by Wendy Rosnau
"Bring you a copy? You mean fly to Greece?"
"Do we have a bad connection, or are you just trying to piss me off?"
"Since the Castle Rock mission, security at headquarters has been beefed up. It's as tight as Fort Knox."
"It's always been tight. Besides, you like tight spots."
"Cute. I take it the investigation is paying off."
"Maybe."
"Just maybe?"
"Make up some excuse why you need to get into the archives. I want everything you can get on Creon."
"I'll see what I can do. How's the weather there?"
"Hot."
"And our little Eva? Is she hot, too? What's your take on the long-legged redhead now that you've gotten a closer look? You talk to her yet?"
"We've talked."
"And is she everything you expected?"
"Women are never what you expect. You know that. This one isn't even close." Sly watched as Parish's yacht, the Ventura, docked a short distance away. Scanning the upper deck he saw Eva and Melita Parish standing along the railing.
He said, "Bring me that file as soon as you can."
"Anything else? Maybe some perfume for Eva, or some lingerie to impress her into thinking you're a generous guy?"
"She doesn't wear either."
"No shit?"
"No shit. See what you can find out about Merrick. Where he goes after work. Who he sees. What he does on his days off."
"What's that all about?"
"Pull his file, too."
"You want me to spy on Merrick. He's a damn legend at Onyxx, and you want me to—"
"Don't get caught. Gotta go."
After Sly hung up, he left the Hector to follow Eva. She wouldn't be hard to spot in a crowd. She was dressed in a white, off-the-shoulder blouse and a colorful skirt in shades of green, red and gold. Her hair was twisted and clipped off her neck, and as she walked the night breeze played with the hem of her skirt.
He studied her legs, recalled how satin smooth and shapely they were. He'd held her for over an hour in the cave while the pills worked on her migraine. After she'd been lucid enough to sit up on her own power, he'd insisted they stay another hour to make sure she was strong enough to make the trip through the sump. He'd worried about her the entire way out, holding on to her like before, he'd shared his air. Only this time, it had been different. His anger had cooled, allowing him to notice things, feel things. Things he was now having a hard time forgetting.
Dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, he left the yacht and began weaving his way through the islanders and tourists who had come to party in the streets after dark. Keeping his distance, he dissected the guard that trailed Eva and Melita. He was all business, staying close. He carried a gun inside his shirt at the small of his back, and a knife on his hip.
Neither would do him any good when the time came—Sly was determined to talk to Eva before the evening was over one way or another.
At Eva's suggestion Melita had jumped at the chance to spend the evening at a local taverna. It was no secret Simon's sister loved to dance.
It wasn't unusual to enjoy the weather and Greece's famous cuisine at the same time in an open-courtyard setting. But that wasn't the reason Eva had suggested Popeo's Taverna. It had been two days since she'd seen Sly McEwen, and she had no idea if he was still on the island.
If he'd left, her chance of getting the file before Simon's party was poor, and without the file, her hands were tied.
She glanced around, wanting desperately to catch a glimpse of him somewhere in the open. The taverna was busy, but not so busy that he wouldn't be able to spot her, and likewise, she, him.
She had dressed to be noticed, hoping that would draw him in. She would settle for just the sight of him, she decided—no words—just a glimpse to assure her he was still in the game.
She had mixed feelings about this man Merrick had sent her. She was wary of him, she would be stupid not to be. But in the cave he'd surprised her. She never would have believed a man who looked as he did could be gentle; not with what she'd read about him on Simon's computer. But she was wrong. The man was definitely not what he appeared to be, which warned her that he was even more dangerous than she'd first thought.
The idea that he might be watching her at that very minute sent a flutter into the pit of Eva's stomach. She had been with him half naked in the cave, and when she had awakened she had found herself cradled in his arms. She'd kept her eyes closed as she's listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat next to her ear. One of his big hands rested along her thigh, while the other had been drawing imaginary patterns along her cheek.
She'd lain so still, trying to keep her breathing even so he wouldn't know she was awake, but he had known. Finally he had said in his deep rusty voice, "You feelin' better? Headache gone?"
Eva followed Melita to an outside table. Popeo's was known for its grilled octopus and souvlakia—skewered meat and tomatoes served on pita bread. It was also famous for its music, and she knew before long Melita would be tapping her foot and swaying in time to the lively Mediterranean beat.
The table was sheltered from the seaside wind, yet visible enough to be seen if someone was looking for her.
"Ouzo?" Nemo asked, smiling at Eva, then Melita. "Or something stronger?"
"Ne," Melita answered, "ouzo is fine."
The flavored aniseed drink was famous in Greece. Eva nodded. "Yes, ouzo is fine."
"I'll be right back," Nemo said.
Eva sent her eyes around the courtyard again and when she looked back Melita was watching her.
"Are you looking for someone?" she asked.
"Looking for someone? No."
"You seem anxious, and you look especially beautiful tonight." Melita reached out and touched a wisp of hair that had come loose from the clip. "You're not expecting someone, are you?"
Eva forced a laugh. "And who would I be expecting? Simon is away, and I know no one in Mykonos except for you and Nemo."
"I suppose you're right." Simon's sister sat back in her chair. She had the darkest eyes and hair of anyone Eva knew. Her hair was almost blue it was so black and her eyes so intense that there was no separation between color and pupil. Her skin was an almond brown, a gift given freely by the Mediterranean sun and her Greek heritage, Eva thought.
They were so very different and yet Eva felt a kinship with the young woman. They were close to the same age—Melita a little younger, she suspected. But that's not what seemed to bind them. It was their situation. They were both prisoners of circumstance. Though Melita never spoke of it, Eva knew she was not living at Lesvago of her own free will. It was true she wasn't guarded as closely as Eva was, but she was a prisoner nonetheless. Nemo watched her like a hawk.
Melita asked, "Where were you a few days ago when Ennis and Gino couldn't find you? I don't think I ever heard your side of the story."
"I went exploring the caves near the monastery."
"Yes, that's what they said. They also said your skiff went adrift, and yet the anchor was still attached to the rope. That's not possible."
"I agree. Do you believe that a big fish capsized my boat?" Eva asked. "That's the story Ennis is telling."
"Gino swears it is true. It would have to be a very big fish."
Eva played along, knowing it had been Sly who had upended the boat when he'd gone to get her pills. He'd offered the information to her while she'd been regaining her strength in the cave.
She said, "I saw no fish big enough to capsize the skiff."
"Then they were likely drinking again. I'll tell Simon."
"Don't, Melita. Please," Eva begged. "I would hate to see them punished for something so silly. No harm was done."
"All right, I won't tell Simon, but I'm going to ask Nemo to warn them about their drinking, and next time you go exploring, I'll go with you. The caves are too dangerous to go alone."
Melita had no idea how dangerous, Eva thought, envisioning Sly McEwen in her mind.
"Eva
? Did you hear?"
She blinked. "Yes. I heard. I didn't spend all my time underwater. I also spent time on the beach." She glanced at one of her exposed shoulders. "I think the tan lines are almost gone."
"Tan lines?"
"Before Simon left he told me to make sure that there were no tan lines visible by the time he got back. I'm trying to make sure that, as Simon put it, everything is brown."
Her confession had Melita swearing softly, before her eyes drifted to the harbor. "That's why you've been in the sun so much the past two days."
"Yes."
Quietly, Melita said, "I'm sorry. I know it isn't easy for you. And though we've never discussed it—" her head turned back to level Eva a direct look "—I sympathize with you. Life with Simon must be a nightmare." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I tried to find out where the party was going to be held, but Simon wouldn't tell me. Nemo says there was some mention of it being held on Milos or Santorini. Simon referred to it as the island of paradise."
The island of paradise… Eva could only imagine what that could mean to a man like Simon. How it could feed his colorful imagination.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Nemo appeared with the ouzo. Minutes later they placed their order with a waiter, Eva settling for a delicate fish soup, and Melita ordering a feather-light phyllo pastry of feta cheese and stuffed spinach.
Nemo sat at a table a short distance away watching over them, his knee bouncing to the lively music coming from inside the taverna. When the sun set, the courtyard lights came on, filling the intimate space with amber lights.
Their food arrived, and Eva's soup was delicious, as she had expected it to be. They ate in silence enjoying the balmy island breeze and the music. When their plates were nearly empty, Eva noticed Melita's eyes were wandering.
Suddenly she asked Eva, "Do you mind if I ask Nemo to dance with me?"
"No. Go ahead." Eva glanced at Nemo and saw he was staring at them. No, he was staring at Melita. It was then that she understood something that had eluded her over the past three years. Nemo watched over Melita like a hawk because he wanted to. There was something between them. Something they had successfully kept a secret from everyone.
"I'm going to freshen up and order an after-dinner brandy at the bar," Eva announced. "I'll meet you back here in a little while. Enjoy the music."
Eva lingered out of sight to watch Melita and Nemo as they joined the dancers, then she disappeared into the crowd. She visited the rest room, then steered herself in the direction of the bar and ordered a brandy. She was about to pay for the drink when a body wrapped around her and leaned in.
"I've got it."
Eva's heart skipped a beat. She didn't need to look to know who it was. His voice was deep and distinct, as powerful as the arm that stretched forward and slid the money to the bartender.
It was noisy, and the party atmosphere was perfect for two strangers to meet at the bar, Eva thought. She took a sip of her brandy to fortify her courage, then turned slightly and looked up into Sly McEwen's sober face.
He looked good. That's what immediately came to mind. It was a crazy thought. He'd shaved off the chin strap, but kept the sideburns. He wore faded jeans and a blue cotton shirt, a pair of sunglasses tucked into the pocket made him look like a tourist. A rich, bad-boy tourist.
"I was hoping you'd be close by." He leaned in a little closer, his thigh making direct contact with her hip. "Where's the guard?"
"Dancing with Melita. Is Sly your real name?"
"Will that be a problem?"
"No. I was just curious."
"It's short for Slayton. I'm told my father came straight from Kilkenny, Ireland."
It was awkward, standing there having what appeared to be a normal conversation with a man who was in the business of killing people. A man who wanted to kill her father. A stranger who had held her for over an hour while she slept off her migraine.
He glanced at her exposed shoulders, then lowered his gaze to her chest where her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath she took. "And you, Evka Amara Creon—is that a Slovakian name?"
"Yes, I suppose it is."
He knew her middle name. Knew about the migraines, and the pills. Knew she lived with Simon and how they spent their evenings in the backyard. What else did he know? Was there a profile on her somewhere like the one she'd found in Simon's computer on him?
"I've never done any research on the name, though I'm sure there would be something in my father's file at Onyxx," she prompted.
An anxious customer knocked into Eva at the bar, shoving her forward into Sly's chest. He reached out and pulled her more tightly against him, then gave the rude man a threatening look.
The man quickly apologized. "Me sing-horite, miss."
"Ne. Endaxi," she answered then looked back up at Sly. "He meant nothing by it." She followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at her hand flattened against his chest, her fingertips pressed to his warm skin and a smattering of hair in the open vee of his shirt.
She removed her hand and said, "There are balconies above the taverna. I'll meet you on the third level. It is more private than the others. Not many people go there."
She slipped out of his protective circle and started weaving her way through the crowd. She found the stairs, started up them as she scanned the dance floor. Nemo was wearing a bright-red shirt and she spied him easily as he twirled Melita in her full yellow dress. The timing was perfect, she decided. They were laughing and enjoying the music. Enjoying each other. They wouldn't miss her for a while.
To her disappointment two couples were already on the balcony when she arrived. They were both in passionate embraces, paying her no mind. Still, the situation made her feel awkward and she started back down the stairs, only to meet Sly on the way up.
"We can't be here," she told him.
He glanced over her head, assessed the couples and what had brought them to the private spot. Then he grasped hold of her hand and led her back up the stairs.
On the opposite side of the balcony was a small alcove. He took her there, and backed her into it.
Because she was at a loss for words, she raised her glass to her lips and sipped the brandy. As she was lowering the glass, he took it from her, finished it and set the empty glass on a ledge. He stepped into the alcove and backed her up, making it look like they had come to the balcony for the same reason as the other couples.
Eva opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke first. "Since you've had so much experience playing games, you should have no trouble putting your arms around my neck and pretending you can't wait for me to touch you."
She hesitated, and Sly wondered what she was thinking. Then she raised her arms and laced her hands around his neck. The action was stiff and unnatural. Wary.
"How's this?" she asked, looking up at him through her long wispy bangs.
"It'll do," he said, then slid his arm around her waist and brought her lower body against him. "How's the head?"
"All right. The migraines come and go. I might not have one now for a week if I'm lucky."
She avoided his eyes, stared at his chest.
"What's wrong? This doesn't bother you, does it? We've been this close before."
"It was dark in the maze."
"Then close your eyes."
She scowled at him.
"In the cave you slept in my lap."
"That was not my idea."
Sly decided not to examine what had happened, or hadn't happened in the cave. Or examine what had gone through his mind yesterday when he'd followed her to a private beach where she'd stripped off her bikini to lie naked in the sun.
"Where's the Chameleon?" he asked.
"The file first?"
He slid one hand over her hip and rested it there. Her skirt was lightweight and he could feel her through the fabric. Knew she could feel him, too.
She said a little breathlessly, "I thought you didn't like me."
"What makes you thin
k I do?"
He saw her cheeks flush with color. Knew she wasn't going to answer him.
"Oh, that. Don't read too much into it," Sly lied.
"You're just doing your job, is that it? Like me, you know how to play the game."
"That's right."
"A painful job, by the feel of it."
He was in the middle of smiling down at her when he heard voices coming up the stone steps. He sobered, and said, "We're going to have to look a little more convincing in a few minutes. The game has moved to a new level. Kiss me."
He dipped his head and chased her lips as she wrenched back and tried to avoid his mouth. When she ran out of room, his lips slowly descended.
Her whispered protest left her mouth opened and Sly took full advantage, thrusting his tongue inside as he covered her mouth. She squirmed momentarily, then gave in to him with a little moan. He continued to kiss her as he gyrated his hips until the firestorm in his gut was an open blaze.
When he backed off, she opened her mouth to speak, but Sly laid a finger to her lips, then lowered his head and started kissing his way down her neck.
"Please…" she whispered, her hand now on his chest trying to push him away. "Please, stop."
Her voice sounded desperate. Sly slid both hands over her hips to palm her backside and bring her closer against him. "We're just pretending," he whispered, knowing he was full of shit.
For days he had been telling himself that she was the means to an end, just part of the job. But no woman had ever been able to get him this hard and bloodhound ready so damn quick.
She'd been burning a hole inside him since he'd heard her voice on the tape back in Atlanta. Seeing her pictures had only doubled his interest. In the maze she'd bewitched him, and yesterday watching her on the beach had sent him to bed with an ache so big he'd been up all night. And now, tasting her lips had put the final nail in his coffin.
He wanted to hate her for Sully's sake. In fact, he'd managed it for about ten minutes after she'd confessed that she was Merrick's informant. But then the truth of her situation settled around the hate, and he couldn't deny that Eva was simply trying to survive in a world that someone else had created for her.
He knew about survival. Growing up with LeRoy had forced him to do all kinds of things he had known were wrong. Still he had done them anyway just to survive. And that's why he couldn't condemn her.
