by Krista Wolf
CRACK!
The rifle barked. I absorbed the recoil. The shot reverberated so loudly through the canyon, Kyrkos’s cat leapt from his shoulder and landed six feet away.
No, that’s not right.
Kyrkos fell backward with a guttural scream. His men rushed to him instantly. Something blossomed on his robe. Bright red. Blood…
No, the cat was jumping even before you hit him.
Quickly I replayed the whole thing in my mind. Kyrkos, reaching for the fig. The cat, pawing at him from out of nowhere, causing him to lean backward to avoid its claw…
FUCK.
I looked again, hoping for a second shot. The courtyard was empty now. Floating up from below I could hear screams and shouts. The loud barking of orders.
That damned cat!
Abandoning the rifle, I flew down the hill… but not before drawing my radio first.
“Three alpha bravo, three alpha bravo, come in!”
Static. Nothing.
I was sprinting on legs that were still asleep. I’d gone straight into a full-fledged run, and now they were screaming for oxygen.
“THREE ALPHA BRAVO, PICK UP!”
I called into the radio again and again, while still flying down the rocky path. Three times I almost fell. One time, arms pinwheeling, I nearly lost the radio, too.
But no one answered.
Shit!
Somehow I made the villa in record time. My feet were all pins and needles. The muscles in my back, totally locked up.
“Holden! Randall!”
I burst through the door. Kicked open the bedrooms.
“ANDREA! HOLDEN! RAND—”
My head whipped left, then right, as my body spun in a frantic circle. I ran through the kitchen, the living area, through the front and back.
But the entire house was empty.
Forty-Five
ANDREA
We’d stayed the night in the city… and it had been absolutely amazing. Best of all, there had been no remorse. No guilt about sneaking away, no worries about being found out or having to get back in time.
And the whole thing, strangely enough, had been Holden’s idea.
We’d wandered the nighttime streets for a bit more, just the three of us. Me in the middle, with my two gorgeous SEALs holding my hands, pulling me close. We saw the city shut down. The people turn in. It was all so beautiful. So breathtakingly romantic.
It was well past midnight when we found the inn. The woman at the front desk gave us a double-take as we paid for a single room, but vacancy was vacancy, and money was money.
The place was quaint… and small. Together we peeled our clothing down to our underwear and jumped into bed together, with me nestled between them. Then we all fell sound asleep… with me wrapped in my lovers’ arms.
It was the best four or five hours of sleep I’d ever fucking had.
I woke to the sound of Randall, snoring like a buzzing chainsaw. Just as the first light of day was filtering in, through the tiny window.
“You up?”
The voice came from my right. I spun to face Holden, shielding my morning breath with a giggle.
“Did he ever not snore like a lumberjack?” I whispered.
“Nope. Always.” Holden smiled, reaching out to touch my face. As his fingers trailed gently across my cheek, his eyes went to the window. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
I practically snorted. “Of course I am!”
“Good. Let’s go.”
We got dressed quietly, although I’m pretty sure we could’ve played the accordion and not woken Randall up. A few minutes after that we were walking the cobbled streets, on the most epic adventure of anyone’s early morning: the quest for coffee.
It didn’t take long to stumble upon a street vendor, just setting up for the morning crowds. Two double-espressos later, we were wandering along the Via Teatro. Looking out over the Theater of Taormina, a crumbling horseshoe-shaped amphitheater built in Roman times, more than two-dozen centuries ago.
“Perfect place to drink our coffee, no?” said Holden, ducking beneath the bars of the steel fence.
I gasped in surprise, and then followed. “I can’t believe you’re breaking the rules like this!”
“Yeah, well believe it or not I’m as stir crazy as the rest of you,” he replied. “And I’m getting well past the point of ‘fuck it’.”
We climbed halfway down the steps of the ancient arena, and sat down right in the center. The crystal blue waters of the Ionian sea lay spread out behind us. In the other direction — beyond the theater’s stage — the volcano of Mt. Etna loomed, smoking in the distance.
“Gladiators used to fight here, you know.”
It was hard to imagine. A place of such beauty, immersed in blood.
For a minute or so we sat side by side, huddled over our steaming beverages. The whole theater was soon cast in a magnificent golden glow, as the sun finished emerging from the sea.
“Randall told me why you’re after Kyrkos,” I said abruptly.
Holden continued staring forward as he sipped his coffee. His handsome face had more than the usual amount of stubble on it.
“He did, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess… I guess I just wanted you to know I understand.”
His lips went a little tighter, his eyes just a tiny bit more narrow. The SEAL’s body language told me what his mouth would not. That no matter how good my intentions, I couldn’t possibly understand.
“Andrea…” he said at last. “I need you to know something. I’m not like Randall.”
I let out a little chuckle. “That good or bad?”
“Both,” said Holden. “As crazy and restless as he is, some of those traits actually help him out in life. He has the uncanny ability to move on quickly. He doesn’t dwell on things…”
I cupped my mug, absorbing its warmth. Still I said nothing.
“Randall was surrounded once,” said Holden. “He got separated from the unit, back in Bosnia. This was after heavy fighting. We were all spent and ragged. Waiting for extraction…”
He took a long pull from his coffee before going on. He also still hadn’t looked at me.
“Anyway, he fought his way out of a warehouse with only twelve rounds, surrounded by seventeen insurgents,” said Holden. He paused for a moment as his eyes searched the horizon, remembering. “Know how they knew there were seventeen?”
I swallowed dryly. “How?”
“Because they counted the bodies, afterwards.”
I stared down at my feet in silence. The whole thing was unfathomable.
“Randall slept like a baby when we got back that night,” said Holden. “He sleeps like that every night, because he never lets his work interfere with his life. Somehow he manages to separate those two things,” Holden went on. “His mind can do that. But mine can’t.”
I nodded, glumly. I was trying to show empathy, but I really could see where he was coming from. What he was saying about Randall was undoubtedly true. As for himself…
“I understand you having to dwell on it,” I said finally, “But you still can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“I did at first,” Holden admitted.
“Randall said you saved lives,” I went on. “That without you, nobody would’ve gotten out. Not a single person. Including him.”
I finished talking, and finally he turned to look at me. I saw sorrow reflected in his eyes now. But thankfully, not pain.
“Randall keeps me grounded,” said Holden. “Every time I see him smiling, laughing, joking around… in the face of everything we’ve been through? It gives me hope. It makes me realize that maybe it wasn’t all for nothing. That the souls we lost would rather see me live my life, than beat myself up reflecting on it.”
I nodded and smiled. The sun was starting to feel good on my back as I slid my arm through his.
“Have you figured out what we’ve all got in common yet?” I asked.
Holden finished draining his cup, then shook his head.
“We’re all punishing ourselves for the past. For terrible things that happened to us, through no fault of our own.”
“Someone’s sure at fault though,” he pointed out bitterly. He crushed the paper cup in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket.
Kyrkos.
“We’d better head back,” Holden said abruptly. He stood up and stretched. “We can merge in with the morning crowd. Get through town unnoticed.”
My head was spinning from the small but powerful coffee. I still wanted another though.
“Go wake up the lumberjack,” I agreed. “I’ll grab more coffee for the road — some for him, too. It’ll help with the uphill walk.”
Holden considered saying something else but stopped. In the end, he only nodded.
“Fine, but hurry. We need to relieve Marcus.”
We walked the avenue again, this time at double-speed. People were milling around now. The quiet streets showed signs of life.
I found the same vendor as before, only this time on the opposite side of the road. I crossed over, splitting with Holden. He gave me a firm nod as he ducked into the inn.
I’m happy.
It was a simple realization, but a good one nonetheless. It brought a smile to my face, too. Our little jaunt had broken the boredom, shattered the monotony. It was exactly what we’d needed.
Maybe we could come back here, I thought to myself. With Marcus this time…
The delicious smell of roasted coffee washed over me as I fished into my pocket for money. The vendor was looking at me curiously, now. Gazing strangely at a point over my shoulder with a look of surprise… and something like fear.
I stopped at once, the hairs rising up at the base of my neck. Then the back of my head exploded in a flash of searing hot pain…
… and everything went instantly black.
Forty-Six
RANDALL
“Which way, which way?” Holden practically shouted into the man’s face. “Tell us which way!”
The coffee vendor was visibly shaken, and already surrounded by a small crowd. From what we’d had translated so far, he’d witnessed Andrea being attacked by two men. And not just attacked… but taken.
Someone in the crowd translated again, and this time the vendor understood. The man pointed down a narrow sidestreet with one flailing arm.
Holden and I took off so fast the crowd became a distant memory.
It was unbelievable to me, what had happened. That he’d left her alone for even a single second, considering the care and secrecy he’d committed us to all these weeks.
But it was my fault too. My fault she was even down here in the first place. My fault for sleeping late, when I could’ve been—
“THERE!”
I looked up, and there he was: an odd-looking man staring back at us, with dark-hair and a blue shirt. He matched one of the vendor’s descriptions. Only this guy was alone. There was no sign of Andrea.
Holden and I ran full speed at him, which would’ve ordinarily closed the distance quickly. He was one street higher, though. Up at least thirty or forty stone steps.
“WHERE IS SHE?” shouted Holden.
The man disappeared, bolting down the alley.
We reached the steps, which I took three at a time. I passed Holden easily, flung myself into the next alley, and looked up… just in time to see the guy hopping a low, wood-slatted fence.
Damn.
I took off before Holden even crested the top. As fast as he was, his bigger muscles required more oxygen. I was lighter. Quicker. Not to mention, running had always been my thing.
“Go!” Holden gasped, as I left him at the fence.
I saw him change direction as he ran around. In the meantime, the guy in front of me had disappeared into a house. He’d run right in through an open back door. Straight through a series of rooms and out the front.
I followed, much to the chagrin of the three people inside enjoying breakfast.
“Tu! Fermare!”
Someone clawed at me. I shrugged them off. A moment later I was sprinting across a front lawn, down into the street. I ran through another alley. Past a large crowd of children, gathered together in school uniforms.
Shit, he’s fast!
My quarry was flying along, his legs moving so quickly they seemed to be spinning. He leapt over a gate. Squeezed through the narrow gap between two stuccoed buildings, and stumbled down another staircase.
The damned staircases were everywhere. Fucking everywhere! Taormina, if anything, was a very vertical city.
Catch him, catch him — you’ve got to CATCH him!
Silently I chastised myself. I was getting distracted again. My mind, wandering aimlessly, when it ought to be—
Almost on cue I lost my footing. I tried to catch myself, failed miserable, and went tumbling down the second half of the stone steps head over heels.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck!
I hit the ground in the tuck position, rolled forward, and sprang back into a full-blown sprint again. My knees felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. Both my elbows were torn and bleeding…
Don’t lose him!
Up ahead, my target was finally running out of steam. I could see him slowing down considerably. Maybe he’d twisted something. Shit, maybe his heart exploded. Or maybe—
Maybe he was turning around, and aiming a Desert Eagle at my head.
I froze, and for a split-second I had no idea what to do. I was unarmed. Winded. The guy had a gun leveled straight at my face…
CRACK!
The shot was so loud it shattered the morning silence, echoing through the tiny town square. The noise sent up a flock of feeding birds. The small crowd that had been going about their business began running, screaming…
Then the guy in front of me dropped like a sack of bricks.
My hands were still exploring my own body, checking myself for wounds I could only pray weren’t there. Then I turned my head… and saw Marcus walking up, his pistol still drawn.
“You alright?”
I nodded vaguely as he bent to check the body. With smooth, practiced motions he grabbed the Desert Eagle and tucked it into his belt.
“’Bout time we had one of these.”
I was frantic. He was calm. I knew right then, he didn’t know.
“Randall, what the hell is going—”
“They have her!”
He squinted back at me for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “They do?”
I grabbed him to pull him out of the street, away from the guy he’d just dropped. At the same time, Holden came running up.
“Did… did you—”
“If they have her,” Marcus said, “there’s only one place she’ll be.”
He turned and looked west, then upward, back toward the hills.
“They’re taking her to him.”
Forty-Seven
ANDREA
“Get up…”
The voice reached my ears through a wall of pain, somewhere in the back of my skull. I sat up, groggily. Everything was still blurry, fuzzy around the edges. It was definitely an improvement though. The first time I’d tried opening my eyes, I was still seeing double.
“I said GET UP!”
Somehow I struggled to my feet. I was in an open room. No, not a room, a chamber. Stone walls. Flagstone floor. It reminded me a lot of the bedchamber, back in Rhodes, when I was waiting for—
“So…” the voice snarled, all deep and gravelly. “It is you.”
I turned, wincing in even more pain. Still holding my head…
And there he was.
KYRKOS!
“I would’ve thought the daughter of Benjamin Martensson might have more sense than this,” the man growled. He nodded to where I was still holding my skull. “But then again, just like you, your father always was thick-headed.”
The man at the other end of the room was short, squat, and broad-chested. A th
ick mop of dark hair and matching beard covered what might’ve once been a handsome face, just as a layer of fat covered what might’ve once been muscle.
He was sitting backwards in a wooden chair, legs spread, his feet planted firmly to the left and right. And just beside him, on the floor…
“You’re hurt.”
It seemed odd, that these would be my first words to him. The man I’d been hunting all this time. The man who’d taken my father from me.
Kyrkos glanced down, to the not-insignificant pool of blood on the floor beside him. My eyes traced the source upward, along one hairy, bloodstained forearm. Just above that, most of his upper arm and shoulder were wrapped in a thick layer of gauze, bandages, and even more blood.
“One of your little friends grazed me,” he said casually. “He’s a worse shot than we gave him credit for.”
“Boyfriends,” I corrected him.
The man’s head tilted to one side. I wasn’t sure whether he believed me, or he figured I was just messing with him. Either way, his mouth twisted into a smirk.
“Benjamin Martensson’s daughter…” he said again. He shook his head unbelievingly. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Just look at you. You’re actually prettier than I thought you’d be.”
“And you’re shorter than imagined,” I shot back.
Xander Kyrkos rose, pushing himself to his feet. I heard him try, unsuccessfully, to suppress a little grunt of pain.
“I desired you, back on Rhodes,” he said, ignoring my insult. “You were flawlessly beautiful. So perfect.” He laughed, gruffly. “Of course if I’d known who you were, I might’ve—”
“Killed me?”
He looked shocked. It was a mock expression though. “No,” he said, sounding almost wounded. “Of course not. Just the opposite.”
Slowly he walked around the chair, regarding me the whole time. He was still losing blood. Tiny ruby droplets pattered to floor, falling from the tip of his middle finger.
“I picked you out of the crowd,” he said. “Selected you above all those others. And to think, I almost had you. The daughter of Benjamin Martensson! Waiting for me, in that bedchamber…”
