CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Liv had somehow fallen down the rabbit hole.
Nothing—and she meant absolutely nothing—had gone according to plan since she’d stepped foot in Dubai. Before that even, she admitted, when she should’ve listened to Beck and his advice to gather more intel.
But there was no amount of intel that could’ve prepared her for seeing Dante face-to-face. Those piercing blue eyes were the same, his face so beautiful, it almost took her breath away. She thought of the days and weeks she’d spent between anger and mourning, the toll it had taken on her mind and body, and wished she could punch him again.
Who was he really?
The world of espionage led to so many variables—so many truths. He’d been British Intelligence, she’d known that from the start. But how deep had he been? Was Simon Locke a deep cover to draw out someone else? Was he a double agent? Whoever he’d been, his death had been real for anyone who knew him, including his family. But it was obvious he was still working for someone.
“Do you want to find Mittal or not?” Dante asked. “If you do, you’re welcome to come with me. If not, we’ll part ways now, and I’m sure we’ll end up crossing paths again while we hunt him.”
“I’m coming with you,” Liv said. “But only because I don’t trust you. I found him once on my own, and I could do it again.”
“Only this time without the help of Interpol, since your temper got the best of you and you resigned.”
“I did what I felt was right. Some of us have principles.”
“Elaine,” he said, ignoring her, “can you check exterior satellite images or the security cameras and see where there’s activity? Let’s run Raj Mittal down before he gets on a plane or boat headed to God knows where with those girls and the launch codes.”
“Stand by,” Elaine said. And then, less than thirty seconds later, “I’m running into interference. I can reroute and get us back in, but it looks like their system must have been alerted to our virtual eyes.”
Even as she said it, shrill sirens sounded and the lights flashed red inside the vault.
“Go,” Dante yelled.
Liv was already running. The big round door had already started closing, and she and Dante rushed through at the last second. Her body jerked forward as she felt the resistance against her shirt, and then she heard the tearing fabric as she ripped her shirt free from the door, leaving a strip of black cloth.
Dante grabbed her hand and tugged her down the corridor that led back into Mittal’s office, but that door opened and armed soldiers rushed in, weapons raised, screaming in streams of Arabic. Fear clutched in her belly, and the blood pounded so hard in her ears she could barely hear. But fear didn’t cripple her. Her training had seen to that. Fear brought an unrelenting calm over her. She wasn’t scared of death. Everyone had to die at some point or another. And since death was inevitable, she might as well go while doing something she loved. She waited for the bullets to hit her body, but Dante shoved her to the ground and curled around her. She appreciated the gesture, but she couldn’t reach her gun.
She was yanked to her feet, the guard squeezing her arm so hard she knew it would leave bruises. He smelled of sweat and nerves, and his hands shook as he held her captive. He wasn’t in control, and the last thing she wanted was spook him into firing his weapon.
She heard a grunt from Dante, but she couldn’t see what they were doing to him. She and Dante were both trained for moments like this one. They each had knowledge of top-secret files within their own agencies, and if those files were in danger of being breached, there was always the option of the cyanide pill she had tucked away in the hidden compartment in the sole of her shoe.
Liv didn’t try to struggle. It would’ve been pointless, and she didn’t want to end up hurt badly enough that it might keep her from escaping if the chance arose. Someone jerked her hands behind her back and bound them with duct tape. They shoved her in the middle of the back, and she started walking forward. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Dante fall into step behind her.
A gun nudged her in the back and she moved through the great room, keeping her gaze straight ahead. Her skin was chilled, despite the warm temperature, and her arms were trembling from being held behind her back. But she started to feel some hope as they stopped in front of a narrow arched door.
The dungeon.
She’d studied the layout of the palace, memorizing every nook and cranny, along with the ducts and sewage lines that ran throughout. If they could stay alive long enough, they had a good chance of being able to get the hell out of there and run down Raj Mittal before he got too far away.
Dante had seen to it that it was an escape, not a prison, and relief filled her as the soldiers unlocked the door and pushed the two of them down a dark, narrow spiral staircase. Maybe luck was finally starting to turn in her favor.
The guards used flashlights—apparently the dungeon didn’t have electricity—and rats scurried back into the shadows, squeaking their displeasure at the interruption. They reached the bottom of the staircase, the man behind her released her and shoved her—hard—and she fell to her knees.
Liv felt the sting in her knees from hitting the ground, and she kept her head down, using her peripheral vision to watch one of the guards move around the room and light lanterns, filling it with an eerie orange glow and making shadows jump from the walls.
She assumed the walls had once been white, much like the rest of the palace, but they were filthy and spotted with age and neglect, and it was easy to see the water damage from where the dungeon had filled during floods. There were dark stains on the floor—blood—and bullet holes against one of the walls from where there had once been a firing squad.
The dungeon was large, and she could imagine it full of people, filthy and dying, as the water rose higher and higher. Their screams for help as the water slowly rose above their heads. Chains were bolted into the floor and walls, and there were three rectangular windows at the very top of the far wall. There were bars on them, and she guessed they were more for ventilation than atmosphere, though the smell of stale death and decay couldn’t be erased completely. She could only imagine how stifling the place got in the heat of the day. Along the far wall, the floor was about six inches lower, and there were grates placed every few feet. It was a latrine, and Liv knew that the pipe Dante had opened up could be accessed beneath those grates.
Liv braced herself for the blows—they were expected, and what she would have done in their position. Keeping an enemy weak was the smart thing to do. These were not the security guards that were stationed throughout the palace. These were soldiers—Mittal’s personal security detail—and they didn’t care that she was a woman. Their only concern was the threat against the man who employed them.
A fist connected with her ribs and the air whooshed out of her. While she gasped for breath, a man yanked off her watch cap and exposed the short black wig she’d donned for the occasion, tossing it aside. He grabbed hold of her arm and jerked her to her feet, pushing her face-first against the wall. She turned her head to the side and watched as Dante was put in a similar pose next to her. His eyes glittered with anger, but he barely flinched as one of the soldiers hit him across the back with a nightstick.
She briefly wondered if she was about to face a firing squad, but then hands started patting her down, sliding along her ribs and under her breasts, and then around to her back. They pulled the pistol from the small of her back, and then continued their search. Over her hips and along her inseams. They found a knife sheathed at each ankle, and the sounds of the blades as they were taken out seemed overly loud.
Her eyes met Dante’s as the soldiers patted him down, removing the pack from his back that carried all his tools, and the long cylindrical tube she was sure carried whatever else he’d stolen from the palace.
Dante winked at her, and earned another punch from the guard. He would always push people right to the limits, just to see how much he could get away with. He was the consummate spy. There wasn’t any situation that seemed to bother him, though a small line appeared between his brows when they removed his watch and his communication to Elaine. But he always had a response or a plan, even when things didn’t go as intended.
His jaw was already swollen, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her hit or from one of the soldiers’. Liv didn’t feel bad about it one bit. After he’d “died” and she’d almost lost her job, she’d started seeing a therapist. Marlena had told her she needed outlets for her anger. That keeping it all bottled up inside wasn’t healthy and would eventually lead to the kind of explosion that she couldn’t put back in a bottle. When it came to Dante, she was very, very angry. She should’ve punched him twice.
The guard turned her around so her back was pressed to the wall, and she dropped her gaze in deference as he’d expect, just so he’d mistake her for weak. She’d been able to loosen the tape on her wrists, at least enough to give her circulation, but she hadn’t been able to break free yet.
She tried to control her panic as the guard knelt at her feet and placed the manacles around each of her ankles, the clank of finality echoing through the chamber. She hated being restrained, and the manacles weren’t rusty circles of iron that had been rotting for a couple of centuries. They were new and shiny, the locks intricate and complicated.
She shifted her feet, testing the weight and seeing how securely they were bolted to the wall. Dante was fastened similarly, and the soldier restraining him gave him a parting blow to the stomach, but Dante barely flinched. She would’ve been doubled over trying to catch her breath.
“He’s the only heir to not only his father’s fortune, but also that of Geronimo Vincenzo, who happens to be his uncle on his mother’s side. Those fortunes added to his own would make him the wealthiest man in the world by far. And with that kind of wealth comes global power. Which is why the UAE government tends to look the other way when people who threaten Shiv Mittal end up disappearing. Can you get your hands free?” he asked.
“Not yet, but it’s loosened some. What about you?”
“They used the zip ties from my bag on me,” he said. “I can barely move my fingers.”
“Who are you working for?” Liv asked him again. “And is there an extraction plan? Don’t lie to me. I’d rather you not answer at all than listen to more of your lies.”
“No, at this point there’s no extraction plan. My watch was my only communication, though Elaine will relay the information of our capture to my boss. But this is an independent mission, and it will be her choice whether to send an extraction team or not. But you know the drill. If we’re caught or captured, no one will admit knowledge of our existence.”
“Her?” she asked, curious as to who had a hold over Dante and what their relationship was.
“My boss. She’s likely not happy that I failed the mission, so chances are slim she’ll bother to rescue me. And, technically, I never lied to you,” he said. “I told you what truths I could, and omitted the rest.”
“Lies by omission are still lies,” Liv said hotly. “Especially with someone you supposedly care about. But I guess that was a lie too.”
“No, that was never a lie,” he said. “But in my arrogance I thought I could continue with the life I was living, and keep you separated so you never found out. My work with MI6, my work as Simon Locke, and . . . you. The three things I enjoyed most in this world, but that could never collide.”
“It must have been terrible,” she said sarcastically.
But Dante just smiled. “It wasn’t at all. It was powerful. And I thought I could keep it all going until I was too old to take the next mission or the next commission, and you and I could retire to an island somewhere and live the rest of our lives in paradise.”
“It must be nice to be that self-absorbed. To never consider anyone else’s feelings. Or to use them however you see fit to get exactly what you want.”
Liv’s heart was raging wildly inside her chest, and tears of anger pricked at her eyes. The chain restraining her legs rattled as she turned to face him, her stance inviting a fight.
“Believe me,” he said, “I’ve spent almost two years realizing just that. Nothing is ever a sure bet, especially when you’re playing against the house. Dying was the only option I had. My time was up. I’d been compromised, and I took the only option that was given to me.”
“So you changed your lifestyle not because of a change of conscience or heart, but because you got caught.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “There are very few things in this life I’ve done that have bothered me. I’ve been sent on questionable missions, where I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was the right thing. But I did my duty to my country. And I became Simon Locke because I enjoyed it. But you were always the twinge in my conscience. I wanted you like I’ve never wanted anyone, and I would’ve done anything to have you.”
“And if you hadn’t gotten caught, you’d still have me. Just another possession, like one of your paintings. Someone to fuck in the middle of the night when your adrenaline was running high from another job. And I would’ve fallen more and more in love with you.”
“You were never just someone to fuck,” Dante said harshly.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me I wasn’t convenient? You knew my every move in tracking Simon Locke—and I shared other cases with you as well. You think I didn’t recognize when you’d come to me in the middle of the night, that wild look in your eyes? I was so stupid,” she spat. “I thought I was so important to you that you couldn’t wait to be with me. It didn’t take me long after your death to realize the truth. Slipping into bed beside me in the dead of night, making me come before I was even fully awake. Or the night Donner and I went to the movies and you pulled me into the janitor’s closet on my way back from the bathroom. What job were you coming off of then? Must have been a successful one.”
“As a matter of fact, it was,” he bit out. He took a step toward her, the lines of his face angular in the shadowy light. “Don’t step too high on your pedestal. You were always wet and willing. And I believe it was you who stripped down to nothing while we were on the London Eye, and it was you who initiated things in the Bailong elevator in China.”
Her face flushed with embarrassment and anger. Things had always burned so hot between them. As soon as they entered the same room, it was as if a fuse had been lit, and there was no stopping the imminent explosion.
“I know you better than you know yourself. You think I didn’t recognize the excitement in your eyes every time I came to you like that? You loved every second of it. Not knowing where or when I’d fuck you. You might think there’s a vast difference between the two of us, but in some ways we’re cut from the same cloth. We both crave the adrenaline rush. We seek out the adventure. We’re passionate about what we do, and that translated well in the bedroom. And outside of the bedroom. There was no illusion when it came to that. It was as real as it could get.”
“The sex was real,” she agreed. “But the heart wasn’t. If you had one yourself you’d understand what you did to me.”
“Believe me,” he said somberly. “I have one. And I wish to God I didn’t. But sometimes life sucks and you don’t get to make the choices for your future.”
“And sometimes the choices we make have consequences,” she countered. “My actions were always genuine,” Liv said. “You turned me on because you were you. I didn’t have an ulterior motive. I didn’t use you.”
“We turned each other on,” he said. “You fascinated me like no woman ever had. Even in death, you fascinated me. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I know every expression on your face and every nuance of body language. You think I don’t know that your nipples are hard right now? That if I moved my hand between your thighs I’d find you ready and swollen for me?”
He took another step toward her, and she froze. Blood rushed in her ears and her skin sizzled with anger and lust. No other man had touched her since Dante, and her body’s needs betrayed her mind’s wants.
“Do you think I could forget you so easily?” Dante continued. “That I can’t remember the taste of you? The feel of your skin, or the heat of you as you wrap your legs around me?”
Her breath hitched, her breasts heaving, and her fists bunched behind her back so tight her nails bit into the palms of her hands.
“Do you think my death would make me not want you? It’s been almost two years, and I can still bring back the scent of your hair and the taste of your lips.”
He moved closer, his body touching hers, but Liv didn’t have the willpower to push him away. Her body thrummed with need and anger, and there was no reason she couldn’t take what she wanted, just as he’d been doing all along.
“I don’t want your excuses or words,” she said. “It’s too late for that now.”
She leaned forward and took his bottom lip between her teeth, biting it gently, and he sucked in a breath of surprise.
“Jesus, Liv,” he said with a groan.
“What do you say?” she asked. “If we’re going to die, we might as well go out with a bang.”
Her hand grasped the front of his shirt and she pulled him closer, her lips a hairbreadth from his, and then she nipped at his bottom lip.
He groaned and whispered, “Liv.”
“If we’re going to die, I’d rather spend the time doing something I enjoy.”