Claire sat up straighter.
“Good morning, Miss…Claire.”
“Morning.”
“No good in there?”
“I’ll wait and see.”
The officer flash-smiled, showing teeth. “I’m Lieutenant Griffin. I’ve been assigned to question you regarding the attempted assassination that was averted last night. Have you anything to say before we begin?”
What a cold fish. Claire wriggled a bit; the chair was hard as steel. “One, I helped to stop that assassination. Two, I will cooperate fully. Three—” She stopped. What was three? No longer please execute me, that was for sure. She’d had enough of being sorry for herself. She firmed her mouth.
“Three, I never intended any harm, though I know that by not speaking up…I may have done the worst harm ever to the only person who really mattered to me.” She blinked and braced herself. The lieutenant seemed mildly stunned, so while she had her attention, she launched into her story.
Maybe that wasn’t Theo back there, but she thought it was. This wasn’t for the lieutenant or for any record; it was for Theo. If he was back there listening, this was her confession to him.
She went through everything that had happened from the start. The early history of her with Inkline, the recruitment of those suited to assassination duty, the training, and her trip in that airship with Inkline…and more.
Her reasons for what she’d done spilled out across the story. Her regrets had been many, and she detailed them. How she’d not told Theo about her mission and why. That, she needed to say. How she’d known of his hate for betrayal and his deep feeling of responsibility for those he employed, and his hatred of assassination—that needed to be told, and she did so. By the end her face was wet with tears, but she kept her voice steady.
The final moment, when she’d discovered she could no longer conceal her lies and then the elimination of Inkline, spilled from her mouth like the last spatter of rain hitting the earth after a thunderstorm. Then she was done and exhausted.
The lieutenant said nothing, only staring as if she’d witnessed something extraordinary.
“Well.” She tapped her fingernails on the table, kinked an eyebrow. “They said you’d likely be forthcoming, but that was different. Looks like I don’t get to use any auxiliary means of persuasion, hey?” She chuckled grimly. “Joking. They said I wasn’t allowed. Pity. One of the perks of the job.”
She scraped back the chair and stood in one motion. “Farewell and good luck. I’ll send in the guards. There’s been…pressure to set you free. My assessment will be that you’re not to be prosecuted.” She saluted, signaled to the hastily packing stenographer, and headed for the door. It swung open smoothly, let them both through, clicked shut.
For a lieutenant, the woman seemed to have her fingers on the pulse of power.
Even so, Claire was alone with whoever was back there, and still chained to the chair.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Dankyo leaned close and whispered in Theo’s ear, “She knows you’re here, sir. Or suspects.”
“Yes.” A monotone answer. He wouldn’t give Dankyo the satisfaction. He was, had been, so angry, and even now with it ebbing, he knew this couldn’t work. Sadness was taking its place. They could have had so much.
He’d thought he’d loved her, but this would break any relationship. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her safe. Seeing her there chained to the chair and sad, it wrecked him. She was crying too. Not something he could see, but he knew. Wanted to go and wipe away, kiss away those tears. Not to be. He’d make sure she was sent somewhere she could start a life anew, and be done with her.
He rose. “Let’s go.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll see those blasted tortoise-like guards get in here and release her. Come.” The less said the better. God knew how acute her hearing was, and he didn’t want to raise false hopes.
* * *
It had been him. The whispers had carried. Yet he didn’t come to her.
So be it. She’d wait. If he bothered to be here now, there might be another time. She wouldn’t stop trying. Couldn’t.
She slowly caved in until her forehead rested on the table, needing the support. God. Please, let this be over.
* * *
Later that day, Dankyo visited her. She’d never seen him so haggard. His uniform bore creases, and his eyes were red. The guard clanged shut the cell door, locking him in with her.
She hauled herself into a sitting position on the bed.
Dankyo looked about and seemed to realize the bed was the only structure made for sitting. He sat gingerly next to her, bowing the bed enough to make the springs groan.
This was the man closest to Theo. If anyone could help her, it was him. Yet, if she were drowning, Dankyo was the last person she’d want throwing her a rope, for it seemed likely that attached to the very end would be a crocodile.
“Why are you here, Dankyo?”
“I’m here…because it’s clear that you are the one thing Theodore Kevonis thinks he needs that he cannot have. Not having you is destroying him, and I aim to help you two get together again. Clear?”
“Ah. Whoa. Yes. You really don’t mince words, do you?” And—oh my God—her little spark of hope kindled and rose to a blazing fire.
“No. I cannot see the point. But, also, let me state that this is more a catharsis. I want you out of his system, and the only way to do that is to let him see you’re not who he thought you were. You’ve hurt him deeply. I believe he will then realize you must leave, permanently. And once that’s done, we’re done. Clear? You get a last good-bye from this.”
She sat back, feeling like he’d grabbed her by the throat. Huh. This is the crocodile at the end. Did Dankyo think so little of her? Her resolve solidified into a metal-girded juggernaut. Be damned if she’d let Dankyo tell her what to do.
She’d never been a doormat—well, unless it was Theo, but then he stepped on her so…pleasingly
She’d run over Dankyo in an instant to get to Theo. Be a darn big bump in the road, but she’d do it. Disappointing in a way, though. After the talk in the buggy, she’d begun to think Dankyo an almost ally, even a potential friend, and she didn’t have enough of those to go losing them.
Hmph. We’ll see who gets to say good-bye.
“I get a last good-bye?” She eyed him narrowly. “What must I do? And, let me be clear here. I will do anything.”
“Well. That is the problem. I don’t really know.” He ran his hand over his short hair.
“Not much help then, are you?” But still, she grinned weakly at him. Dankyo, sitting with me, wanting to help. No matter his strange back-to-front logic, this is my best hope. Lord.
He glared. “I’ll send you word once I get something sorted out. Don’t disappoint me.”
Her grin shrank to a flat smile. “I won’t.”
For the rest of that day, and most of the next, she was left alone. At five o’clock in the afternoon, a summons was delivered. The president, the man she was to have killed, had asked to see her. She’d been part of an assassination plot. Was this to be the passing of judgment or something more terrible?
The guards marched her in, without handcuffs, free to move, and left her in the ballroom, though now it was filled with emptiness and silence instead of people and laughter. Three men stood fifty yards away, waiting. Theodore Christakos, her Theo, and then Dankyo, looking self-satisfied and a few steps back from the others.
“Claire.” The president beckoned.
She started.
“Yes?” She walked over. Her shoes tapped, echoing, sounding so small and lonely in this monstrous room. She halted before them
“You’ve been brought to hear my decision. I’ve assessed all the evidence, from your testimony through to what we know of the PME’s plans. Lieutenant Inkline seems to have been working independently with this plot to eliminate me. I’ve heard what Theo Kevonis has had to say, as well as my own security about your acti
ons.”
Every muscle hummed with tension. She curled her toes in her shoes, made herself look straight at the president. Not at him.
“My decision is that you shall be exonerated of any ill will toward this current administration. That you have a separate case to answer to for misleading Theodore Kevonis. I give you a choice.” He paused, his chin lowering, mouth a straight line.
“Either you can be extradited to a place chosen by the state. This place to be outside the influence of the PME as much as we can possibly ensure. In gratitude…”
What? Gratitude? He plans to reward me?
“For your courage in the face of enemy forces, we will award you an annual salary of forty thousand drachma in perpetuity.
“Or, you may instead surrender to Theodore Kevonis and accept his decision regarding your future.” At that, the president clasped his hands before him and waited.
Theo? How could this be? But, she had her chance, small though it might be. Afraid of what she might see, she glanced at Theo.
The president leaned forward and whispered, “Go to him.”
She blinked, raised her chin, nodded.
From the red suffusing Theo’s face, he’d not known of this alternative. Was this Dankyo’s doing? “I will accept the decision of Theodore Kevonis.” Thank God, she’d said that without quaking.
Heart thudding, she walked to Theo, every step under his furious gaze feeling like it might crumble her legs to dust, and stood before him.
She moved her mouth, trying to say something, anything that would make the determination leave his eyes.
“Please.”
He shook his head. “How can I accept this? No. I cannot trust you, Claire. I have people who need me as much you. People who do trust me to keep them safe.”
“I never meant to hurt anyone. I know what I did was wrong. I’ve said as much. You were there, weren’t you?” She searched his face for clues. “At the interrogation? I know you were there. I could feel you.” She clenched a hand over her heart, gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. “I can feel you. That’s how close we are. If you make me go away, I will never be whole again. Without you, I am nothing.”
“No. You’re stronger than you think, Claire.” Yet his eyes softened, and for the first time, something stirred between them.
She shut her eyes, shook her head. “Am I? You convinced me I wasn’t just a weapon, a thing. You’re the only person I’ve ever been this close to, and…I had thought you loved me. I don’t know what else I can say. How can I show you that you can trust me again?”
Pain coiled tight in her chest—she wanted to fix what she’d broken so much. But wishing wouldn’t work.
He sighed. “How? That’s just it, Claire. It’s not just that I don’t trust you. Or even that I don’t—” He swallowed. “You did not trust me enough to tell me what you were. I could have helped you.”
Her heart faltered. “Is that it? But…” Confused, aghast at this apparently impossible problem, she thought back and knew what she must say, then hesitated. If she was wrong, this would destroy her chance of ever putting things right.
“Would you have, Theo? Would you have helped me? Because, back then, when you knew me so little, I believe you would have sent me away.” She stopped. There it was—she’d thrown her last hope at his feet. Please. Please, let me be right.
He seemed to loom taller. His forehead wrinkled. “I would never…”
She sank to the floor; the timber jolted hard on her knees. “No?”
The hurt in his eyes and the deep breath he took told her she’d hit the mark.
“Perhaps,” he whispered. The frown melted into a new curiosity, and then he shook himself. “It matters not at all. Not now. I can’t trust you now. I can’t.”
Hands on her thighs, she bent her head. “Why not? Why not? I’d put my life in your hands. Here I am, at your feet. Please, I do trust you. Do what you will with me.” She scrambled for something that would be solid proof.
“Do what I will? You know, Claire, that I would never hurt you. This proves nothing. I can’t know what is in your mind or what other secrets you might hold from me.”
His legs moved. He was leaving. She gasped and looked up. “Use ropes on me! Tie me up if you wish! Let Dankyo do it. I don’t care! I…I trust you.”
“You think that offering to let me hurt you is some sort of proof? And since I will not do anything to hurt you, this still proves nothing.”
“Please.” He slowed. “Please, Theo.” She put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry but please, tell me, what I can do to make this right again.”
She heard his footsteps grow louder. He returned to her. They slowed and he stopped beside her. She held her breath, hoping.
“What can you do, Claire? Nothing. There is nothing more you can do.” Gentleness suffused his words, yet there was that same fearsome resolve in every syllable. “I’ve listened to your arguments and your logic. I’ve listened, earlier, to Dankyo’s arguments also, though in some amazement. I never thought I’d hear him defend you.”
His hand touched her head, and without thinking, eyes shut, she raised her head, wanting to feel more of his presence, to feel his warmth, to put her nose to his broad palm and smell his heavy masculine scent.
“Listen, Claire.” He pressed his hand down, so she stopped and waited. At least he was near. “There is nothing you can say that will change my mind. Nothing.”
“Oh.” Claire’s heart tore in two, and a twisted ache burrowed through her middle. “Oh.”
“Yes.” He patted her head once, then exhaled slow and hard. “Trust is something that should be earned. Yet if there’s one thing I have learned over the years, logic doesn’t always work where trust is concerned. You can’t change my mind, because only I can do that.”
Hope fluttered to life.
“And I have changed my mind.”
She wrenched her head up to meet his gray eyes, didn’t dare to speak.
“I let my anger fool me. I will trust you again, my dear, because despite everything, you’ve not wavered in trying to fix what wrongs you’ve done, because Dankyo trusts you, but most of all, against all logic, because it’s what, deep down where it counts, I want to do.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, putting her hand on his as he traced the curve of her face.
Theo smiled a little grimly. “And because, strangely, I do love you, my little assassin.” He drew her to her feet and kissed her hands, then her mouth while she hugged him tightly, arms molded to his chest, her thoughts awhirl.
Ohmigod. He’s forgiven me. Yes. Yes!
After resting awhile with his chin beside her ear, breathing slow, Theo leaned away, studied her. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes.” She groped for something to say. “I-I’m sorry for lying.” He loves me? Can I say those words? She glanced over. Dankyo was watching.
“Do you have something else to add?” Theo raised one eyebrow.
She mouthed those words. I love you too.
“Hmm.” His smile stretched and amusement reached his eyes. “A little louder would be nice, especially after I’ve forgiven your…errors. I believe I may have a way to make you say it properly and louder. You did volunteer to be tied up.”
She nibbled her lip. Elation was fast being tainted by a shivery kind of fear, and her knees were suddenly jelly. Ropes. I’ve done it, though, haven’t I? I’ve won him back.
“Only there will be more than just tying up. You’ve earned the flogger. How many strokes, I’ve not yet decided.”
Wide-eyed, she blinked up at him. Yet this was the Theo she wanted. Curiously, the fear stayed away. Somehow, in all this, her worries had been bent out of shape. Her fear now linked to her victory, to the rising sense of pure joy. He was hers, and she was his again.
Ha. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite so bad. Theo had restrained her before, and she’d loved it. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling excitement rise.
“Well.” The gravelly voi
ce came from over her shoulder. “What an interesting outcome. And what a pity I have no time to witness the result.”
She blushed. She’d forgotten the president.
He strolled into view. “May you all enjoy yourselves immensely. Perhaps another time, my dear, we might become better acquainted?”
She stiffened, alarmed, remembering the clothes Theo had bought for the party after the President’s Ball. She’d never quite seen what went on…afterward.
“Sir. Thank you for your forbearance,” Theo said. The president nodded and walked away. He left through a side door.
“Come, Claire.” Theo took her by the shoulders. “Let me show you the facilities in the Machine Room. Both Dankyo and I are eager to demonstrate.”
Machine Room? And… She swiveled under Theo’s hands and looked over at Dankyo. She had offered to let him tie her up. He was back to being impassive. Theo hooked his fingers beneath the little straps of her dress, wiggled them. “Before we leave here, though. Remove the dress and your underwear.”
She gaped at him. “Here?”
“Yes,” he said, straight-faced except for the tiniest wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Here. I promise, there is no one else to see, except Dankyo. Trust me?”
She swallowed. “Yes. Oh, definitely yes.”
“Then don’t look around.” He raised both eyebrows.
Without the slightest look, though with trembling hands, she crossed her arms, took hold of her dress, and skimmed it off over her head, let it fall, then took off her underwear—both bra and panties.
Naked, standing naked, in the middle of the ballroom. Her nipples beaded; her cleft and clit swelled in arousal. But she had Theo again. She did.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Theo led her by the hand into a large room with walls painted a feral combination of black, red, and gold and a ceiling festooned with dangling chains. Padded machinery, crosses, tables, and other devices she couldn’t decipher the function of, were set up here and there on the floor and walls, like metallic creatures ready to pounce on straying humans. White rope hung, coiled, from pegs and struts. She shuddered, her mouth dried.
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