Chapter 7
ETHAN
I wished I could have put the bullet in Giovanni’s gut instead of the poacher’s head. This was a mess. I’d thought the chances of running into poachers were unlikely, but I had the worst fucking luck on missions.
The Land Cruiser hadn’t yet come to a stop as Olivia jumped out and headed off, presumably for her room.
“Go take care of her,” Giovanni said.
I nearly stopped breathing. Another kill order? The poacher I’d done to speed the death along, as Gio’s shot had been fatal. But this?
Never.
“No,” Giovanni continued, understanding the hesitation. “Make sure she’s not going to do something stupid.” As in alert the authorities.
I was certain my face didn’t show an ounce of what I was feeling on the inside.
I climbed out of the truck and followed her, thankful he was gone from my sight, even though it was in direct conflict of my mission.
A pair of gray monkeys skittered across my path and darted up a tree, calling to me when I knocked on her door.
She didn’t answer.
I wondered if I was going to have to pick the simple lock, but then soft footsteps thumped closer and she came into view, less than pleased when she saw who it was.
“What is it?” She only cracked it a few inches, like the simple glass door would be able to stop me if I wanted to get into her room.
“I need to know if you’re all right.”
She didn’t look like she’d been crying. She looked . . . the same. Maybe more wary of me, but that was a good thing. The weird unease in me grew. She hadn’t fallen apart.
“I’m not the one who just killed somebody, so maybe I should be asking you that.”
I couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You’re worried about me?”
“No, I guess not. You seem rather comfortable with what went down.”
It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I didn’t want her thinking I was a coldblooded killer, even though that was often the role I played.
“I didn’t draw my gun until I had no other choice. Giovanni’s shot hit the poacher in the chest. A punctured lung or worse. That man was in for a very slow, very painful death.” Her lack of response forced me to be direct. “Are we going to run into issues about this?”
Her face turned to ice. “No. I won’t cause problems for you.”
“Good. I know what I said, but don’t come to dinner tonight. Giovanni is dangerous, and you need to stay away.”
I didn’t bother to be polite or say goodbye. Instead, I left her standing in her doorway, thinking I’d just threatened her. But I’d taken off because she’d unknowingly lied to me. Her green eyes and smart mouth were already causing me a mountain’s worth of problems.
If she wasn’t around, maybe I had a hope of focusing on what I’d come here to do.
Thank fuck she listened.
“Where is she?” Giovanni asked, watching the path, waiting for Olivia.
“She didn’t look too good. She might have gotten sick,” I lied.
He waved the statement away. “She’ll be all right.”
It was surprising that she had seemed all right. No screams, no tears. I’d seen plenty over the years to recognize her reaction was different. The shooting had been traumatic, but not traumatizing for her.
Had she seen death up close before?
I reminded myself of my objective for the millionth time. Giovanni had yet to meet with anyone, or discuss times and locations, but the logical voice in my head would not be quiet. I needed to stick closer to him and stay far away from her.
It didn’t fucking help that the Italian man’s gaze was permanently fixed in the direction of her cabin. He salivated like a dog after a bone.
Hopefully, the encounter with the poachers had clued Olivia in. She was not equipped to handle Giovanni like she claimed she was.
“Go fetch her,” he snapped, tired of waiting.
Shit. “Of course. Perhaps . . .” I hesitated. “Never mind.” I shoved back my chair.
He took the bait. “What is it?”
“Maybe you should wait. The violence might have left her cold.” I received a blank look. For as classy as he thought he was, the man couldn’t understand a goddamn thing unless it was crude. “After watching that man die, I don’t think she’s going to spread her legs for you tonight.”
He looked smug. “Death can be an aphrodisiac.”
My fist tightened into a ball, willing the dark thoughts away. The mission, my brain reminded. Focus. You are not responsible for protecting Olivia Wallace.
I’d only taken a step away from the table when he spoke again.
“You’re probably right, though. Sit. I don’t need that American bitch colder than she already is. I can try romance.”
The relief that seized me was too strong to ignore. It was only because I didn’t want the added complication. It had nothing to do with her mouth, or the things she said, or the way she tried to dominate our every kiss. Jesus, kissing her . . .
Stop thinking about it.
Giovanni constantly checked his phone throughout dinner, stopping once to type out a response, then tossed the phone down with a curse.
“Something wrong?”
“My father,” he said. “When I didn’t answer him on my mobile last night, he called the main lodge. He wants me back in Rome immediately.”
I knew not to push. He liked talking about himself, so there was no need to prompt him.
“Something has happened,” he continued.
Beneath the surface, my heart kicked. Had Vitale discovered Constantine’s fate? “The plane is fueled, if you—”
“No,” he snapped, then calmed. “I need at least another day. I . . . just got here.”
He’d already satisfied his urge for blood with the poacher, and he wouldn’t disobey Vitale’s order to return home unless he had a good reason. More proof this trip wasn’t about the safari.
When dinner was over, I escorted him along the dark path, lined with bushy trees.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
He waved a hand, a clear go away. “No, I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The door banged closed in my face. Rather than be annoyed, I checked to see if the sensor I’d placed in the door hinge was still hidden. It was. And I knew it was operating because my phone had vibrated as soon as I’d pulled open the door.
If Giovanni had plans of slipping out without me knowing—too bad.
I spent the next hour in my cabin scanning the recording of the listening device I’d placed in Giovanni’s room, and then reported in with my handler, Daniel.
Neither activity was useful. No one in my field office knew why Vitale wanted his son to come home.
How many ops had I gone unsupported on now?
It felt like all of them.
The pressure to find the terrorist cell’s connection to the Abramos built with every passing day.
We were only a month from the anniversary of the radical Serbian group’s last attack.
The terrorists were going to want to make another statement, and most likely with a higher body count this time.
Tomorrow, I’d redouble my efforts. I’d do everything possible to show Giovanni I could be trusted.
There was an email in one of my dummy accounts from Jason Dunn.
The marshal wanted me to know I had an invitation to Shawn and Kara’s wedding, but Jason needed an address to send it.
The invitations were coded, and security would be tight.
With everything that had happened, the Dunns needed to take precautions.
My worries concerning the Dunns had increased. The situation with Constantine’s death could bring the Abramos to my friends’ doorsteps.
Friends.
Was that the correct word to use? They’d invited me to the wedding, but I hadn’t done a damn thing right by them.
The CIA was even worse. Using Jason’s wife as a pawn.
Failing to protect the Dunns when the Agency lost control of an obsessed hitman.
That Juric mission was supposed to be my last for a good, long while.
The familiar, crushing guilt stormed in, but it was interrupted when my phone vibrated. Giovanni’s door alarm.
My SIG Sauer slipped easily back into its holster, and I darted out into the night.
It took all of five seconds to spot Giovanni, who stumbled along the path lit by his cell phone’s screen. All alone. He was risking an animal attack over asking his private security for an escort. Now, why was that?
The skin on the back of my neck grew hot when he bypassed the lodge and worked his way toward Olivia’s cabin. It made sense why he hadn’t called for me. It’d be easier to attempt seduction without me in the way.
What the hell was I going to do, I wondered as I followed silently behind, fading into the landscape. Just watch this play out? Things with Giovanni could quickly get out of hand with her.
Would I blow my cover to help a woman in need?
You didn’t last time.
Giovanni abruptly swung left and scurried behind one of the vacant cabins. I flattened myself against the side of the building and inched to the corner, keeping my breathing quiet.
“Good evening,” a deep voice said in Italian.
“You’re Amin’s man?” Giovanni answered back, sounding skeptical.
The man’s Italian was weak and heavily accented. “Yes. Is this a problem?”
“No.”
There was shuffling, and I risked a glance around the corner. Johannes, the driver from the other resort. He didn’t look anything like a gentle creature now. There was a menacing gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. I slipped back against the wall before I was detected.
The name Amin meant nothing to me, so I repeated it in my mind, committing it to memory.
“My boss wants to do business,” Johannes said. “You have—”
“A taste.”
There was more rustling, then quiet. One of the men let out a long breath, followed by the sound of metal sliding against itself. The bolt of a gun was cocked. A magazine ejected and slammed back into position.
“Like I told Amin,” Giovanni said, “I have crates of these and can arrange transport. What do you have for me?”
“Boss . . .” Johannes sounded worried. “He doesn’t want this.”
“I understand,” Giovanni spat out. “But I don’t have that kind of partnership with Amin yet. We start here and work up to that.”
There was a long pause. Finally, a zipper rang out, and the Italian made a noise of annoyance.
“What the hell is this? Rocks?”
“Diamonds,” Johannes answered. “Not cut.”
My focus shifted abruptly and air halted in my lungs.
Someone or something was coming down the path.