Chapter 8
ETHAN
Not enough time to move, but I wasn’t going to get ambushed either. I drew my weapon, the blood racing in my ears. If I had to put a bullet in someone right now, this would fuck everything up.
Lit only by the moonlight, I saw Olivia first, then the security guard who walked beside her. And she noticed me before the guard did. Or perhaps she noticed the gun I had fixed on her.
She went still as stone. I lowered my weapon and pressed a finger to my lips, signaling I needed them to be quiet.
“Wait. Did you hear something?” Giovanni’s voice cut through the night air. Confusion widened on Olivia’s face.
“I go,” Johannes said, hurried.
Heavy footfalls faded away.
This meant Giovanni would be heading my direction. I quickly ran the different scenarios and settled on the one that took her out of the situation.
Footsteps approached. Fuck, I was going to have to hurry. I launched myself toward the pair, my focus on the young man beside her who carried a rifle.
“You’re on patrol,” I said in a barely audible voice to the guard. “You never saw us.”
Her wrist was warm when I wrapped a hand around it and tugged her along, disappearing from our boss’s view, hopefully in time. She said nothing as I once again had her hidden, her back against a wall and her body dangerously close.
Worst-case, Giovanni would find us and think he’d caught his bodyguard and pilot in an intimate moment.
Olivia stared up at me in the silvery light, her eyes clear and unblinking.
If I had time, I would have liked to look at her longer.
Instead, her head turned to the sound of Italian around the corner.
Giovanni asked the guard what he was doing, but the guard didn’t understand.
There was no attempt to kiss me this time. She seemed to study the sounds past the wall as intently as I did, and I was grateful she stayed silent as Giovanni shuffled off, back toward the lodge with the guard. But her evaluating gaze slowly shifted, returning to me.
“So . . .” she whispered. “What was that about?”
This was bad.
There were two different types of operations I participated in. Covert and clandestine. Covert meant no one knew the U.S. was involved. Clandestine meant no one even knew a mission had taken place. The pair of green eyes examining me seemed too smart, and clandestine was about to go out the window.
“Don’t worry about it.” I pushed away from the wall, away from her, extending a hand toward the path to her room. “Let’s go.”
She remained, an eyebrow lifted. Like a challenge.
I didn’t have time for this. I needed to relay the deal I’d overheard and get my office working on the name Giovanni had dropped. The sooner it was done, the sooner the Abramos were handled and I was out of this mess.
“Why were you spying on our boss?” Her voice was hushed as she strolled closer, and I had to will my body not to respond. Not to reach out and touch her. “That’s what you were doing, right?”
“No. Giovanni wanted privacy. He asked me to hang back.”
Her mouth lifted in that infuriating, sexy smile. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t believe you. He had no idea you were there.” She moved to the path, only—
“You’re going the wrong way,” I said.
She moved fast too, her pace demanding I keep up.
“Not if I’m going to the lodge.”
“Olivia, stop.” My voice was cold and harsh, but I was still stunned when it worked. She turned to face me, her eyes furious.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
The phone in my pocket twitched with the door alarm. Presumably, Giovanni had made it back to his room and was within range of my listening devices. Which meant it was unnecessary to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to her cabin to avoid him.
I hesitated at the thought, fearing how my hands and mouth would react to having her in my arms.
“You’re right,” I said in a low voice. “He didn’t exactly know I was there, and that’s all I’m going to say about it. I need you to understand that Giovanni’s dangerous.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And I need you to understand, I can take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve dealt with men worse than him.”
She said it with such conviction, I wanted to believe her, but I shook my head. “You don’t know him.”
“No, I suppose that’s true. Vitale travels more.
” Her gaze sharpened. Her head tilted a degree, letting the moonlight play over her high cheekbones.
I watched the annoyance fade from her expression, and her words came out weighted, insinuating.
As if she were sharing a secret. “I’ve seen a lot more with him. ”
Wait a minute. I pulled my shoulders back, standing straighter. “What does that mean? What’ve you seen?”
“You want to talk about it here? In the dark with me?” Her face turned skeptical.
An excellent point. Turning her down last time had been near impossible, and I wouldn’t survive a second time.
As soon as we stepped inside the lodge, I dug my phone out and sent a coded text message to Daniel. The reply came back quickly.
Daniel:
On it.
Since the bartender was gone for the evening, the manager, Frances, led us to the bar area, clunked an unopened bottle of beer down in front of each of us, then scurried back to the computer she’d been working on in the front office.
The narrow bar was cozy. Pin lighting over the rack of bottles behind the bar provided the only light in the room, reflected by a mirror on the back wall. I sat on a barstool, expecting her to as well, but instead she glanced to the door Frances had disappeared through.
Satisfied she was clear, she slipped behind the bar.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She rummaged around, and bottles clinked together softly. Finished, she turned and set two glass tumblers on the bar, pouring a few swallows’ worth of amber liquid into each one. The bottle was so dusty I couldn’t read the label until she’d screwed the cap back on.
“You like bourbon?” I asked.
She gave me a weird look, just short of embarrassment. “It reminds me of home. My dad drinks this.”
I stifled the urge to say anything. To tell her that on the nights I missed being Stateside, I’d drink bourbon. Like the expensive bourbon she’d just poured for us.
Don’t drink it. I needed to get the information from her and promptly get away. Drinking bourbon alone in a dark bar with an American, who happened to be the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen, was riskier than gunplay.
“Vitale,” I prompted, ignoring the drink.
What if this woman across the bar was the key to busting my operation wide open? I tracked every move of the glass as she brought it to her full lips and drank. My gaze continued its journey down her slender neck as she swallowed.
“He travels a lot . . . to Spain.” She set her drink down and leaned her elbows on the bar. “My first job when I moved overseas was a commercial route between Madrid and Barcelona. The Abramos know I don’t speak Italian.”
It took me no time to put it together. “But you speak Spanish.”
“Si.”
My pulse quickened. “What did you hear?”
“Vitale’s meeting with the Spaniard was in Italian. But there was a phone call, and the man did that in Spanish.” Her gaze slid over my face, pausing on my lips, then flicked back to connect with my eyes. “It sounded like he was arranging a container. Shipping information, and customs.”
“When was he arranging it for?”
She shook her head and straightened. “I didn’t hear that part.”
“When was this meeting? What day?”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “It was during my first week. I’d have to look it up in my log. He had us flying all over the place.”
I have crates of these and can arrange transport, Giovanni had said, not twenty minutes ago.
Olivia’s hand darted through her wavy hair, pushing a lock of it back. “What business are the Abramos really in?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You seem to know a lot about the family who hired you last minute. What business are you in, Nathan?”
Ethan, I wanted to correct.
Instead, I gripped the tumbler, swirling the bourbon inside and watching the liquor slip down the sides of the glass. For some reason, I preferred to give her no answer instead of a lie. This woman wasn’t just beautiful; I got the sense she was smart. It made her dangerous.
I sat so still that only the clock ticking quietly on the back wall made any sound for a long moment. “Anything else you remember from the conversation?”
“No. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but it spurred a thought. “Why tell me? After today, and after last night?”
She’d been pissed I’d rejected her last night, and hell—she saw me kill someone today.
Olivia pursed her lips as she appeared to consider her answer. “Maybe I got into my contract with the Abramos before I realized who they were. Maybe I’m concerned that when that contract’s over, they’re going to insist I re-up.”
My chest tightened. “You’re right to be concerned about that.”
“Maybe,” her voice fell to a hush, “I think you’re interested in putting a stop to their extracurricular activities.”
Warning alarms blared in my mind. “Do I seem like I’m a man who cares about that?”
My voice was condescending and overcompensating, but her gaze burned right through me, all the way into my half-empty soul.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “You do.”
I gave up fighting the urge and took a long sip of my bourbon, letting the oaky flavor seep into my tongue before swallowing it down.
The stab of loneliness that usually accompanied the taste wasn’t there, because for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone.
Olivia was trapped, playing a role reluctantly, just like I was.
“Am I wrong?” she asked.
The conversation needed to head in another direction immediately. “Why did you become a pilot?”
“What?” Her expression was total confusion.
“Why’d you move overseas?”
Her shoulders tensed. “Because I wanted to.” When I gave her a plain look, she scowled. “Can we . . . I don’t really like talking about myself.”
Of course she didn’t. Another thing we had in common. “Yeah, me neither.”
I needed to get the hell out of here before I started justifying ways to get what I desired. My thinking had already slipped south of my belt more times than it should have.
I finished my bourbon and put my hands on the bar to stand.
“My dad,” she said abruptly. “Before he retired, he was a pilot.”
She knocked back the rest of her drink, took my empty glass, and set them in the sink with a dull thud. Her shoulders subtly sagged like she was surrendering.
“I left the States,” she said, “because I wanted to get lost for a while.”
It came out before I could stop it. “Is it working?”
“Yeah, I guess. I feel lost sometimes.” She made a face. “That came out wrong.”
She exited the bar and strolled over to me, her deep eyes sucking me in like gravity. I stood from my barstool, and the air instantly became thick. My hand ached to slip behind her back and pull her close so I could kiss her. She’d probably taste like bourbon.
Shit, she’d taste like home.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to kiss you again.”
“Don’t.” My voice came out uneven. Anyone would know it was a lie, not just her.
Yet she didn’t kiss me. She stepped back and crossed her arms, giving me a hard look. “You realize I could help you.”
The conflict between relief and regret was sharp. “Help with what?
“The Abramos.”
“No.” I frowned. “You stay off Giovanni’s radar as much as possible. I mean it.”
“I can take care of myself, Nathan.” She gave me a hard, final look before turning away. “I’ll get Frances to walk me back to my room.”
As she disappeared through the doorway, my body was too filled with tension to follow.
She heeded my warning.
The smart girl wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, or at lunch.
She didn’t go on the morning drive, and Giovanni had been visibly annoyed when she didn’t appear for the afternoon one.
Thankfully, he had no luck with poachers this time around, but it made the Italian fidget in the Land Cruiser, antsy for the rush and power of controlling another’s life.
My office had shockingly little information on Amin. A low-level warlord from central Africa eager to make a name for himself. It was an odd partnership for the Abramos. Their dealings up until now had been exclusive to Europe. What would make Vitale want to branch out to Africa?
It didn’t make sense.
We unloaded from the vehicle at the front of the lodge, and as soon as Giovanni’s shoes hit the dirt, he scoured the place for Olivia. If he couldn’t get his main fix, he’d settle for the other.
She stood in the shade of the veranda, deep in discussion with her Scottish co-pilot, and as I made my silent approach, I tried not to evaluate how good her silhouette looked when she was backlit by the bright sun glaring beyond the roof.
“Olivia?”
She turned to face me, startled by my arrival. Those deep, perceptive eyes scanned me critically, but the hard expression vanished from her face when she noticed Giovanni alongside. She was guarded and cautious.
“Tell the other pilot to leave,” he ordered.
“Can you excuse us for a moment?” I said to Rory. “Mr. Abramo wants a word with the captain.”
Even though the air around us was open, the unease inside me was thick and suffocating. The Scotsman nodded and stepped away, casting a worried look at Olivia. But she nodded to reassure him it was all right.
“Tell her to meet me for drinks at the bar,” Giovanni ordered, “after I’ve eaten dinner.”
Damn it. “Giovanni—” I started.
“Gio,” he corrected, irritated.
“Gio would like you to join him for drinks.”
Her gaze flitted between us, hesitant. “Remind him I’m seeing someone.”
It was too late for that. “I can, but he’ll be offended if you refuse.”
She put a hand on her hip, her body language full of indifference. “Oh, well.”
The instant need to protect her was so disorienting, it just happened. “You will say yes to this.” The word sprang from my mouth, feeling alien. “Please.”
She jolted, startled that I was asking her to do exactly what I’d been telling her not to. “Why?”
“Because he won’t handle the rejection well,” my voice filled with dread, “and I don’t know what he’ll do to you.”