by Katee Robert
Which was why they were here, dressed in knitted sweaters and boat shoes and with every single female member of Kozlov’s security team draped around the boat in tight clothing and making a show of drinking themselves stupid. It might be off season for this kind of thing, but idiot rich men had been partying on the Aegean since time began. The security staff would note their existence, but as long as they acted the part, that’s all they’d do.
He expected his old man was otherwise occupied.
No. Can’t think about that right now.
“What if she’s—” Theo’s thoughts had obviously shadowed his down that dark path.
“She’s alive. If he wanted her dead, better to do it in the palace and prove how ineffectual we are.” He hated how quickly his mind grasped his father’s intentions, even after decades of avoiding the man. Dorian was always scheming, always looking for a toe up and an opportunity to kick out the legs of the people around him. He had a plan in place when he’d taken Meg, and something so simple as death at his hands wouldn’t satisfy it. “I’ll bring her back, Theo.”
“I know.” Theo cleared his throat. “You come back safely, too.”
“I will.” Another promise he couldn’t guarantee that he’d keep. He finally looked at Theo, at the worry written across every line of his face. “Thank you for staying in the boat.”
Theo made a face. “I’m no use to you up there. Isaac’s team is better trained and they’ve worked together for years. You can slip into that dynamic without an issue, but I can’t.” He ran his hand through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I know.” They walked down below deck to where Kozlov had laid out the plans for the house and now stared at them as if he could divine their secrets. “Best guess, she’s in the basement.”
“Makes sense.” Less chance of an escape that way. Galen surveyed the plans and the map surrounding them, filled with markers to indicate where the patrols were. Galen and Theo took seats on the other side of the minuscule table. “We come up this way.” Galen touched the cliff face next to the docks. Dorian had two men on the docks themselves, and another two covering the narrow staircase up the cliff to the house. He really only needed two men since it bottlenecked too effectively for a swarming attack.
They weren’t going to swarm.
They were going to scale that fucking cliff and take out everyone who got in their way. Galen clenched his fists. “We go as soon as it’s dark.”
“Yes.”
One of Kozlov’s people guided their ship away from the house, keeping up the meandering path of a part-time sailor with more money than skill. It wouldn’t do them any favors to bring attention their way or cause anyone in that house to ask questions that would raise suspicions.
The hours passed slowly and too quickly, all at once. They went over the plan again and again, until Galen practically vibrated with the need to move, to act, to do something other than sit in this too-tiny space filled with emotions he had no answer for. Going out on deck wouldn’t be any better, and he’d end up tracking the sun in the sky and calculating the distance left to travel.
For once, Theo offered no distraction. He simply sat in silence, his thoughts likely occupying the same dark space. Without looking over, he laced his fingers through Galen’s. “We will get her back.”
“Yes.” Meg believed in the power of words and actions, and if they couldn’t act in this moment, they still had their words. “We’ll get her back,” he confirmed.
Theo nodded and went back to watching the light glint off the water outside their boat.
Time passed, the seconds solidifying into minutes, minutes hardening into hours. As the last sliver of sun sank beneath the horizon, the low sound of a motor cut through the silence. Kozlov pushed to his feet, though his height required him to bend to avoid knocking his head on the ceiling. “It’s time.”
Meg woke feeling… not refreshed. Nowhere near refreshed. But when she opened her eyes, she felt a little less like death. The room no longer spun and her headache had decreased into something just shy of tolerable. She lay still for several long minutes, counting her inhales and doing her best to calm the thoughts racing in circles through her mind.
She had no idea where she was.
She had no idea what the building looked like outside of this little room.
She had no idea how she was going to escape, or what she’d face if she was able to.
The only thing she knew was that she had to try.
One last inhale and she pushed slowly up to a sitting position. When the room stayed firmly in place, she stood. So far, so good. She walked carefully around her room, examining it from every angle, letting her legs get used to pulling their weight again. The space was exactly what she’d seen the first time. Four white walls. A cot welded to the floor. No windows to speak of.
And no bathroom.
Good.
Meg let weariness wash over her. She’d never been an actress, but she’d have to pull that skillset out of her ass right now. It didn’t take much playing pretend to shamble back to the door and insert hoarse panic into her voice. “Hey! Hey, I need to use the bathroom.”
“Hold it.” A gruff male voice that most certainly wasn’t Dorian.
Thank god.
She hit the door again, harder. “I just got my period. I can’t hold it. It’s going to look like a murder happened in here if I don’t get some feminine products and a bathroom. Now!” Meg held her breath. This kind of ploy would never work on a guy who was the least bit familiar with how menstruation worked, but she’d wager Dorian didn’t hire his men for their feminist mentalities.
Sure enough, a low curse sounded on the other side of the door. “Back away and sit on the bed. I’m coming in.”
“Thank you. Oh god, thank you.” She obeyed the command, but she cupped between her legs for good measure, as if she really was terrified about bleeding out on the floor. “Please hurry.”
The door opened mere seconds later, but she counted three separate clicks before it did. Taking no chances there. She couldn’t let them put her back in this room. She’d never be able to escape if she stayed locked up here. She wasn’t sure she could escape, but she’d damn well try.
The man who walked through the door looked like he’d been pulled from a casting lineup for Nameless Mercenary #2. He had tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt and his muscles bulged out from beneath a black T-shirt that was at least two sizes too small. Fatigues and shiny black boots finished off the look. He even had a scar through one of his eyebrows, a perfectly straight shiny white line that almost looked fake.
He looked around as if expecting to be doused in blood at any moment. “Come on. Don’t… get it anywhere.”
“I’m trying.” She kept her hands strategically placed and followed him out of the room and into a narrow hall. If Meg had Galen’s skills, she could have pulled some fancy move and incapacitated the man—or maybe just punched him into unconsciousness—but all she had was herself. She shuffled along behind him, doing her best to take in everything without looking like she was doing exactly that.
They turned one corner and then another, until he all but shoved her into a bathroom. “There should be something in there. Hurry up.” He slammed the door in her face.
Meg wasted no time. She rifled through the cabinet for something useful, but it only held the usual things. Manly razors. Shaving cream. A handful of toothbrushes and two types of toothpaste. She eyed the bar of soap in the shower. Maybe she could embed the razors into it and use it as a slashing weapon? She’d seen it done in a movie once but…
No, it might work against one person, but she couldn’t fight her way out of this place with that kind of weapon. She hadn’t seen a weapon on her guard, so there was no guarantee he had a gun, and…
Stop. Breathe. Focus.
She used the toilet and then made a show of rattling around and making pained noises after she was finished. Her gaze lifted to the tiny
window positioned near the ceiling. It was too narrow for a grown man, but Meg could probably wiggle through. She sure as hell had the motivation. She just needed the time.
“Hey! Hurry up in there.”
She jumped. Time was one thing she didn’t have. Yet. Meg pasted the most pitiful look on her face and cracked open the door. “There’s nothing in here, and the toilet paper is so thin, I’ll bleed through it inside of an hour, even if I layer up. Should I do that?” Come on, she silently urged. You don’t want to have to drag me to the bathroom once an hour until Dorian decides to enact his evil plan.
The same thoughts must have been dragging through her guard’s mind because he gave her a disgusted look. “Stay in there. I think the upstairs bathroom has something.” He took a step back and looked at her, his dark eyes soulless. “I mean it, little girl. Stay the fuck in that room if you know what’s good for you. I might be nice, but the rest of my team isn’t, and if they find you out alone…” He shrugged. “You won’t like it.”
Great. Good to know. She let her bottom lip quiver. “I won’t go anywhere.”
“Better not.”
She shut the door and counted slowly to five, long enough for his heavy footsteps to move away from the bathroom. This was the only chance she’d get. Meg threw herself into motion. She climbed onto the back of the toilet and worked the latch of the window loose. It unlocked without a sound and she muscled it open.
Salty sea air drifted into the bathroom, as familiar as her own name. No telling how far they were from the ocean, but at least she had a starting point. Meg cast one last glance over her shoulder and hauled herself up and through the window. It was a tighter squeeze than she liked, and she had to wiggle to dislodge her hips from the opening, but the fact it was so close to the ground worked in her favor and she was able to claw herself free. She carefully closed the window and crouched in the shadows, trying to get her bearings. The house blocked what little moonlight the night sky offered, and all that lay before her was darkness. In the distance, she thought she caught the soft sound of water, but she couldn’t be sure of that. Maybe her nose was making her ears play tricks on her.
No telling which direction was the right one. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t stay here. The guard would be back in a few minutes—if not less time—and then she’d be in trouble.
She was already in trouble.
Meg counted slowly to three and pushed away from the house. She had to move. Rocks cut into her bare feet, and she had to hold her dress off the ground to prevent it from dragging. Evening gowns were hardly created for stealth. She reached a waist-high rock ledge and paused. She knew these rocks. Well, not these specific ones, but this type.
Greece.
She was in Greece.
She squinted into the dark. The ledge stair-stepped up into the night, probably to some kind of cliff face. At least that’s what the land around Galen’s house did. If Dorian’s was set up in similar fashion, there would only be two ways out—a road or the water. She looked both ways, but in the end there was really only one option. Any route that allowed cars in and out would be watched much closer than the way down to the sea. She had no idea what she’d do if she managed to get to the water. Summer was many long months away, and a cruel wind bit through the flimsy fabric of her dress. Swimming meant a nasty case of hypothermia.
If she didn’t drown first.
Can’t think about that now.
She edged in the direction she was now sure she could hear water sounds from. Maybe they weren’t as high up as Galen’s place was. Maybe it was just a matter of getting to the water, to a dock, and stealing a boat. Meg had never actually hotwired anything before, but she’d give it her best shot.
Several agonizing minutes later, the rock ledge she’d followed fell away into emptiness. She caught sight of a couple bobbing lights that might have been buoys or boats far, far below her. Damn it.
“Someone’s been naughty.”
The voice skittered up her spine and she spun as a man shifted away from where he must have been standing this entire time, watching her make her slow progress. His teeth flashed in the low light, but that’s the only impression she got of him.
That and danger.
Meg took a step back, but he was too fast. He grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly enough that if his body hadn’t been there to stop her forward momentum, she would have fallen. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Mikos kept you locked up tight away from the wolves.” His grin made her skin want to detach from her body and flee into the night. “Should have stayed where he put you.”
“Let go of me.” She shoved at his chest, but he was too strong. “I’ll—”
“Scream?” He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Meg kicked at him, but her bare feet did more damage to her toes than to his boots. It didn’t matter as he dragged her farther from the minuscule light emanating from the house. In desperation, she went for his eyes, scratching and trying to dig her thumbs in the way one of the lady self-defense classes her college had offered last year.
He cursed and released her long enough to raise his arm to backhand her. Meg threw her hands over her face. Oh god, this is going to hurt. Don’t pass out. Don’t you dare pass out.
The blow never landed.
The man’s hold on her was gone so quickly, Meg stumbled. She hit her knees and dropped her hands in time to see his limp body disappear into the darkness. And then she was pulled against a large male chest. Instinct had her fighting, but then his scent hit her. Beneath the salt smell of the ocean was a hint of cloves and tobacco.
Galen.
17
Galen allowed himself to hold Meg for a beat. Two. On the third, he smoothed a hand over her hair. “Can you stand on your own, baby? I need to cut this dress down to size and get you the fuck out of here.” Galen had run countless scenarios on how this night would play out, and not a single damn one of them had included finding one of the guards grappling with Meg out in the dark, away from the house. And yet here she was, whole and shaking, but relatively unharmed.
He hoped.
He went to his knees and pulled the knife from the sheath in his boot. He sawed through the dress just above Meg’s knees and then yanked it away from her body. It was too cold for her to be dressed like this, but better to have her legs exposed than to trip and fall down the narrow staircase carved into the side of the cliff.
Or to bring attention to them.
He cupped her face with his hands. Even in the low light, he could see black tracks down her face where she’d shed tears. It made him want to march into that house and put a bullet between his old man’s eyes. Not now. Not tonight. Tonight, the only priority was getting Meg home safely. After… Well, they’d worry about that shit after the fact. “Can you walk?”
“Yes.” She leaned into his touch, seeming to soak him in as much as he soaked her in. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.” He considered his options and grabbed her hand. “Stay behind me until we get to the stairs, and then you’re going to go first.” He and Kozlov’s team had already taken care of the guards in that area. The last target had been the one with his hands all over Meg, and he wouldn’t be bothering anyone ever again.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You got this far. Let me take it the rest of the way.” He drew his gun from his shoulder holster and guided them into the darkness. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, the rock barren around them in a way that had to be designed. He knew, because he’d done the same with his place. Galen hated seeing physical evidence of how similar he and his father’s minds worked, but there was no denying it. He actually approved of the security measures.
The only thing his old man didn’t count on was Galen himself.
Two women melted out of the darkness and he recognized them as Zara and Alexis from Kozlov’s team. They fell into formation behind him as if they’d done this drill
a thousand times. “Clear,” Zara murmured. “They have shift changes in seven minutes, so we need to move.”
“We have less time than that.” However Meg had escaped—and they’d be talking about that later—they were bound to notice sooner, rather than later. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
As if on cue, someone started shouting at the front of the house. Galen tightened his grip on Meg’s hand and pushed her in front of him. “Down the stairs. Now.” He pointed at Zara and Alexis. “Cover our retreat, but you stick to me, you hear me?”
“We don’t answer to you,” Alexis narrowed her eyes in the direction of the house.
“What she means to say is ‘Yes, sir!’” Zara checked her rifle and nodded. “Go. We’re right behind you.”
He went. His priority was Meg. He had to trust that Kozlov had trained these women well enough. That Galen had trained Kozlov well enough.
He shadowed Meg’s steps, keeping one hand free in case he needed to pull her back from the edge, but she never faltered. Down and down and down they went, the shouts and curses above them gaining volume. “Almost there, baby. You’re doing great.”
They reached the dock just as shots rang out above them. Galen grabbed Meg to him and twisted to keep his body between her and any bullets headed their way. Alexis and Zara returned fire and he rushed Meg to the boat. It was a tactical boat barely big enough to hold the four of them. He and the women had to paddle it in to avoid detection, but it would get them out of here in a hurry. He dumped Meg into it and turned to find Zara next to him. Alexis was still on the stairs, firing up at the men crowding the top of the staircase, her laugh a wild thing on the wind.
Goddamn it.
