. He almost laughed but knew she would not appreciate him finding humor in her attempt at seducing a man fifteen years her senior…a man who knew better than to get involved with a minor.

  "Daphne."

  "Fine," she retorted, tossing a napkin down on the table. "I’ll just be over there, trying not to get kidnapped."

  Dorian sighed as his sister stomped away from the booth like a child. It reminded him of when she was a little girl who thought she was a princess, always demanding her way—and she usually got it.

  When he turned back around, Costa was chuckling. "You’ve got your hands full with that one," he said, pointing at Daphne with his fork. He dug into his food and groaned. "If she can cook anything like your mother, I may have to look her up in a couple of years."

  "And I may have to break both of your legs and your neck."

  "Relax, Demon, I’m kidding…but not about this food." He took another bite and groaned in ecstasy.

  Though they hadn’t been on the same SEALs team, he and Costa had become good friends, working together on several assignments and hanging out after work. They had many of the same interests and Dorian enjoyed spending time with Dante and his son, Kai. He trusted him to watch his six and was glad he would be staying behind to help them uncover who murdered Kendall's friends.

  "Everything set for tonight?"

  Costa nodded. "I called a contact in Athens. He'll make sure they arrive safely and take care of provisions." Code for procuring weapons for Hillary.

  Dorian relaxed. "I appreciate it."

  "So, fill me in on the story."

  Dorian told him everything that had happened from the night Kendall showed up at his window. Costa listened intently, taking it all in. Then he whistled. "So you're going to develop the film after you leave here?"

  He nodded. "Daph has a darkroom upstairs."

  "Whatever's on that roll was important enough to kill over."

  "Yeah." He glanced over at Kendall, glad to see his mother had left her alone. Daphne was now chatting away happily.

  "I’ll give you a call once the plane takes off."

  "Great." He slid from the booth and stood. "Thanks again for doing this. I know you don't take assignments that keep you away from home but I appreciate it."

  "No problem, bro," Costa said, bumping knuckles. "Glad to help."

  #

  Kendall was stuffed…but that didn’t stop her from shoveling in another bite of the most decadent, rich Thiples she had ever tasted. The fried honey pastries were light and sweet. After she cleaned her plate, she looked up to find Dorian staring at her with an amused look on his face. "What?"

  "Good?"

  "Oh yeah." She wiped her mouth. "I’d lick the plate if it were socially acceptable."

  When he didn’t laugh at her joke, she chanced another look. This time, his eyes were filled with a burning intensity. She couldn’t look away.

  "You," he cleared his throat and tried again. "You have a little cinnamon right here." His thumb reached out and brushed across the corner of her lips, lingering in a light caress. She couldn’t stop the gasp that rushed from her parted lips. When he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked the spice off, she felt the pull all the way down to her toes.

  She didn’t know who moved first but suddenly his hand slid under her hair to grasp the back of her head as hers did the same to him. Then their lips were meeting and oh God, it was sweet. His lips were masterful, unrelenting. The kiss was more intense, more passionate than any she had ever shared.

  He broke away panting, his forehead touching hers, his hand still grasping her head. Then he released her and scooted away so they were no longer touching.

  "That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry."

  It took a minute for her mouth to work but she finally managed to form words. "Don’t do this again, Demarchis. I'm getting the two-headed troll feeling again." When she felt more in control, she looked up at him. Red rode high on his tan cheeks and his eyes were darkened with desire. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to fling herself at him and knock him over so she could taste those lips again.

  He looked away first. "Definitely not a troll." Clearing his throat, he added, "We should get going…get that film developed. Let me just say goodbye to Mom and Daphne first."

  Kendall grabbed her purse and scooted out of the booth after him. They found Daphne and Mama Demarchis in the kitchen. After hearty hugs and well wishes, they left with a cooler of food Dorian’s mom had prepared for them to take back to the cabin, and headed to Daphne’s darkroom.

  Dorian unlocked the door and flipped on the low-wattage lighting. Pictures hung from clips attached to wires strung all around the room. She stepped closer to look. The pictures were incredible, intense, catching subjects with an artistic eye. There were pictures of Chicago landmarks taken at interesting angles. Several shots of dogs at play where Daphne captured their natural exuberance. She'd snapped photos of people on the street going about their daily lives, unaware they were being photographed.

  "Daphne took all of these?"

  Dorian smiled with pride. "Yeah, she’s really talented."

  "That’s an understatement." She moved to the next row of pictures. "She could have a showing in a museum." Her eyes zeroed in on a set of candid photos of D
orian. He'd obviously been unaware of his sister snapping away. Oh my, he looked good. She glanced at him and wondered if Daphne would miss this one of him staring out a window. She decided she wouldn’t and removed the picture from the clip. She'd just slid it into her purse when he turned around with a bottle of developer in his hand.

  "She took most of these with her digital, but she still likes to work with film, lucky for us. Let’s see what was so important that Hank Colbert lost his life.

  #

  Dorian and Kendall sat on the floor and talked as they waited for the negatives to dry. Kendall told him stories of her childhood growing up. She related how she lost her father to cancer when she was young, and how it was her and her mom against the world until she remarried. He shared memories of his parents and their marriage/divorce cycle of his childhood. They laughed and talked and when the buzzer sounded, he couldn’t believe how fast time passed.

  Removing the negatives from the film clip, he slid them into the scanner and pulled up the images on the computer. The pictures were obviously taken at night without a flash, so the lighting was poor. But there was illumination coming from a bright moon, possibly a full one. He made a mental note to check to see when the last full moon occurred. The figures were unmistakable. Two men wearing black ski masks carried an object covered with a tarp or blanket of some kind to the edge of the lake. It was impossible to tell what the object was or the identities of the men.

  They loaded the bundle into a small rowboat and paddled to the middle of the lake. In the next few photos, it was impossible to tell what the men were doing. The last photo was taken from a few steps away, though the men didn't realize they were being captured on film. Colbert must've moved where he could get a good shot of them. They were walking away from the edge of the water, one man carrying the blanket. Whatever their cargo had been, it now rested at the bottom of the lake.

  "Even from the close-up, there's no way to tell who the men are," Kendall said from over his shoulder. "How did Hank find them to blackmail them?"

  "He took the shots from the shore, so he probably followed them to their car, got their plate number or something."

  "Too bad he didn’t take a picture of that," she grumbled.

  He chuckled in agreement. Their job would've been much easier.

  Using Daphne’s photo program, he panned closer to the men. There was no way to tell hair or eye color. They did a good job of disguising themselves. Plus, it was just too dark.

  "Wait, zoom in here." Kendall pointed to the screen. He did as she asked and waited for the pixels to clear. "That could be a scar."

  With the poor quality of lighting, it was hard to tell much. But it did look like there was something on the wrist. "You know what this means, don’t you?"

  "We're going back into that lake?"

  "Right in one."

  #

  After leaving the military supply store where his friend worked, Dorian and Kendall donned their gear as they waited for Dante to arrive. He called earlier to let him know that his mother and sister were safely on a plane to Greece. Hillary would check in as soon as they landed.

  Dorian was a little leery of another wetsuit so soon after the last one. The cuts were going to burn like hell, not to mention the gunshot wound. Kendall was putting hers on in the bathroom and then she was coming out to help ease his over his wounds. He'd donned a pair of Lycra running shorts, both for Kendall’s sake and for the fact that he refused to go commando in a suit worn by no telling how many other men. He had no problem when it was his own.

  The bathroom door creaked open on a breeze and from the angle of the mirror, he could see Kendall’s bare back just before she tugged the pull cord and closed the zipper. She ran her hands over her suit, adjusting the neoprene to the proper fit. Then she bent over and secured her hair in a ponytail, all the while clueless to him ogling her body. She shouldn’t look sexy in her Henderson Titanium wetsuit, but damned if it didn’t hug her every curve and hollow.

  He managed to avert his eyes as she glanced up and noticed the door. Pushing it open, she asked, "Are you ready to put on your suit?"

  He turned his back to her and eased the suit up over an uncomfortable bulge. She didn’t need to see what her bare back had done to the state of his lower body. He jerked when her soft hands brushed his skin as she carefully arranged the suit over his cuts and bruises, stopping to run her fingers over a wound every now and then. He gritted his teeth. She clucked over his bullet wound, pausing to scurry into the bathroom for a fresh bandage.

  Finally—thank God—the suit was up and the torture over. Footsteps sounded on the porch. Oh goody, his chaperone had arrived. After he let Costa in, he showed him prints of the negatives from the roll of film.

  "Body dump?"

  "That'd be my guess," Dorian agreed.

  "So what, you want to find out what’s down there before you call the police?"

  "Yeah. Whatever is down there was important enough to slaughter an old man."

  "Got an extra set of gear? I’ll dive with you."

  "No need." Kendall walked into the room. "I’m going down."

  Costa raised his brows, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Okay. I’ll pilot the boat…you do have one, don’t you?"

  Dorian smiled wickedly. "What’s a SEAL without a Zodiac?"

  With a big grin, Costa lifted his hand for a knuckle bump. "Hooyah! Damn, Demon, you’re good."

  "Demon?" Kendall inquired.

  Dorian ignored the question. "Ready?"

  #

  Dorian parked in a wooded area away from the marina and they hiked to the shore. With clouds shrouding the moon, the night was eerily dark, making navigation through the dense trees rough. Dorian led the way with Dante bringing up the rear. Their flashlights were powerful but still, Kendall tripped over a fallen log and crashed into Dorian’s injured back. Dante reached out and steadied her, but not before she heard Dorian’s harsh intake of breath. Sorry," she whispered. He nodded and kept going. How did these two see so well to navigate flawlessly in the pitch black? What were they, part bat?

  She tripped two more times before they finally reached the water’s edge. The Zodiac was right where Dorian’s friend told him it would be. Per Dorian’s request, he'd removed the motor and included paddles. They didn’t want the sound of the engine attracting attention. Their equipment and air tanks were stashed inside.

  Dorian checked the tanks while Dante slid a backpack off his shoulder and peeled open the sides to remove an underwater digital camera.

  "I still think I should be going down there," he argued.

  "We secured the suits and tanks before we knew you'd be able to make it," Dorian said for what had to be the twentieth time.

  Dante mumbled under his breath as he helped Dorian strap on the gear. Dorian then turned and helped her adjust the heavy pack on her back. Once they had everything fastened, Dorian helped her into the unsteady inflatable boat. The weight of the pack and the rocking of the boat caused her to pitch backwards. She'd be in the water if Dorian hadn't reached out and steadied her just in the nick of time. She quickly sat down and made room for them to come aboard, which they did with no problem. Dorian perched on the port side with one foot in and one out. Dante unhooked the line and then took the starboard position across from him. They paddled to the middle of the lake in perfect synchronicity.

  "From the pictures, it looks like they dumped the object in that area over there," Dorian said, pointing. "We should stop here to keep the boat out of sight."

  "It could take a while to search so make sure you check the air levels," Dante instructed as Kendall moved in place beside Dorian. Once they had their mouthpieces in, Dorian counted down from three and they fell back into the water.

  Kendall experienced a small burst of panic and she almost forgot how to breathe. The water was deathly black, the sound below the water silent as a grave. Dorian flicked on his head lamp and grabbed her shoulders, pointing to his eyes, making her focus on him. It wo
rked. She instantly relaxed. She was an experienced diver, but worry of what they might discover unsettled her.

  She clicked on her head lamp and they slowly descended to the bottom of the lake. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the direction and they began kicking. Their high-powered beams cut through the murky water. Fish darted in their path as they trained their lights along the bottom, looking for anything that could've been concealed inside that blanket.

  There were tires and shoes, rubbish, an old cooler—people were slobs—littering the bottom, but so far, nothing that would be worth killing over. Dorian consulted a compass and angled to the right. They'd been down for almost thirty minutes when he stopped suddenly and squeezed her hand. He flipped on a hand-held flashlight he removed from a belt on his suit and trained it on the bottom of the lake.

  Kendall’s breath caught in her lungs and she panicked. Dorian grabbed her flailing shoulders and tapped her mask, pointing from his eyes to hers, forcing her to focus on him. Again, his presence calmed her, reminded her to breathe evenly. She took several calming breaths. Once she felt in control again she nodded. He returned the nod and removed the digital camera from his dive pack. He handed the flashlight to her and indicated for her to shine it so he could take pictures. She swallowed and lifted the beam to the beautiful face.

  She almost had to close her eyes again at the gruesome display. The woman was dressed in an expensive evening gown, her features bloated but otherwise normal looking, long brown hair drifting around her face as she swayed gently with the current.

  The other unmistakable feature was the extended stomach. Some sick, twisted bastard tied an anchor to Pamela Hofstra's leg and discarded her like unwanted trash to the bottom of the lake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dante waited in the boat, his eyes tracking the shore, watching for any movement. He didn’t mind being the lookout, but he would much rather be in the water. He had trouble sitting still. Recon had never been his strong suit. He'd rather be in the middle of the action.