Double Impact: Never Say Die\No Way Back (39 page)

Hearing him call her Ami instead of Amira sent a thrill through her. But it was the ferocity of the fire in his eyes that undid her the most.

“Michal.” She took his handsome face in her hands and was caught off guard all over again at how very much her son looked like him. “This is not a game.” She pulled his mouth down to hers and whispered, “It's very, very real.”

She pressed her lips to his and kissed him with all the desperation exploding inside her. The exotic taste that was
purely Michal assaulted her senses, weakened her knees. He pulled her closer, sensing her need for support.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he murmured between kisses.

She pulled back just far enough to rip open his shirt and bare the rest of that amazing chest to her. “What about you?” she asked, then nibbled his full lower lip. “I wouldn't want to cause you discomfort, either.”

He didn't bother answering with words. Instead, proving his physical prowess in spite of his injury, he lifted her, taking most of her weight with his good arm, and carried her to the bed.

For a long while they simply stood there, next to the enormous bed still rumpled from the previous night's tossing and turning, and stared into each other's eyes. There was so much she wanted to know…to say…to believe. Words would never be enough to convey what she felt at that precise moment.

When they could no longer bear to merely look, they undressed each other slowly, the urgency taking a back seat to the more tender emotions neither of them could deny. Her blouse floated down to the floor. Shoes were kicked aside. His trousers as well as her slacks joined the tangle of attire scattered around them.

All that stood between them was the sheerest, most intimate of fabrics and soon those were gone, as well. The white bandage was stark against his dark skin, a startling reminder of how he had risked his life for hers. His broad shoulders looked powerful enough to hold up the world and she was so glad he carried the weight of hers for she was incapable of that enormous feat just now. The marvelously sculpted width narrowed into a lean, ribbed waist. The beat of her heart increased to a rapid staccato as her gaze moved over his well-endowed manhood and down
those long, heavily muscled legs. Every part of him was perfectly formed.

She looked up into his eyes once more and found the same appreciation glimmering there that she felt. Her stomach tingled with the knowledge that her body pleased him, as well. She'd left off the bandage to support her ribs this morning and now she was glad for it.

Suddenly those strong arms wrapped around her and snuggled her body close to his. The nudge of his sex sent all sentimental thoughts and sensations scurrying away; there was only the undeniable need to have him buried deeply inside her.

He lowered her to the tousled bed and settled on all fours above her. Slowly, one lingering kiss at a time, he loved every welt, every bruise, every scrape on her flesh. Each flick of his tongue and tease of his lips sent shower after shower of heat and desire cascading along every square inch of her. That wicked mouth brushed the silken curls of her mound and she cried out with the intensity of it.

He parted her thighs and continued with his sensual torture. Using his tongue, his teeth and his lips, he suckled, nibbled and laved her to the very edge of orgasm. She wanted to beg him to stop, to plunge into her, but instead she urged him on, threading her fingers into this thick, dark hair, arching to meet him. One long finger slid inside her, making her feminine muscles contract wildly. She moaned her approval.

Another finger slipped inside, circled and rubbed. With two fingers deep inside her he suckled the budding part of her sex and sent her completely over the edge. She tensed as every sensory perception froze then focused entirely on that one part of her as wave after wave of sweet satiation flooded her. Her body grew limp with the heat of it.

She locked her legs around his and urged his hips toward hers. She needed him inside her now. To finish this the right way. Still, he held back; instead, taking more time to lave and suckle her breasts. Her fingers bit into his muscled arms, her hips rose to find fulfillment, but he denied her.

She was ready.

Michal peered into the blue eyes that had gone almost navy with desire. Lust glazed those wide depths, and it pleased him greatly to know he had taken her there. Her body arched like a bow once more, seeking to become one with his, but he held back, needing to see her like this a moment longer. To know, at this precise second, that she was completely his, body and soul.

The truth she had denied him only made him want her more. Common sense told him he shouldn't trust her if she refused to tell him about the child, but her desperation made him understand. He knew desperation. Fool that he might be, he was certain he knew her.

She was his once more and that was all that mattered.

If he died tonight, having her at his side would make it worth the price.

With that thought he thrust fully into her hot, welcoming body. They cried out together and raw, primal pleasure quaked through them. He trembled and so did she.

His body burned with the need to spill his seed deep inside her…to make her with child again…to share every step of that momentous occasion with her this time.

Her hips rose to meet his every thrust, her gaze locked with his and in that moment of completion, when both their bodies reached the ultimate pinnacle, he knew that whatever happened tomorrow, tonight and the woman in his arms were all that mattered.

 

T
HAT NIGHT
Michal made love to her twice more. Cocooned in his arms, Ami slept deeply, her body sated from
their lovemaking. He held her tightly as if he feared she might somehow slip away during the night.

She dreamed of their time together before. Their lovemaking. The night Nicholas was conceived…on the eve of that dangerous mission.

She moaned, pushing away the next images that surfaced, but she couldn't stop them. They tumbled in one over the other, dampening her skin with sweat…making her heart race…

 

H
E WAS ON HIS KNEES
. His olive skin and dark eyes contrasted sharply with his graying hair and his gauzy-white robe. Her gaze jerked back to his chest. The knife had been plunged deeply into his chest; blood soaked rapidly across the front of his white robe.

The pain in his eyes as he looked up at her shook her.
“W-why?”
he croaked.

She stared into those anguished eyes with no emotion except relief and then, suddenly she knew…

She stumbled back a step, her head shaking with the realization forming in her brain. Her eyes connected fully with his and she whispered,
“Daddy?”

 

A
MI BOLTED UPRIGHT
in the bed, her lungs heaving against the lack of oxygen. She blinked in the darkness and the dream shattered into a thousand screaming pieces of agony.

Michal moved up beside her in the darkness, his arms going around her, comforting her.

“Are you all right?” he whispered hoarsely.

No.

Her heart thundered hard, but failed to send enough ox
ygen to her brain to ensure its proper function, leaving her unable to form the single syllable required to articulate that one word out loud.

She wasn't all right. She would never be all right again.

She'd killed her father.

M
ICHAL WATCHED
Ami sleep the next morning for a while longer before he left her. Part of him wanted to hold her again and to hear her cry out his name in that sweet, melodic voice caught in the throes of ecstasy, but she had hardly slept at all after the nightmares. He didn't have the heart to wake her now that she appeared finally to be resting peacefully. Though he'd held her and crooned to her until she dozed off once more, her bits and pieces of sleep had been riddled with more nightmares. She had sobbed, crying out frequently.

I didn't know. I didn't know.

Whatever demons had haunted her, they had been relentless. None of her mumblings had made sense. The one phrase was the only string of distinguishable words.

When he considered all that she had been through since he'd dragged her back into his world, he supposed that was completely understandable. Even if she never fully remembered her past, her time with him had given her numerous events to evoke future nightmares.

She was right in that regard, he admitted. He had pulled her back into his world. Selfishly. But, had he not, the people of his own homeland would have hunted her down and executed her for the murder of Yael Peres. She had been much safer with him than left on her own.

Still, the regret he suffered was great. The idea that his son was left without his mother for all this time ate at him
like a cancer. He longed to know the child, but she had chosen to keep her secret. Hurt arced through his heart. He told himself again it was fear that kept her quiet on that score.

He hoped his emotions had not blinded him once more to the possibility of betrayal.

Michal closed his eyes and exhaled wearily. He was so very tired of this life. Every minute of every day was filled with the possibility of instant death, with the threat of betrayal from those closest to him.

But the killing was the worst. It never ended. There was always a new name added to the list. An endless roster of Who's Who among the soon to die.

It was no wonder Ami did not want him to know about their son. Look what he had to offer an heir.

Money, certainly. Money tainted with the blood of a hundred men. An infamous name synonymous with death. His son would never know that he had served his country…that Michal Arad was, in fact, a hero.

No one would ever know.

Sick to death of the self-pity session, Michal pushed to his feet and left the room quietly so as not to disturb Ami. Strong, bitter coffee was what he needed now. He and his men had to be ready for tomorrow's quest.

Another name on the list.

More money in their pockets, which kept his cover intact.

One more chink in his conscience. He feared that very soon he would have no conscience at all. That he would truly become like those he executed.

He paused, one hand on the carafe. He glanced at the place where Carlos had fallen less than twenty-four hours ago. Perhaps he was already like them.

The telephone rang, tugging him from the disturbing thought and thrusting him into yet another.

His gaze went immediately beyond the door to the place where he kept the telephone hidden. He'd tucked it away and rendered useless the one in the bedroom after Ami's arrival. Since he rarely received calls, its presence had gone undetected. Michal's orders came directly from Ron, never by telephone or any other means that could be monitored or traced.

Setting the carafe aside, Michal moved toward the sound, ticking off the names of the handful of people who knew the number.

This could not be good.

He opened the door to the sideboard that served as a liquor cabinet and pulled out the base, quickly picking up the receiver just prior to the fourth ring.

He muttered a frustrated French greeting, one he and Ron had agreed upon if the use of a telephone were ever to become necessary.

The men who weren't on guard duty were still in their respective rooms. The three on duty were roaming the grounds. Despite that measure of leeway, he took no risk that he would be overheard.

“Napoleon is in the house.”

Michal hung up without responding, his heart kicking into high gear. There was no need to respond. The message was definitely from Ron. The code phrase precise in its meaning: Short fused orders awaited him in the usual meeting place.

This was the highest priority call. Anything but an outright emergency would have been handled in person at the usual time and meeting place.

Depending on the nature of the order, tomorrow's mission might have to be put on hold.

Before leaving the estate, Michal awakened Thomas and stationed him outside Ami's door with strict orders not to let her out of his sight.

Thomas had always deferred to Carlos's lead, partly out of fear, partly from necessity. But that was over now. Thomas was Michal's new right-hand man. He had not grown so cold as Carlos. Like Michal, Thomas killed only when necessary. That, Michal decided, would be a change for the better.

 

R
ON WAITED
for Michal near the chapel, careful to stay out of sight since there was no church service this day. Meeting on Sundays had worked well so far. Risking a daylight rendezvous at any other time was dicey at the very least. Even in a city the size of Marseilles strangers behaving covertly were noticed in this time of heightened security all over the globe.

One look at his old friend's face and Michal knew that something more than simply new orders had brought him here today. Anticipation knotted in his gut.

“You have orders for me?” Michal inquired in the same way he always did.

“It's a trap.”

The weight of Ron's words settled heavily onto Michal's chest. He didn't have to ask to know to whom he referred.

“There are reasons she doesn't remember her past.”

“What reasons?” Michal moved closer so that he could see every nuance of his friend's expression when he spoke.

“Two and one half years ago Amira Peres was abducted from her university dormitory in the United States,” Ron explained. “She was a second-year medical student whose mother had recently passed away. She had reportedly suffered from bouts of depression for quite some time. Ap
parently her mother was the only family she had. Her grandfather, a former ambassador to Israel, had died ten years prior, as had her grandmother.”

“What about her father?” Michal wanted to know. “Where was he during this time?”

Ron scanned the area before continuing. He was more than merely concerned about being seen in the usual sense. Michal had a feeling he wasn't supposed to be passing along this information at all.

“Amira's mother and father separated when she was only five years old. She had not seen him since that time. He had, apparently, been cruel to her mother and she had chosen to avoid him at all costs.”

Michal ached for Ami and all she had lost. She must have felt so alone. “Is that why she chose to have him murdered?” He could understand how that kind of loss, combined with the depression, might have driven her to act in such an extreme manner.

Ron considered his words for a moment before continuing. “This next part,” he said grimly, “could get us both killed.”

Michal's instincts moved to a higher state of readiness.

“The CIA and our own people had decided that Peres must be stopped. He continued to secretly support anti-American groups, undermining the sometimes tenuous but forever necessary Israeli-American relationship. He had to be stopped. But, understandably, someone else had to take the blame.”

Michal had known that part. “What is new about that?”

“We couldn't do it, of course, not officially,” Ron explained, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

Michal shrugged. “That is why the order came to me.”

“But first, you needed someone who could get you close enough to him.”

A frown worked its way across Michal's brow. No, that wasn't right. He had met Ami first…then…

“The CIA sent her to me,” he guessed, the full impact slamming into him at once.

Ron nodded, his face grim. “They abducted Amira Peres and brainwashed her into thinking she was this nonexistent Jamie Dalton. Then, after they'd messed up her head completely, they trained her as a field operative. When she came to you, she truly believed she was Jamie Dalton portraying Amira Peres.”

So, their former relationship hadn't been real. That realization shook Michal when he'd felt certain nothing else could. It had all been lies…the betrayal had been deliberate from the beginning.

“Michal,” Ron placated, “she did not know what she was doing. They set her up just as they set you up.”

“And did you know?” Michal roared, every muscle primed and ready to hit someone…to do some kind of damage to relieve the raging emotions erupting inside him.

“No.” Ron looked straight at him. “You can't believe I had anything to do with this.”

Michal looked away, though he felt certain that his friend spoke the truth. Ron might omit as required, but he would never lie to him.

“There is more,” Ron said.

His fury momentarily on hold, Michal turned back to hear the rest, though he could not see how it was possible to top what he'd already learned.

“When the hit went down, Ami was captured. A CIA agent named Jack Tanner risked his life, as well as his career, to rescue her before she could be executed for the murder of her father. He had her memory erased using some experimental technology and left her in the care of
the psychiatrist who worked from time to time for the Company.”

That news quelled Michal's fury and at the same time sent jealousy coursing through his veins. “Who is this Jack Tanner?”

“The CIA operative your man discovered hanging around recently.”

It wasn't necessary for Ron to explain what that meant. The possibility that the CIA was once again using Ami was too great to ignore. Every instinct told him that she was innocent, that she didn't know she was being used. But he couldn't be absolutely certain.

“She has asked for nothing nor has she attempted to persuade me to track down anyone.” Michal shook his head, it didn't fit together properly. “If what you're suggesting is the case,” he offered, certain it couldn't be, “who is the target?”

Ron looked directly at him. “The target is you.”

 

A
MI STOOD BENEATH
the hot spray of water and tried to wash away the tension…tried to erase the images that, once unleashed in her head, would not go away.

Yael Peres had been her father.

She swallowed tightly and squeezed her eyes shut to block the picture of him staring up at her…asking why?

It couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake. How could he be her father and she not know it until after she'd had him killed?

She leaned her forehead against the cool tile and allowed the hot water to sluice over her back. She tried sorting the myriad emotions whirling inside her, but gave up when she couldn't determine where regret ended and bitterness began. She didn't understand the feelings. Couldn't remember why she would experience them. Had
she hated her father that much? Did it have anything to do with her mother? A mother she couldn't remember any more than she could her father.

Forcing the troubling thoughts away, Ami summoned the sweet memories of the last night she'd spent with Nicholas. Their bath together. Rocking him to sleep, softly singing his favorite lullaby.

The hurt started way down deep, climbing up from her belly, twisting inside her chest until it lunged into her throat, forcing a sob from her.

Somehow, for reasons she couldn't remember, she had choreographed the murder of her father and the simultaneous betrayal of her lover, the father of her child.

Michal was a fool for trusting her.

She straightened, her eyes going wide with a new terror. All this time she'd worried about her son and the kind of life he would be exposed to were Michal to learn of his existence.

What about her?

Could she really be certain that Nicholas was any safer with her? What day—what hour—would her murky past come back to haunt her again? Who was to say that she hadn't committed crimes much worse than even this? That she had been at work, away from her son, when the last run-in with her past took place was no guarantee she would be the next time.

How would she ever walk down a street with him at her side, or get into a car and start the engine with him tucked into his car seat without worrying that some past sin of hers might catch up to them both?

Fury tightened her jaw. There was only one way she would ever know the whole truth. She had to force Jack Tanner to tell her everything.

She had to know or her son would never be safe.

After her shower Ami dried her hair and slipped on a pair of jeans and a ribbed-knit blouse. There were thin, elongated bruises on her throat, but she didn't care. She was thankful to be alive. Extremely thankful considering what she now suspected. She needed to talk to Michal. She saw no reason not to admit what she had remembered regarding Yael Peres. Maybe he could shed some light on the fragments of recall.

When she walked into the great room, she pulled up short at the sight of his men gathered around him. Michal stopped speaking and looked directly at her.

“I'm…sorry.” She glanced around the room, unable to ignore the unexpectedly thick tension. “I'll talk to you later.”

“Now is fine,” Michal said, stopping her before she turned away. He said to his men, “We will resume this briefing after lunch.”

Ami glanced out the window, only now realizing it was past noon. She'd slept much later than she'd thought. But she'd needed the rest. The nightmares had haunted her relentlessly through the night. Even after Michal had made love to her, draining her physically, satisfying her so deeply that sleep had come swiftly.

But it hadn't lasted long.

It warmed her now to think of how Michal had held her through those endless hours of tortured dreams.