Tara

Tara

Daughters of Eltera ~ Book 2

By Jennifer Bene

Text copyright © 2016 Jennifer Bene

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Eris Adderly.
http://erisadderly.com/ebook-cover-design-portfolio/

For all of my lovely readers who trust me enough to follow me into the world of Eltera. Without you, the Faeoihn would have never seen the light of day, and we’d never get to watch them fall in love and be free. It’s because of you that each book exists.

Thank you.

Chapter One

Toulouse, France

Alaric was the only one willing to sit outside in the morning chill of February, but with his coat pulled around him and a strong cup of tea in his hands he much preferred the solitude the outdoor tables provided. Scanning the windows to his left he watched as the crowd inside milled together, people talking and laughing over pastries as they planned their days. The door opened and he could feel a puff of the heat from inside generated by the furnace, the crush of bodies, and the constantly working ovens and coffee machines. A buzzing wave of French language crashed into him and his mind worked overdrive trying to translate the bits and pieces.

“- he’s going to university –“

“- one sugar, yes –“

“- of course, I will call –“

As if the last comment had been for him, his cell phone started to vibrate against the tabletop, the screen didn’t show a number, but spelled out UNKNOWN in block letters. Like he didn’t know who that was.

“Luca.” It wasn’t a question, Alaric knew who was calling because it was right on time. Two weeks since his last contract, just enough time to slough off any potential guilt that could have lingered, but not so long that he was out of practice.

A chuckle came over the line. “Alaric. How’s Toulouse?”

Of course Luca knew where he was, not even driving a fresh car from Germany and using fake credentials at the border was enough. Alaric once again glanced at his phone and wondered when Luca could have activated the GPS in it, or even when he could have had access to it. He
had
to get better at locking up his hotel rooms.

“A chill in the air, but the view – spectacular.” Alaric turned his eyes away from the normal people on the other side of the glass, the cold air settling over him as he went through the motions with Luca.

“Good. Listen, I wanted to know if we could talk,” there was a beat of a pause that most people wouldn’t have noticed, “in private.” Luca’s voice sounded upbeat, just a friend calling another friend on holiday, but the message had been received.

“Absolutely, give me a minute.” Alaric kept up the friendly tones in his own voice as he reached into the messenger bag at his side and pulled out the small laptop and a bundle of cables. Flipping it open the machine whirred as it kicked on, and Alaric was already plugging in everything in preparation for the next step.
Oh yes, the conversation
. “How’s the family?”

“Busy as always, no one ever seems to come home anymore. Always out and about.” Luca’s voice held a hint of humor in it, the update on the other men in the organization coming across in code, along with the small chastisement for not visiting in his free time. Alaric had always thought that Luca’s favorite part of playing Bosley to all the ‘angels’ he had out in the world was the opportunity to talk like a secret agent.

Even though that’s kind of what he was. Just replace government agencies with private funding, and legitimate missions with contract killings.

“I hope you’re not too lonely there, Luca.” Alaric’s voice talked for him, filling the airtime as the computer came on and he started loading the phone encryption program. Once it was running, Alaric set the phone down on the table, plugged it into the cables and picked up the little over-the-ear headset. The light in the program went green and as far as anyone who may have been listening was concerned, he was going through a tunnel of static that wouldn’t end until the program turned off.

“We good?” Luca’s voice came over the line crystal clear and Alaric tucked his hand over the earpiece to muffle the wind.

“We’re good.”

“Just to be extra special safe, I have your signal doing a tango with cell towers from Spain to Egypt.” He was bragging, but Alaric didn’t care much, all the techno-babble that would come out of Luca if he asked a question, or made a comment, wasn’t worth it.

“What can I do for you?” Alaric felt the cold in the air penetrate farther than it should have with his coat, the chill settling all over to leave him in that mental state that kept him separate, and logical, and heading for the finish line. Just how Luca’s group had trained him.

“We have a quick turn-around request, and you’re the closest to the action. Sending you an e-mail, decrypt algorithm A46JZX.” Luca’s voice was all business now that the conversation had really started, and Alaric logged the string of letters and numbers in his short-term memory while he brought up the email server.

“A moment.” His touch opened up an email that looked like spam on the surface, an advert for a dating website offering a month of free membership.
Ha ha, Luca
. Hitting a few keys he brought up the decryption software and typed in the algorithm. In moments the real email appeared with three attachments. “What am I looking at?”

“I need you to hear me out before you make a decision, Alaric.” Luca’s voice was strained, and he saw why immediately. The first attachment was full of timetables and maps. But on the top of the second attachment was a series of photos shot at some fancy party and they were all of the same woman. Young, looking unreal in a long black dress. Honey blonde hair was pulled up off her neck in a messy bun, and she was dripping with jewels, a million-dollar smile lighting up her face as she was tracked through the party by whoever’s camera had been clicking. A forty-something man in a tux had his arm coiled around her in almost every picture, his chest puffed up with the pride of having her on his arm.

“You better tell me that this is about him.” Alaric’s voice was firm, but he could see from the angle of the photos, and how she was centered in each of them, that this call was about her.

No women. No kids.

That had been his rule since he’d started with Infinity Consulting, which, contradictory to its name, specialized in
endings
, and didn’t consult anyone about anything.

“It’s about both of them, actually, and don’t you dare hang up on me! Hear me out.” Luca snapped out the words as if he was racing the end button on Alaric’s phone.

“Talk.” Alaric was tempted to hang up, potentially hard enough to crush the cell.

Let Luca try and track him
then
.

“The client attempted to make a deal with the man in the picture, Gianni Formato. The deal was declined and the client wants Gianni eliminated.” The tension in Luca’s voice eased as he kept talking and the line was still open. Alaric didn’t have a problem with what he was saying so far. He could remove Gianni from the picture with ease. Tapping open the third document to cover up the pictures of that woman he saw the floor plans of a three story - plus basement - villa in Milan, Italy. Exterior pictures were below the floor plans. There was a heavy-duty gate in front of the driveway and the garage, but that gate came right up to the surface streets. All the windows had security bars, and to most people it looked like a fortress, but Alaric’s mind was already clicking away at an entrance strategy.

Then his mind screeched to a halt as he tuned back in to what Luca was saying.

“- just bring the girl back to the client, and all done.”

“What?” Alaric tilted the laptop towards his body as a man and a woman left the café and walked past him. Slipping into German he continued, “You know my rules, Luca.”

“Listen, the client doesn’t want a hair touched on her head. In fact, he’ll be pissed if she’s hurt. That leaves me with an extremely short list of people I can send in with a shred of moral fiber that are
also
within range to have this done tonight. In fact, that list is you. Just you.” Luca’s voice was deadly serious.

“I’m not a delivery boy.” Alaric gripped the strap of his messenger bag hard enough to make his knuckles go white. He couldn’t raise his voice, couldn’t draw attention to himself, but he didn’t want to be involved in anything with the elegant socialite in those pictures.

“Alaric, if you turn this down I’m just going to have to call someone else within range, and no one else within range has the same,” another pause, “
values
you have.”

Hello back, meet corner
.

“I will not hurt her.” Alaric said it quietly enough that only the sensitive microphone angling down from his ear could pick it up, just in case someone around him spoke German.

“Is that a yes?”

“Tell me the rest.” Alaric sighed and leaned back against the cold chair. He reached for his tea out of habit, but the cold air had turned it into an unsatisfying waste of tea leaves. Over the next fifteen minutes Alaric finished reading through the documents, all of it the bare minimum he needed to know to do the job. Most of the information Luca transferred was about the when and the where. They usually had plenty of time to plan these things, but this had to happen tonight, between midnight and four am.

“He’s paying two million, and another half a million upon delivery. It’s a pretty nice pay day for a few days of work.” Luca was back to his happy self on the other end of the line, and Alaric could almost see the smile in his mind as Luca talked while his hands moved over the keyboard in his computer cave. All those screens flashing information at him while he handled the navigation of their invisible ship to keep them all afloat.

He’d spent his first years sitting in a chair next to Luca, watching in awe as the man pulled strings across the globe like some kind of genius puppet master. It had impressed him, made him awestruck by the man – but now? Now, he was just Luca, and this was just another job.

“The client is going to have to cover all my expenses. This kind of turnaround is going to cost money.” Alaric had already pulled up the internet to start looking at flights to Milan. It was going to take him at least five hours to pull out of Toulouse and fly there, get a car, and gear up. That was all
before
he could even scout the place in the daylight.

“I don’t think he’ll have a problem with that.” Luca had already checked out of their conversation. The contract had been assigned, and he had others to call, other moves to make.

“Alright Luca, I’m on it.”

That is, as long as no one asked him to hurt the girl he would be.

“That’s my boy, Alaric. Call me when it’s done, and you have her, so I can update the client.” Luca’s end of the call clicked off, and Alaric started turning off the program and unplugging the cables. It was a matter of a few minutes to book a flight under an alias to Milan. He found a hotel just far enough from the target to give him some breathing room, but not so far as to be unreachable if there was fallout. Grabbing his phone again he called a car dealer he had worked with before. If he was going to have to leave with the girl in tow, he was going to be able to do it fast and in a car he knew he liked.

As he clicked the laptop shut and sat back, his eyes tracked the winter sunlight as it continued painting the clouds. Luca knew his rules and Alaric hoped that out of respect for their relationship he wouldn’t put him in a bad situation. Luca knew
why
he had the rules too and the memory bobbed to the surface, his mother’s face flashing in front of him. Her eyes open and unfocused.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and settled into work mode. There was no room for reminiscing about old tragedies right now. Compartmentalizing his brain he tucked all the messy things away into their neat little boxes – his childhood, his mother’s death, and all the rage he felt at thinking of it. There was only his current assignment and the steps it would take to complete it. No room for emotions in all of that.

When he slipped the laptop into his bag he realized the girl’s name hadn’t been on anything and Luca had never said it. But it was better that way, personal details led to distraction.

He reached in his wallet and tucked a few bills under the plate his ruined tea sat on. Crossing the bag over his chest he climbed onto the Ducati motorcycle and started it up, rolling away from the café and back towards his hotel. The streets were still mostly empty in the morning and he picked up dangerous speed on the small roads, but it cleared out his head as he tilted his body carefully to handle the turns, focusing on the balance, and the acceleration, and not the lives he’d take in the next twenty-four hours.

It was better not to think about it.