Pleasure’s Fury: Masters’ Admiralty, book 3

by Mari Carr

  “I watched a lot of American TV and movies when I was learning English,” Karl said.

  The man was devolving and not making sense. Trying not to damage his skin, Antonio finished freeing his arms and dropped to one knee to work on his legs.

  “Ah, wait, is that a Doctor Who reference?” Leila asked.

  “If you aren’t going to understand my TV and movie references, I’m afraid there won’t be a second date.” The final word ended in a hiss of pain as Antonio pulled the zip tie away from Karl’s ankle. The restraint had sliced into his skin and was stuck in the narrow wound.

  Antonio’s jaw flexed and he moved faster, freeing the other leg and then shooting to his feet. Antonio yanked away the IV needle, which seemed to be haphazardly stuck in his skin rather than in a vein. The last restraint was on Karl’s head. With a quick snip, it was gone.

  “Up,” Antonio ordered. “We’re leaving.” He slid one arm around Leila’s waist and held out his other hand to Karl.

  Karl leaned his head forward, grimacing. He had yet to move his arms or legs.

  “Karl.” Antonio put steel in the words. “Up.”

  “Go.” Karl turned his head, as stiff as a creepy robot. “I don’t think…I don’t think I can walk.”

  “I’m not leaving without you,” Leila snarled.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “You’ve given me a fighting chance,” Karl was saying. “I’ll try and follow you, but if there’s a bomb, I’ll only slow you down.”

  The muscle under Antonio’s eye started to twitch. “We do not have time for this.” Before Karl could object, he reached out—letting go of Leila for a moment—and grabbed Karl under the arms, yanking him up and out of the chair.

  Karl screamed in agony, the sound escaping from between clenched teeth and lips pulled back in a grimace.

  Antonio jerked Karl’s arm over his shoulder, holding the other man up with an arm around his ribs. The other arm he hooked around Leila’s waist.

  There were patches of Karl’s skin and thin lines of blood on the arms and seat of the chair.

  With a grim determination, Antonio started for the door. Leila was able to stumble most of the way, her body still so terribly cold against his side.

  He dragged Karl.

  He didn’t give himself time to stop and worry about how he’d get them up the stairs, he just started moving. His left arm, hooked around Karl, was already straining from the effort of hauling the man. Karl was taller than he’d thought, with broad shoulders thick with muscle. Muscle that was all too visible, as were the bones in his cheeks and ribs.

  They started up the stairs.

  He’d take care of them—food, water, hospital. Later, he’d be as gentle and caring as he knew how to be, but right now he couldn’t be gentle. They had to get out. That meant ignoring Karl’s agonized groans and continuing to drag him up, possibly injuring him further.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Leila was moving mostly under her own power, though he had to give her a little nudge to help her get up each step. The broken door at the top of the steps gave him a clear line of sight, enough so that he didn’t stop, but hauled both of them through the house.

  They made it three steps before he smelled the smoke…and his blood ran cold.

  “Fire,” Leila said.

  Antonio looked around. The air was hazy with the first hints of smoke, but he didn’t see flames. He had no idea where it was coming from. The front door was visible, only a few meters away.

  Leila made a desperate sound and took a step in that direction.

  If he’d been the one to booby-trap the house, he’d have started with the front door. He and Ciril had run out the back door, but the hallway that direction was already thick with smoke.

  Antonio yanked her back against his side. “We’ll go out the window.”

  “Can’t,” Karl gasped.

  “You will,” Antonio informed him grimly.

  “I’ll push you out if that’s what it takes,” Leila said. Bold words coming from someone who would have fallen over if she wasn’t being held up.

  “Roll me,” Karl said. “Gently.”

  Antonio smiled in the increasingly smoke-filled hallway. These two were fighters, and he liked it.

  They were quick with the banter when standing still, but once Antonio had them moving again, they both fell silent, probably due to pain.

  The room with the TV had seemed the most inhabited, the place Ciril would have been the most comfortable. That made it the most likely place to be trap free.

  Antonio hauled them to one of two windows, propped Leila against the wall, and then smashed out the glass of the window with his elbow. Releasing Karl for a moment, Antonio stooped to grab an empty bottle, surprised that Karl remained standing. His face was contorted with a grimace, but he stood on his own.

  Antonio gave him a nod of encouragement, and then knocked out the remaining glass with the bottle. He snatched a dirty rug off the floor, ignored the bugs that came off it, and folded it in half, draping it over the bottom of the window, protecting them from any remaining shards.

  He reached for Leila.

  “Karl first,” she ordered.

  Antonio picked her up and shoved her toward the window. “You first. You’ll have to help him on the other side.”

  At that, she nodded. That she thought that made sense when she didn’t even have the use of her hands and arms told him a lot about her mental state. He had to scoop her up in his arms and thread her legs out the window. With her bare butt on the carpet-covered sill, he helped her turn onto her front and then slide out. He kept his hands hooked under her arms, now wishing he’d taken the time to free them from behind her back, and lowered her.

  The window was only four feet off the dusty ground outside, and once he’d lowered her, she was able to stand.

  He turned to Karl.

  There was a loud pop, then the sound of shattering glass, followed by the roar of heat and air.

  Tick.

  Time was up.

  Antonio grabbed Karl and shoved him headfirst out the window, hoping the other man didn’t break his neck.

  A wave of bulbous, dark smoke rolled into the room. Somewhere in the house, there was another pop and the tinkling sound of falling glass.

  Antonio grabbed the upper frame of the window and propelled himself feet first out of the house.

  He landed and turned to his charges. Leila was leaning against the house, the red dust sticking to her damp skin and coating her soaking-wet hair. She looked worse now than she had a few minutes ago, or maybe that was the lack of light. Dark had fallen while he was inside, and the little bit of illumination from a security light somewhere at the back of the house cast shadows that made her face look like a corpse’s.

  He looked up and realized it wasn’t just the security light. There was a red tinge to the air, thanks to the flames shooting out of the windows of the second floor.

  Karl made a snarling noise and pushed up from where he knelt. He actually looked a bit better, and was moving, but that was probably adrenaline. Karl took a staggering step, then put his arm around Leila and pulled her away from the house.

  Antonio slid between them, separating them and putting an arm around each.

  “Come.” Antonio started forward, moving with more care than they had when they’d been inside.

  “At least…there was…no bomb.” Leila had to take a breath every other word.

  “Hopefully Six is dying a painful death by fire.” Karl might have been trying for a light tone, but there was a note of hate laced through the words.

  “He’s gone,” Antonio told them. They were almost to the trees. Maybe if he could find someplace safe to put them, he could go for the car. He’d have to trigger the booby traps on his way to the car so he’d be able to drive in. Then again, maybe Ciril had disarmed them as he fled.

  “You let him go?” Karl asked.

  “Shoot…him?” Leila’s words were weak.

&n
bsp; Their outrage made Antonio’s lips quirk in sardonic amusement. “It was capture him or save you two.”

  Antonio pulled them through the first line of trees, until they were hidden, but still able to see glimpses of the house and the spreading fire through the trunks.

  He deposited Leila on a fallen branch. Karl put one hand on a tree and managed to stay upright.

  “Evidence,” Leila wheezed. “In the house.”

  Antonio looked back the way they’d come. Without Ciril himself, whatever was in that house might be their only lead. He looked at Karl, then fished his keys out of his pocket and drew his gun, setting them both down by Karl’s feet. “Stay here.”

  Antonio started for the house. He wouldn’t go in if it was too dangerous, but maybe he’d be able to grab something.

  He’d taken two steps when the night echoed with the sound of popping.

  Then the house exploded.

  Chapter Six

  Leila lay on the backseat of Antonio’s car, fighting to stop shivering. He’d produced a blanket from the boot and wrapped it around her. She’d tried to give it to Karl, who was also naked, but he refused, making some weak joke about her chattering teeth driving him mad. Antonio dug out a spare T-shirt, helping Karl pull it on.

  When Antonio handed him a protein bar, Karl had devoured it in two bites, then chugged a whole bottle of water. She’d done the same, forcing down the calories and water only because she knew her body needed them.

  Every inch of her hurt—even her damn hair. And despite the fact Antonio had the heat in the vehicle cranked up to high, none of it seemed to penetrate the bone-chilling cold.

  After the house exploded, Antonio had left her and Karl by the tree, heading down the driveway to recover his Alfa Romeo. She thought he’d made some comment to Karl about setting off a few booby traps along the way after he’d returned, but she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. Exhaustion and pain were winning. And she hated that.

  “It’s not quite four hours to Gorizia. I’d feel more comfortable taking you to a hospital in Italy.”

  Karl nodded. “Okay.”

  “Can you make it that far?” Antonio asked.

  “Yes.” Despite the lines of pain etched on his face, Karl’s voice revealed a strength that impressed her.

  From her vantage point, she was only able to see the back of Antonio’s seat and the side of Karl’s face. Antonio had gently placed Karl in the passenger seat and reclined it as much as he could while leaving room for her bent knees. Karl was twisted oddly, half on his side.

  Mentally, she kept telling herself to sit up. Lying in the fetal position was making her feel weak, but her body wouldn’t respond. Pride was not winning the internal argument.

  “Leila?” Antonio asked.

  “I can make it.” She wasn’t sure of that. She’d been in fights before, but the punches she’d taken in the past felt like swats from a pillow compared to the beating she’d suffered at Six’s hands.

  “There’s a hospital in Gorizia, just over the border. The two of you should try to sleep until then.”

  Leila’s eyes were already closed, but she’d been fighting the need to fall asleep, her protective instincts telling her she needed to remain alert, prepared, even though the danger had passed. With Antonio’s permission, her body relaxed, and she managed to drift into a fitful rest, one where she wavered between the states of being asleep and awake constantly. Every tiny bump or slight turn of the vehicle shifted her, producing more pain. Twice, she roused herself with her own groans of agony.

  Both times, Antonio said her name—just her name—and she drifted away again.

  The next time she awoke, it was to the sound of Antonio speaking in a hushed voice. Given the long silent pauses between each statement, she assumed he was on the phone.

  “Their families need to know they are safe.” Pause.

  “They need medical care.” Pause.

  “I’ll stay with them.” Pause.

  “I’m not a doctor. They need—” Pause.

  Antonio sighed. “I understand. Yes.”

  The call appeared to have ended.

  “What’s wrong?” Karl asked, and Leila realized he was awake too. She tried to push herself upright, her loud, pained breaths drawing the attention of both men.

  “Lay down, Leila,” Antonio said. She could see his face through the rearview mirror. His brows were furrowed with concern.

  She shook her head. “Who was on the phone?”

  “My superior. The security minister of Rome.”

  Leila waited, but he didn’t say more.

  Karl cleared his throat. “Did you two have a nice chat?”

  Leila’s lips twitched, and Antonio made a small noise of amusement.

  “A package was delivered to the offices of Cohortes Praetorianae. It is a security company. I work there, as does the security minister and the other security officers.” It was the longest statement she’d heard from Antonio.

  “The Praetorian Guard,” Karl translated. “A good name for a company acting as the front for Rome’s assassins. Though…” Karl’s voice changed, taking on a studious air. “The Praetorian Guard were bodyguards, closer in function to our knights. If the naming were to be based on historical concepts, in Rome, I would call the—”

  “The package,” Leila interrupted. “What was in the package?”

  “It was a threat.”

  If Leila had been able to, she would have grabbed Antonio and tried to shake the information from him.

  “Threat?” Karl asked, when it was clear Antonio didn’t want to give them more details.

  “It’s being handled. But we will not stop at the border.”

  Leila snorted, then winced. “That won’t work. What was in the package?”

  “Photographs of you and Karl. Unconscious. I assume they were taken when you were incapacitated.”

  “What else?” Leila persisted. Antonio’s reluctance to give them more details told her whatever it was, it was bad.

  “A photograph of this car where I’d hidden it in the trees.”

  Leila’s stomach knotted. “If he knows what car you have, he could be tracking us.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s more than that,” Karl said quietly. “Six knows that the Cohortes Praetorianae is a Masters’ Admiralty company. He knows who you are, Antonio.”

  “It’s something he shouldn’t know.” Antonio sounded grim.

  “But why can’t we stop at the hospital?” Karl asked. “Leila needs a doctor.”

  “You need a doctor.”

  “I’m…well, yes. I’m relatively certain I do need a doctor.” The tone of his voice made it all too clear it cost Karl something to admit that.

  Antonio cleared his throat. “There’s more.”

  “Ah, and here I thought the situation had reached peak horror,” Karl said.

  “There was a crime scene photo.” Antonio took a breath, but before Leila could jump in and demand details, he kept talking. “Do you know about the murder of the trinity in Rome? Before the admirals died?”

  “Yes,” Leila answered.

  “It was a photo of the cave where they were left. On the back, there was a message. La storia si ripete sempre.”

  “History always repeats itself,” Karl translated in a whisper.

  Leila considered the implications. “Six isn’t going to let us go. He intends to finish the job.”

  That statement was met with grim silence.

  “Wait, how far is it from here to Rome?”

  “Five, six hours,” Antonio said.

  “Then how did Six get there to drop it off?” Leila asked.

  “He didn’t. The images and instructions for delivery were sent to a messenger service. Paid in bitcoin, anonymous email account,” Antonio said.

  “So he could be anywhere, and having the images delivered is just a way of proving how much he knows about us,” Karl said.

  Antonio nodded. “Rome believes you and
Karl are still in danger.”

  Karl glanced at her. It was the first time he’d looked back at her since they’d entered the car. From the way he clenched his jaw, she realized how much it hurt him to turn his head. Their eyes met for a moment.

  This man had been a stranger to her yesterday. Yet now she felt closer to him than anyone she’d ever known. It was an odd feeling, one she wasn’t used to. Leila was a sniper. She worked alone, perfectly capable of watching her own back.

  That had never made her feel lonely until now, when she was with Karl. And Antonio.

  Karl gave her a weak smile, then he glanced in Antonio’s direction. “Not just us. He included the photo of your car. It would appear you’re now the third.”

  Leila studied Antonio’s face through the mirror, saw the grim determination in his eyes. “There’s a house in Venice that the Masters’ Admiralty keeps for…situations like this. We’ve been directed to go there.”

  “I hear Venice is beautiful in the spring.”

  “You need medical care,” Antonio said. “But the risk is too great.”

  Leila smiled at Karl’s joke, paying for it when it reopened the split in her lip. She tasted the tang of her own blood and it fueled an emotion she rarely suffered, typically crushed out by her courage and pride.

  Fear.

  Six had captured her, taken her, despite her strength, her training. He’d managed to best Karl, whose intelligence impressed her. He’d escaped from Antonio, and then, instead of running and hiding, he’d walked right up to a Masters’ Admiralty company and delivered a threat, only hours after escaping.

  Leila rubbed her side, the constant ache a harsh reminder. Her ribs were seriously bruised, maybe even cracked or broken. She was still dehydrated and, by the look of the bruises, she had a fair amount of subcutaneous bleeding. She also might have some damage from lack of circulation in her arms and legs.

  Karl was in even worse shape. She’d caught a glimpse of what looked like a huge black blister on the underside of his arm. Whatever that was, it needed to be treated, and soon.

  Recovery would take time. Something Six knew. He wouldn’t wait, wouldn’t give them time to lick their wounds. No doubt he was searching for them now. And when he found them, he would attack, take them in their weakened states.