Silent Truth

  She blinked, glanced down between them to where his hands no longer held her. When she looked back up, the fire in her eyes had nothing to do with lust. "What was that all about?"

  Stupid decision-making, thanks to letting the wrong head take over. "Just a kiss, Abbie."

  "Why did you kiss me?" Frustration burred her voice.

  Toying with her hadn't been his intention, any more than torturing himself in the process. "We've got more important things to talk about than kissing. I need you to tell me about your conversation with Gwen."

  "You kiss me like that and act like it was just another kiss?" She could freeze a hot coal with the look she was giving him now that said he was every bit the bastard she'd thought. "I am sick to death of you jerking me around, doing whatever you want--"

  He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her silent again. She clutched his shirt in two fists, pushing... then pulling. Her lips melted against his.

  Damn, she was something, but if he kept this up he'd get them both killed. He lifted his head away.

  "Why'd you do that again?" she sputtered, mad as a dunked cat. She shoved away from him.

  "Listen to me." He latched on to each side of her jacket and pulled her back to him, close enough to see each fine hair in her eyebrows when he leaned his head down. "I kissed you because I wanted to, just like I wanted to six years ago and didn't get to do enough of. But if I did everything I wanted, you'd be naked right now and we'd be out here for hours."

  That quieted her to the point where she was listening.

  "I checked on your mother early this morning while you slept and left word at the nurse's desk that you were out of town, working on locating additional medical care so your sisters wouldn't worry. Your mother's condition is stable. Her doctor hasn't checked in, but doctors tend to work on their own schedule. Okay?" When she nodded, he continued. "I can't help your mother unless you help me, and that means trusting me. If I don't make a phone call in the next--" He glanced over at his watch. "--forty-three minutes I'll have to find a safe place for you. I don't want to do that. I'd rather keep you where I can protect you myself."

  She listened intently, processing what he said, then pushed her hands up to each side of his face. Her touch was like sunshine on his cheeks after a long cold night. "Why? What happens in forty-three minutes?"

  When he hesitated to answer she said, "If you want trust, you're going to have to give it in return."

  Hunter had heard those same words from Eliot the first time they'd climbed together. Abbie deserved to know something.

  "I should have turned you over to my people last night instead of bringing you to my safe house," he explained. "They're looking for you. I don't think they've figured out that you're with me and they don't know where this is, but that won't stop them from finding this house or us. If I don't call in time with a plan for me to enter Kore to retrieve data files, they'll send a team after me."

  "A team? To like... bring you in?"

  He didn't care for worrying her this way, but she had to know what was at stake since her life was at risk, too. "Not alive."

  The rosy shade in her cheeks faded. "Oh, God. Okay, I can tell you how to access the data, but I want your promise I can get the information on what they did to my mother."

  She only wanted information. Done. "Fair enough. I have a plan for getting inside, but I have to find out how to access the data files. Once I break into the files, I'll get you all the information I can find on your mother."

  Abbie's eyes sparked, anxious. "Deal. It's a complicated system that requires something important to unlock the system."

  "What's that?"

  "Me."

  Chapter Twenty-one

  As promotions went, this one had all the potential of being a life-or-death decision. Literally.

  Linette stood at attention, next to the brass Remington sculpture on a marble pedestal in Fra Vestavia's Miami office that looked out over Brickell Avenue. The meeting would start as soon as the two male Fratelli lieutenants arrived in a few minutes at 11:00 A.M. Not 11:01.

  Vestavia sat behind his polished desk toiling over a document lying on the immaculate surface. A slim computer monitor that had risen from the surface of the desk in a space-age design faced his left side.

  Silence clung with an unnatural patience, more at home in this room than the sound of voices.

  Her arms hung loose at her sides, rigid fingers pointing down at the deep-green carpet that contrasted with her rose-colored pumps and matching pantsuit. Navy blue or black would have been a more suitable color for the crisp linen outfit, but Vestavia had dictated office attire guidelines when he'd brought her into his personal detail nine months ago. He expected the women in his offices to dress in professional designs but with a South Florida look, thus the cheerful suit color.

  She'd followed his instructions to the letter and shown the appropriate humble appreciation when he allowed her to include some pants in her new wardrobe.

  The sixty-eight-year-old Fra she'd been handed to twelve years ago on her birthday had given her a closet full of clothes. He'd smiled magnanimously and told her it wasn't every day a girl turned sweet sixteen.

  After that, he ordered her to wear only dresses... whenever he allowed her to wear anything.

  Her chest hitched with a quick intake of air at the chilling memory. The stiff pants material crackled when her fingers shook against her leg.

  He'd been dead almost two years and she still clawed her sheets when she slept, trying to get away from his ghost.

  Vestavia glanced up from the document. He didn't say a word, but his eyes questioned the rustling noise she'd made.

  She squeezed the hideous memory out of her mind and gave him a timid smile. "Thought I was going to sneeze. My apologies for disturbing you."

  "No problem." His face relaxed, eyes returning to his document.

  She'd prayed for death every day until that old bastard had a heart attack. For the first time since this nightmare began, she saw a tiny light of hope flickering at the end of a tunnel lined with years of despair.

  Now she prayed to survive long enough to escape. It might take years. She had the patience to plan and wait for her chance.

  She'd only get one.

  Vestavia had unknowingly offered her a small step toward that goal with this promotion, which permitted her occasional freedom of movement. Even better? He'd shown no sexual interest in her, a true blessing after a decade of rape at the hands of a disgusting old pervert.

  She had to use this opportunity to prove to Vestavia he could trust her, to convince him she was one hundred percent Fratelli. She'd been pretending for so long she sometimes feared how much of her was the real Linette anymore and how much she'd lost to survive.

  But she would survive and watch every step she took. Vestavia allowed no room for error.

  Compared to him, the old Fra had been a fairy godfather.

  After a failed mission last year, Vestavia was rumored to have given the order for the sniper shot that killed Josephine Silversteen, Vestavia's assistant and paramour for many years.

  Linette tensed her body against the shiver along her spine.

  That mission had failed because of details she'd leaked secretly to her friend Gabrielle.

  Since then, Linette had met someone online from the group Gabrielle had trusted who called himself the Bear. Linette now passed intelligence on Fratelli actions to him through coded bulletin-board posts.

  Missions like the one she was waiting to participate in.

  If Vestavia ever found out...

  She couldn't think in terms of what he'd do or the worry would paralyze her. One day at a time, and today she'd find out about her first mission.

  Where were the two lieutenants?

  Would Vestavia blame her if they were late? She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Fra."

  He put the papers down. "Yes?"

  "I did send out a text reminder an hour ago, but I'll be happy to contact both men i
f you would like."

  "Basil and Frederick are taking care of something for me this morning, but they'll be on time."

  She relaxed her mask to unconcerned. Never show an inordinate amount of interest in anyone or anything.

  A knock rapped against the door with the sharp report of a gun firing.

  "Come in." Vestavia stood.

  When the door opened, Basil swaggered in, a scarecrow-thin Mediterranean man with an oversized nose that matched his ego.

  He needed something oversized to make up for lacking in height at several inches short of six feet. "Morning, Fra."

  His eggshell-white sports coat, open-collared black shirt, and khaki pants were a bad imitation of South Beach chic. He strutted his bony body as if women fell down to worship greased black hair three fingers past the collar, thin malicious lips, and a weak chin. When he finished his cock walk he stopped too close to Linette for her comfort. The stench of cigarettes and beer rolled off him.

  Basil's empty eyes slithered over her. "Linette."

  She gave him the barest acknowledgment, deftly hiding the disgust souring her throat. Allowing her gaze to linger on any man's face would risk encouraging him.

  "Job completed, Fra Vestavia." Frederick entered quickly, speaking on a rush of breath that reminded her of a terrier hurrying to return a bone for the obligatory pat. A forehead taller than Basil and thicker in the chest, he dressed the part of a midlevel business manager in a simple brown suit and boring tie. He swung around, took one look at Linette and nodded hello, then stationed himself in the middle of the room, hands hooked behind his back.

  "Good." Vestavia turned to his desk and lifted three manila files. He walked to each of them, handing out the file folders. "You're each going to be independently responsible for a specific part of an upcoming mission."

  "May I speak, Fra?" Frederick asked as he took his file.

  "Yes."

  "Are we a team?"

  "You're all responsible for the success of this mission," Vestavia answered in a noncommittal way that raised an alert with Linette.

  Frederick's eyes bounced to Linette and Basil. She gave no indication of noticing. He asked, "Does that mean we're sharing information with each other?"

  "No. You're each responsible for your packet of information."

  Linette held her file with both hands, waiting to be told to open it even though Basil and Frederick were already reviewing their documents. She took nothing for granted, risked no chance of alerting Vestavia to be suspicious of her on his missions. She asked, "With your permission, Fra?"

  The other two missed the nod he gave her. She saw that she'd impressed him by waiting. When she opened the file, she started scanning the text quickly, but it didn't take her genius IQ to figure out that she held operational plans for something that would affect a group of metropolitan cities pinpointed on a map across the continental U.S. Nothing really jumped out about the pinpoints that indicated a purpose, but this had to be some attack being planned based on the meeting at the Wentworth party.

  Vestavia stood in front of his desk, eyes calm, patient, and deadly. "This plan originates with our UK brethren but will be implemented in three locations of this country. We don't have the final locations yet. You each have areas of the country you'll be responsible for, which are indicated on your maps. You will oversee the task on our behalf and coordinate any resources needed at your final target location once that is determined. Study your plans and I'll discuss them with each of you this afternoon."

  His desk phone hummed and a blue light flashed. No one spoke while he picked up the receiver, listened, then said, "Send him up."

  "May I speak, Fra?" Basil's attempt at humility sounded as though he chewed lemons.

  Vestavia put the receiver down and swung around. "Go ahead."

  "Linette's pretty new to this..."

  She cringed at the intent driving Basil's voice, sure of where he was heading.

  "I could give her a little instruction on fieldwork."

  She didn't look at Basil or Vestavia, careful not to show any reaction. She'd suffered old Fra Bacchus for eleven years of hell. No more. If Vestavia gave this greasy lizard a green light to squeeze her into a corner, the stranglehold she kept on her control might snap.

  "No." Vestavia turned his back on them and walked toward his desk. They were dismissed.

  Swallowing her relief, she waited for Basil to make a move to leave. He did, but not before his eyes warned her not to celebrate so quickly.

  Frederick had crossed the room and opened the door, then backed up to let a man enter.

  Vestavia's guest had flint-gray eyes that took in her and the other two minions leaving. He passed a brief assessing gaze over Basil and Frederick, then paused on Linette.

  She got a better look at him now than she had during the Wentworth fund-raiser last night. He wore another custom-cut dark suit that spanned his wide shoulders. The unbuttoned collar of his pearl-white shirt revealed the kind of thick neck that came from punishing weights. Tanned skin pulled taut over brutally attractive features... marred only by the scar running along his right cheek to his jaw.

  He hadn't spoken to her at the fund-raiser when Gwen introduced him to Linette and the three Fras in attendance. The ensuing conversation between this man and the Fras had been beyond Linette's hearing.

  "Come in, Cayle." Vestavia waved him forward.

  Cayle Seabrooke shifted his attention to Vestavia, an easy smile springing to his lips that Linette didn't believe. With her next step she passed him on the way out, noticing how he'd already forgotten she existed.

  She closed the door softly on Vestavia's greeting to Cayle. "You come highly recommended."

  Basil and Frederick were nowhere in sight as she hurried down three doors to her office, a simple but pleasant space she'd made her own with little things like a silk plant, since the office had no windows. Vestavia had allowed her to choose the walnut desk, credenza, and matching bookcase. Volumes of business manuals and several literary tomes filled a couple shelves, but one section held children's books she'd had when she was with Fra Bacchus. The pages were worn from her turning them when she read for children of the staff.

  This was her sanctuary. Somewhere she called her own.

  The voice mail light on her desk phone was surprisingly dark. Thank heavens. She spread her file notes over the glossy desktop. One sheet listed each city, then the names of three individuals with specific abilities--"explosives specialist," "communications" and "defense coordinator."

  This supported the last missive she'd sent to her online contact, the Bear. She was pretty sure he was a man. His word choices sounded male.

  Linette stood up quickly and looked around, on alert. She'd developed a strange sixth sense for knowing when a threat approached after years of tuning her hearing to the old Fra's soft shuffle.

  But he was dead. She'd been at his graveside, pleaded to attend the funeral. The other Fras had been touched by her grief. She'd only wanted to be sure he was not coming back.

  Why was the hair on her arms lifting?

  She pushed away from the desk and walked around to the front, studying everything. Air vents. Floor. Door.

  A tiny click reached her ears.

  The shiny chrome doorknob rotated slowly clockwise, then the door opened.

  Basil swaggered in and shut the door.

  She couldn't raise an alarm without drawing unwanted attention to herself. That would likely end with her being blamed, which would result in her being demoted, or worse.

  "You didn't think a little lock would keep an experienced field operative out, did you?" He chuckled.

  "No, I thought it would deter unwanted visitors from invading my privacy."

  "You think that haughty attitude is going to play with me?" He stepped away from the door. Toward her.

  The room started shrinking.

  "What do you want, Basil?" She backed up until the desk prevented further retreat.

  "To work togethe
r. That's what we're expected to do in the Fratelli organization." He smiled the smooth grin of a poisonous snake. "You want the Fras to think we aren't capable of working together?"

  She sat back against the desk and let the heels of her palms rest casually. Her insides could flail around and scream all they wanted but these men only understood strength.

  They respected nothing born with breasts.

  "Fra Vestavia would not have selected me to be his personal assistant--" Let Basil assume whatever he wanted by that comment. "--if he doubted my ability to perform my duties and interact with everyone. Even you."

  Basil stepped all over her personal space, face-to-face, daring her to break eye contact first and show her fear.

  She'd suffered far worse with more stoicism at sixteen.

  He'd eaten a caramel candy, the old Fra's favorite. She'd never be able to taste one without risk of vomiting. Just the smell of his breath turned her stomach.

  He put his hands on her desk, past where hers rested, and leaned close, his cheek next to hers. "This organization rewards excellence and commitment. More so than the other Fras, Vestavia understands the power of motivation. I intend to make my mark with this mission and move up. I will prove to Vestavia that nothing is beyond his grasp with me."

  Her body had turned into a rigid clutch of nerves. "Good for you." Now leave.

  "And when I do?" he whispered. "I'll get my reward. He'll give you to me and choose another woman. With Josie gone, the rest of you women are all the same. I noticed how he's not hot for you. He'll just pick a new assistant. That's how the Fratelli works."

  She'd mistakenly judged Basil a nuisance.

  She should have recognized his malignant ego wouldn't suffer rejection.

  "Here's a tip. I suggest you keep this meeting private since I hold an important part of this project in my file. You'll only put yourself in a bind if you go tattling." He stepped away from her and licked his lips, grinning as he turned for the door. "Study hard. I can't afford for you or Frederick to drop the ball."

  When the door swooshed shut behind him she tried one leg at a time to see if she could stand. Shaky but mobile, she took steadying breaths and moved around the desk, where... two of her papers with locations and names had been moved.

  That despicable pig had read her notes. The ones Vestavia had told them not to share with each other.