Seduction and Surrender (Reckless #2)

by C. C. Gibbs

  “Hey, ESP, whatever it takes. I’m with you.” But Dominic was surprised at Nicole’s calm assurance that Isabelle would recover. His reports had been less sanguine and he’d given Nicole a relatively accurate assessment of her sister’s condition. He wasn’t about to argue though, pleased that Nicole was dealing with the tragedy in whatever fashion she could. Not that he wasn’t above hoping that ESP was the newest medical marvel.

  “More good news too,” Nicole said, grinning. “Ta-da!” She held out her hand to her uncle. “I’m engaged.” She shot a smile at Rafe. “We’re engaged.”

  “Very nice,” Dominic said, smooth and polished, his emotions masked. “I like your ring. Congratulations.” He glanced at Rafe and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to surprise a lot of people.”

  “Somehow that’s not a concern of mine,” Rafe said drily. He gave Nicole a one-armed hug. “We’re happy, that’s all the matters.”

  “Of course. I, for one, recommend marriage. All my best to you both.”

  But Dominic watched the young couple as they quietly said their good-byes, a faint worry line on his brow. He wondered if Rafe understood what he was doing. Nicole seemed so sure. Maybe women had a better grasp of their emotions, were less puzzled by all the intangibles. Yet still—he felt a ripple of unease. Contini had been burning through women for a helluva long time.

  Henny, Basil, and Ganz suddenly arrived to see Nicole off and Dominic took the opportunity to draw Rafe aside. “This engagement? Are you serious?” He spoke in an undertone, a faint prickle in his voice. “I’m concerned for my sister, Nicole’s mother, as well as Nicole. I wouldn’t want either of them upset over some rash impulse of yours.”

  Rafe dialed down his flash of anger. “I told you how I felt in Paris. It hasn’t changed. I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you,” he said with a touch of irony, since both of them knew he wasn’t sorry. “I’ll come for Nicole as soon as this operation’s over.”

  “Leo tells me Zou’s massing a lot of troops.” Dominic’s expression was absolutely neutral, giving nothing away.

  “Zou needs them. His list of enemies is long. But Leo can go back anytime. We’re in good shape.” Rafe could do emotionally uninvolved too; a life’s worth of training made it easy.

  “Leo was thinking about staying. If you’re serious about marrying Nicole,” Dominic said, his voice just a little bit sharp, “it’s even more important that you come out of this alive.”

  “I’m not one of your employees, so watch your tone,” Rafe said, a hard glint in his hooded gaze. “But for Nicole’s sake—so she doesn’t have to deal with your hassle—I’ll say it. There’s no if. I’m serious. We’re getting married. And no offense, but I don’t need your help with Zou.”

  “Take it anyway.” Dominic finally smiled. “Consider it an engagement gift. We both want Nicole happy. That means you showing up in San Francisco with all your limbs more or less intact.”

  There was a small taut silence.

  “Look,” Dominic said into the silence. “We got off on the wrong foot. I made a mistake. We both want what’s best for Nicole.” A casual reassurance; a cryptic warning. “We can agree on that.”

  But deep down he was saying something else; he was saying You’re the wrong man for my niece.

  Rafe left a long pause before he spoke. “I don’t want to keep going over the same ground or get bogged down in some pointless testosterone competition. I can be a prick, you can be a prick, we both have a talent for it. But here’s the situation. I’m not you,” he said flatly. “Just because we met where we met, did what we did, doesn’t mean we’re the same. Clear?”

  Rafe’s steely resolve was different from his at that age, Dominic reflected. Not raw and wild, not even annoyed, just firm; but the message was clear. Back off. Dominic sighed. Max’s dossier had indicated that Contini’s character had been honed in a crucible of deviant circumstance and isolation. So maybe he knew how to keep his shit together even if he was young. “Fair enough,” Dominic said mildly. “I’ll wind down my overprotective uncle vibe.” He lifted his chin and offered a conciliatory smile. “The problem’s Nicole. You know what she’s like. If you don’t let me help, I won’t hear the end of it. She doesn’t give up.” He shrugged. “That’s both good and bad, but you know what I mean. So how about you let me lend a hand?”

  Rafe exhaled softly, then dipped his head. “Okay. But I warn you, I’m not a cheap date. We’re facing one holy mess and the word winning isn’t really applicable.”

  “I’m well aware,” Dominic said. Even if they were successful, it would come at a cost.

  Rafe shot a quick glance toward the group around Nicole, then spoke even more quietly. “When you called, you asked me to help Nicole. Now I’m asking you to do the same for me. I told Nicole I might be incommunicado for a few days. It could be longer. Once we leave the island everything’s in flux; there may not be time to make personal calls. I don’t want her alarmed.”

  Dominic nodded. “I’ll see that she doesn’t panic. Once we get to San Francisco, she’ll be busy with family. Everyone’s camped out at the hospital with Isabelle. But if and when it’s possible, call Nicole so she doesn’t worry. Leo will keep me in the loop, but that’s not news I can share with her.”

  “How serious are Isabelle’s injuries?” Rafe asked. “Nicole seems to be in denial.”

  “They’re serious. Isabelle was thrown from the car. Her head injuries are severe. She’s in an induced coma.”

  “Jesus.” Rafe blew out a breath. “Look, I have access to every kind of facility and specialist in the world, so if I can help…”

  “She’s at Stanford’s Level One trauma center. The care’s excellent.”

  “Still, if you need any particular specialist, tell Leo and I’ll get back to you. Oops, we’re done. Here comes Nicole.”

  Dominic grinned. “Did you ever think you’d worry what a woman thought?”

  “No more than you,” Rafe said softly.

  “We’re both lucky men.” Dominic put out his hand. “Stay well.”

  Rafe’s grip was strong and firm. “I plan on it.”

  Chapter 22

  After Nicole left, Rafe made a quick detour to his bedroom, sat down at a small table he used as a desk, opened the single drawer, and pulled out a sheet of monogramed paper and an envelope. He wrote a few lines quickly, signed it All my love, Rafe, folded the note, shoved it into the envelope, and wrote Nicole on the outside. Coming to his feet, he walked into his dressing room, pushed aside his shirts in the wardrobe, and opened a small wall safe. Taking a single key from several on a key ring, he slipped it into the envelope, licked the seal, and pressed the envelope shut with a swipe of his fingers.

  Returning to the desk, he put the small envelope inside a larger one, scrawled his bank manager’s name on the sturdy manila stock, added a short note with the necessary instructions, and dropped the packet into the desk drawer. When he left for Bangkok, he’d have someone deliver the package to Geneva. Then he rose and, with a last glance around the room, turned and walked out.

  He was in the operations room five minutes later. After receiving updates from Zander and Carlos, he joined Webster and Gina, who had Zou’s wife under surveillance on another set of monitors. She’d recently met with Colonel Chen, Webster offered, flicking over to another screen with an interior shot of a living room.

  “No big surprise, I suppose,” Rafe said, dropping into a chair with a view of the screen. “Not exactly a love match considering Zou’s roving eye.”

  “His wife was well connected when they married,” Gina noted, looking up from her keyboard, then leaning back in her chair. “Zou wasn’t. Old story. He moves on when he hits the big time.”

  Rafe raised his lashes infinitesimally. “Surely not a woman scorned.”

  “No,” Webster replied. “Not even close. She’s looking for a payoff. Zou thinks she’s old school, submissive, long-suffering. He calls her with instructions for their daughter, household, ev
erything. She never argues, but she’s taking care of business, no doubt.”

  “When’s the payoff?” Rafe sat up a little straighter.

  “Tomorrow. She gives up Zou’s new phone number, his fourth since he left Shanghai. She was a tough negotiator; wanted the money wired out. Their son is at Oxford, so at least he might get the funds. She and the daughter”—Webster shrugged—“who knows. I have a tap on her phone and a mike on the house. Chen’s security thinks they’ve taken them out.” Webster grinned. “But I’m too fucking good.”

  Rafe smiled. “No argument there. So as of tomorrow we have ears on Zou, not just eyes?”

  “You got it.”

  “Then we should move out. Are either of you coming to Bangkok? No pressure. You’ve both done your jobs.”

  “I’m in,” Gina said. “I don’t have anything else going on right now.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Webster said.

  “Davey’s lining up transport.” Rafe heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll go see how he’s doing. Thanks as usual.” He shut his eyes for a second. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

  “Grab a nap,” Webster said, pointing at a sofa in the corner. No one mentioned Nicole, the reason for his lack of sleep, or the reason she left. Everyone was focused on the task at hand.

  “Maybe later.” Rafe lifted his hand marginally in a wave, then walked from the room.

  Davey filled him in on the aircraft waiting at Split, as well as their flight plans currently on hold. Afterward, Rafe joined Carlos, who was with the technicians monitoring the island security cameras.

  “Anders thought he saw something a couple minutes ago, but it disappeared. Over there.” Carlos pointed. “North of dock four. Now nothing.”

  Rafe sat down beside Carlos and slowly scanned the twenty screens. It was nearly five, the shadows lengthening even with the late sunsets in August, the miles of shoreline empty of activity, the waves breaking on shore in a mesmerizing rhythm. The quiet hum of activity in the room was as tranquilizing as the waves. With Nicole gone, Rafe settled into a comfortable chair in front of the wall of monitors, answered questions when needed, ate when someone brought him a sandwich, and dozed off from time to time. He’d been short of sleep for days.

  Several hours later, Rafe caught a glimpse of movement in the far corner of the top right screen and briefly wondered if he’d been dreaming. A light sleeper since childhood, thanks to his father’s drunken rants in the middle of the night, he was instantly alert, his gaze intent on the suspicious area. Fuck! “Top right screen,” he snapped. “Two o’clock. Coming ashore.” He was on his feet before he’d finished speaking and running for the door. Grabbing an assault rifle from a wall rack, he blew out of the operations room, took the stairs three at a time, and was racing down the hill a few seconds later, a dozen armed men in his wake.

  By the time they reached the small cove, two security patrols were pulling a deflated rubber raft on shore, along with three dead men.

  “Once the team was burned they let loose. We returned fire. One was still alive but he put a round in his head before we could get to him,” one of the security men explained. “So no go on interrogation, but”—he held up a small rubber sheathed electronic device—“score. They were tracking something onshore.”

  “A solo assault?” Rafe glanced at Carlos, who was talking into an earpiece. Carlos shook his head, held up two fingers, and, a moment later, said, “Two more rafts, assault teams all dead. Three men by choice. Wait, one still alive.”

  “Keep him alive,” Rafe said crisply. “Not that it matters. We know what they want. But no point doing cold-blooded until we have to.”

  Carlos gave orders to whomever was relaying the information to him.

  “Now let’s see where the transmitter was planted.” Rafe nodded to the man holding the device. “Lead the way.”

  It turned out the signal came from the diamond studs in Bao-Yu’s daughter’s ears. A clear explanation of why Zou had allowed the mother, father, and child to leave Shanghai. “He was using them for bait to target his enemies,” Rafe said, once everyone had returned to the operations room.

  “And he didn’t care who went after them,” Carlos said. “One of his rivals or us. They were useful, then expendable. Bao-Yu and Li understood that, so they showed themselves and hoped Ganz et al got there first.”

  “Zou was using them to buy time too,” Rafe muttered. “But the bastard has to leave his compound eventually. Double the patrols on the island tonight. Everyone else get a good night’s sleep. We leave for Bangkok in the morning.”

  There was no dissent. The men recruited preferred action to waiting.

  The next morning, while two aircraft took off from the airport in Split, Nicole was at her sister’s bedside, talking softly, telling Isabelle about Rafe, about their wedding, about all they’d do together once she was well again.

  With the induced coma, Isabelle was heavily sedated, a breathing machine taking over her lung function, her body being chilled with cooling blankets, all in an effort to reduce the swelling in her brain and mitigate cerebral damage. Under the care of a team of trauma specialists, including an ER doctor, a neurosurgeon, an orthopedic surgeon, and a plastic surgeon, Isabelle was being closely monitored. She had a sensor in her brain to measure cerebral pressure, a heart/pulse monitor, and a special bed that altered air pressure to reduce blood clotting. After forty-eight hours her sedation would be reduced and her vitals scrutinized, and if her body functions performed well, the sedation dose would be reduced more. If, however, her response was inadequate and the swelling persisted, an operation would be necessary and a portion of her skull would be removed to relieve the pressure on her brain.

  The whole family was at the hospital, taking turns sitting at Isabelle’s bedside, but once Nicole arrived, Isabelle responded best to her sister’s voice; she’d moved a finger an infinitesimal distance when Nicole first spoke. And her lashes fluttered once when Nicole recited a favorite poem of theirs from childhood in a gibberish intelligible only to them. Like so many children, Isabelle and Nicole had developed their own language when they were toddlers.

  So Dominic and Kate could keep vigil with the family at the hospital, their housekeeper, Patty, was taking care of their children, Rosie and James. Dominic had food brought in from Lucia, but under orders from Kate, he curbed his take-charge instinct. “It’s not your place to give orders,” she’d reminded him. “The doctors are excellent. Your sister needs your support, that’s all. Don’t make a scene.”

  By the second day, Dominic was wound up tight; diffidence had never been his strong suit. So when he wasn’t holding his sister Melanie’s hand, he paced. “Not here,” Kate had whispered, jumping up and leading him out into the hall the first time he’d made a restless circuit of the waiting room. “You’re going to freak out Melanie. I’ll come get you if something happens.” So he wore a path out in the hall.

  But when the doctors announced that an operation wasn’t going to be necessary, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The swelling had gone down, they were told, and Isabelle’s lungs were beginning to function again. She might even be taken off the breathing machine tomorrow if her progress continued.

  Kate delivered the good news to Dominic. Soon after, knowing Dominic and his nieces and nephews had been playing chess for years, she called home and had Dominic’s favorite chess set delivered to the hospital.

  Shortly after starting the first game, Dominic had leaned over and given Kate a kiss. “You know how to calm the wild beast,” he’d whispered.

  She’d smiled. “I know everything about you. Including your competitive spirit. So make sure you lose.”

  He’d laughed softly. “Are you my conscience?”

  “You betcha I am.”

  Chapter 23

  As requested, Rafe’s friend Dao waited for him at her office in Bangkok. With almost as many contacts as Carlos, she knew why; monkish now that he was engaged, Rafe wanted their meeting to be strictly business. His
new abstinence surprised her, although perhaps it shouldn’t have. Rafe had been doing exactly as he pleased for years, long before his father died.

  The fact that she happened to own the hotel where his father, Maso, had died while indulging his autoerotic tastes was unfortunate, not intentional. He’d merely reserved the penthouse in the most exclusive luxury hotel in Bangkok. Whether he’d been alone in the penthouse at the time of his death was a question the police had chosen not to ask; it saved hours of manpower and paperwork. The Royal Thai Police preferred a less time-consuming explanation for the cause of death: accidental death by asphyxiation.

  Dao’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her office door and, looking up, she smiled as her houseboy announced Rafe. He’d come alone. She hadn’t been sure with all the plans in motion..

  “You’re looking beautiful as ever, Dao,” Rafe said, striding into the large room overlooking her garden.

  She gave him a quick assessing glance as he approached her desk. “You’re one of the few men who do justice to the word as well, darling.” Even casually dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his long, dark hair tumbled on his shoulders, he was breathtaking. She waved him to a chair. “Would you like tea, a drink, some food?”

  “No thanks. I had something on the plane.” He sat opposite her and waited for her to send the houseboy away and the door to close. Then he leaned forward slightly, his eyes alight. “Zou’s actually on the road. Am I lucky or what?”

  She laughed and sat back in her desk chair. “You’ve always been lucky.”

  “With a little help from you on occasion, don’t forget.”

  “How could I? You gave me the seed money for all this and more.” She swept her arm in a slow circuit that took in the splendid room and estate outside the window.

  “You helped me, I helped you.” Rafe leaned back. “We both managed to survive.”