Infiltration

by Ana Ban

  “Of course, Signor Moretti. How large of a shipment is it, and when is your deadline?”

  “It is 3,000 pounds and needs to be in New York in two weeks.”

  Donovan pulled up a spreadsheet on his computer. “I have a ship in Monaco that can be in Rome in a day.”

  “That is acceptable.”

  “Our fee is the normal arrangement of 20% up front, the balance once it’s delivered. As soon as the funds are in our account, I will give the order.”

  Mr. Moretti nodded, and the call was terminated.

  Donovan tapped a few more keys, and I watched over his shoulder. It looked like some kind of banking website, though not one I was familiar with. A funds transfer was already in progress and, seeing that, Donovan made his next phone call to the ship captain that was currently docked in Monaco.

  I found the process fascinating, and decided not to ask too many questions yet. As Agent McKenzie had talked about, I’d learn more right now from just watching.

  After staying up so late, I ended up sleeping in the next morning. Donovan prepared my breakfast as usual, and I asked if I could use the gym.

  “Of course,” he told me. “I’ll reprogram the security system so you have free reign in the top levels. Right now, for your own protection, don’t go below level 11, all right?”

  “Sure,” I told him, excited to get in a real workout.

  That’s how I spent the next several days, eating meals Donovan made, working out in the gym and sitting in on more calls. Donovan was choosy about which calls I could sit in on, and I knew he was keeping the darker side of the business from me. I bided my time, knowing that, eventually, I would change that.

  After that first night where Donovan slept beside me, he slept in his own room. I was strong enough to get to the bathroom on my own, and the reprieve of his masculine form was a relief. Spending so much time with him as it was, I found myself having moments of truly enjoying his company. The conversation with Agent McKenzie rang in my ears during this time, about using my feelings for the good, but it felt like it would be too easy to cross a line.

  Getting the physical activity helped to exhaust me enough to sleep at night, without medication and without dreams. The last thing I needed was my subconscious to dredge up more inappropriate thoughts of my caretaker.

  With another week under my belt, I decided to speak to Donovan again about the business, to wrangle more details out of him. Waiting until dinner time, I steeled myself for the conversation.

  We were on the patio, the sun sinking below the horizon. As the colors morphed from brilliant orange to pink, purple and finally a deep blue, I glanced over at Donovan.

  “I’d like to become more involved in the business,” I began.

  He looked at me, surprised. “Do you think you’re ready? You’ve been through such an ordeal, and without your memory…”

  “I feel useless right now,” I told him. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, I’d just like to do more with my time.”

  After pondering that for a moment, Donovan nodded. “All right, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  We were silent a few minutes before I decided to delve into the next part. “Donovan, I…”

  Before I could finish, there was a crash from inside the apartment.

  Donovan jumped up, and I was quick to follow. The unmistakable sound of gunfire rang out, and I found myself shoved behind the couch in the living room. There was shouting, which I couldn’t make out over the ringing in my ears.

  While I watched, Donovan pushed the couch forward lifting the edge of the rug to reveal a trap door. Yanking it open, he grabbed two guns, shoving them into my hands, before taking two for himself. We glanced at each other once before spinning around, aiming over the top of the couch.

  There were easily ten figures, dressed in all black, semi-automatic weapons shooting wildly. It didn’t seem they even knew where we were, but that wouldn’t last long.

  Setting my sights on the first, I calmly squeezed the trigger, aiming to maim rather than kill. They began dropping in screams of pain, clutching at their legs as I continued to fire. Donovan was shooting next to me, and, realizing quickly that they were wearing bullet proof vests, took my lead and aimed for their lower extremities.

  Once they were down, we exchanged clips before standing, heading for the exit. It seemed they had come out of the elevator, even with our security in place, so we were aiming for the stairwell. Before we could reach it, more of the dark figures piled out. Donovan yanked me down again, covering me with his own body.

  This time we were behind one of the overstuffed chairs, which did not give us as much cover as the couch had. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I thought the furniture must be specially made to withstand bullets, because not one had come through the fabric.

  In synchronization, we spun around once again, aiming for whatever body parts we could get our sights on. From the first batch of intruders, I caught site of movements too precise to be just writhing in pain. With wide eyes, I watched as he pulled out an egg-shaped object from his pocket, pulled the pin and threw it into the fray.

  Chapter 19

  “Go. Now.” Though my ears were ringing, Donovan’s tone brooked no argument.

  Clasping my hand in his, Donovan leapt to the stairwell, dragging me down the first dozen steps with him, losing our guns in the process. Though he had to release his grip for us both to move easily, I remained on his heel, feet moving quicker than they had since I’d been brought here. Each level we passed, I could hear fists pounding on the doors. Three levels down, an explosion rocked the building.

  Donovan grabbed me again, throwing me to the floor of the next landing, his body instantly becoming a shield. Debris shook its way down on top of us, and we wasted no time in finding our feet and continuing our race down the stairs.

  Though I’d expected to exit at the ground floor, Donovan placed his hand on a hidden panel and another door slid noiselessly open. Sparing me a glance, we continued down, three more flights of stairs.

  Even with my gym training, I was winded by the time Donovan pushed open the remaining door. What we stepped into made me stop and stare.

  The cavernous room was chilly and dark. I gazed around in amazement, but only for a moment. Without missing a beat, Donovan swung his leg over one of two motorcycles waiting for us, looking at me expectantly.

  In a moment of panic, I realized I’d never been on a motorcycle, but Selena surely had. Understanding dawned in Donovan’s eyes, and he held out a hand patiently. Without hesitation, I accepted it, sliding onto the seat behind him. My arms wrapped easily around his waist just as we took off, the jolt of speed taking me by surprise.

  As we exited the initial room, insight blossomed. We were in tunnels, underground. The infamous tunnels that were constantly argued over and thought to be myth. Somehow, Selena and Donovan had found them, and used them for transportation.

  My theory had been correct. This was how they got around, and never spotted on CCTV.

  The wind whipped my hair in a long stream behind us while Donovan applied steady pressure to the gas. The occasional light lit our way, and I took note of each off shoot from the main tunnel we seemed to be in. It was incredible, and I wished I had more time to document where we were, but I knew in time that would come.

  Taking several turns, Donovan eventually slowed, stopping in another cavernous room that looked much the same as the one we’d started in. Waiting for me to dismount, Donovan followed suit and parked the bike.

  “Where are we?” I ventured to ask, having to speak louder to beat out the temporary haze.

  “A safe house,” he told me, once again grabbing my hand, leading me to the middle of the wall.

  Much like the hidden door to the basement levels in the building we’d just evacuated, Donovan placed his hand systematically to reveal another door. Following him inside, he made sure the door was back in place before leading me up another three flights of stairs, through another
hidden doorway, and to the top of the building we were now in.

  This one was much shorter at just six stories, but my legs were burning by the end of it. Another scan led us inside. Gone were the light, feminine tones. What I assumed used to be windows were shuttered in metal. There was no artwork on the walls, and the sparse furnishings were more industrial than homey.

  “We shouldn’t have to stay long,” Donovan promised on seeing my assessment of the room. “I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

  “It’s safe?” I asked him.

  “It is,” he answered.

  There was a sitting area, a sleeping area and a kitchen, and the only door on the inside led to a bathroom.

  “It’s very… open,” I finished, and it brought out a chuckle from Donovan.

  “That it is,” he responded, taking a step towards the kitchen before collapsing to one knee.

  “Donovan!” I cried out, kneeling beside him in an instant. “Were you hit?”

  With shaking fingers, I pulled back his jacket, where one of his hands had gripped in pain. When he pulled his fingers away, they were smeared with blood.

  “You were shot. You need to lie down.”

  Carefully wrapping an arm around his waist, I helped him to the bed, setting him on the edge before removing his jacket and shirt.

  “Lie back,” I told him. “Emergency medical?”

  “Bathroom,” he answered me.

  Rushing into the only enclosed space, I searched through the cabinets until I found a white case with medical supplies in it. It seemed they were well prepared for this type of emergency; the case was fully equipped, and I’d also spied a defibrillator.

  Dragging the side table closer to where I could now see he’d been grazed with a bullet, I popped open the case and immediately pressed a cloth to the wound, instructing Donovan to hold it in place while I prepped my other tools.

  “This is going to sting,” I said, wincing as I poured rubbing alcohol over the wound.

  Besides a small grunt of pain, he took it manfully. We were lucky in that the bullet only grazed his side; I wouldn’t have to perform major surgery, though he would need stitches. Thankfully, I’d taken a crash course in emergency field medicine, and I made quick work with the needle and thread.

  Donovan watched me thoughtfully while I concentrated, and though it crossed my mind that I could be blowing my cover, making sure he was healed was more important.

  After snipping the thread, I swabbed disinfectant gently over the wound once more before applying a bandage.

  “There now,” I murmured. “All better.”

  Gathering all the supplies back together, I went to stand but was held back by a hand on my arm. Though I’d been studiously avoiding his gaze, I met it now, registering the awe in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You continuously amaze me.”

  Our eyes were locked, and slowly, irrationally, my head lowered towards his. My brain was screaming to stop, but I was past the point of no return. There was a gravity surrounding Donovan that was pulling me in, inexorably closer, until our lips met.

  The fire that immediately consumed me spread through my entire body, alighting a passion in me I never knew existed. Deepening the kiss, I let my hands sink into his thick hair as they’d been craving to do since the beginning. I felt his hands wrap around me, holding me closer still. My hands trailed down his chest and found his newly bandaged injury.

  Yanking away from him with a gasp, I stumbled several feet away, one hand covering my mouth in shock. It seemed he was also having difficulty catching his breath, and though my ego wanted to believe that was because of me, I had to believe it was my careless control with his wound.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered through my palm.

  “Selena,” he said sternly, “you have nothing to apologize for. I have been waiting for that moment for longer than you know.”

  “But, still, your injury…”

  “Is fine, I promise. You are very adept with a needle and thread.”

  “It’s something else that just came to me,” I hedged, attempting to play off my temporary lapse of judgement on my memory loss.

  “I think you will be surprised by how much you know,” Donovan replied cryptically.

  Needing to busy myself, I picked up the box of supplies, along with the garbage, and brought it into the bathroom to put it away. As I turned to leave, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes were large, bright with excitement. My lips were slightly swollen from his kiss. Touching my fingertips lightly to my mouth, I let myself relive the moment, savoring the feel of Donovan’s body beneath my touch.

  It couldn’t happen again, I told myself. But, now that I’d opened that can of worms, would it be more suspicious if I held him at bay?

  Refocusing on my task, I exited the bathroom and took in his still form. His eyes were on me, and I ordered myself to think.

  “Would you like something to drink? You should have some fluids after the blood loss. Is there a laundry? I can try to get your clothes clean. How about something to eat?”

  “Selena,” Donovan held out a hand to me. I approached him, but didn’t make the contact I craved. “There are clothes here, for both of us. I’d like to rest for a bit, but then I will clean off and change.”

  Nodding, I glanced at the kitchen. “I should at least get you a water.”

  Without waiting for his response, I rummaged around until I found a glass and filled it. Setting it on the side table, I grabbed a small chair and pulled it alongside the bed.

  “Who were those people?”

  “Our competitors,” Donovan answered.

  Shaking my head, letting my frustration show, I ran my hands through my hair. “That doesn’t make sense. Business competitors don’t come into your home with guns blazing!”

  Attempting to calm down, I leaned forward, placing a hand on Donovan’s wrist.

  “I think it’s time you explain to me exactly what it is we do.”

  He shook his head, keeping his eyes steady on mine. “You’re not ready.”

  “What does that even mean? I was attacked tonight, same as you!” Attempting to calm my raging temper, I quieted my voice. “I’m so tired of not knowing, not remembering who I am, my life. Please, Donovan, just tell me.”

  Instead of responding, he watched me a long time, looking for something in my face, my eyes. I hid nothing from him, my curiosity and frustration running rampant in my expression. Finally, his look softened and he began to speak.

  “We run a completely legitimate shipping business. We also run an illegal one.”

  I processed this before nodding for him to continue.

  “We’ve delved into many different avenues, though we’ve both been clear from the beginning we wouldn’t get involved in the drug or weapons trades. Our morals may be few, but we do have them.” His mouth upturned into a self-deprecating half smile.

  I thought back to the last case I’d worked with Alec and Adam. They were sure Donovan was working with the DeLuca brothers. It seems I was right, that Donovan being involved in weapons didn’t match their normal activity.

  “What, exactly, are we shipping?”

  “Art, artifacts, jewels. That kind of thing.”

  “Tell me about the tunnels we just came through. I remember stories about them- people don’t think they’re real.”

  He smiled again, more genuine this time. “The tunnels are the real genius behind our business. When we first met, you were certain they existed. We began buying up property strategically, hiring out of state companies to come in and excavate beneath the basements. There’s still more work to do on them, but over the years we’ve connected the majority of our properties to the docks.”

  This was incredible, and I took a moment to soak it all in. Standing, I paced away and back again, thinking through the ramifications of the details he’d just revealed.

  After several paces, I sat again, my focus on Donovan. “This is a lot to
sift through,” I told him.

  “I understand,” he said gently.

  “What’s our next step?”

  He seemed satisfied by my question. “I’ll clear the building with our team of security. Then, we’ll have to retaliate.”

  My brow furrowed. “Is that necessary?”

  “We don’t stay on top by being soft,” Donovan’s voice hardened.

  “I’m not suggesting we let it go. But, perhaps there’s another way.”

  Chapter 20

  As Donovan slept, I rested fitfully beside him. I must have drifted off, because another vivid dream assaulted my subconscious.

  Clad in black leather once again, I stood against the wall, peering through my dark lenses as Donovan discussed details with the construction manager. We were paying them in cash, and, well, we expected the best in return.

  “We can run the conduits through this building, but it would raise your electric bill exponentially. That’s fine, if you want to pay it, but might raise suspicions.”

  “An alternative?” Donovan asked.

  “Solar power. We can punch cables through at the sites of your properties, and attach a small solar panel on the roofs. They would be relatively unnoticeable.”

  Donovan glanced at me, and I simply nodded.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Without any further comment, the contractor gave the order to his men. They were quick and proficient, a product of working for cash instead of hourly. When Donovan approached me, he spoke quietly.

  “I’ll stay to keep an eye on them, if you want to take care of the other matter.”

  With a smirk, I answered, “Gladly.”

  Not wasting any more time, I approached the sleek bike and easily swung a leg over. Revving the engine once, I kicked it into gear and spun away from Donovan, heading back towards our home.

  After we’d both slept, I convinced Donovan to let himself rest for the rest of the day. He had contact through a burner phone with the head of security, and they planned on meeting that night.