Covert Game

by Christine Feehan

  Gino shut out that snide voice. Zhu wanted to shake him up, have him make a mistake. The mistake was Zhu's. He paced while he mocked and jeered at Gino. In pacing, hands behind his back, looking nonchalant, he had separated himself from his private bodyguard, the head of his security.

  Dai made the mistake of watching Zhu, of keeping his eyes glued to his boss while occasionally looking around the warehouse, but not behind him. The armored car was behind him and he thought himself safe. Gino went right over the top of it, lay for a moment on the roof and then slithered down the other side. Dai didn't want to take his eyes off Zhu, afraid of someone coming out of the night and killing him.

  Gino hooked him around the throat, cut off his airway by clamping a hand over his mouth and nose while he rolled with him under the car and out the other side. It took all of one and a half seconds to get into the dark and break Dai's neck. Twenty-five. Draden. You need to leave.

  I'm on you.

  Not for this. It isn't going to be clean or pretty. Get the hell out of here.

  Gino wasn't going to shoot the bastard. He wasn't even going to cut his throat, at least not right away. He'd been good to the others, killing them fast, almost before they were aware. They didn't have time to suffer as they deserved.

  Not going to happen.

  Zhu became aware of the silence. He turned and realized Dai was no longer behind him. He crouched low and took a long look around the warehouse. "You're good. I'll give you that. Every one of these men were specially trained. The senator assured us the GhostWalker program was worth whatever she asked for, and clearly she was right."

  He stood slowly and walked to where Dai had last been, inspecting the area, looking for Dai's weapon. All the guns were gone. Zhu had been too arrogant to carry one himself. He had surrounded himself with men with weapons and didn't believe he needed one, not in the club he frequented. He could go in looking every inch the gentleman. He liked dressing in his suits, the ones custom-made, the shoes the same. He liked buying men and women and knowing he had the power of life and death over them. That didn't mean he was without weapons and clearly the GhostWalker preferred silence to guns.

  You aren't going to have the stomach for this,Gino tried again. It doesn't bother me to have you see what I do to him, but you're never going to look at me the same.

  Just get on with it.

  Gino walked out of the shadows into the open to face Bolan Zhu.

  Zhu smiled at him. "You didn't like me sending a few stupid mercenaries after Zara and you came all this way just to tell me. They weren't nearly as good as I was led to believe."

  "I was always going to come for you," Gino said. "Did you think I'd let you do that to her and get away with it?" He glided closer, watching Zhu, getting a feel for his energy, how he moved, the slightest hint that the man would attack.

  "Ah yes, little Zara and the whip. It was beautiful to see those stripes across her breasts. It was all I could do not to take her right then, with her blood dripping everywhere and her little body shuddering in pain. Her tears were beautiful. You have to admit, you get off just looking at those tears. Didn't you fall just a little bit for her, looking at her bruised face and those gorgeous stripes? A woman is so beautiful with her face contorted in pain."

  For one moment, another woman's face rose up, his mother, lying in her own blood, pain making her almost unrecognizable. Gino slammed the door hard on the memory. He couldn't allow Zhu to shake him in any way.

  "It's delicious to have a woman at your mercy. Don't tell me, with all your strengths, you never even tried it? Not once? I am not certain I believe you."

  Gino remained silent, watching him. Zhu kept his expressions blank, but he couldn't stop the movements of his body. Tiny. Subtle. His fingers twitched.

  "Society tells you not to give in to your nature, but you're like me. A woman belongs to you and she should follow your every command. Your every desire. That's your right as a man."

  Gino smiled at him. "Everything about Zara is beautiful. She does belong to me, and yes, I want her to follow my every command, my every desire. I don't think it's my right as a man, but it is my right to protect her, to see to her care, her pleasure and happiness. That's what I'll be doing while you're long dead."

  He knew Zhu thought of himself as a fighter, but he didn't have a prayer. Gino was in that distant, cold place. It didn't matter what Zhu said. He couldn't make him lose his temper or make a mistake. He could taunt him all he wanted, but Gino wouldn't break. He'd learned in a hard school.

  He remembered that moment when Joe pulled him out from under his dead grandparents and his father. His dead mother stared at him, her face contorted with pain, the flames of the fire the murderers had started to cover up their crime drawing closer.

  Gino had tried, over the years, to forget how much he loved her, the way she'd looked him, that soft glow on her face whenever he came into a room. Whenever his father had. She'd loved them both, and in spite of how he tried to stomp it out of himself, the moment he'd laid eyes on Zara, he knew he was capable of that deep, abiding love.

  Ciro had known what Gino was trying to do and had taught him how to compartmentalize. There was no room for rage, he'd always said. There was no room for personal emotions. You did a job and you did it thoroughly so no one ever fucked with you or your family. Not. Ever. Family was sacred and any threat to them had to be eliminated.

  Bolan Zhu was a threat to Zara and he always would be. More, he was a threat to every decent man, woman and child he came across.

  "Every one of my men experienced what it was like to have a woman or a man at their mercy. What it was like to have sex any way they demanded. To be treated like a king. You have so much and yet you refuse to give in to your true nature. I see it in you. I see what you would like to be."

  Gino knew better now. He had thought himself like this monster, because he could take apart a human being. But he wasn't like this man. Not even halfway. He could never do the sadistic things Zhu enjoyed. He had never looked at the marks on Zara and thought her pain was sexually stimulating. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to provide for her and see to her every need. He wanted to give her the things in life that would make her happy, and if that meant her freedom to work outside their home, although it would be difficult, he would do it for her. He was many ugly things, but he was not a Bolan Zhu.

  "You think you have what it takes to best me?" Zhu asked softly. "I cut my own father to pieces. Cheng was the golden boy, his favorite, the one he was so proud of. He wouldn't even claim me. My mother allowed him to treat me that way. She didn't deserve to live either. I whispered that to her all the time. That someday, I would end her life." He laughed. "Do you have those kinds of balls? Maybe I'll find out. I like to fuck with men who think they're macho. It's all the sweeter when I cut off their cock and balls. You were in there today. You didn't get to see the grand finale because Dai insisted I leave before I was finished."

  As he talked, he edged closer, within striking distance. There was no way for Zhu to know how fast a GhostWalker could be. He exploded into action, flying at Gino with his front foot. Gino knocked it sideways and slammed his fist into Zhu's throat. Hard. He had always been strong and the enhancements added even more strength. Zhu fell to the floor choking.

  Gino methodically beat him. He used the hardened edge of his hand, his fists, he stomped him, kicked him, making certain there wasn't a place on his body that hadn't been touched, that wasn't hurt and painful. Zhu tried to roll over, and Gino knelt down and stripped him, cutting off his clothes to leave his body naked and vulnerable like so many of his victims'.

  Zhu began to laugh insanely, spitting blood, trying to look defiant, but there was no way to hide terror. There was a smell to it. There was a look in the eyes. Zhu did his best to act unafraid, but he winced when Gino came at him again. Gino walked away and Zhu tried to stand, crawling to the car and trying to pull himself up by the door handle.

  Gino returned with several of the to
ols that had been laid out on the table, tools Zhu hadn't put there but recognized as his own. Last chance, Draden. Get out of here.

  Get on with it. That fucker deserves whatever you're going to give him. I saw what he did to those women and that man. I saw what he did to Zara. Just do it and let's get the hell out of this place.

  An hour later, the screams died down, the babbling started and there was nothing left of arrogant Bolan Zhu. There was only a shell of a man. Gino was tempted to let him live, to have to be cared for by nurses, but he didn't want to take the chance that a man that evil might have even a small part of his brain left to harm anyone. He cut his throat and left him on the floor.

  Let's get the hell out of here, Gino, and go home,Draden said.

  They left the warehouse, locked it and moved into the shadows where their team waited. There were police and ambulances as well as the fire department the street over, so they went up to the rooftops, making good time out of the area.

  "Cheng's men never came," Gino said, as he pulled open the door to their vehicle.

  "I noticed that," Draden answered.

  "We watched for them," Ezekiel said. "We were prepared for a shoot-out, but he never so much as sent a man to see what was going on."

  "I guess there wasn't much love lost between them," Gino said. He closed his eyes. All he wanted was a thousand hot showers to wash the stink of Zhu's blood off of him and remove the images from the Razor's Edge from his mind for the rest of his life. And then he'd go home to his woman.

  21

  G

  ino woke abruptly, his heart racing, sweat dotting his forehead and trickling down his face. He pushed himself into a sitting position, one hand pressing on his chest to try to gain control of his wild breathing. He didn't have nightmares anymore. All those years ago, he had woken nightly seeing his mother's face, watching his father's body drop to the floor. His grandmother and grandfather lying in a pool of blood.

  Ciro had awakened him one night and urged him to get up and come with him. He remembered he was still in his pajamas. Ciro had told him to put his shoes on, and they left the house without Joe, just the two of them and the bodyguards. Gino had been taken to a restaurant they frequented a lot. They'd gone to the back and down a flight of stairs to an underground labyrinth he hadn't even known existed.

  The men who had killed his entire family were there, tied to chairs, their eyes bouncing around. Gino had never felt so satisfied in his life when he saw them looking afraid. Ciro had stood with him, one hand on his shoulder as he directed his men to make them pay for the death of his best friend and Gino's father. All Gino could think of was his mother's face as she lay dying with her beloved husband already dead beside her and flames licking all around her.

  He didn't think about what was being done to the men. In his mind, they deserved everything they got and more. He couldn't see them as human. He had already disassociated.

  "Gino?" Zara's voice was soft, her hand whispering over his forehead as she pushed at the damp hair spilling around his face. "What is it, honey?"

  Her voice. Her touch. He never thought he'd have that. He caught her in his arms and dragged her onto his lap, holding her too tightly because he needed to know she was with him. She wouldn't leave him. That she could love him as fucked up as he was, because the things he'd done in his life for Ciro, indulging himself with Zhu, that was fucked-up.

  "Tell me, Gino."

  If he had insisted she tell him something, it would have been a demand, an order and he would expect her to obey him. He would insist on it. Zara wasn't like him. Her voice was an invitation to share with her. If he didn't, she wouldn't be upset with him. She would simply cuddle into him and hold him, taking her cue from his body language.

  "I don't deserve you." That was the strict truth, but he was keeping her. He needed her. He had been so close to losing his way. Somehow, she pulled him back from the edge.

  "Probably not." There was a touch of humor. "But you're not getting rid of me, so tell me what's wrong."

  He considered her reaction if he told her the truth. He found he needed to. He didn't know why. He wanted to hide the things he'd done from her. From himself. "I did something I know you wouldn't like or agree with." It was the first time he'd ever had a nightmare that had to do with the justice he exacted--and it had. He'd played the scene out with Zhu a hundred times, and none of them had been pretty.

  "Was it really bad?" Zara brushed at the strands of dark hair falling onto his forehead. Her fingers felt cool on his skin. Light, the way she was light.

  "I did to Bolan Zhu what he did to you and then some."

  There was silence. He could hear her breathing softly in the darkness. He held his breath--waiting for condemnation. For judgment.

  "You didn't just kill him outright?" It was a soft inquiry, strictly neutral.

  "I thought I would. At first. Before we got there and I saw him with two other women and a man in this disgusting club. People paid to buy human beings so they could get off torturing them. Others watched and got off." He pressed his fingers to his eyes. "I can't get the images out of my head. The things Zhu did to those people. The way others gathered around to watch those suffering. Cheering Zhu on like he was some star performing for them."

  He looked down at her, waiting for her eyes to meet his. When that slate blue gaze finally lifted, he felt the impact and it rocked him. There wasn't apprehension, or judgment, only concern for him. For him. Zara only thought of him.

  "It didn't seem right to me to just kill him without his knowing how what he did to others felt."

  She leaned into him, giving him her body. Her breasts pressed tight against his chest. So soft. Her face nuzzled his, her lips sliding along his cheek to his jaw. "Like an eye for an eye," she guessed, her tone gentle. Accepting.

  He had woken in a rocky place. Heart pounding. The flames of hell burning through his mind. Why did Bolan Zhu's death bother him so much? Not his death, but the things Gino had done to him before he killed him.

  "Like that. There should be justice in the world, Zara. Shouldn't there? A man does that kind of thing, sadistic torture, shouldn't he at least experience the same before he dies?"

  She pulled her head back to look him in the eye. "If you have to ask that question, honey, you already know the answer to it."

  "They should," he argued.

  "I'm not you. I don't have to do the things you have to do. I don't have to see the things that haunt you, that keep you up at night, that put that look on your face when you woke up, so I will never judge you. Never, Gino. I love you absolutely. Terribly. With everything that I am. I can only tell you that maybe we aren't the ones that have to tip those scales equally. Maybe someone else does that. Or not. Maybe he just had to die to keep him from hurting others, because in the end, who did you hurt more? Bolan Zhu is dead. He can't feel anything. He isn't suffering. You are."

  He was silent, turning her counsel over and over in his head. He brought her fingertips to his mouth and bit them gently and then sucked the sting away. Her other hand slid over his chest, and traced the muscles of his abdomen. He couldn't be this close to her without wanting her. Without needing her body.

  "I wanted to hurt him."

  "I know, Gino." Her fingers danced down his belly, stroked back up to the heavy muscles of his chest. "I would think that would be a natural reaction. It isn't wrong to feel the need or want to hurt someone who hurt us. That's human." She tipped her face up and kissed his jaw. Her lips traveled to his throat.

  "I don't have bad dreams. I don't know why this haunts me. If anyone deserved to suffer, it was Bolan Zhu." But he did know why his actions haunted him and she was sitting in his lap, sliding to one side, so she was on the bed again, her hands moving over his body with gentle persistence. With possessive insistence. His woman was the reason his actions bothered him enough to wake him from sleep.

  "Ciro made me feel safe," he admitted. "I admired him. He was a man no one ever fucked with. No one would
ever try to kill his entire family because they knew what would happen to them."

  She kissed his chest. Her tongue flicked his nipple and the heat rushed through his body, taking him over. He felt the lick of flames in his belly and growing in his groin. He put his head back, savoring the way she made him feel.

  "You admired and respected Ciro, Gino. That's natural too. Of course anything he said or did would be gospel to you."

  "He's a good man." Gino heard the defensive note in his voice. Was he? Was Ciro a good man? There were many sides to Ciro. To his wife and family, he was good. To the many charities he gave to generously, he was good. He sighed, letting his breath out.

  "I don't know, princess. I really don't. I don't know if I'm a good man, so how the hell can I judge Ciro?"

  "You don't, Gino." She was practical. "You can only decide who you want to be. What kind of man you want to be. What example you set for our children. We all have choices. If you don't like something about yourself, you work on changing it. It might take a lifetime, but that's a gift you can share with your children. With me. That kind of lifetime commitment to change something in yourself you don't particularly like."