A Thousand Kisses Deep (26 page)

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Authors: Wendy Rosnau

BOOK: A Thousand Kisses Deep
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"Don't ask me anything," she whispered. "Just hold me."

The words trembled in her throat, and Sly drew her against him. Lowering his head, he said, "You need to trust me. Trust that I want what's best for you."

She turned in his arms. "Best for me, or best for you and
Merrick
?"

"It could be the same thing. Let me help you."

Sly studied her face. She was hiding something, something important. For her own good she needed to share it with him.

He'd just finished going over the file for a second time, but like Merrick, he hadn't found anything alarming, or that would explain why an Onyxx agent with a family, who appeared to be happy, had killed his wife, then faked his own death, along with his daughter's, to become the Chameleon.

"I need to tell you something," he said. "I need to share something with you."

"What?"

"I never told you how
Merrick
got to
Paros
, but I think you should know that the
Ventura
is here in port, and it's likely that someone has reported to Parish that we're here."

"The
Ventura
's
here?" She turned away from him to search the harbor.

She was looking in the wrong direction and he said, "Over there," then took her by the shoulders and turned her a quarter-turn to the left. "A hundred yards. See it?"

"Yes, I see it."

He turned her to face him. "I need to tell you something else.
Merrick
was hiding out on the
Ventura
.
He jumped on board after he saw your father leave Santorini on a yacht called the
Pearl
.
He told me that early the following morning the
Pearl
and the
Ventura
rendezvoused at sea."

"And?"

"And your father boarded the
Ventura
to speak to Simon and Melita.
Merrick
said the Chameleon appeared angry, and that he wasn't able to hear the exchange. Only watch."

"Watch what?"

"Nemo beaten to death."

"No! Oh, God. Did my father do it?"

"No. Simon did it."

"How could he!"

Sly pulled her into his arms when she started to cry, but she quickly jerked away from him. "When did you learn this?"

"Earlier today."

"It was in the message
Merrick
sent you when we were at the cove, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"I don't know. I—"

"'Trust me, Evy. I can help you,'" she mocked.

Sly wanted to reach out to her, but instinct told him she wasn't about to let him touch her right now. She was far too angry. "I didn't tell you because I knew it would upset you and I was trying to spare you."

"Spare me?" She laughed. "Spare me because you care about me, right?"

"You know I do."

"You're good, Sly McEwen. Very good at lying. Almost as good as…" She shook her head. "For the record, I never trusted you. Trust is like friendship. It's an expensive luxury. A fool's luxury."

"Your father—"

"No more! I have nothing else to say to you. I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

Eva heard the bedroom door open and she sat up quickly and looked at the clock. It was twelve-thirty, and she had been sleeping soundly for at least two hours. "You don't really think I'm going to let you share this bed with me, do you?" she asked the minute Sly turned on the light next to the bed.

"This is my room."

"Go sleep with
Merrick
tonight."

"This is my bed."

"Fine. Then I'll sleep on the couch." She tossed back the sheet and climbed out of the berth. Aware that she was topless, wearing only the black thong she had worn beneath the sheer bodysuit in Santorini, she reached for the white blouse on the end of the bed that she'd taken from the room above Christos. But before she could pull it on, Sly grabbed it out of her hand and tossed it behind him to the floor.

Eva attempted to retrieve it, but he quickly hauled her off her feet. One second she was in his arms, and the next she was airborne, landing on the mattress so hard she bounced.

"Don't move," he warned when she started to sit up.

"I'm not sleeping in this bed with you," she promised. "You're not touching me."

"I'm tired, and my arm hurts. This is my bed."

"Whine to
Merrick
, maybe he'll give you a sucker."

He swore; unsnapped his jeans. "Whether you like it or not, we're sharing this bed. Odds are, sometime during the night you'll get needy and want to snuggle." He offered her a smug smile. "Care to make a bet?"

Eva grabbed one of the pillows and covered her breasts at the same time she shoved herself into the corner of the berth. His words stung and she tried not to let it show. Feeling his eyes on her, knowing he knew her far better than anyone, she said, "I can live through a night of torture. I'm used to cruel and unusual, remember?"

He frowned, his voice softening. "Yes, I remember. You've hung by your wrists in a clothes chute for ten hours at the end of a belt, and…"

"…lived to tell about it," she finished. "A real survivor. That's me."

"Well, tonight, Evy, you're going to have to survive my sleeping next to you. And if you feel like snuggling you won't have to make too much noise to get my attention. I'm a light sleeper."

With that, he slid his jeans to the floor, turned off the light, then climbed naked beneath the sheet and gave her his back.

It wasn't long before Sly's body began to heat up the bed. Not long after that, the scent of him wrapped around Eva and she began to remember … and ache.

She struggled with the carnal need burning between her thighs, with the ache in her chest. She battled both demons, determined to win.

She had known her time with Sly McEwen would end soon. Had known there was no way to prepare for it.

Against her better judgment, she slid beneath the sheet and curled her body against him. She waited to be humiliated, sure he would toss cruel words at her soon. She would suffer whatever he deemed fair, she told herself, as long as he didn't deny her his arms tonight, or his body.

He never spoke when he rolled over and pulled her close. Nothing before or after he kissed her. He just continued to overwhelm her with his warm lips and gentle hands as he made love to her.

Made love to her as if he knew it would be the last time.

Chapter 18

«
^
»

"
W
hat
time did she leave?"

Sly finished pouring himself a cup of coffee, then turned to see
Merrick
standing in the middle of the galley rubbing his left temple. "Around four. I've been in contact with Bjorn. He tailed her to the
Ventura
.
It doesn't look like they intend to sail."

"Then maybe the Chameleon is here,"
Merrick
said.

"Or somewhere close by," Sly offered.

He hadn't been crazy about
Merrick
's idea to use Eva as bait. At first he'd refused to listen—but then just before
midnight
Bjorn had sent him a message that he was alive. That he'd survived the balcony collapsing on him at Cupata. Holic Reznik hadn't fared as well. No, the assassin wasn't dead, but he had been injured. His arm had been broken and his hand crushed. Possibly some internal injuries. Bjorn said Keznik was now in a safe place awaiting transport back to Onyxx headquarters in D.C.

Sly had asked him how soon he could get to
Paros
. When Bjorn had given him the right answer, he'd agreed with
Merrick
that when Eva attempted her escape—which he knew she intended—he would let her. But on one condition, that they bug her,
and
put Bjorn on her tail in case something went wrong before they located the Chameleon.

Sly poured another cup of coffee and placed it on the table for
Merrick
, then sat. "I don't like having to wait," he said, "but I agree that this is the fastest way to force the Chameleon's hand."

"Got any cream?"
Merrick
walked to the fridge and opened the door to have a look inside. As he bent forward, he lost his balance and dropped to the floor. Sly leaped to his feet, and when
Merrick
made no attempt to get up, he pulled his boss to his feet, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him back into the guest room and laid him out on the bed.

Once
Merrick
opened his eyes, Sly said, "So how damn bad off are you? I know about the tumor, so tell me, are you going to be in any shape to back me up today? Or is the Chameleon going to win again like he always does?"

Before
Merrick
could answer, a light flashed on Sly's Suunto watch telling him Bjorn was sending him another message. He flipped open his phone and hit a button to receive the message.

It read, "The
time
is
7:10
. Our Eva has left the
Ventura
with Parish. She left on her own power. She looks well. Melita not so good. They were picked up by a black Altima. I'm following. They're headed south."

Eva had boarded the
Ventura
Detore dawn with a story prepared—part lie, part truth. She said Sly had kidnapped her at Cupata, and that she'd been held on the
Hector
for two days. She told Simon she hadn't had a chance to escape until Sly had sailed into
Paros
, and she had seen the
Ventura
docked in the harbor.

Simon seemed to believe her, but she couldn't be sure. She never mentioned hacking into his computer, or the fate of Dr. Fielding. She truly didn't want to think about Simon killing her psychiatrist, or Nemo.

She was back in the lion's den and was afraid, but she had no choice. She now knew the truth, and the only way to face it was head on. She couldn't run away. She wouldn't.

She was worried about Melita. Her eyes were lifeless, her skin deathly pale, and she wore bandages on her wrists. Had Melita tried to take her life after Nemo had been killed?

She prayed it wasn't so, but feared it was true. When she'd asked Simon what had happened, he had simply said Melita had an accident, then told her that she needed to shower and change. That they had a morning engagement, and they couldn't be late.

She'd stepped out of the shower to find a pale green blouse on her bed with a matching skirt and shoes. She'd dressed quickly, followed Simon's instruction for her hair to be worn down, and her lips painted pale pink.

She met Simon on the upper deck at seven sharp. She had no idea where they were going, or why they were taking a car, but when she had climbed into the back seat
Melita
was already there.

She never spoke to Eva or Simon, and after thirty minutes of silence, the car pulled off the road, and Simon got out, urging her to follow. The guard who had driven them helped Melita.

Simon said, "Take my sister to the boat in the lagoon. They are expecting her." Then he kissed his sister's cheek and started to hike up the narrow path to a large monastery high on a rock overlooking the sheltered lagoon.

When the guard started to lead Melita away, Eva panicked. Afraid she was never going to see her friend again, she hurried to Melita and pulled her close. Hugging her, she scrambled for something to say, knowing she had only seconds to say it.

She settled for the one word that had saved her years ago, the one word Melita needed to hear. Kissing her cheek, she whispered, "Survive, Melita. Endure the demon and survive."

That was all there was time for, and then the guard took her away, down a rocky path to the crystal-blue water, and the boat waiting there.

"Come, sweet Eva, we are also expected," Simon called out. "Come now."

She wiped her tears as she followed Simon along the trail, and eventually through an iron gate. Inside she counted sixteen guards on the grounds. They passed through a private courtyard that had a sturdy post dug into the ground with heavy iron rings bolted into it, and entered the monastery.

A short stairway later, then down a windy passageway that was poorly lit, Eva heard moaning. Her stomach knotted and fear climbed her throat. She wanted to turn and run, but Simon was behind her and there was no escape. The passageway narrowed, then turned sharply, and that's when she saw them—men caged like animals.

A chamber of horrors, she would later come to think of it—the men battered and beaten, some wearing ragged clothes, some naked and huddling in corners, clearly defeated.

Eva felt sick, and she quickened her pace through the passage, tears stinging her eyes.

From behind her, Simon said, "Don't waste your tears on them. They are all criminals, and if they had the strength, and could get their hands around your neck, they would kill you as quickly as they would me."

She spun around. "Why, Simon? Why am I here? What is this place?"

"It's the hall of justice."

"You're crazy, Simon."

He laughed. "What is crazy, sweet Eva, is your expecting me to buy that stupid story about being forced to leave Cupata with Sly McEwen." He shoved her toward a pair of wooden doors. "Because of you, Nemo is dead. Because of you, Melita no longer wants to live. Because of you, I will forever live with my friend's blood on my hands. Yes, I must be crazy, because after all of it I still love you."

"You don't know what it means to love someone," Eva snarled. "You don't hurt the people you love, Simon. You're a coward. A coward and a freak."

He slapped her. Slapped her so hard Eva flew back into the door.

"You stupid bitch. Now look what you made me do. In all the years we've been together, I never once made you bleed. That was one of the rules."

Eva locked her knees, unsure if he would hit her again.

But he didn't, instead Simon pulled out his handkerchief and stepped forward to wipe the blood from her nose. Eva knocked his hand away, then raised her knee to his groin and sent him staggering backward.

"Bitch!" Simon screamed. "You bitch! You'll pay for that. You have no idea who I am, or you would never have done that. I am—"

"Simon, get yourself under control. I will tell Evka all she needs to know when the time is right. Take her into the game room and put her in
the chair,
then send a message to Merrick and McEwen. Give them this location, and tell them not to keep me waiting. I grow weary of this game and wish to end it."

Eva watched as the Chameleon stepped out of the shadows, and for the first time in years, she was no longer blinded by a child's need for her father's love. Yes, it was her father's face, but not her father. Her father was dead. He'd died fourteen years ago.

She said, "You killed them. You killed my mother and my father."

"Yes," the Chameleon admitted. "I killed your mother quickly because she was unimportant. Paavo…" He shrugged. "Simon, take her inside, then send the message."

"Yes, Father."

Eva looked from Simon to the Chameleon, then back to Simon. "Father?"

"That's right, sweet, Eva." Simon smiled wickedly, then stepped forward and wiped the blood from her nose with his handkerchief. "The Chameleon is my father. Mine and Melita's."

The room Eva was taken to looked like a medieval torture chamber. There was a dunking machine operated by an indoor windmill, a wall of nails and what looked like an old-fashioned rack.

There were more grisly-looking torture devices, but she refused to contemplate what they might be used for.

Simon had ordered her into the chair in the middle of the room, and had tied her wrists together at the back of it, and then he tied her ankles. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, but it was long enough for her hands and feet to go numb.

She hadn't lost hope, however. She'd seen Sly McEwen in action, and if he hadn't heard her leave the
Hector
in the middle of the night, the man needed to invest in a hearing aid.

At first she'd planned on facing her father—correction, the man impersonating her father—alone. He had killed her parents and cheated her out of fourteen years of her life. Selfishly, she wanted to be the one to kill him—for he did deserve to die. But she knew she couldn't do it alone—the odds were against her; even if she was willing to sacrifice herself.

The door opened and Eva saw the Chameleon walk into the room with that confident swagger she had once admired. How could she have ever thought this man was her father? Yes, he looked like her papa, and talked like him … almost. He was even missing the forefinger on his right hand, and had the documented scar on his chin. The silver lighter her mother had given him for Christmas one year was a nice touch, too.

It made sense now. He'd known that as much as he had cloned himself to look like her father, he could never pass as Paavo for long periods of time. That's why she'd seen him only once a year after the fire, on Simon's birthday—his son's birthday.

The Chameleon walked into the room feeling an odd sense of relief. He'd played the game so long he had wondered if he would ever know when it was time to end it.

But Simon was right. Evka had outgrown the game. She had changed this last year, and he could see that she had. Now they would move on to another game. A more productive game. He still would give her to Reznik if the fool ever contacted him to tell him he was alive, and in the meantime…

In the meantime there was always another lesson to be learned. A very important lesson. Melita had learned it a few days ago—if you couldn't afford the price of betrayal, you had no business playing the game.

Of course it would pain him to punish Evka, but children needed discipline. She was not of his blood, but she was his creation—all that she was and had become was because of him.

"I have come to speak with you," he said, stopping before her. "I'm sure you have a number of questions for me. I feel it is my duty to reward you for your courage. I honestly didn't think you would come back on your own. Simon tells me you've been fornicating with one of
Merrick
's agents. Sly McEwen, the impressive rat fighter at Cupatra. So what's on your list, Evka? What do you want to know first?"

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