Chapter 23
ETHAN
I dreamed about Olivia last night. Now I was annoyed I was in another crappy hotel room, and this time I was alone. I tried to go back to sleep where she lingered. Jesus, what had that woman done to me?
I checked in with Jason while heading to the airport to pick up Gio. Vitale’s plane had been cleaned and a new staff hired instantly. Did they not wonder what had happened to the last crew?
Gio hadn’t yet landed when I arrived at the hangar. I had a brief conversation with the waiting driver the Abramos had hired and watched the plane circle on its approach. It was surreal.
A little more than a day ago, I’d been in the cockpit of that same plane with her, worried half out of my mind about what was going to happen.
I would have put a bullet in Giovanni Abramo if it came to it. All my work, and all the CIA’s plans—I’d throw them away for a woman I barely knew.
Maybe that wasn’t true.
I didn’t know every detail of Olivia’s past, although that information was just a phone call away, but I understood her. And I felt like she understood me. There was an undeniable connection to her.
The wheels of the Abramo jet had just touched down when my phone buzzed.
“Can you talk?” Jason asked in English.
“You’ll need to be quick,” I said. “What’s happened?”
The marshal was smart enough to know not to contact me unless it was important. Jason had already blown my cover once, in Croatia. I’d forgiven the guy for that, but blowing my cover now would be a fucking disaster.
“Do you know who she is?”
Daniel had run a preliminary background check on Olivia, and it turned up nothing unusual—or so I’d been told.
A chill coasted down my back.
Was she with another agency, perhaps Canada’s CSIS? Working for one of the Abramo family rivals? Maybe I’d been so filled with lust I’d become blind to what she really was. Had I slipped enough to get played?
“No, I guess not. Who is she?”
“She’s Kathryn Pierce. I don’t know if you were Stateside when her story broke, but it was a big fucking deal.”
The rumble of the engines crawling toward the hangar dropped out.
I had been blind, too blind to recognize the woman whose harrowing story had been used by the Pentagon as propaganda. It had been right in front of me. Her dark look at the mention of a crash, the way she stayed calm when witnessing death, and of course, her scarred back.
“How’d you—”
“She looks different now,” he said, “and it’s been a long time, but at the base where I served my first tour, you couldn’t go five feet without seeing her picture. I doubt anyone would recognize her in Europe with the name change.”
She’d lied about who she was. Yet hadn’t I done exactly the same to her? That night in South Africa I’d asked her what kind of secrets she was keeping, and she’d answered me. Plenty.
“I thought you should know,” Jason said.
Maybe I said ‘thanks’ or ‘goodbye’ to him, but I was too focused elsewhere. The plane hadn’t stopped yet. It would take the attendant at least a minute to get the stairs set in place. I hung up and immediately pulled up the page of the incident on Wikipedia.
There was a picture. Her young, dirty face streaked with tears, under the arm of an Army Ranger, and her too-yellow dyed hair was matted with blood. That was why she didn’t want to go blonde.
The helicopter she’d been co-piloting had mechanical failure and crashed on a mountain in Afghanistan. Kathryn had been the sole survivor and had to wait alongside the dead bodies of her crew, through the long, freezing night for rescue.
During her time on the mountain, she’d had visitors. The explosion that ripped through her back had been a bomb she’d set for the Taliban fighters who’d tried to capture her.
She’d killed three men.
I pocketed the phone, my body numb. This woman had been to hell and back, and she’d made it. A hardened survivor.
“Is everything all right?” Gio asked.
Hearing the Italian brought me crashing back into the present. I blinked slowly, tucking the thoughts away for later, when I could process them away from Abramo eyes. Gio stood before me, drumming his fingers on the strap of his laptop bag, impatiently waiting for my answer.
“It’s fine. How was your flight?”
“Better. I didn’t have to wear an oxygen mask this time.”
He slid into the awaiting limo, and I followed him into the back seat, ignoring the emotions inside me that wanted attention. The impulse to come up with an excuse so I could sneak off and call her was shockingly strong.
“I appreciate the way you handled the Renzo thing with my father.” He said it like a casual thanks and not like I had saved his short Italian ass. “I don’t know that much about you, but you seem . . . loyal.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “And I am.”
“Good. Tell the driver to take us to this restaurant.” He pulled an address up on his phone.
When the car turned out of the airport, I focused on my mission. “Can I ask what the plan is?”
“Mr. Dunn believes he has an emergency meeting with his head of Italian distribution.”
Jesus, the Abramos could pull strings fast. “We go in with him?” Right through the fucking front doors of Osterh?gen?
He flashed a lazy smile. “No. Apparently, Mr. Dunn is proud of his city and likes to show it off. He takes his one-on-one meetings at this Munich restaurant.”
I’d had a lengthy discussion last night with Daniel about the situation, and once Hendrix, the field office director got involved, I knew I was screwed. Or, more specifically, the Dunns were screwed. Again.
I was attached to Gio, not Vitale, so the faster I got him back to Rome, the faster I could try to maneuver.
The goal was to be installed in Renzo’s place, because chatter indicated the Serbians were planning something.
The clock was ticking on getting useable intel, but Gio wouldn’t leave Munich until he had his answers.
It put me in one fucking awkward position.
But if I could take the Abramo danger away from the Dunns, I’d take it off Olivia, too.
“What about the Hayward woman?” I asked. “Is she going to be there?”
“If she isn’t, we’ll persuade him to call his American whore and have her join us.”
The SIG Sauer burned against my ribs, whispering to me, but I ignored the impulse.
At least I could avoid the ruse of having to intimidate Shawn into summoning Kara.
While Gio checked his phone, I texted Shawn.
I explained what was scheduled to go down, and that it would be better if both Jason and his fiancée were there.
Jason was the head of Osterh?gen security, after all.
And he would be good backup if I lost control of Gio, or lost control of myself.
It was a private, intimate room at the restaurant.
The focal point was a stained-glass window that threw different colors of daylight across the white linens on the table.
Gio had ordered wine for himself while he waited alone, seated at a large round table across from the door where he’d stationed me.
Kara and Shawn came in first, followed by Jason, and they froze when they saw the unexpected Italian waiting for them. Shit, I needed this to be a smooth, quick meet. I was depending on my friends, as was the Agency, to pull this off.
I shut the door, closing us in as Gio stood. His lips drew back into a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Have a seat, Herr Dunn,” I said in English, and turned to Jason. “Give me your gun. This won’t take long unless you want it to.”
Jason’s attempt to draw on me had been telegraphed, and I appreciated the performance. I yanked the Glock from the marshal’s holster and jammed it in the back of my pants.
“Who is this?” Shawn asked. “I have a meeting with Michele—”
I held open my suitcoat to give him a view of my SIG, then gestured to Gio. “No. Today you have a meeting with this man. I’m going to search you, and then you’ll sit and answer his questions.”
“If we don’t?” Jason’s voice was dark.
Don’t oversell this, cowboy. The faster we got through this, the less time anyone had to screw up. “Then I put a bullet in each of you.” When no one moved, I took that as their agreement. “Get out your phones, put them on the table, and slide them over to him.”
No one wanted to, but they reluctantly did as instructed. Their mobiles thumped onto the table one at a time and were pushed over to Gio.
I began searching Jason first, and was roughest with him, knowing he would understand. Shawn was done next, and he gritted his teeth but said nothing as I patted him down.
Kara’s gaze was locked on Gio as I searched her.
I moved fast and efficiently. Shit, I’d done worse to her, hadn’t I?
Even though she’d begged me to do it, needed it to spare her the pain, it’d been impossibly difficult to wrap my arm around her neck and squeeze until she’d lost consciousness the day I’d rescued her.
When I finished my search, I nodded to Gio, and he motioned to the empty chairs across from him. Have a seat.
She lowered into one, her posture stiff and alert. “What do you want?”
As Gio spoke, I moved to stand behind him, taking in the scene before me.
Jason had his arms crossed over his chest and a displeased look smeared on his face as he towered over his seated family.
Shawn sat beside his fiancée, his hand clasped on her knee.
It wasn’t to claim ownership, it was to offer support.
He leaned forward, as if trying to stay between her and the men who were a threat.
“He’s asked if any of you know who he is,” I said.
They shook their heads.
“Ask the woman,” Gio demanded, “if she saw this man when she was being held by Juric.”
He tossed his phone down with a thud, pointing it toward her. Her pale blue eyes flicked down to the screen as I repeated his question in English.
Her gaze went to me and her lips parted, but nothing came out. She recognized Constantine and wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Don’t look at me,” I spat out. “Surely you can answer this simple question.”
She was tough and smart. She’d understand I was giving her permission.
“Yes,” she breathed.