Instinctual (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Watching Kate run with fear from the festival had cut Jake to the core. He’d visually acknowledged how much she despised him. It was unbearable to see that look in her eyes. Such contempt. All her pain had been caused by his need to keep her safe. In more ways than one he needed to make amends and heal some of her hurt but it would be no easy feat, not when she refused to be in the same vicinity. It was going to be harder than he thought, especially with her new lover at her side. How would he get her alone? Maybe Kate had run home to him and he was consoling her right now. It sickened him.

After aborting his decision to pray in church, he’d left the festival in order to curb his erotic thoughts about Kate. He’d hiked the steep incline to the top of town to a place that housed special memories. Now, as he sat on the stone bench with the sun spectacularly setting under the lonely olive tree that still had the initials JA 4 KF 4 EVA inscribed into the bark, he let his emotions roll forth. This was their place. A quiet, tucked away corner of solitude and beauty that held the most intimate secrets, desires, hopes, and dreams of the two lovers who vowed devotion to each other even in death.

He kicked the tree to help vent some of his anger. The thought of another man’s hands on her pained him but what really tore his heart to shreds was knowing she’d respond to those hands in the same torrid way that Jake thought would only ever have been reserved for him.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. I’d rather give you up than see you get hurt. There’s so much I need to tell you if only you’ll give me that chance. That’s all I want. You need to understand why I had to leave.”

As much as he needed her help, he needed her understanding more. It didn’t matter about keeping secrets any more. He owed her the truth. If Kate didn’t want to talk he’d just have to think of another way to dig his way out of the crap he was drowning in.

He’d been exposed for what he was and paid the ultimate price. Even with just fragments of memory left of the final showdown, it was clear that his cover had been blown and the powers that be had served him some sort of punishment.

Pacing back and forth, he tried to simmer down. He’d been sitting for hours, just thinking. Trying to piece together parts of the puzzle that were absent so he could figure out his next move. So many questions were zooming through his mind.

How was he going to approach Kate? Would she help him if he asked? Did he deserve her help? After seeing her run from the festival earlier, he knew his mission was going to be difficult. Without a doubt though she had felt his presence. He’d seen the look of recognition in her eyes. He’d felt it in his very soul. The link that would always tie them together.

He walked back over to the tree and traced the carved letters with his fingers. It seemed like the only tangible evidence that they’d ever been together. Having left in such a hurry there had been no time to grab a keepsake. No photograph. No item of clothing with her smell attached. He’d certainly wiped the slate clean. Fuck! No time to think. Only time to act. He’d been given his orders. Kate would be in grave danger if he stayed. That was one risk there had been no negotiating on. Better to have hurt her by leaving than get her killed by staying.

Kate had been so intense to watch as she’d etched the endearment into the trunk. He’d eyed her quietly. Her tongue had poked out at the corner of her voluptuous mouth in an act of such concentration. That same mouth that had turned upwards at the corners, almost smirking at him. He recalled watching the way her silky hair had tickled her face in the gentle breeze. The mischief in those resplendent orbs. The joy she’d derived at her handiwork. The simplicity of that moment had been priceless.

He’d been overcome with deep happiness in that second, which looking back now had been merely a blip in time. He’d caught his breath as he regarded the fierce magnetic pull that had lifted him off the stone seat and over to her in an instant. He’d cradled her face with both hands, as if it was an exquisite, delicate figment of his imagination that might vanish at any moment.

“Kate.” It had been a husky, needful rumble from somewhere other than his physical being. His face was barely touching hers as their eyes locked into an unbreakable staring contest, neither one able to look away.

The soft, pliable lips he’d brushed his thumb over, never losing eye contact until the urge to kiss surpassed all else.

“I’ll give you a little space for now but I can’t wait long. The clock is ticking. Time is running out. I love you so much, Kate. More now because of the strength I know you carry. You’ve turned your life around and moved on, while I’m still stuck in the past. I’ve tried to get over you, I really have, but I can’t.”

That first night he’d walked out, never to return, had broken him. A booze-filled binge had failed to drown the self-loathing that had only grown in intensity with the days and weeks that rolled into months. Wanting to lift the phone and call, his fingers tracing each number, apprehension had stopped him. Anxiety for her safety. He’d die to protect her.

He ran a hand through his hair and rose to retreat to his temporary home when a flash rocketed through him. It caught him off guard. He cried out.

“Kate! Dear God! No!”

Chapter Ten

Downing his fourth martini, Carlos casually leaned on the polished teak bar, enjoying the luxurious surrounds.

Philippe eyed him without saying a word, maybe wondering how absolutely sloshed his business associate was going to get before falling into a drunken stupor. Carlos toasted his glass up in the air to the self-righteous lackey. He had no time for ass lickers. It was clear that Philippe was a yes man trying to worm his way so far up The Lord’s backside it wasn’t funny. Carlos didn’t like him and he trusted him even less. In fact there hadn’t been many people he could trust throughout his life, least of all his parents and anyone in The Organization. Keep your chin up, eyes and ears open, and watch your back. That’s one thing his old man had taught him. Good life lessons, Carlos agreed.

After way too much awkward silence had passed, Carlos spoke in slurs, now relaxed from the alcohol infusing his brain.

“So, you got any idea why Adriano wants to do a detour?” There was nothing like shooting from the hip. Don’t beat around the bush. Just come right out and say it.

The Frenchman smirked. A stupid, annoying, ‘I know something you don’t’ smirk. Silence.

“’Cause if you know something, I really think you ought to tell me. Us being family and all.” It was worth a shot.

Philippe let out an arrogant, egotistical laugh. “You think you’ve got this business all figured out, don’t you?”

Well, well! The man has a voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Asshole was on the tip of his tongue but he held it in.

“It means that nothing in this industry is black and white. The Lord holds all the cards and keeps them very close to his chest. He’s got a nice little job planned for you. That’s all I can say.”

Carlos looked away as he squeezed the edge of the bar until his knuckles turned white. It appeared everyone else knew what this next job involved except him.

Well, fuck them! Fuck them all! Suddenly he wanted to crawl away into his cabin and sleep. A few hours to escape. By morning they’d be in Monaco dumping the shipment and then on their way to God knows where to look at God knows what. A few hours of alcohol-induced slumber was just what he needed.

Not giving Philippe the same courtesy salute that Adriano had offered, Carlos walked across the lounge and down into the sleeping quarters without so much as a sideways glance but he imagined the conceited Frenchman watching him with that pathetic smirk on his face.

Chapter Eleven

On a small island in Italy’s Archipelago region in the Tyrrhenian Sea and only 1312 feet in diameter, in an abandoned, maximum-security prison, Stavros and The Lord unlocked the cell containing their prisoner, the constant beep from the intensive care monitor the only noise that echoed chillingly in the deserted jail.

The pristine, isolated cay with cliffs on all sides, accessible only by helicopter was a picturesque slice of heaven. Inside, the deserted jail invoked the polar opposite with a solemn history of crime and punishment.

The westerly wind chipped away at the isolated building and howled through the empty corridors. Stavros didn’t get unnerved at many things in life but every visit to the rundown penitentiary sent icy chills deeply through him.

He’d had the call last night that there was a chopper on its way to pick him up and bring him to the island to meet with Carlos and Adriano. It was extremely last minute and he knew nothing of The Lord’s plan.

A man who looked to be in his early thirties lay unconscious on a gurney wired to the hilt with machines surrounding the bed. A naso-gastric tube was inserted into his nostrils so that nutrients could enter the stomach directly. An IV needle pierced the inside of his well-muscled forearm and a catheter with a bag strapped to his leg collected waste regularly.

“How’s he doing?” Stavros was more curious than concerned.

“The man’s got strength, I’ll give him that. A true fighter. I like that. I didn’t think he’d make it, Stavros, but I’m glad he did.”

“And why is that? He’s a spy. We all know what happens to people who aren’t loyal to The Organization. He was working with the American police to infiltrate our organization and gather information to help bring our family down. Wasn’t that enough reason to finish him off?”

Stavros watched The Lord become enraged, a vein popping out on his neck. “Do not question me! I own you! I own all of you! You’d be nothing without me! You don’t get paid to interrogate me!”

Talk about flicking a switch. Stavros took a step back, feeling more than a little intimidated. “Sorry, sir!”

The Lord’s eyes had narrowed but when he spoke again it was with more control. “You do not need to worry about why I spared this man’s life. It is of no concern to you. I brought you here to meet with Carlos and Adriano tomorrow. I wanted to show you my patient here because Carlos is going to be watching over him while I attend to business.”

Stavros, in all his years of working under The Lord, had never seen a traitor live to see another day. There was way more going on with the guy on the table than The Lord was letting on. He wasn’t game to ask, though. He would no doubt find out in due time.

The Lord continued, “I had a top surgeon brought in to repair the damage done to his chest. So far he’s holding his own. There is a chance he may not make it but that would be a shame after all I’ve done to try and save him.”

For the first time ever, Stavros noted a look of sentiment on The Lord’s face. It only lasted a moment but it had clearly been there. Maybe the man had a heart after all. Maybe he was softening as he got older. Stavros still couldn’t see the point of the whole fiasco but he’d just have to go along with it and see where it led.

Both men eyed the patient before The Lord motioned towards the open cell doors. “Let us leave our friend now and move to my quarters.” They turned and walked out of the cell, locking it again on the way. The clang of the door sliding shut felt like a jackhammer in Stavros’ already throbbing head.

As the two men walked through the long corridor to another wing of the jail that had been set up with all the luxuries one would expect The Lord to have, the wind howled like a wolf through the vacant prison that once housed notorious criminals.

Inside The Lord’s quarters, Stavros marveled at the luxuries that had been brought in to an otherwise dull cell block. Indulgent lounge chairs and pillows sat amongst giant ferns and exotic foliage, all kept at the correct temperature via an internal controlled thermostat. Giant artwork of big breasted, naked women hung high on the refurbished, bagged walls looking out over the two men, almost mockingly with their hand-carved giant gilded frames. It was a far cry from the patient’s cell that resembled a cold room at a butchery.

“Sit, my good friend. Tell me of our visitor arriving tomorrow. He’s also proving to be a valuable ally.” The Lord lit a Cuban cigar and blew the smoke arrogantly into Stavros’ face.

“Carlos? Mmmm. He’s been with us for a while now and has kept his nose clean. He’s managed to keep the authorities off our back and seems to have the hunger we’re looking for.” Stavros stifled a cough as his lungs filled with the spent cigar smoke.

“Good. Good. I’m sure he will do an excellent job looking after our patient.”

The two men sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts, listening to the classical music that seeped from every corner of the room.

Stavros had an unsettling feeling that the man on the gurney was going to lead The Organization into a whole world of trouble.