It didn’t work.
“Leon, I–” Maggie stopped, her voice breaking.
“I know,” he said, brushing his leg against hers under the water.
She cleared her throat and tried again. There were so many things she’d left unsaid over the years, keeping her feelings to herself to avoid facing the truth. Their lives would never allow them to be together. Not in the way they wanted or needed, anyway. It was easier to hide all the messy parts of her life beneath her many aliases.
But she didn’t care about that now. Not when this might be her last chance to tell him how she truly felt.
“Do you remember when we first met?” She grounded herself in the memory, an anchor amid the oncoming waves.
Leon laughed, perhaps a little forced as they tried to ignore the life and death situation they found themselves in. “How could I forget?”
Maggie was sixteen when Bishop rescued her from a police station. She was facing a murder charge for killing the abusive monster who masqueraded as foster-father, and Maggie was sure her life was over.
“I was so scared then.” It was easier to open up to Leon in the darkness, where she couldn’t see his face and read into his expressions.
She wasn’t the religious type, but Bishop was her guardian angel that day, turning up with an ultimatum that changed everything: risk a life sentence in prison or join the Unit and start a new life. One where she could make a difference.
It was the easiest decision she ever made.
Maggie shook her head. “We were so young back then. We thought we knew everything.”
“You certainly did,” Leon teased.
“It was all a front,” she admitted, sobering at the thought. In truth, she felt way out of her depth. Training to become a member of the Unit was tough. The rigorous regime had pushed her body and mind to the absolute limit, breaking her and the other recruits before building them back up again, molding them into weapons.
“I know,” said Leon, quieter now.
“You were so nice to me when I arrived.” Maggie arrived at the Unit late. Leon and the other recruits had already gone through several months of training. “At first, I assumed you wanted something from me, playing games like a lot of boys do at that age, willing to say anything to get what you really wanted.”
A lump formed in her throat, and Maggie forced it back. The water passed above her shoulders and showed no signs of stopping.
“But you weren’t like that. You listened to me. Worked to get to know me, even after I embarrassed you and pushed you away. I wasn’t used to that kind of attention. I didn’t know how to react. You never gave up on me though, like so many had done before.”
Eventually Leon wore her down, slowly breaking down the walls she built to protect herself, brick by brick. They became friends, their relationship soon developing into something more.
She remembered their first time, how scary and new it all was, yet how right it felt. How their young love developed over time and grew to something she never even knew she was capable of feeling. Something she never felt she deserved.
“My life has never felt stable. Even now. Yet you’re the one constant that remains, the person I know I can always rely on. Who will be there for me no matter what happens, no matter how messy our lives get, how full of death and the evil of others. When I’m with you, all that goes away. You make me feel like I finally belong somewhere, and I love you for that. I love you for a hundred other things. I love you so much that it scares me.”
Tears ran down her cheeks and dropped into the water, which crawled up her neck like a silent assassin.
“I love you, Leon,” she said again. “I don’t tell you that enough.”
Maggie sniffed, not caring if he heard her cry. She hated showing emotion. It always felt like a sign of weakness, but not with Leon. She never had to hide anything from him.
“I love you, too, Maggie.” Leon’s deep voice was thick with emotion. “I’ll always love you, no matter what happens. Nothing will ever change that.”
Maggie smiled as the tears continued to fall. “Even after this mess?”
“Always.”
Leon struggled against the rope and inched ever so slightly to her left. His fingers brushed her own, and they linked them together.
“Now let’s think,” he said. “We need to get out of this, because I refuse to die down here.”
Maggie shook her head, her hair floating around her like snarling seaweed. “I don’t know.”
“We better think fast. This water isn’t going to wait for us.”
The tide was at Maggie’s chin now. She would go first, and soon. Struggling against the ropes as she slowly drowned, lungs on fire. Every nerve in her body screaming for help.
A shudder ran through her. Drowning would be a horrible way to die. Leon would witness her death before he met his own, a pain that would kill Maggie before any water reached her lungs if their roles were reversed.
Maggie had brushed against death before. It was part of the job, and she was under no illusion about her expected lifespan. Agents in the Unit weren’t exactly known for growing old and dying in their sleep. They lived fast and died young.
She made peace with that fact a long time ago. Maggie couldn’t do her job otherwise. Yet being down there in that stinking cesspit with Leon caught her by surprise. She could accept an early death for herself, but she couldn’t accept the same for Leon.
He deserved to be the exception. The anomaly. One of the few Unit agents to live a long and happy life. She wanted him far away from the risk of being murdered. Wanted a life for him where he wouldn’t go out on a mission and never return. He deserved a full life, packed with love and free from the worries of their profession. Maggie could never offer him such a life, not while she worked as an agent. While they both remained fighters to the cause. Soldiers on the front line protecting the British public who would never know what they sacrificed to keep them safe.
Leon squeezed her fingers. “Don’t give up on me now.”
Maggie’s rushing thoughts ground to halt. Leon never gave up on her, never stopped believing she could accomplish the impossible. He never gave up on her, and she couldn’t allow herself to give up either. Not on Leon. Not on herself.
His words evaporated her panic and dried her tears. Their story wouldn’t end this way. She wouldn’t let Peter West destroy everything she’d built for herself. And she sure as shit wouldn’t let him kill the man she loved.
Not tonight.
“My knife,” she said, her mind clearing now. “I have a knife.”
“Where?”
“Strapped to my ankle.” Maggie stretched her arm down, bringing her leg up to bridge the gap, but the rope pinning her to the post stopped her from leaning down with her upper half. “I can’t reach it.”
“Maybe I can.” Leon strained against the ropes. “Kick your leg up behind you and hold it still.”
His longer arms reached down her leg, the rope tugging tight across Maggie’s chest as Leon pushed down with everything he had.
Leon swore through gritted teeth as he tried—and failed—to reach her ankle.
“Try again,” said Maggie, bringing her leg back up behind her.
The water was near her lips, and she had to lean her head back to keep it from filling her mouth as she spoke.
“Almost got it,” Leon said, his fingertips on her shoe.
Their movements caused the water splash around them, and a wave of it washed over Maggie’s face. She tasted salt and choked as the water invaded her mouth, coughing it up as she struggled to keep her head above the surface.
“There,” said Leon in triumph.
Maggie reached out and Leon passed her the knife as the water rose past her mouth. She stilled as best she could, breathing through her nose while she struggled with the knife, her fingers numb and ice cold.
Maggie hissed as the edge of the blade brushed past her hand, the wound stinging as salt from the water bore into it. Th
e knife slipped in her fingers, and she was forced to submerge herself to catch it before all was lost. She gripped tight to the handle and ran the sharp edge along the ropes around her wrists.
It was slow work, Maggie unable to saw the rope thanks to her trapped hands.
The water continued to rise, and when she leaned back for air, she found there was none. The water had risen above her nose now, leaving her with nothing but the air already in her lungs.
Maggie guided the knife up and down her confines, frantic now as her lungs struggled to cope and her chest tightened.
The fibers finally splintered enough for her to snap the rest free, and she moved to the ropes that bound her and Leon to the post.
With her hands free, she cut faster, sawing the coils of rope wrapped around them.
Her mind grew foggy as she worked, the lack of oxygen stealing her clarity, her focus. Nevertheless, she persisted, and finally the ropes loosened around her.
Maggie passed the knife to Leon, allowing it to slip through her fingers as her lungs begged for air she couldn’t reach. She sank deeper into the water now that the ropes no longer held her up, her body too tired to fight for air.
Strong hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her up. Her head broke through the surface as Leon hoisted her in his arms, and she sucked in the fetid air of the abandoned building.
“You did it,” said Leon, brushing the hair off her face.
Maggie had him set her down when they reached the dock, and she swayed on her feet, straightening her back.
“I’m done playing games,” she said, her throat hoarse. She took Leon’s hand, and they trudged up the stairs of the old house and slipped out into the fresh night air. “Rebecca can go back to Miami as far as I’m concerned. It’s time Peter West, and whoever else is messing with us, met Maggie.”
Chapter 12
It was well past midnight when Maggie and Leon finally reached their hotel.
Peter West had taken them to a secluded spot in Cannaregio, the northernmost district of Venice, and it took them almost an hour to traipse back to the Gritti Palace on foot. Their sodden clothes dried in on the way, the dirty salt water making the fabric coarse and deeply uncomfortable.
Maggie itched to rip them off; the smell was bad enough, never mind how they rubbed against and irritated her skin.
The Gritti Palace was quiet when they entered, only the night manager manning the front desk and a few guests still out by the terraced bar. Maggie and Leon slipped past without any trouble and made it to their suite.
Maggie closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her muscles aching and tight. “I feel filthy.”
Leon shrugged off his tux jacket and dumped it straight in the bin by the door. “Take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
“No, you go first.” It was the least she could do, since it was her fault they almost died.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Of course, go on.”
Leon nodded and headed through the bedroom and straight for the bathroom, yanking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt at the neck on the way. If he felt half as grimy as Maggie did, she understood. Everything chaffed, even her underwear, and the temptation to take off her clothes and burn them was strong.
Maggie crossed the room and poured a double measure of whiskey from a decanter into a crystal glass, her hands tremoring from the residual shock of almost drowning.
Tossing back the drink, Maggie closed her eyes and focused on the burn of the amber liquid washing down her throat and warming her insides. She helped herself to another and sipped at the drink, walking out to the balcony and opening the French doors.
A light breeze swept past, rustling the curtains and dancing through her hair. Her fake hair. Maggie fumbled with the pins keeping her wig in place and yanked it off, throwing it on the floor. She had no need for Rebecca now. Peter West had made things personal, and he was about to learn who he was really dealing with.
No one tried to kill her, or Leon, and got away. Ever.
Maggie brushed her fingers through her blond locks, ratty despite being covered by the wig, and peered over her shoulder to the bedroom door.
Leon.
They had come so close to dying, slipping free mere seconds before death clutched them in its eternal grasp.
A future together may not be set in stone, but they were still alive. Still able to wake up and fight another day. Their past may be troubled, and their future unclear, but they still had today. Maggie didn’t know what lay in store for either of them, but she knew one thing: the man she loved was two rooms away. And that was two too far.
Maggie gulped down the rest of her drink and abandoned the glass. She peeled off her jumpsuit, the fabric sticking to her skin, and dropped it on the floor. Then went her bra, adding to the pile of ruined clothes. She stepped out of her lace panties and tiptoed through the lounge to the bedroom.
The shower hissed through the cracked doorway, tendrils of steam slipping through into the bedroom. Before she could change her mind, Maggie eased open the bathroom door and slipped inside. Anticipation tingled in her stomach, mixed with the dread of possible rejection.
Leon hadn’t noticed her come in, too busy washing off the dirt and grime from his toned body. Soap bubbles coated his muscled arms as he scrubbed at them, his black skin glistening where the light hit the water as it caressed over each and every part of him.
A warmth flooded Maggie that had nothing to do with the whiskey, and the feeling made its way south. She bit her bottom lip and reached for the shower door.
Leon spun as she entered, his body tense with surprise, and she closed the door behind her to show she had no intensions of leaving any time soon.
His eyes travelled over her naked flesh, filled with hunger as he took in the curves of her body. Maggie stepped closer, her breasts rubbing against his torso, close enough that she could feel him breathing in and out, faster than normal as his excitement grew.
Steam circle round them, tickling Maggie’s skin. “Is this okay?” she asked, starring up into his dark eyes and trialing a finger down his chest.
Leon cupped her face. “I’ve wanted this since the moment you stepped off that plane.”
Maggie couldn’t take it any longer. She pulled him towards her and kissed his full lips, the bristles from his cropped beard brushing over her face as she tasted him. The fear of death and the thrill of escaping its clutches added a desperation to her lust. A need that wouldn’t be denied.
Leon wrapped his arms around her, holding her close while he explored every inch of her skin with his calloused hands, his erection hard against her leg. He tightened his grip as his own need grew, brushing his tongue along hers. Maggie nibbled at his bottom lip, and the groan that resulted sent a titillating shiver down her spine.
Leon broke away from her lips and kissed along her jaw, travelling down her neck. Maggie’s eyes fluttered shut as he reached the spot just under her ear.
Reaching for the soap, Maggie ran the bar over Leon’s back, feeling the bumps of his raised scars, battle wounds from years of missions that matched her own. They washed each other clean before they got dirty, fingers lingering in all the right places, replaced with lips once the soap was washed clean.
Leon lowered to his knees and pressed her against the wall, the green marble cool against Maggie’s back as she arched in response to his touch. Her breathing hitched in her throat as Leon drew a moan all the way up from her belly.
Maggie waited as long as she could, letting him take the lead until she couldn’t bear to wait any longer. She pulled Leon to his feet and begged him to take her, leading him inside and wrapping her legs around his firm waist.
They remained in the shower until their fingers pruned, then fell into the king size, gripping the sheets as they lost themselves in each other. Reacquainting themselves with their bodies, neither of them willing to stop.
Chapter 13
26 July
Maggie woke to weight s
hifting on the king-sized mattress as Leon returned to bed.
“Are you watching me sleep?” she asked, eyes still closed.
“Maybe.”
She laughed and reached out for him. Leon brought her into his arms and kissed her forehead. She opened her eyes and smiled, leaning into him and appreciating the view of his bare chest.
It wasn’t the first time they’d woken up in the same bed, and Maggie hoped it wouldn’t be their last.
Leon laced his fingers in hers. “I ordered breakfast.”
“You’re the best.” Maggie’s ravenous stomach rumbled in complaint.
The morning after was never like a one night stand with Leon. She never felt the need to scramble over the floor to collect her discarded clothes, shove them on, and escape as fast as possible. There was no awkwardness. No regrets. He was Leon, and no matter how much Maggie tried to move on, it felt right. They felt right.
A knock on the door came soon after.
“I’ll get it.” Maggie hopped out of bed and shrugged on her housecoat, wrapping a headscarf over her blond hair. Rebecca’s wig may be a filthy, tangled mess, but it was still prudent to keep up appearances to the hotel staff.
“Hello, Guido.” Maggie held the door for him.
Guido wore his same crisp uniform as always, not a hair out of place. “Good morning, Ms. Sterling. I have your breakfast.”
Maggie stepped to the side and widened the door for him. “Come on in.”
Guido wheeled in the trolley, the scent of strong coffee and bacon wafting past. He placed everything out just so on the table, leaving the cloches on to conceal the heat.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.
“That will be all,” Maggie said, offering him a pleasant smile. That smile dropped when she spotted something on the man she hadn’t noticed before. She frowned and narrowed in on his name tag.
Guido Marino.
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