by Pam Godwin
“Then I’ll dance with you every night.”
He carried her through another song, gently rocking, pacing the rise and fall of her breaths. But something started to shift under his skin. A tension that wasn’t there before.
Or maybe it was just her earlier unease seeping in?
She ignored it for a few moments, until his muscles grew tighter beneath her fingers, and his movements stiffened with each note of the song. He was bracing for something.
“What’s wrong?” She looked around and didn’t register anything out of place.
“Let’s take a walk.” His fingers intertwined with hers, and he strolled off the dance floor with a nod to the maestro.
Panic seized her as he wove through the room, keeping his gait slow to accommodate her clicking high-heels. His expression was too calm, too blank. What was he hiding beneath that emotionless mask?
He didn’t make eye contact or stop to talk to anyone. His gaze flitted between Arturo and the side door, where he was leading her.
She pinned her lips tight, knowing not to ask questions or draw attention with so many people around.
“This way.” He directed her into a quiet corridor and around a few clusters of mingling partygoers.
Stalking down the hallway, around the corner, and past a vacant dining room, he seemed to know his way around. She glanced back and found Arturo trailing at a distance.
“Are we in danger?” she whispered.
“Just one more meeting. Then we’ll leave.”
“That’s not an answer. Where are we going?”
“Not sure.” He flicked a finger at the wood flooring. “Following the beer.”
“What?” She squinted in confusion. “The beer?”
He stopped and lowered to a crouch. With a swipe of his thumb, he collected a tiny drop of wetness from the floor and held it to his nose. “A trail of beer.”
“Why? Who left it?”
He rose and touched his lips to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, shushing her. “Through here.”
With a hand at the small of her back, he turned her into a dark, empty service kitchen.
“Where is everyone?” She craned her neck, searching the shadows amid commercial appliances. Her pulse skittered out of control.
“The main kitchen is on the other side of the house.” He ushered her toward an industrial steel door.
An entrance to a walk-in freezer?
A beer bottle sat on the floor in front of it. He moved it out of the way and shrugged off his tuxedo coat.
In the doorway to the hall, Arturo stood with his back to the kitchen, keeping watch.
“Tiago, you’re scaring me.” She rubbed her arms. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s going to be cold.” He draped the jacket over her shoulders and pulled the lapels together at her chest.
With a hard, tense kiss against her lips, he turned and opened the steel door.
A blast of frigid air punched through her, but that wasn’t what froze the breath in her lungs.
Standing at the rear of the walk-in freezer was a man she never expected to see.
Dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo, he looked like an apparition in a swirling cloud of wintry air.
She gasped. “Cole?”
Kate blinked rapidly, struggling to believe her eyes. Her pulse thundered, and her palms slicked with sweat, despite the frosty air.
“Kate.” Cole Hartman folded his hands behind him, shoulders back, as if he were expecting her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m kind of freaking out.” Her gaze snapped to Tiago as he shut the freezer door behind him.
Not a hint of surprise or anger on his stern face. What the almighty fuck?
Her mind reeled to make a connection between the two men. They seemed to look at each other with familiarity, and that kind of made sense. Cole had appeared on the video with Lucia when she found Tate in the shack.
But Tiago had never mentioned Cole’s name to her. Did he know Tate had hired Cole to locate Lucia?
In all likelihood, Cole was here for her. To rescue her.
What if he’d sneaked in a gun? Would he shoot Tiago?
Were her friends here, too?
Elation and terror jolted through her, trembling her limbs and making every breath a workout. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Cole narrowed his eyes at Tiago.
“Don’t kill each other.” She gripped Tiago’s hand and squeezed. “We can figure out whatever this is without spilling blood.”
Cole stared at their entwined fingers, and lines formed in his brow.
She would have to explain her relationship to him, even if she wasn’t sure how to explain it to herself.
First, she needed answers.
“You purposefully left a trail of beer to this freezer,” she said to Cole. “For Tiago?”
“Yes.”
She stared up at Tiago’s unreadable expression. “How did you know he did that?”
“I spotted him while we were dancing, and he tipped his beer bottle at me. A helpful clue.” He scanned the ceilings and shelves of frozen foods. “Is this—?”
“I did a sweep.” Cole’s words rode on a flume of white steam. “The area is clean.”
“Clean of what?” She glanced between them, taken back by the way their eyes connected so…comfortably. “I’m sorry. Do you two know each other?”
“Clean means no bugs. We’re not being recorded or spied on.” Tiago banded an arm around her back, pulling her against the heat of his body. “And yes, we know each other.”
“Took you long enough to mark me.” Cole cocked his head. “I’ve been here all night.”
“I was distracted.” Tiago stroked a thumb along her arm.
“You shouldn’t have come out of hiding,” Cole said.
“We both know I didn’t have a choice.” His jaw hardened. “How’s Trace?”
Cole crossed his arms over his chest, nostrils flaring.
“Who’s Trace?” She adjusted Tiago’s tuxedo coat tighter around her, shivering.
“He was our handler.” Tiago turned, putting his dark eyes inches from her face. “Cole and I have known each other for a long time.”
“What?” Shock strangled her voice. “How?”
“We worked for the U.S. government.”
Her mouth fell open, closed, and opened again. “But you’re Venezuelan.”
“My mother was American. I was born in the U.S. and raised here, in my father’s country.”
“Were you military?” She recalled what little she knew of Cole and the fog of secrecy surrounding the man’s credentials. “Or some kind of spy or assassin?”
His gaze slid to Cole, and they exchanged an indecipherable look.
“He can’t discuss the job.” Cole’s lips slanted in a harsh line.
“But you both knew this Trace guy?” She trembled uncontrollably, fighting to keep warm in the subzero temperatures. “You worked together? On the same side?”
Her whirling thoughts jumped to FBI, CIA, top-secret espionage stuff. Except weren’t those the very organizations that were hunting Tiago?
The night he told her about his wife, she’d asked him why he became like the man who had his family killed. His response hadn’t made sense at the time.
I didn’t. He was my colleague. When he betrayed me, I became the opposite of him. I became his enemy.
“Many years ago, Cole and I had the same employer, on the right side of the law.” Tiago tugged her against his chest and enclosed his arms around her, running a hand up and down her back to create warmth. “We didn’t work closely together, but we both reported to Trace. He was the handler who gave us our orders.”
Just…mind-blowing.
“Trace is also Cole’s best friend. Or was.” He shot Cole a cruel smirk. “Is he still banging your fiancée?”
Cole bared his teeth. “He married her, you fucking asshole.”
“Then he’s definitely banging her.”
>
“You know, you weren’t always such an insensitive dick.” Cole lowered his arms to his sides, and the hard lines of his face smoothed away. “I’m sorry about Semira and your family. Had I known what was happening, I swear, Tiago, I would’ve warned you. I would’ve done something to stop it.”
Her throat tightened, and she grabbed Tiago’s hand. God, they really did know each other. No wonder Cole had located Lucia so easily. Tate would shit himself if he knew about this crazy connection.
“The job came with risks.” Tiago said softly. “They told us no attachments. No spouses. No weaknesses. We knew that going in, and we walked away losing everything that mattered to us.”
“You were both betrayed?” Her mind churned to fit the pieces together. “It sounds like you were the good guys, fighting on the right side, and that side fucked you over. Is that what happened? You lost a fiancée, a wife, and a family because people you trusted turned on you?”
“Something like that.” Cole stared at Tiago.
“Explain it to me,” she said.
“There was a defection in our ranks.” Tiago flexed his hand around hers. “Two of our colleagues—a man and a woman—defected from the agency and leaked our personal information to known enemies who were willing to pay a small fortune for it. The female traitor threatened Cole’s fiancée, but his best friend protected her.”
Did the best friend fuck her before or after he protected her? Maybe there was more to the story, but holy crap… Poor Cole.
“The other defector was responsible for the deaths of my family.” Tiago’s voice scratched, and he cleared it. “He sold classified information about me to an enemy, fully aware it would turn my home into a bloodbath. It wasn’t personal. He just wanted the money.”
“That’s why you both switched sides.”
Cole straightened. “I didn’t—”
“I know for a fact you did a job for Van Quiso.” She glared. “Which side do you think he’s on?”
“Given your friendship with the capo of the Restrepo cartel,” Tiago said, “it’s safe to assume you’re no longer working for the American people.”
“Right.” Cole blew out a breath. “Sometimes I work for criminals and walk a blurry line. But I don’t murder or kidnap innocent people for money. And when I was betrayed, I didn’t go on a ruthless killing spree. I faked my own death, went into hiding, and lost my goddamn soul mate.”
“Good for you.” Tiago laughed hollowly. “I guess that makes you a better man than me.”
“No.” Her hackles flared, and she grabbed Tiago’s arm, turning him toward her. “I’ve never condoned the things you’ve done, but you know what? Cole didn’t lose his parents and only brother. He didn’t watch someone heartlessly gut his wife. There is no comparison. I don’t know him that well, but if someone murdered his fiancée in front of him…” She jabbed a finger at Cole. “I think there would be a very different man standing there.”
“You’re defending him?” Cole asked with more hostility than she appreciated. “Do you know what he did to Tate and Lucia?”
“Yes.” She jutted her chin.
“Are you free?”
“What?”
“Are you free to walk away from him? Right now?”
A numb, paralyzing thud echoed in her ears, and her neck ached to shake her head. Now was the time to tell him, to let him know she couldn’t escape.
Tiago would never release her. He would never let her see her friends, or pursue a career, or carry a loaded gun, or go for a walk alone. Cole needed to know this. He could help her. But her muscles wouldn’t work, and her voice deserted her.
“She’s not free.” Tiago’s fingers shackled her wrist as he shoved open the freezer door. “If she wants to go with you, I won’t allow it. If you try to take her—”
“You’ll kill me. I figured as much.” Cole flicked his gaze to her. “This isn’t over, Kate. I’ll get you out.”
“The fuck you will.” Tiago ushered her out of the freezer, into the warm kitchen, and toward the hallway, where Arturo waited.
“Hang on.” She dug in her heels, trying to slow his long strides so she could explain the situation to Cole. “I just need to—”
An enormous explosion erupted somewhere in the house. The percussion was so forceful it reverberated in her ribcage and rang in her ears. She lost her balance in the heels, and in the next breath, strong arms came around her and her feet left the floor.
Tiago hoisted her against his chest and swung back toward Cole. “Tell me that isn’t an assassination attempt on the President.”
“With that bomb? It must be.” Cole raced past them and poked his head in the corridor. “It probably dropped from overhead.”
“Drones.” Tiago’s entire body turned to stone. “Goddammit, there will be more. We need to get the fuck out of here.”
She choked down the sound of undiluted fear as it tried to escape.
A cloud of dust shook from the ceiling. Alarms, shrill and deafening, blared to life, and in the distance, the blast of gunfire rent the air.
“Opposition activists.” Cole shoved a hand through his brown hair. “I heard a rumor the Colombian president was rallying an attack.”
“And we’re caught in the middle of it?” Her heart lurched.
“Gonna need you to run, Kate.” Tiago lowered her feet to the floor. “Kick off your shoes.”
He supported her balance as she toed off each heel. Then he guided her arms into the sleeves of the jacket still draped over her shoulders.
At her questioning look, he said, “In case there’s any flying debris, the jacket is better than nothing.”
“The rear exit is blocked by the gunfight.” Arturo appeared in the doorway. “We’ll have to leave out the front with everyone else.”
“Mass fucking exodus.” Tiago pulled her into the hall and laced their fingers together. “No matter what, don’t let go.”
The flashing, screeching alarms in the ceiling fucked with her bearings. By the time she scrounged up a nod, he was already dragging her at full speed toward the ballroom.
Cole and Arturo stayed on their heels. Until the second bomb hit.
It detonated so close it threw her against the wall. The acrid scent of smoke burned her nose, and she tasted the grit of dust as she coughed.
Given the noise of glass, the ear-splitting howls of people, and the rush of nearby footsteps, the explosion must’ve blown through the ballroom. If her sense of direction could be trusted, that was just around the next bend.
“Keep moving.” Tiago hadn’t let go of her hand and pulled on it roughly, urgently, propelling her forward again.
Her pulse thrashed past her ears as she sprinted to keep pace with his strides. Around the corner and through a doorway, they burst into what was left of the ballroom.
Dirt and smoke scattered into the atmosphere, creating a nebulous, eye-burning fog. Windows shattered. Shards of glass and twisted steel continued to drop in a groaning, deadly rainfall from the huge bite that had been taken out of the far side of the room.
Furniture tipped upside down, legs in the air. Debris and breakage covered the dance floor, the musicians gone. And the partygoers…
Some lay on the floor in fetal positions, trying to protect their ears and organs. Most ran toward the exit. Others stood off to the side, shell-shocked and unmoving. The rest had been tossed amid the blast, at least a dozen dead.
Tiago spun toward her and gripped her shoulders, shouting with his eyes. His mouth barked commands, but she couldn’t hear him over the deafening noise.
He surveyed the glass-covered floor, glanced at her feet, and scooped her up into his arms. It was a considerable distance to carry her over the wreckage from one end of the demolished ballroom to the other, but gratitude overrode her stubbornness.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pressed her face into his neck and held on.
She assumed Arturo and Cole followed behind, but she was afraid to look. A barrage
of closely spaced gunshots broke out around them, firing close enough to damage her eardrums.
The President’s opposition might’ve been here to assassinate him, but if they were willing to bomb a house full of people, they didn’t care who they hit in the crossfire.
Tiago tucked her close to his body, bowing over her with his head ducked as he ran like hell.
She wished she had a gun, so she could shoot back. She wished they’d stayed in bed and skipped the fucking party. But wishes wouldn’t help them. They needed a fucking miracle.
The din of the surrounding chaos redlined her heart rate. The blaring alarms, panicked screams, and approaching gunfire pounded from every direction. She lifted her head.
Twenty feet from the exit. Almost there.
As every nerve ending in her body stretched toward that door, a great thunderous clap blew apart the world.
One second, she was in Tiago’s arms beneath a vaulted ceiling. The next, she was airborne under the open nighttime sky.
Then everything went black.
Kate floated in a painless state of silence and disorientation. Every few seconds, a series of flashes burst through, like the intermittent vibrations of a dying heartbeat.
She couldn’t hear anything. Not her cries or her breath. Was her head detached from her body? Or her limbs? That didn’t make sense. But why couldn’t she move?
“Tiago.” His name chanted from her mind, but she wasn’t sure her voice touched the air.
The floor shook violently beneath her. More explosions, farther away. Alarms strobed, but the wailing didn’t penetrate her ears. People stumbled and ran, but she couldn’t hear their screams.
As she attempted to recover her senses, a blanket of hellish heat saturated the front of her body. Blinking through semi-blindness, she stared up at a pillar of fiery smoke and dust. It rushed out through sections of the roof that had been destroyed by the blast.
Blackened orange flames billowed from the rubble near the exit, baking the startled air. A pressurized wind swept through the room, pulling on her, as if trying to draw her into the fire.
“Tiago!” She struggled to turn her neck and found herself lying by a wall some distance from where he’d been carrying her.
