Oh God. He’d completely forgotten about it. It was in his pants pocket, but no way could he give it to her after her gift to him. She’d given him the most precious thing she had. He knew that she’d spent the past three days teaching herself to play that weird zither-like…thing. Practicing hour after hour because she wanted to give him her music. Probably scared every second because there was no guarantee that she’d pull it off. But it was something she wanted to do for him and she did it.
It was a magnificent gift.
What he had in comparison was nothing.
“Ah…” Words weren’t coming to his head. Probably because most of the blood in his head had pooled between his legs.
Allegra pulled away completely, sitting up, indignant. “Douglas Kowalski.” He knew he was in trouble when she used his full name. “A deal’s a deal. You got your present and now I want mine.”
Fuck. Allegra was like a dog with a bone when she got this way. No sex unless he gave her the present. And though he’d shown amazing self-restraint these past four months, right now he wanted to make love to his wife more than anything else in the world. He could barely control himself.
“Douglas…” Allegra’s beautiful green eyes were narrowed at him.
There was no way around this. He stood with a sigh and rummaged in his suit pants pocket for the box. He held it out to her. “It’s not anything like the gift you gave me,” he warned.
But Allegra wasn’t listening. She was untying the silk ribbon carefully, putting it to one side, then picking at the scotch tape holding together the wrapping paper. That was carefully set aside, too. Then there was the box. She held it in her hand for a moment, studying it. The shop had done him proud there. The box was tooled leather with a brass clasp. She undid the clasp, lifted the lid and gasped.
“Douglas!” Her eyes shone. She lifted the necklace with one hand and cradled the pendant with the other. It was pretty. It had caught his eye in the hotel jewelry store upon arrival and he’d bought it at the last minute. It reminded him of Allegra. A diamond-cut emerald slightly darker than the color of her eyes, held with gold clasps, on an intricate gold chain. “It’s beautiful!”
It wasn’t as beautiful as she was, but that was too corny to say. And it wasn’t anything like what she’d given him, but she wouldn’t accept that.
Still, her enthusiasm was genuine and he was happy she was happy.
“Oh, man!” Allegra hung it around her neck and went to one of the silver-framed mirrors to admire herself. She twisted left and right to see the necklace from all angles and sighed with pleasure. She turned to him, her dressing gown fluttering a little around her pretty feet. “How does it look?”
Suddenly, Kowalski was seized by desire so ferocious it nearly choked him. She was so outrageously desirable right now—pale skin pink from pleasure and sunshine, green eyes gleaming. The dressing gown had come a little undone when she twirled to him; he could see the swell of a pale breast and a hint of pink nipple.
“It looks beautiful on you,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. It was a miracle he could talk at all. Her eyes rounded at the sound of his voice. She knew that tone. “But it would look even better on you if you were naked.”
They’d made love countless times but he could still make her blush. From pale pink she flushed bright red, right down to her breasts. His meaning was very clear.
“So that’s the way of it, eh, Kowalski?” she murmured in the Irish accent of her youth.
He nodded. His throat was too tight to speak.
She walked up to him, ran a long slender finger down the center of his chest. “That bein’ the case, darlin’, maybe ye should do some of the work fer me.”
Oh yeah. He couldn’t talk, maybe, but he could sure move. He reached out, undid the belt of her silk dressing gown, let the belt fall to the floor. Oh man. The dressing gown opened up, covering her sides but showing a straight column of pale flesh flanked by the turquoise panels of the dressing gown. The gold necklace nestled between her breasts. There was a dark red cloud between her thighs.
It was a glorious sight and he stared, transfixed.
Allegra rolled her eyes. “Douglas…” she murmured.
There was more. There was going to be more than this, and this was already great stuff. Kowalski hummed a little in his throat as he reached out to slip the dressing gown off her shoulders. The heavy silk pooled at her feet and she looked like one of those Renaissance paintings of Venus on the half shell.
The sight was enough to raise a man from the dead, and he wasn’t dead.
All thoughts of poor Allegra, fragile Allegra, fled from his head. This wasn’t a fragile woman, this was his woman. Strong, not weak. She’d been through a lot, true, but here she was and she wasn’t going to break.
It took a lot of effort but Kowalski did not toss his wife onto the bed then jump her like a crazed wolverine in rut. Not not not. He placed her there, gently, though his hands shook. He stood by the bed, looking at her, naked on the emerald green comforter, the colors so vivid—her flushed skin, dark red hair, emerald pendant, red lips, green eyes.
He closed his own eyes for a second, just a second, breathing in the moment, trying to clamp down on the now-ferocious desire he felt. In a moment his clothes were gone—luckily he mostly went commando—and he moved onto her, feeling for the first time in four months his wife’s beautiful body beneath him.
He gave a grunt of satisfaction. Yes, this was where he belonged.
Lifting himself on his forearms, he smiled down at her. “This is already great and we haven’t even begun.”
She lifted her hips against him and smiled when she felt his response. He hadn’t thought he could get any harder but yup. He could.
“It’ll feel even better once we’ve started,” she pointed out.
Kowalski lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck, right where he knew she liked it. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access. “I don’t need a lot of foreplay, Douglas,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. It raised goosebumps. Instead of answering, he ran his hand down over her side, thumb brushing her nipples. They turned instantly hard. Down over her tiny waist, across her flat belly, lifting slightly so he could touch her there, between her thighs.
She was ready, tissues wet and swollen, as if they’d already made love once. He touched her carefully—his hands were callused— running a finger around her opening, feeling her soft and slick. He penetrated and Allegra clenched around his finger, sighing into his ear, clenching again. Her stomach muscles pulled every time her vagina clenched.
“Now, Douglas,” she whispered.
Yeah, now. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He positioned himself at her entrance and pressed forward slowly. Control was ebbing away from him with every passing second. Soon he wouldn’t be able to control his movements. At least he could try to go slow at the very beginning.
Ahhh…it was like entering wet silk. Her tissues closed around him tightly, as did her arms and her legs. He was surrounded by soft warm welcoming woman. His woman. He slid into her as far as he could go and was about ready to pull back to enter her again when she tightened around him fiercely. Around his dick, arms around his chest, legs lifted, ankles crossed over his lower back. She hugged him so tightly it was as if her entire body was saying stop.
He stopped.
Kissed her cheek, kissed her ear. Felt her tremble, inside and out. Moved into her just a little more deeply and wham! She started coming. Moving against him, impaling herself on him, moving as if she were in a storm and he was her only anchor. She was panting, writhing, moaning. Arms and legs tightly wound around him, clenching around him over and over again.
It was absolutely impossible to resist. A red hot streak raced down his spine and he erupted inside her just as her orgasm was coming to an end. She gave a startled moan and starting coming again just as the top of his head came off. Her juices and his made it easy to move inside her and he began thrusting heavily,
the big ornate wrought iron bedstead beating a fast tattoo against the stucco wall.
Oh man, oh man, this was so intense it couldn’t last and it didn’t. Just as he started seeing stars behind his eyes he came again. This time it wasn’t like being blown up but it was still intense, the pleasure so keen it was almost pain.
At the end he simply collapsed onto Allegra, glueing her to him with his sweat. She never cared, but he did. He usually lifted himself up off her at this point, turned with her in his arms and tucked her against his side while he dried off with a sheet.
And he was going to do just that, as soon as some blood rotated back to his head and he regained use of his limbs.
Right now, all he was good for was being sprawled all over Allegra, face planted in the pillow next to her head, fighting for breath. It took him a long time to come back into himself. Parts of him felt numb. He wiggled fingers and toes so the nervous system was okay. A few more breaths and he was able to take stock.
If his arms could hold him, he’d lift himself up off her, let her breathe. Pull out of her, though that was a painful thought. But as he planted his hands on the bed he heard something funny. A weird kind of noise.
He turned his head to look at her, at his beautiful wife, and grinned. Her head was turned away, in profile. Eyes closed, thick lashes on her cheeks, beautiful rosy mouth open. And issuing from that beautiful mouth—snores. Pretty ladylike snores, it was true, but she was definitely snoring.
Well, that was that. He’d have gone on all night, but she couldn’t. Who the fuck cared? There’d be other times. The rest of their lives, in fact.
He eased his way out of her carefully. His dick complained because inside Allegra it was warm and soft and his dick did not like being out in the cold.
His dick could take a hike.
He rolled to his side, one arm under Allegra, the other behind his head. The room was beautiful in the shadows. He felt energized, like someone had put a rocket up his ass. Allegra was back. The future looked really bright. He was going to stay awake a while and reflect on his good fortune.
In five minutes he plunged into a sleep so profound it could have been a coma.
Six hours later he awoke to something he thought he’d left in his past.
Gunfire.
Chapter Six
It sounded like silk ripping, only loud. Allegra scrunched her eyes, a little annoyed that someone had woken her up. She’d been dreaming of her and Douglas on a tropical isle…
She bolted up in bed, heart pounding. That wasn’t silk ripping. That was…gunfire? Someone was firing guns? Here on Kratior?
“Douglas?” she whispered.
There was enough of a moon outside to see the shadow of Douglas moving. He was dressing fast, moving to the bedside. He took her hand.
“Honey,” he said, “something’s going down. I have to go see if Yannis is okay. I want you to stay here. Don’t leave the room and don’t open the door to anyone but me or Yannis. Is that clear?”
Allegra opened her mouth to tell Douglas not to go. To stay here, with her. If they locked themselves inside they’d stay safe. But she didn’t. Douglas wasn’t capable of hiding and cowering. If his friend needed him, he had to go.
So she simply nodded her head. “Be careful,” was all she said through a tight throat.
But he was gone, slipping out the door so quietly she didn’t hear him.
More gunfire, separate shots this time.
She sat up against the headboard in the darkness, hugging her knees. Realizing how very lucky she was she’d met Douglas after he’d retired from active duty as a SEAL. Sending him out on mission after mission…that would have broken her heart. Literally. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest, as if it wanted to break its way free.
After a quarter of an hour the tension was so great she couldn’t sit still. She threw back the covers and went out onto the terrace. Nothing was happening out to sea. There were no lights, no boats. She kept to the shadows as she crept to the edges of the terrace, trying to see what was happening on the grounds. The terrace had been designed for privacy, bougainvillea-filled trellises at the sides. But she could carefully brush the prickly branches to one side to try to see what was happening on the grounds.
Nothing. Nothing was happening on the grounds. Darkness and silence.
Except…a shadow! Moving silently from behind a tall thick pine tree to a thick oleander bush.
And Allegra realized that all those shadows she’d been seeing weren’t artifacts. Weren’t signs of her blindness coming back. They had been real.
She watched the shadow crouch, then make its way forward.
The shadow started running…
Douglas and Yannis wouldn’t know about that shadow. Somehow she had to get word to them.
And then a huge explosion broke the silence and a light as bright as the sun lit up the night.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He was fucking unarmed!
Douglas followed the sound of gunfire. He’d done that a million times before but he’d never done it unarmed. No, when he went into battle, he was ready for combat. Armed to the teeth and with body armor and night vision. Now he was blind and defenseless.
The noise had come in the general direction of the restaurant. He used as much cover as he could but there were long stretches of grass and low bushes. He hunkered down next to a trellis and pulled out his cell. Where R U? He texted Yannis. No use asking what was going on. Someone was shooting, that was all he had to know. The only questions now were—where and how many bad guys?
Behind water cistern, Yannis replied and Douglas took off at a run. Being careful but choosing speed over concealment. He reached the water cistern and hunkered down beside Yannis. “Sitrep. Tangos?”
He could see the anger on Yannis’s face by the faint light coming from the building. “No, I think we have some good old-fashioned kidnappers here. They’re in the dining hall. They’ve got Esterhaze duct-taped to a chair, four armed men, plus one fuck who’s the negotiator. They took down his bodyguards.”
Douglas remembered those lithe big men moving down the helicopter steps before Esterhaze exited. Three men, cut down for doing their job.
He cut his eyes to Yannis and spoke in a low almost toneless voice. Whispers carried. “How much stuff did you keep?”
“You know that’s illegal.”
When leaving the military, Special Forces operators were supposed to hand in all their materiel. Few did.
“Get real,” Kowalski snorted. He’d kept an arsenal, back in a gun locker at home.
Yannis blew out a breath. “Two flashbangs, a Claymore, four MP-5s, 4 Sig Sauers and two M870s.”
“The M870s won’t help, this is close-in work. Can you get the flashbangs, the Sigs and the MP-5s?”
Yannis nodded, pressed something in Kowalski’s hand and melted into the night.
Kowalski eased his way quietly to a window of the dining hall, pulled out the retractable snake scope and switched on the monitor, matte treated so the light wouldn’t reflect. He slowly threaded the snake video past the frame and studied what the monitor showed him.
The old man had been pistol-whipped. A long bloody gash in his head dripped blood. He was awake, though, his fine features angry and defiant. He was old, but Kowalski knew he’d made a daring escape from Hungary on his own at the age of twelve, arriving penniless and homeless in the West, and had amassed one of the largest fortunes in the world. You don’t do that by being meek and mild.
He was old but not frail.
Right in front of him, lying at his feet, the three bodyguards lay bonelessly, each shot through the head.
Four gunmen standing facing out surrounded Esterhaze. A fourth was talking angrily into a cellphone. He was speaking German. Kowalski understood enough German to know that he was negotiating a ransom of a hundred million dollars.
Esterhaze had a hundred million dollars, no question. The question was, once the money had been deposited i
n the German fuckhead’s account, would they kill Esterhaze and slip away?
Over his dead body, and certainly over Yanni’s dead body.
Yannis arrived with a black backpack and two MP-5s slung over his shoulder. He handed Kowalski a combat vest and put on his own. They armed up noiselessly, in the dark, something they’d done a thousand times before. When they were ready, they checked each other and jumped up and down to make sure nothing clinked.
Okay. Ready to rock and roll.
They’d done this so many times before, they could communicate with hand signals. The flashbang, then infiltrate. Kowalski high, Yannis low.
Go.
They stood on opposite sides of the door. Yannis lobbed the flashbang, aiming at the center of the room. They both covered their ears and opened their mouths. And anyway, they’d had extensive training in recovery after a flashbang explosive.
One million candela, 170 decibels, guaranteed to induce temporary blindness and deafness, major disorientation and loss of coordination.
A second later they were in the room and with ten well placed bullets—they’d practiced this endlessly with live ammo in the shooting house—the four were down. Ah, the double tap. Worked every time.
The guy who’d been talking in German into the cell was lying face up, a look of astonishment on his face. The cell was still in his hand, squawking.
Kowalski pried it out of the kidnapper’s hand and brought it to his ear. Someone was shouting in German. “All clear,” Kowalski said and let the cell drop. Someone else would track the numbers down and find out who was at the other end. This end, with Esterhaze, was secured.
Yannis was cutting the tape holding the old man in his chair. Esterhaze slumped forward and Kowalski put out a hand, easing him gently back. He would still be stunned from the flashbang, tinnitus in his ears. He probably wasn’t taking much in, but body language was strong. Both of them put a hand on his shoulders, communicating without words that they were watching over him.
“You’re safe now, Mr. Esterhaze,” Yannis said. “We’ll call your people and watch over you until they arrive. You’re safe,” he repeated.